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chelseaslibrary · 5 days ago

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Chapter 1: Convalescence

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Doctor Female Reader Chapter Rating: M. Chapter Summary: "Help him," Maria says. "Help Tommy’s brother, Joel." Chapter Warnings: HEAVY SPOILERS FOR S2E2, FIX IT FIC, pov switching, joel survives abby's encounter, injuries, healing, blood, death, apocalypse health care, temporary blindness Words: 2,725

A/N: I don't think I've ever written something so deep and sad, but damn, Joel Miller will do that. Thank you to @mothandpidgeon, @schnarfer, and @for-a-longlongtime for guiding me and looking everything over.

Healed Masterlist Masterlist

—- You’ve given up trying to avoid the glass. Blood smears red against the clear shards strewn across the floor. Too many voices, too many cries of pain. You’ve been in Jackson for only one day, a town that you thought would be a sanctuary amongst the wreckage of the world you used to know. And yet, you quickly learn, no matter how tall the walls are, the blood never stops flowing. The room suffocates beneath the hot, metallic tang of it, pooling beneath your feet as you move among the bodies. You can't get away from the screaming.

You are doing this on instinct. You must be.

"You're a doctor," a voice says. Maria, one of the leaders, grips your arm. "We need a doctor.”

You follow her as she pushes through the crowd, leaving the blood.

The air is bitter as you step outside, the stench of death is strong as you make your way through the corpses of your new neighbors and the infected.

"We need a doctor," she repeats, as you follow close behind. "Before it's too late."

You don't have the heart to tell her that it probably already is. You’ve already seen this type of despair line the streets through the apocalypse.

You’re both running down Main Street, the same street you rolled down just yesterday, exhausted and starving.

You should still be worn down from the days of travel, from the confusion and loss. But each time you think you can't take another step, you do. It’s almost enough to give you hope… until you see the gate burning while a group quickly seals a fissure in the fence.

Just past the flames, a man kneels over someone lying in the snow.

"Help him," Maria says. "Help Tommy’s brother, Joel."

—-

He’s not moving. His leg is mangled, tourniqueted by a belt soaked in red. You put your ear down to his heart and check for a pulse. Nothing.

Tommy still kneels, crying and pleading as his shaky hands grip Joel’s shoulders.

“Move,” you command, getting into position. You find the center of his chest and begin compressions.

One, two, three, four…

A small group forms around you, whispering Joel’s name as they look on. You can’t focus on them now.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

You tilt Joel's head back, pinch his nose you’re sure is broken, and give him two of your breaths. His broad chest rises slightly with each one. Back to compressions.

One, two, three, four…

He fills his lungs with air, but it sounds like the opposite… like they're letting the air out.

He’s alive, but barely.

He needs surgery. Now.

"We need to move him," you say urgently, looking up at Tommy. "Can you carry him?"

Tommy nods, and with the help of two other men, they lift Joel's limp body. His head lolls back, face gray beneath the blood. You keep your fingers pressed against his neck, feeling the faint flutter of a pulse.

—-

There's too much blood to hold on to anything, it's impossible to even see without a suction running the whole time. This is not what they taught you in med school. This is nothing like it should be. It hasn’t been for 25 years.

You're out of practice and out of your league.

There’s no oxygen therapy in the apocalypse, and he’s barely breathing. His pulse is weak, but he’s still here, holding on after you brought him back to life.

A doctor, who looks like he should have retired years ago, tells you it’s nearly impossible to save Joel’s leg.

"I’ll try," you respond.

The bullet fragments are still in his leg. Some of them. Maybe not enough to kill, but enough to leave him limping the rest of his days. If he makes it through.

Your steady hands dig and find, dig and find. Shards land on the floor with a tink as they hit the tile.

The operation shouldn't have lasted this long, not with what looks like an old man, not with the slight pulse he barely holds onto.

But he lasts.

Joel Miller survives.

You wash his blood off your hands and breathe in relief for the first time today.

You walk out the door of the tiny, barely sterile operating room, Tommy stands across the hall.

"He's going to live," you say, that’s all he needs to hear.

He hugs you.

"Thank you,” he whispers, pulling away. “He needs care," he says, hands still on your shoulders. “The hospital's overrun. Joel—" His voice breaks. "Joel's gonna need someone who knows what they're doing."

"I'm not sure—"

"Please," his grip tightens. "You saved his life. I'm asking you to help him keep it."

—-

And that’s how you found your new home. Save a life, get a bed. The room across from Joel’s is now yours.

It’s a nice enough room. A queen bed, two worn side tables, and a closet that can easily fit your one change of clothes. You haven’t had an actual bedroom to yourself in ten years. Yet, you hardly spend any time in it, it’s easier just to sleep in the worn recliner near Joel's makeshift hospital bed that sits in his living room.

The silence during the day is overwhelming. Just your footsteps on the worn floorboards, your soft voice telling Joel what you’re doing as you care for him, your knitting needles tapping against one another as you knit with what little yarn you have left. He never stirs; he just lies there silent.

The nights are even quieter. Joel’s breathing is the only sound you hear when you drift off to sleep every night, air filling and emptying, rattling his lungs.

He sleeps for days. You change his dressings, monitor the fever that makes him sweat and shiver, and refill the makeshift IV drip that hangs from a nail in the wall.

There’s a framed sketch sitting on his mantle. The man that stares back at you from the yellowing paper is quite handsome. You think it’s him.

But for now, his face is only a collection of pain.

Bruises, cuts, scabs.

Contusions, lacerations.

Stiff and swollen.

You unwrap his bandages, cleaning his wounds twice a day. You talk softly to him, as if he’s listening.

He's really not much company. The house sits still like him. And yet, every morning you tell him good morning and reintroduce yourself, just in case.

It’s lonely.

Sometimes there’s company, but not enough.

Maria brings you new clothes, spools of yarn, and some essentials you haven’t had in so long. When she leaves, she grabs your hand, tears welling in her eyes, and thanks you. “So many people depend on him here.”

Tommy checks in every day, and on the days he has the time, he sits silently watching his big brother’s chest gently rise and fall. He brings you food, one less thing for you to worry about as you spoon-feed Joel broth and blended vegetables.

“He’s tough,” he always says before leaving. “He’ll pull through.”

You only nod. The wounds are severe; infection is a constant threat. And yet, Joel refuses to let go.

—-

A young woman hobbles in one day. Ellie. Tommy’s mentioned her many times. She winces as she sits, damning her broken ribs when she leans forward and grabs Joel’s hand, tears falling down her cheeks.

She asks if he’s okay.

You nod.

She asks if he can hear her.

You nod.

She asks you to leave the room.

You leave.

—-

His face is still swollen and misshapen, barely recognizable. You stare at the sketch on the mantle. Ellie drew it, a supposed perfect reflection of who Joel was, you look over at his broken face. If you squint, you can almost make it work. You wonder if he will ever look like the man in the drawing again.

His body sprawls on the bed, limp under the blankets that you pull away from him as you check over his body and wash it.

"I'm going to clean you up a bit," you tell him softly, dipping the cloth into the basin of warm water beside the bed. You're not sure if he can hear you, but you talk anyway. "It might sting a little."

His body tenses slightly at your touch—the first real response you've gotten from him.

It’s all so clinical, but you can’t help but take a moment to notice the size of his body. He’s marred, yet still golden. Purple bruises cover his torso, and a large, mangled scar stretches across the side of his stomach. You wonder what story it tells.

“You’ve been through a lot,” you whisper aloud to nobody.

His leg is healing, though still swollen and damaged. He must be in so much pain.

He stirs under your touch, and the briefest twitch of his eyelid tells you he's still hanging on. "Joel?"

Nothing.

It's so strange to care for someone like this, someone who doesn't even know you're there. Or maybe he does. Maybe somewhere in the darkness he’s shrouded in, he can feel your presence.

—-

You don’t know if you’ve ever been around this much silence. You’re quietly reading in the recliner when you see his fingers twitch, the corner of his mouth pulls back just enough for you to tell he's fighting his way back to the world.

“Joel.”

You say his name. His breathing quickens at the sound, but there's no response otherwise.

He's drifting in and out, unaware that you're beside him. But at least he's moving.

He's barely conscious, his breaths turning into grunts and mumbles as you watch over him.

You place a hand on his arm, soothing him softly, petting against the small part of him that isn’t injured. He calms, his breathing evening out. “You’re okay, Joel. You’re safe.” He doesn’t respond, it’s not like you expected him to.

If you can't hold a conversation with him, at least you can try reading to him.

You start taking books from his bookshelves. You start with the westerns. He stays still, stuck under a haze, but you read to him like he's listening. “Lonesome Dove, hm,” you muse to him, when you pick up a thick hardcover book. “Sounds kinda like me right now, doesn’t it?”

You pull the chair close to Joel’s bed,

“When August came out on the porch the blue pigs were eating a rattlesnake – not a very big one.”

You barely finish the page before you nod off. You’re exhausted, you can’t remember the last time you stood in the sunlight.

When you wake, his fingers are twitching again.

You pick up the book and read on, twenty pages this time.

Days blur into one another as Joel's condition improves just enough for you to keep your spirits up. He can't see you through the swollen mess of his face, but you know he hears you.

You read him chapter after chapter, the only entertainment for the two of you. He barely says a word, just grunts in approval or pain.

You feel more like a librarian than a doctor.

—-

The sound of your voice is more real than anything else. He floats through the clouds of half-consciousness. Part of him thinks he’s dead.

He must be a ghost, hovering above the empty shell of his body. But when you speak, he’s tethered back to life.

He wants to see you, to open his eyes and find out if you're real, but it's too much work. His lids are heavy with injury, and the swelling doesn't allow them to open.

He hates the dark.

Sometimes you hum, sometimes you talk out loud to yourself, sometimes to him. He holds on to your voice because when you speak, the pain goes away.

He can just make out your silhouette backlit by the window near his favorite chair. Your face is a blur he can't bring into focus. Maybe he did die, maybe this is some sort of limbo he’s in, because you sure as hell sound like an angel, and when you touch him, he feels at peace.

A whole week passes. The swelling is still too much for him to see anything besides shadows and forms.

He hears pages turning and knows you're still there.

He hears the edge of worry in your voice as you talk to his brother and knows you care.

You’ll sometimes drift to sleep while you’re reading to him, always waking when his breaths become strained, when he struggles in his dreams.

Always there.

"You need to wake up," you tell him.

And still, he can't be sure you're not a figment of his desperate imagination.

Sometimes he’s sure he must be dead, because he thinks you’re an angel. He wonders if he deserves one.

Another day passes.

Another.

And another.

He loses track of how long you've stayed by his side. Until he loses track of everything except the sound of your voice.

But you don't leave him.

His body refuses to cooperate, but you don't give up.

And then, after god knows how many days, progress. His voice is the first thing that returns to him. It barely makes it past his throat.

"Ellie?" It's the most important question.

"She's safe," you tell him.

“Water,” he manages, the word scraping against his dry throat.

“Here,” you say. Your hand slips beneath his head, lifting it gently as you bring a cup to his lips.

“Slow,” you whisper. “It’s been a while.”

"How long?" he asks. He sounds like such an old man, but at least he sounds like himself.

"A while… but you survived.”

“Who are y–” the question dies in his throat, he’s too weak to form it completely.

“I’m a doctor, your brother asked me to care of you."

“Your voice,” he says, the words barely audible. “I know your voi—”

“Try to rest,” you tell him as you adjust his pillows.

—-

Soon, he’s able to say a full sentence without feeling like he’ll never be able to speak again. He gets to tell Tommy he’ll be okay. He gets to tell Ellie he missed her. He gets to say your name.

It has to be easier to take care of him now, he tries not to think about how much of a burden he is to you. A stranger, in his home, taking care of him in the way that you do. The soft way you adjust his pillow, the way you gently brush his unkempt hair out of his face, the sweet way you greet him every morning.

Every night, after dinner, you read to him. It’s his favorite part of the day. The familiar sound of the chair scooching into place, your soft throat clear, and then your voice.

“Live through it," Call said. "That's all we can do.” Your voice catches at the end of the line.

“Repeat it,” he requests.

You read it again for him. He sits silently. Your sweet voice saying “live through it” is repeating in his head.

—-

The breathing gets easier, the swelling begins to subside, and you still don't give up on him.

He flutters his eyes open just enough to see, to test it. It’s no longer shadows.

This time, he opens his eyes and he sees you. He sees your face.

He really sees it.

You’re as beautiful as he imagined, backlit by the window, you’re bathed in an aura of soft light shining in through it. You are an angel.

He stares at you. The mystery of the metallic clicking he’s been hearing is solved. You’re knitting, two needles clicking away in your hands. His vision is the clearest it's been.

He says nothing and watches you. He watches and he memorizes.

You don't even notice him. You're so used to him lying there, lifeless, that you don't even look to check… until you’re done counting your stitches and look up, your needles freezing mid-stitch.

“Joel…”

He croaks an affirmative.

You drop your knitting needles and gasp.

"Joel?" You kneel by the bed, and for the first time, he can see your whole face. For the first time, he’s sure you're real.

You press your palm to his forehead, testing his temperature before grabbing your stethoscope and checking his heart rate.

“Can you focus on breathing for me, Joel? Your heart is elevated.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his heart, knowing it’s only because of you.

—-

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chelseaslibrary · 26 days ago

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𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘~ | Jefferson Hatter x Cheshire Cat reader

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 Word Count: 2.4K

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Jefferson, obsessed with getting back what he once had. Decides to kidnap Emma to see if she can make a hat that he once used. However, this time he has a friend - maybe lover - help with his endeavour. Jefferson (Mad) Hatter x Cheshire cat accomplice reader.

A/N: Woah... My first fanfic...

"Do you really think she can do it?" You ask, staring at the cerulean blue of his eyes. Seemingly burrowing into your very soul, you look away, though not escaping his gaze. After he doesn't respond, the silence gives you your answer. He circles you, as if a predator stalking his prey. "Isn't intimidating prey my thing?" you chuckle, your lips spreading into a Cheshire-like grin, showing the very core of your soul. He smirks, chuckling, the low sound resonating in his throat would make your tail wag. Well...If you still had one. He walks around the house - somewhat preparing. You follow not far behind, tracing his every step, your eyes trained on his form.

However, soon, you stop. Rushed footsteps echo in the mostly silent forest outside, a new, unfamiliar scent flooding your nose. Your ears perk at the sound of laboured breaths and pants. A familiar playful grin dances onto your lips. Jefferson turns to face your defensive form, your yellow eyes trained on something outside. "Something out there?" He can visibly see there hair on the back of your neck stand up. "Someone." You say back, now cold and unwavering your eyes not looking away from the being outside. His arms snake around your waist, his chin now resting on the top of your head. He lowers his mouth to your ear nicking it slightly, smelling your hair. He takes a long, deep breath in, savouring you. You can feel him smirk against your ear. "Fetch"

Time skip

Mary struggles in her restraints, writhing violently, trying to hoist the chair over. Jefferson (tired of her disobedience) grips her roughly, attempting to stop her meltdown. You sit at his feet in a squat with one hand resting on the floor, your head laying on his leg. He pushes her back, his gaze now falling to you. A sigh tumbles from his lips. "Kitty. I think this one needs some special treatment. Don't you?" Standing now, you face Mary, your eyes bore into hers. The vivid colours swirl in your eyes, blues, pinks, purples and greens. It's mesmerising...

Hypnotising.

"Go to sleep..." Your voice floats in the air, soft like a satin ribbon. Her eyes flutter shut, her body still and lax. Yawn. Soft cracks echo in the room as you do a few cat stretches to soothe your aching bones. Jefferson's hand strokes under your chin, your body instinctively moving closer to relish in the warmth of his body. "Good kitten, good girl." A meow or purr rips itself from your throat, causing a soft vibration on his hand. Mischievous eyes grace his.

Time skip, The Hat Room

You lay lazily on the table, your head resting on your folded forearms, near his busy hands. He stills, setting down his tools. "I think it's time..." He stands, grabbing his coat from an adjacent chair, you reach for his scarf, tying it neatly around his neck. There are a few beats of silence but he soon breaks it. "Get changed wear something...presentable." He commands, you hop off the table, stretching. He pets your head. "Why can't I wear what I'm in now?" You playfully shine a bright smile at him, highlighting your sharper, elongated canines. He looks down at your outfit, his iconic smirk flashing across his face, your outfit being pyjama pants and a random t-shirt you found. He laughs, his nose scrunches and his eyes squeeze shut.

It's the most beautiful thing you will ever, have ever, seen."I'll be back in what? 10 minutes." He walks into the main room, adjusting himself as he gets ready to leave. He turns to you his face stern. "Get changed." He then walks out of the door, raising a hand as a wave not bothering to spare you a glance. As soon as he leaves, you retreat to your bedroom, getting changed into something more presentable. However, it seems that Jefferson had already thought ahead as new clothes were already laid out on the bed: A corset (matching pattern as Jefferson's), a black dress shirt with tiered sleeves, a studded belt, a black bowtie (again with the same pattern), black dress pants and black stilettos. 'Thank God' You thought as you didn't know what to wear. You dress very casually around the house not caring about how you look, your confidence normally overshadows that.

Time skip

You watch as a yellow buggy, parks outside the large mansion, Jefferson steps out of the car, dragging his foot behind him seemingly limping. However, you can see through his thin facade. The blonde behind him, the one you assume is Emma, seems fascinated by the large house. Eventually, they make their way inside. Jefferson leads her to the living room and then leaves her to join you in the kitchen. You sit on a countertop, watching, waiting, though mostly enjoying some snacks. Jefferson walks in while you prepare the tea. "So... she suspect anything?" You question as he starts getting something ready, you grab the whistling kettle and place it on the silver tray, nestling three cups with it. "She's looking for a dog" He states, his voice laced with amusement, you catch one and reply with a "The one upstairs?". He looks at you, grinning. Then, he leans over your shoulder, slipping something into the teapot. His face turns towards you, a cheeky smile painted on his lips. Leaning in, you connect your lips briefly, very briefly. 'meow' Eventually, he leaves, telling you to bring the tea in 5 minutes, on the dot.

Show time!

You walk in to see Jefferson and Emma talking, the two of them a few metres away, giving Emma some sense of (faux) security. She looks at you - surprised - as if she wasn't expecting to see another person. "What something on my face?" She blankly stares at you, mouth agape. Now, you set the tray down on the table - pouring the cups of tea - handing one to Jefferson. "Thought you might want to warm up for your search. It's cold out there." She seems stiff, tense, and on edge and you suppose you can guess why. "That is kind of you, but I think I should get back to it." Emma says, you watch as Jefferson hands his cup to Emma. Now, you reach for your cup, going in for a slip before Jefferson gently pushes it away from your lips - it's a warning. Slowly, you approach the sofa sitting on the back edge instead of the actual cushions. "I know. That's why I brought this." Jefferson, reaches into one of his pockets, taking out a map of the forest. He must have retrieved it when he went to check on you. "I'm a bit of an amateur cartographer. Mapping the area is a hobby. Maybe this will help you track down your dog." While Jefferson speaks Emma takes long sips of her tea, unlike yours as it sits long forgotten on the table. The map is spread on the grand piano. Emma lets slip a small 'wow', She approaches the map. "What's it's name?" The two others look at you. "The dog." You clarify. You can see the panic in her eyes and you look at her skeptically. She seems hesitant before she says "Spot", a fake, plastic smile is plastered on her face. "Cute" chuckles Jefferson as he turns to face you, his eyes never really leaving Emma. Her fingers run along the map, tracing a bond line. "Well, Route 6 runs the boundary of the forest, so..." There's a break in her sentence as she sips the tainted tea, you can see a mist cascade over her eyes and mind. "So if I just follow that I should... be able to..." Her speech slurs, into a mess of incoherent words. "Something wrong?" You ask unable to hide the amusement in your voice, however, it doesn't seem like Emma really noticed anyway. "I'm just, uh, feeling a little..." She doesn't finish the sentence before she falls back into Jefferson, he hoists her up, wrapping his arms around her middle. Green envy seeps into your skin as you watch the two. "Oh. Let me help you." He motions for you to get off the sofa, and you begrudgingly get up from your comfortable spot. "Dizzy" Emma's words are lost in between her heavy pants. "Let's just lie you down here." Jefferson 'lays' her down on the sofa, though it's more like he dropped her. "There you go. Let me get you some air." He continues, walking off, his limp now seemingly healed suddenly. You walk over to Emma, propping her head up with a pillow, though that seemed to be the downfall of your 'act'. "Your limp..." she looks past you, Jefferson suddenly stops his strides. An iconic sinister smirk creeps onto his face, it sends a - pleasurable? - shiver through your body, goosebumps rising all over your skin. "Oh. That." He walks back towards you, looking down at you and Emma. Emma on the sofa and you on your knees just in front. "I guess you caught me." The teacup Emma previously held dropped to the floor, you clasp it and set it neatly on the table. "Who are you?" She looks between you both, your hand pushing some hair behind her ear. Though neither of you get to answer before she passes out.

"You drugged the tea? that's so basic." You state, standing up. He feigns hurt as he glares at you, once again he strokes under your chin and another purr resonates from within. He chuckles as you become limp and slouche into him, though not because of the tea. Your eyes roll back "Meow"s slip from your loose lip, and when you realise what you're doing you quickly push him back, panting. "That was mean" You say annoyed, though it doesn't look very believable since your cheeks were practically as red as tomatoes, you lightly punch his shoulder.

Time skip

You rest in the corner of a room, Jefferson standing in the middle, sharpening a large pair of gleaming scissors. A few miscellaneous pillows, blankets and t-shirts lay under you, you're curled in the very centre. Watching. Low huffs erupt from your chest as you lay there bored, Jefferson giving you no attention at all. 'I'm going to die if he doesn't give me attention' you thought as you dramatically pressed your hand against your forehead. 'No, I'm not' You say again in your mind. Standing up, you make your way to Jefferson, nuzzling his neck and wrapping your arms around his body. Attempting to savour as much of him as you can, his smell seemingly intoxicating you. So much that you don't catch Emma leaving her room. Well, that is until you hear the creak of the floorboards, your head immediately snapping towards the sound. Jefferson's head follows but much slower.

Time skip

You watch as Emma and Mary leave the room Mary was previously held in, the pair stopping in their tracks once they hear the cocking of a gun. Their eyes are as wide as a deer in headlights. "I see you found 'Spot'!" This was your cue, quickly you pry Mary from Emma's grip, resting a knife against her jugular. Mary squeals, thrashing in your grip, pointlessly wasting energy. "I've already called for backup, they'll be here any second," Emma says hesitantly, Jefferson darkly laughs, motioning his gun towards you. Emma now makes eye contact with you, agonisingly waiting for you to make a move. "You called back up huh..." Your words seep with sarcasm, you reach for something in your pocket, a smooth cold material gracing your fingers. You pull out a black walkie-talkie. "Oh.. No. You didn't" You feign sympathy and throw Mary into Emma, both having to move backwards to avoid falling over. "Now tie her back up." This time Jefferson's voice is stern and unwavering, 'cold' some could put it.

He grabs Emma, leading her somewhere, you follow with no hesitation however this time Jefferson stops you. "Make sure, she doesn't escape-" "But!-" "You can check on us, just make sure that she stays in that room." He points back to where Mary is imprisoned, sadness or jealousy shines deep within your eyes at the thought of them being alone. Together. It seems like he could sense it as he leans over to place a small kiss on your forehead. The horrified look of disgust - or something else you couldn't see - flashed upon Emma's face. I made you wanna laugh out loud but with that, Jefferson left.

Check-in

You push open the door to the 'Hat Room' many shelves are lined with copious amounts of hats. Obvious to the name. Emma turns to you, watching as you close the door - her only escape route - it seems you had accidentally intruded in the middle of a conversation. "And them.. the feline actions, the tea... their grin. You think you're the Cheshire cat." The look in her eyes is pure astonishment - not the good kind though. "I am the Cheshire Cat." Before you can continue with the conversation, you're cut short. Thrashing is heard from upstairs, loud banging, etc. You spare Jefferson a simple look as you leave, your eyes meeting, his softening. "Good luck", and with that you ascend back up the stairs.

...

You raise a gun to Emma, pressing the barrel into the bottom of her skull. "Where the fuck is Jefferson?" She doesn't answer back, instead, she sweeps your legs, knocking off your feet. Suddenly, you're the one with a gun to your head. "Emma, look out!" Jefferson runs into the room and tackles Emma, knocking her into Mary, who currently is still in the chair, now all of you are on the floor. A struggle ensues. Emma tries to get to the gun, however, you run up and grab it before Emma could get her hands on it. Somehow during the struggle, Jefferson had managed to loosen the scarf enough, that it had fallen off. You toss Jefferson the gun, he cocks it and points it at Emma. You reach for his hat, making your way towards him, placing it snugly on his head. He smiles, the flame of madness raging vividly in his eyes, he pulls you into him, an arm snuggly around your waist. "Off with his head." He chuckles darkly, Mary picks up a croquet mallet and strikes Jefferson with it, then without warning she kicks you, sending you both tumbling out the window.

A/N: How do I end this?

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chelseaslibrary · 4 months ago

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you'll always find a way back home ❀

clark kent x reader (miley stewart summer au)

❀ summary: being a cali-girl has its advantages—surrounded by beaches, parties, and sunshine. Y/N loves her life there, but she forgets that deep down, her roots lie in the opposite: Smallville. Her summer takes an unexpected turn when she returns to Smallville for her summer break and crosses paths once again with her childhood enemy, Clark Kent.

word count: 6,755

There’s always the best of both worlds—one filled with glamour and the other, well, the opposite of it. The same could be said for Malibu and Smallville. Malibu embodied glamorous salt air, the sound of waves, and the endless rush of life. Smallville, on the other hand, was different: cows, meadows, and pure silence—the opposite sides of existence.

For Y/N, the feeling of living in two different worlds wasn’t a big deal. She had left one world behind at the age of seven, spending the next ten years in Malibu. Salt air, endless beaches, and the golden glow of the sun—it was a life she had carved out for herself, a world she had seamlessly become part of. The rush of city life, the hum of vibrant streets, and the pulse of constant motion nourished her soul in ways she could never have imagined as a seven-year-old. The sprawling metropolis of Malibu felt like a living, thriving entity at the edge of the world.

Before Malibu, there was only Smallville. The life she had known as a child was painted in shades of green—vast, open fields stretching endlessly in every direction. The land was quiet, so silent it could almost swallow her whole. Days were spent wandering dusty roads on horseback, the sun scorching the back of her neck, while the sound of crickets and rustling corn served as her only soundtrack. It was a life where the horizon never seemed to change, and the sense of being trapped within the narrow confines of the small town’s heartbeat was ever-present. A world of barns, hand-me-down denim, and the thick scent of earth—the very soil seemed to anchor her in place, a constant reminder of who she once was.

Then came the transformation. She shed the weight of Smallville like an old, weathered coat and replaced it with the sleek, gleaming allure of Malibu. Gone were the cowboy boots—now she walked in strappy sandals. The scent of hay gave way to the salty tang of the ocean breeze. Her hands, once calloused from farmwork, now held delicate silk fabrics and the soft sheen of designer handbags. Dusty roads became wide, pristine boulevards, and the simple country air was replaced by the intoxicating aroma of city life.

And she liked it.

Hell, she loved it.

She loved being a city girl, a Cali girl.

She had long forgotten the quiet winds that swept through Smallville’s open fields, the scent of grass and earth underfoot, and the cool embrace of the night sky.

Yet, as summer break loomed, she envisioned herself spending it with friends at the beach or going to parties. But plans took an unexpected twist, like a tornado without warning. Her father, Robbie, appeared with his ever-stubborn insistence. He informed Y/N and her brother, Jackson, that they were heading back to Smallville for a celebration—Martha Kent’s birthday.

Martha, Robbie’s childhood friend and the ever-kind, patient woman, had invited them to join the Kents for the occasion. Y/N wasn’t thrilled. Her original summer plans had promised excitement, filled with the laughter of friends and the sparkle of club lights—the kind of plans Malibu always encouraged. Smallville, though? It felt like a relic of the past, a place where time stood still.

“I don’t want to go,” Y/N protested, her voice sharp with frustration as she flopped back onto the couch. “I had plans. I was going to hang out with my friends, hit the clubs, you know, actually have fun.”

Robbie raised an eyebrow. “This is important, Y/N. You haven’t seen Martha in years. She’s been asking about you. You’re going, and that’s final.”

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at him. “You’re really going to make me spend my break in a field with cows and tractors?”

Her brother, Jackson—the ever-peacemaker and, somehow, the most annoying brother—glanced over with a sympathetic smile. “Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fun. Like old times. You can hang out with me, catch up with everyone, and maybe the fresh air will do you some good.”

Y/N groaned, slumping into the cushions. “I don’t need fresh air. I need a beach, not cornfields.”

But her father wasn’t listening to her complaints. “Pack your bags. We’re leaving in an hour.”

The truck rumbled along the familiar winding roads of Smallville, the scent of dust and fresh air filling the cab. Y/N leaned against the window, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the condensation. Outside, fields stretched endlessly in all directions, dotted with grazing cows and the occasional weathered barn. The sight should have been nostalgic, but to Y/N, it only deepened her annoyance.

It had been years since she’d been here, yet the quiet of the countryside felt almost suffocating. The stillness pressed against her like a heavy blanket, the kind that made it hard to breathe. Smallville seemed frozen in time—its unchanging landscapes a stark contrast to the vibrant motion of Malibu.

She glanced over at Jackson, who was scrolling through his phone in the passenger seat, annoyingly unbothered by their sudden detour into the past. Robbie sat behind the wheel, humming along to a country station on the radio, clearly in his element. The whole scene made Y/N’s skin itch.

She sighed, the sound loud enough to get Jackson’s attention. He smirked without looking up from his phone. “You okay there, city girl?”

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, shifting in her seat. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how irritated she was. But in truth, she wasn’t fine. The weight of Smallville’s simplicity—the fields, the dirt roads, the lack of anything remotely exciting—was already settling over her like a cloud.

The truck slowed as they passed the familiar white sign welcoming them to Smallville. Y/N’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. The memories she’d worked so hard to bury began clawing their way back to the surface: the laughter of kids on the school playground, the smell of hay bales during harvest, the quiet nights spent staring at the stars because there was nothing else to do.

She shifted her gaze back to the window, trying to drown out the flood of emotions with the rhythmic crunch of the tires on the gravel road. “Why couldn’t we just send a card?” she grumbled under her breath, earning a chuckle from Robbie.

“It won’t kill you to be here for a few days,” her father said, his tone equal parts teasing and firm. “Besides, Martha’s been looking forward to seeing you. She’s practically family, Y/N.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. That was the problem. Smallville wasn’t just a place she’d left behind—it was a version of herself she’d buried, a girl she didn’t want to be anymore. Being back here felt like opening a door she’d slammed shut years ago, and she wasn’t ready to step through it.

As the truck turned down a familiar dirt road, the Kent farmhouse came into view. It looked exactly as she remembered—whitewashed walls, a wide wraparound porch, and the iconic red barn standing proud against the horizon. Y/N could already picture Martha’s warm smile and open arms, the way she’d welcome them with fresh pie and a hug that felt like it could squeeze the air out of your lungs.

Her father parked the truck and hopped out, stretching with a contented sigh. “We’re here,” he announced cheerfully.

Y/N stayed put, gripping the door handle but not opening it. The idea of stepping out and being enveloped in the reality of Smallville made her stomach churn. She wasn’t ready to see the barn, the fields, or the people who would ask her questions she didn’t want to answer. She wasn’t ready to feel like the little girl who used to belong here.

“Y/N?” Jackson’s voice broke through her thoughts. He was standing outside now, leaning against the truck with a knowing look on his face. “You coming, or are you planning to live in the cab?”

With a heavy sigh, Y/N pushed the door open and slid out. The warm summer air wrapped around her like a blanket, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly cut grass and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was as if Smallville itself was welcoming her home.

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and trudged toward the house, muttering under her breath, “This is going to be the longest summer of my life.”

The Kent farmhouse was just as Y/N remembered it, a picture-perfect postcard of rural life. The white picket fence framed the yard, the flowerbeds bursting with color, and the iconic red barn standing tall against the clear blue sky. Despite herself, she felt a twinge of warmth at the sight of it all.

Martha Kent stood on the porch, her apron dusted with flour, waving enthusiastically as the truck pulled to a stop. Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little. Martha’s energy was infectious, and her kind heart had always been a constant source of comfort during Y/N’s early years in Smallville.

“Y/N! Jackson! Oh, it’s so good to see you both!” Martha exclaimed, rushing forward with open arms. Robbie got out of the truck first, grinning as Martha pulled him into a quick hug before moving on to Y/N and Jackson.

Y/N braced herself for the inevitable bone-crushing hug, but when Martha wrapped her arms around her, it wasn’t suffocating—it was warm and reassuring, like stepping into the sunlight after a cloudy day. “Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” Martha said, pulling back to get a good look at her.

“Thanks, Martha,” Y/N said, her voice softening in spite of her earlier annoyance. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“And Jackson, my goodness, you’ve shot up like a weed!” Martha added, giving him a playful nudge.

Jackson grinned, always happy to be the center of attention. “It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Kent.”

“Now, none of this ‘Mrs. Kent’ business. You know you can call me Martha,” she said, ushering them toward the porch.

The house smelled like freshly baked apple pie, with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg lingering in the air. Y/N couldn’t deny that it felt nice—familiar, even. Martha’s home had always been a safe haven, a place filled with warmth and kindness.

As they settled into the living room, Martha brought out a tray of lemonade and cookies, chatting animatedly with Robbie about old times. Jackson joined in, sharing stories of their life in Malibu. Y/N stayed mostly quiet, sipping her lemonade and letting the conversation flow around her. She liked Martha, but being back in Smallville was like stepping into a pair of old shoes that didn’t quite fit anymore.

“Clark’s not here, by the way,” Martha said suddenly, glancing at Y/N with a knowing smile. “He’s somewhere.”

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening around her glass. Of course, Clark Kent would come up eventually. He was practically Smallville royalty, and Martha couldn’t help but dote on her son.

“That’s… fine,” Y/N said quickly, trying to keep her tone neutral.

Clark Kent was the most annoying boy next door, y/n has ever known. He was always teasing her about her farming skills, or pulled pranks with Jackson on her. Y/N always teased Clark that he couldn’t speak properly to girls, or that he looks like a grandpa. It was always forth and back.

Martha chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I seem to remember the two of you didn’t get along very well as kids.”

Jackson snorted. “Didn’t get along? That’s putting it mildly. Clark was always teasing her—pushing her to the hay, hiding her toys, calling her ‘city slicker’ even though she wasn’t from the city back then.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, annoyance was clear on her face. “Yeah, well, he was a terror. I’m surprised he didn’t get himself kicked out of kindergarten.”

Martha laughed, clearly amused. “Oh, he’s grown out of that phase, I promise. He’ll be happy to see you.”

Y/N highly doubted that. The last time she’d seen Clark Kent, they’d been seven years old, and he’d shoved a frog into her lunchbox, resulting in her shrieking so loudly the teacher had to call the principal and Y/N pushed him later as revenge to a lake. The memory still made her cringe.

“Well, let’s hope he’s matured,” Y/N said in a sarcastically tone, setting her glass down on the coffee table.

Martha patted her hand gently. “I’m sure you’ll both get along better now. People change, Y/N.”

“Sure they do,” Y/N replied, though she wasn’t convinced. If Clark Kent was still the same smug, teasing boy she remembered, this summer was about to become a whole lot more complicated.

After the small talk in the living room had run its course, Y/N found herself wandering toward the window, gazing out at the sprawling fields behind the Kent house. Her eyes drifted to the paddock near the barn, and her breath caught when she spotted a familiar figure—Blue Jeans, her old horse.

The years hadn’t dulled his striking appearance. His glossy black coat gleamed in the sunlight, his white star-shaped marking standing out proudly on his forehead. Her heart squeezed as memories of riding him across the fields rushed back—those carefree days when the world felt vast and full of possibilities.

“He’s still here,” Y/N murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Martha, who had been tidying up, looked over and smiled warmly. “Of course, he is. Robbie couldn’t bear to part with him after you guys left. He’s been here ever since.”

Y/N couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips. Blue Jeans had been her constant companion during her Smallville years, a source of comfort when the quiet got too loud. She suddenly felt a tug of nostalgia and longing that she hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m going to go see him,” she said abruptly, grabbing her phone and heading toward the door.

The heat of the sun kissed her skin as she walked across the yard, the scents of hay and earth growing stronger with every step. When she reached the paddock, Blue Jeans was grazing lazily near the fence, his tail swishing against the flies.

“Hey there, boy,” Y/N called softly, leaning against the wooden fence. Her voice wavered slightly, a mix of excitement and nervousness. “It’s me, Blue Jeans. Remember me?”

The horse’s ears twitched, and he lifted his head to look at her. His dark eyes, once so full of trust and familiarity, now stared at her with a distant curiosity. Y/N felt a pang of disappointment.

“It’s been a while, huh?” she said, stepping closer. She reached out a hand, hoping he’d recognize her scent or the sound of her voice. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

Blue Jeans regarded her for a moment longer before snorting and turning his head away, clearly uninterested.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Y/N murmured, slipping through the fence and into the paddock. She approached slowly, her hand outstretched, but as soon as she got close, Blue Jeans startled. His ears pinned back, and before she could react, he bolted across the paddock, his hooves kicking up clouds of dust.

“Blue Jeans, wait!” Y/N called, her heart sinking as she watched him gallop toward the far side of the field.

She stood there for a moment, the weight of his reaction pressing down on her. He didn’t remember her. The bond they’d shared—the one she’d thought would last forever—was gone.

Frustration welled up as she stopped near the edge of the pasture, catching her breath. She hadn’t expected this—her own horse, the one she’d ridden through countless childhood summers, didn’t even know her anymore.

Movement on the far side of the field caught her eye. A rider was approaching swiftly on a sleek black horse, cutting across the open space with practiced ease. They seemed to have noticed Blue Jeans’ runaway gallop and were moving to intercept him.

Y/N squinted, trying to make out the rider. The sunlight glinted off the black horse’s glossy coat as the figure leaned low in the saddle, guiding the animal with effortless precision.

The rider expertly maneuvered their horse, heading off Blue Jeans before he could get any farther. With a firm but gentle pull of the reins, they brought him to a halt. The black horse stood steady, calm in its dominance, while Blue Jeans pawed at the ground, uncertain but no longer running.

Y/N stood frozen, watching the rider stroke Blue Jeans’ neck and murmur something she couldn’t hear. She felt a pang of gratitude mixed with curiosity.

As the rider turned and began leading the two horses back toward the barn, Y/N finally got a better look. The tall figure was dressed in a simple flannel shirt, jeans, and boots. The confidence in his movements stirred something vaguely familiar in her memory, but she couldn’t place it right away.

When the rider dismounted, handing Blue Jeans’ reins to her, Y/N finally got a clear look at his face—and her breath caught.

Clark Kent.

Of course, that was him.

He looked different—taller, broader, more confident—but the smug little smirk on his face as he approached was unmistakable.

“Lost something?” he called out, his voice carrying across the field.

Y/N crossed her arms, her jaw tightening as Clark brought both horses to a stop in front of her. Blue Jeans looked calm now, his ears twitching as Clark dismounted and handed her the reins.

“Your horse didn’t seem too thrilled to see you,” Clark said, his tone light but with that teasing edge she remembered all too well.

Y/N snatched the reins from his hand, glaring at him. “He just didn’t recognize me. It’s been a while.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, if that’s what you want to tell yourself.”

She huffed, focusing on stroking Blue Jeans’ neck instead of responding. Clark’s black horse snorted behind him, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how well-trained and strong the animal looked.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide her irritation.

Clark shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I could ask you the same, city girl. Perhaps I was riding but I didn’t think I’d end up saving your horse in the process and I am still waiting for a ,thank you,” His tone sarcastically as ever.

“Thanks,” she muttered begrudgingly, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his tone annoyingly cheerful.

As Clark mounted his horse again, he glanced back at her with a grin that made her blood boil. “Good to see you again, city girl. Try not to lose him next time.”

With that, he urged his horse into a trot and rode off, leaving Y/N standing there with Blue Jeans and a swirl of emotions she didn’t want to unpack.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath, tugging lightly on Blue Jeans’ reins. “Welcome back to Smallville.”

Y/N walked slowly back toward the barn, Blue Jeans obediently following behind her, though he was still skittish from the brief escape. Her thoughts were racing, the familiar, maddening presence of Clark Kent bringing all kinds of feelings she’d hoped were buried. She couldn’t believe it—after all these years, he was still the same teasing, infuriating kid she remembered. Only now, he was taller, more confident, and somehow, even more irritating.

As she reached the barn, she heard the sound of hooves approaching again. This time, it was slower, more deliberate. She glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, there was Clark, riding his horse back toward her.

He pulled the reins as he stopped a few feet away, his eyes narrowing with that mischievous glint she remembered so well.

“So, Malibu, huh?” he said, his tone light and teasing, as if he was trying to provoke her. “I actually didn’t even recognize you earlier. Thought you were some California tourist passing through.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. “You’re not the first person to make that mistake,” she muttered, stroking Blue Jeans’ neck a little more forcefully than necessary.

Clark chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “No kidding. You look nothing like the girl I used to torment.” His gaze shifted up and down, inspecting her with an expression that felt far too knowing. “You’ve definitely changed. I barely recognized you without the pigtails and the dirt on your face.”

Y/N couldn’t suppress a huff of frustration. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve been really paying attention,” she shot back, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Why would I want to look like that annoying little girl you used to pick on?”

Clark grinned, clearly enjoying every second of this. “You know, I never understood why you were so touchy about me teasing you. It was all in good fun. You were, what, seven? Not like you’d remember any of it now.” His eyes twinkled as if he was savoring the memory of their childhood rivalry.

“Trust me,” Y/N replied, her tone sharp, “I remember plenty. And just because I don’t look like that girl anymore doesn’t mean I’m not still the same person.”

Clark leaned back slightly in the saddle, crossing his arms over his chest. “Right. Of course. But it’s hard to see past the whole… Malibu vibe. You’ve got the whole ‘I’m way too cool for Smallville’ thing going on.” His grin widened, and Y/N couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or genuinely poking at something he knew would get under her skin.

Y/N glanced at him, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not too cool for Smallville,” she said slowly, “but maybe it’s you who can’t see past the small-town life. Maybe it’s you who hasn’t changed.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by her comment. “I changed. I’m just not *bragging* about it like you are.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating the way she stood in front of him, her posture more confident, her clothes undoubtedly a far cry from the ones she’d worn all those years ago. “I mean, Malibu does wonders for a person.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush but refused to back down. “I’m not bragging. And for the record, there’s more to me than whatever you think you see from your small-town perspective.” She met his gaze, refusing to let him get the best of her. “You know, I didn’t ask for this visit. I had better plans than standing here in the dust, talking to the same person who made my life miserable when we were kids.”

Clark leaned forward in the saddle, his expression softening slightly. “Hey, I’m just messing with you. I didn’t mean anything by it. But seriously, Malibu… It must be a whole different world from here, huh?” His tone was more genuine now, though still laced with that teasing undercurrent. “I bet it’s *pretty* hard to leave it all behind.”

Y/N hesitated. For a moment, the teasing and the rivalry faded, and she could hear the underlying curiosity in his voice. “Yeah,” she admitted, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “It’s... different. It’s all the things people think it is—beaches, sun, parties. But it’s also lonely. Harder than people realize.”

Clark’s smile faded, and he gave a small nod, as if he understood more than he was letting on. “I get it. Doesn’t matter how shiny things are. Not every place feels like home.”

Y/N looked at him, surprised by the change in tone. For a moment, it felt like they weren’t just two childhood enemies standing in the middle of a field—they were two people who, in their own ways, were just trying to make sense of their worlds.

But before she could say anything more, Clark seemed to snap back to his usual self. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your horse,” he said with a wink. “Just don’t lose him again, okay? I don’t want to have to rescue you next time.”

Y/N scowled. “You’re lucky I’m not punching you right now,” she shot back, but even as she said it, there was an undeniable hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Clark laughed, a light, carefree sound that made Y/N realize how little she actually knew about the boy who had teased her for so long. “I’ll be around, city girl. Don’t go getting too comfortable.”

Y/N watched him go, the sting of their old rivalry still there but somehow not as sharp. Maybe Smallville wasn’t as small as she remembered after all.

Over the next few days, Y/N found herself spending more time with Clark than she’d expected. Every time she tried to avoid him, he seemed to find a way to show up, like some kind of cosmic joke. And despite her best efforts to maintain her distance, she couldn’t help but feel a strange pull toward him. It was the kind of pull that only small towns seemed to foster—familiar, unspoken, and inescapable.

It started innocently enough. Martha had insisted that they all help with the chores around the farm, and, of course, Clark had been the first to show up, grinning like a cat that had gotten the cream.

“Ready to get your hands dirty, city girl?” he’d teased, standing at the entrance of the barn with his sleeves rolled up, looking like he belonged there more than anyone else.

Y/N shot him a glare, arms crossed. “I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly capable of doing chores, thank you very much.”

He chuckled, clearly not convinced. “I doubt you’ve done a real day’s work in your life,” he shot back, leaning against a barrel of hay. “I mean, Malibu’s great and all, but I don’t think they teach you how to muck out a stall out there.”

She clenched her jaw. “You’d be surprised what I can handle.”

And handle it, she did. After a little grumbling, they worked side by side, shoveling hay, cleaning out the barn, and feeding the animals. At first, it was awkward—Y/N wasn’t used to the rhythm of farm life anymore, and Clark didn’t hesitate to point out every little mistake she made.

“Oh, you missed a spot,” he’d tease, always with that smirk of his, as he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, city girl.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the truth was, she liked the banter. It reminded her of her childhood, when everything was simpler, when everything had felt like a game.

“Look, if you think I can’t do this, just wait until I show you how it’s done,” she said, determined to prove him wrong.

Clark raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? I’m waiting.”

And then, to his surprise, Y/N had grabbed the pitchfork and shoveled with more precision than he had expected. She might not have grown up with the same skills as him, but she knew how to get things done.

When they finally took a break, Clark leaned against the barn wall, wiping his forehead. “Alright, I’ll admit it. You’re not as bad as I thought. Maybe Malibu’s *not* all you are.”

Y/N smirked, a spark of competition in her eyes. “Told you so.”

Their time together continued like that—moments of teasing and lighthearted jabs followed by quiet, almost comfortable silences. They’d ride together out in the fields, their horses’ hooves beating a steady rhythm on the dirt. Clark would always make sure to *just barely* stay ahead of her, giving her a playful wink when she caught up.

“You know, I’ve always been better at this than you,” he would say, his voice a mix of challenge and amusement. “You used to be so slow. Guess Malibu's not doing much for your speed.”

Y/N would roll her eyes. “You really need to stop talking about the past, Kent. I’m faster now. Catch me if you can.”

And then she’d race ahead, her heart pounding in the excitement of the chase. Clark would grin and follow, effortlessly keeping pace with her, never really pushing to overtake her. They were both competitive, in their own ways, but Clark’s subtle teasing always managed to keep her on her toes.

One afternoon, after a long ride, they returned to the barn, both a little winded and flushed from the exertion. Clark tied the horses up, and when he turned to Y/N, he caught her looking at him for a moment longer than she intended.

“What?” he asked, his grin widening as he noticed the lingering look.

“Nothing,” Y/N replied quickly, her heart unexpectedly fluttering. “I was just thinking how *different* it is being here. It feels… good, I guess. Like it fits.”

Clark didn’t miss the tone in her voice. “Glad to hear it,” he said quietly, his smile softer now, like he wasn’t just teasing her for once. “You know, Smallville has a way of doing that to people. It’s like it gets under your skin.”

Y/N swallowed, feeling her heartbeat quicken. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

And then, almost as if to remind her that some things never really changed, Clark stepped closer, leaning in just a bit too close for comfort. “I’m still way better at riding than you, though,” he said, his voice low with that playful challenge. “I mean, you did need me to catch your horse earlier.”

Y/N huffed, trying to stay unaffected by the closeness. “I don’t remember asking for your help.”

He flashed a grin, his eyes lingering on her face for just a beat too long. “I’ll remind you of that next time I rescue you from your own horse again.”

The air between them shifted, a silent tension hanging in the barn as they stood in the afterglow of their ride, the sound of the horses settling in the background. Y/N felt a knot tighten in her stomach, but before she could respond, Clark seemed to snap back into his usual playful demeanor.

“Well, I’d better go help my mom with dinner,” he said, a little too casually. “You know, so you don’t think I’m just here to torment you all day.”

“Too late for that,” she retorted, though her lips twitched into a small smile.

And as Clark walked away, Y/N found herself watching him longer than she probably should have. It wasn’t just the way he’d changed physically—stronger, taller, more confident. It was the way he seemed to settle back into Smallville with a comfort that felt almost... easy. The way they both fell back into their old rhythm of teasing and rivalry, like time had stood still, despite everything.

But somewhere beneath the playful jabs and the teasing grins, Y/N couldn’t ignore the fact that maybe—just maybe—Clark Kent had grown up in ways she hadn’t expected. And that left her wondering if there was more to the new Clark than the boy who used to torment her so many years ago.

The next day, after a hearty breakfast at the Kent farm, Clark suggested they go on a ride to a place he thought she might like—a small waterfall hidden away just on the outskirts of town. He’d mentioned it casually, like it was no big deal, but Y/N could tell there was something about this spot that meant more to him than he was letting on.

They saddled their horses and set off, the cool morning air whipping past them as they rode side by side through the fields. The peaceful rhythm of the horses' galloping hooves against the dirt seemed to melt away all the tension that had lingered between them the past few days. It was easy, comfortable, in a way Y/N hadn’t expected. There was something about being on horseback, moving through the wide-open space, that made her feel connected to this place again—like she was finding pieces of herself she had forgotten.

Clark led her down a narrow path that wound through trees, and soon the sound of rushing water filled the air. They emerged from the trees and reached the small clearing. There, nestled between moss-covered rocks, was a hidden waterfall, cascading down into a crystal-clear pool below. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dancing shadows on the water's surface. It was quieter here, the only sound the rush of water and the occasional birdcall.

“Wow,” Y/N breathed, momentarily stunned by the beauty of it. “This is... amazing. I never thought a place like this would be hiding right here.”

Clark smiled, clearly proud of the spot. “Told you. It’s one of my favorite places. Not many people know about it.”

He dismounted, tying the horses to a nearby tree, and then looked over at Y/N. “You should come down to the water. It’s the best part.”

Y/N hesitated for just a second, eyeing the small, clear pool at the base of the waterfall. “I don’t know, Clark. It looks kind of... cold.”

Clark grinned. “It’s refreshing. Trust me, you’ll love it. Besides,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “you could use a little adventure. Also don’t you have beaches in Malibu?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her own grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, don’t even start with that again.”

But before she could protest any further, Clark was already walking toward the water’s edge, kicking off his boots and rolling up his sleeves. Without warning, he jumped into the sea with a splash, sending water flying in every direction. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him, drenched but clearly enjoying himself.

Clark poked his head out from the water, eyes sparkling. “Come on, it’s not so bad!”

Y/N shook her head, still laughing at the sight of him. “You’re crazy,” she called, but even as she said it, she found herself grinning. There was something about seeing him so carefree, so unguarded, that made her feel... lighter, like the tension between them from their childhood had completely evaporated.

After a beat, she hesitated. She hadn’t planned on going into the water, but part of her felt like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it was time to let go of her reservations and enjoy the moment.

With a resigned sigh, Y/N slowly walked toward the water, kicking off her own boots and rolling up her sleeves. She dipped a toe in, testing the water, and winced at the coolness.

“See? Not that bad,” Clark teased, grinning like a boy who had just won a victory.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she muttered, but before she could fully make up her mind, Clark swam closer to her, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Race you to the waterfall,” he said, his voice light with playful challenge.

Without waiting for a response, he splashed through the water, making his way toward the base of the waterfall.

Y/N’s competitive spirit flared up instantly. “You’re on!” she shouted, charging after him.

The water was cold, but the rush of the challenge and the sight of Clark splashing ahead of her made her forget the chill. She pushed forward, splashing water everywhere, and as she caught up to him, she could hear him laughing. The sound was carefree, filled with the kind of joy that she hadn’t heard from him in years. It made her heart flutter in a way she wasn’t quite prepared for.

Clark reached the waterfall first, turning back to look at her. “I knew you were slow.”

Y/N shot him a mock glare. “Not funny.”

But before she could protest further, Clark lunged toward her and, with a quick move, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the deeper part of the sea. Y/N yelped in surprise, but her protest was cut short as she found herself falling into the cool water, completely submerged for a moment.

She came up sputtering, her hair plastered to her face. “You jerk!”

Clark was already laughing, his eyes full of playful amusement. “Couldn’t resist,” he teased. “You’ve got to admit, it’s fun.”

Y/N wiped the water from her face, but as she looked up at him, something shifted between them. The teasing glint in Clark’s eyes softened for a moment, and for a beat, there was something in his gaze that made her heart skip.

He reached out, pushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her skin for just a second longer than necessary. “You know, I’ve missed this,” he said, his voice quieter now, the teasing gone, replaced by something more genuine.

Y/N swallowed, her heart pounding in her chest. “Missed what?”

He smiled softly, his eyes locking with hers. “To tease you the whole time?”

Y/N’s lips curved into a chuckle, shaking her head. “Really? That’s all you’re going to say?”

Clark chuckled, tilting his head as he moved a bit closer. “What exactly do you want me to say, then?”

Y/N found herself looking into his eyes for a moment longer than usual, her breath catching. There was something about his tone, something flirtatious but also not, and it made her feel... strangely open to the moment.

She let out a soft breath, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “Like that you missed me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clark’s gaze softened, a hint of something more real flashing across his expression. For a moment, the world seemed to slow down around them. The teasing was gone, replaced by an unspoken understanding, something deeper than the playful back-and-forth that had defined their relationship for so long.

Clark hesitated for just a heartbeat, before his smile widened. “I think I can say that,” he said, his voice gentle, but there was still that glimmer of playfulness there. “I missed you, Y/N. Even if you were always a little... annoying.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, a mix of warmth and something else she couldn't quite place. She tilted her head, her voice playful but soft. “You’re still teasing me.”

Clark’s expression shifted, and for the first time since they hang out the whole time, he seemed to be a little more serious. “Maybe I am, but it’s because I... I don’t know, I like seeing you smile. You don’t even know how much I missed you.”

Y/N’s breath caught again. She hadn’t realized how much she’d longed for something genuine from him, something that didn’t involve teasing or childish rivalries.

She reached up, brushing her fingers lightly against his arm, before letting them fall back to her side. “Well,” she said, her voice softening, “I missed you too, Clark. In my own way.”

Clark didn’t say anything for a moment, as if letting the weight of her words sink in. Then, without warning, he gave her a crooked grin, his tone returning to that teasing edge she was so familiar with. “So, does that mean you’ll forgive me for all the cowboy or malibu jokes?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but this time, the smile on her lips was different—gentler, warmer. “Maybe. But only if you promise not to throw me into the water again.”

Clark laughed, the sound light and easy. “Deal. But just so you know, it was totally worth it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with him, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. The moment had shifted from playful banter to something much more. Something real.

And for the first time, Y/N wasn’t sure if she wanted to let go of this new side of Clark—this side that made her feel seen, not just as the girl from Malibu, but as someone who could still be a part of Smallville, in her own way.

Maybe it was true, that you’ll always find a way back home.

❀taglist: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @collywobblvs @tvdelrey @angelsgalore @tinainaction

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chelseaslibrary · 1 year ago

Text

Infectious Love

Summery: After a failed, almost confession of love, you and Hunter's relationship is skating on thin ice...that is, until someone falls through (or gets stabbed in the gut), so to speak.

Warnings: Angst, lots of it, but comfort too. Lots of emotions. Mentions of blood and sickness.

Hellooooooooo @imaginesfordifferentfandoms tis I, your Secret Santa in the @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!! I really, really, hope you like it. I worked really hard on it ;D So I hope it turned out the way I imagined it in my head ;D Enjoy this kinda longish drabble XD Hehehehe now you understand all the questions I asked. I hope you don't mind I went with Hunter. You seemed to not mind any of them; he's my favorite so I know I can get carried away :D and I wanted to make sure the story was nice! Also, I gave Hunter's scarf a destiny. A fate. A sense of purpose. We now know what happened to it. I have spoken.

Furthermore, I'd like to throw a huge shout out to some people who deserve it. Firstly, @ghostofskywalker. Thank you so much for organizing this event and all the other ones like it. They are always so much fun and I enjoy them immensely. It is safe to say the others who join feel the same way. Thank you for all the hard work you put into it all! Also, thank you to @photogirl894 for being an awesome beta reader and supportive friend. I don't know if I would have finished this fic on time if she hadn't helped me through all the rough spots by her encouraging words. Bestie, you read everything but the ending...I hope you like it <3

The decree is written, now, let the story unfold.

“As a father, you couldn’t ask for a better place to raise a child.”

You’d heard Shep say these words to Hunter your first day on Pabu, and you had to admit, it made your heart flutter a little bit. You’d fallen hard for Hunter a long time ago but duty always got in the way. At first, you hadn’t realized just how much you cared for him during the Clone War, serving as their medic, until Hunter received a shot in the chest. It was then that you realized, or rather were honest with yourself, that your friendship was always more than just a friendship. Almost losing him gave you a clarity and an honesty with yourself that you needed, but that didn’t make things easy. In fact, they made them harder.

Because now you knew how YOU felt, but you had NO IDEA how he felt. Every day, you’d face a new challenge, a new battle, overcome insurmountable odds against the Separatists on top secret missions and won. Every night, you’d have a heart to heart with Hunter, talking about things that made him laugh, made you laugh, things that made you cry, or things that upset him.

But never unburying that heavy secret locked away in your heart.

You considered yourself brave in many aspects but not when it came to problems with the heart. You could tell Hunter anything and everything, except how you felt about him. Instead, you’d find little things every day to show him you loved him. You’d fix his caf the way he liked it, you’d make sure the others were considerate of his sense, you listened to him when he wanted to rant, you showed him you trusted him. You were his shoulder to lean on, his unofficial right hand man. Technically, Crosshair filled those shoes but not always. You tried to be the head of reason when the boys fought and patched them up when they were done arguing.

Then the Clone War ended with fateful Order 66. Your world turned upside down and even though circumstances were different, your situation was the same.

That secret would have to be pried out of your cold dead hands.

You’d been on the run, constantly in fear for your lives and that of the child in your care. You’d started to love her as your own daughter, and you could see Hunter did too. You’d seen Hunter with Cut and Suu’s children before, but somehow, this was different. He’d cared for her as a father would. And that made your heart melt more than you ever thought it could.

Now, here on Pabu, having something that resembled peace and a chance at a life, was it time? Could you actually have the dream you despaired of. The dream which was a nightly comfort but in the morning seemed unreachable as something you thought you couldn’t hope for?

Shep’s words teased you. Taunted you. Pried at you.

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to open your heart?

“So have you reconsidered staying?”

“For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard.”

“Is that all you are? Soldiers?”

You’d seen the thoughtful look on Hunter’s face. It was the one he made when he was considering something. There was no contention, just thoughtful pondering.

Somehow, some way, that moment spurred you and you worked up the courage.

Hunter sat in the cockpit, swirling his knife. You approached and leaned against the door. You’d love to sit there and watch that for hours. You smiled a little to yourself, waiting for him to recognize your presence so as to not scare him into a mistake (not that he’d ever but…better be safe than sorry.)

“Echo said he’s on his way. Will be here in a few rotations.” he said without looking up. “Omega will be glad to see him.”

“Yeah, she misses him, the poor kid.”

Sheaving his knife, he turned to you.

“So, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, you know, just checking in on my Sargeant. You’ve been in here all day.” You placed some fruit native to Pabu in front of him. You never could remember the name, but you’d noticed he liked them.

“Thanks,” he gave half a smile while you took the seat next to him. “What kind of trouble are Wrecker and Omega getting into?”

“Ohhhh probably best not to know right now. Just enjoy the few moments of peace while you can.”

He chuckled and cut into the fruit.

“Soooooo” your heart pounded. You were actually going to do it. You got this…just had to breathe and remain steady, it’d be ok.

Hunter gave you a side eye, silently offering you a piece of the fruit. Kriff, he can tell. You tried to slow your heart best you could.

“So.” He prompted you.

You laughed. “I heard Shep the other day. Something about settling down…ever think about it?”

He sighed. “More than you know. I honestly don’t know what to do about it. I’d like to but… It’s … complicated.”

“Ever think about marrying a pretty woman and having a family? Raising Omega somewhere safe where she’d be happy…”

He huffed a little.

“Who’d I marry? Please don’t suggest the woman Wrecker’s friend was trying to set me up with.”

At the words, the muscles in your face felt heavy and turned sour. The twinkle in your eye went out and the joy in your demeanor dissolved.

An empty smile remained on your face. No indication to the outsider that anything had changed. But Hunter wasn’t an outsider. He knew you inside and out.

Who’d I marry? You weren’t even a consideration. You weren’t on the list. Of course you wouldn’t be. It’d be foolish for you to think that. Why’d you hope in the first place? You should have known better.

Swallowing hard, you bit back tears and forced a laugh.

You had Hunter’s full attention now. He sat up straight and leaned forward a bit.

He immediately sensed the change of demeanor. Your heart rate plummeted but beat hard. Your focus was gone, staring into nothing. Even if it was just for a millisecond, he’d have noticed it, but it lasted longer than that.

Your hollow laugh filled the cabin.

He knew he messed up.

Hunter moved to speak again but it was too late. You’d gotten up and moved toward the door.

“Well um, I should go check on Omega and Wrecker and see what they’re up to before they do too much damage. Yeah, yeah…”

The next moment you were out of the cabin and down the ramp without a second look behind you.

Kriff. He had to fix this.

He almost went after you. He almost made it out the ship, but an incoming transmission stopped him. This could be the one he was waiting for. He looked longingly out to where he saw you hugging yourself, making your way slowly across the shipyard, and went back inside the ship.

Kark it all. This’d better be important, Echo.

Tech was gone. Omega was taken. Crosshair a prisoner. Echo abandoned them, again. It was just you, Wrecker and Hunter now. A ship once filled to bursting with life and light, warm with the love and laughter shared between its walls, was now cold with an emptiness, a magnanimous devoid maw that the ship had never known before.

Tech was dead. Crosshair was gone. Omega was taken.

He was lost.

Hunter might as well have added you to the list of lost as well, because even though you were physically on the ship, you weren’t with him. You were distant. Gone. In every way possible other than physical. You’d done your best to keep Wrecker and himself together. You’d been the same insurmountable strength you’d always been for them to lean on. You were being the strong one for them because you knew they couldn’t right now. He was angry, frustrated, focused and lost all in one but didn’t know where to direct that energy. As always, you came through. You acted the same as how you did throughout the entire Clone War, except not. The actions were all there, but there was a lost life to it.

A lost love.

And it was his fault.

Though you were strong, you weren’t invincible.

During the day you’d serve them. Got them food, made sure they rested, used every resource imaginable to find the little lost loved one. You tried to make them laugh and smile if you could or focus on the task at hand. Completing small missions to get by was his bane, because all Hunter wanted to do was find Omega, but you brought him back to the present, reeled in his reckless side when it got to be too much. You kept track of the inventory and how and when to push on.

But every night he’d hear you silently cry yourself to sleep.

You’d go and comfort Wrecker, then you’d offer the best gesture you could to him to encourage him, then you’d retire to your bed, broken down by the day. Tired, exhausted, empty.

He saw it. And he caused it.

And he hated himself for it.

He’d lost you in a hasty, foolish sentence. One he’d said without much forethought. One he said because he was afraid if he’d said too much, or given any indication of the deeper feelings he had for you, you’d have rejected him and he’d lose you entirely. He thought he could be your friend. You deserved so much more. So much more than himself and what he could offer. He’d wanted to stay your friend so that way, even though he couldn’t have you, you’d be happy. He’d make sure that whoever he was, the man you’d marry would give you all the love he couldn’t.

Turns out he was wrong.

You did return his feelings and he broke you.

He should have gone after you, but he didn’t. He thought he’d have time. He thought he could do it when you’d return to the ship and he could sit down with you uninterrupted but he was wrong, so wrong. Echo arrived and in moments, though he didn’t know it, his life turned upside down. When the mission was declared, his focus turned to that.

He should have talked to you. He should have let you know how he felt.

But the manner of your hurt shifted. You were no longer hurt, but cold.

Perhaps you didn’t want him to love you anymore. He didn’t know what to do. So much was wrong. So much that shouldn’t have been, was now his reality.

In truth, you DID deserve more than him. Perhaps this was for the best. This hurt would pass and you’d meet the one you were supposed to be with. You could get over this fancy for him and live an actual life with someone else.

The thought made his stomach churn and threatened to vomit, but perhaps, that’s what was meant to be.

After all, sometimes to love someone you had to let them go. And Omega, she needed him right now, fully focused on nothing else but finding her.

It was late in the night watch, Hunter sat alone staring at the broken pair of goggles and a plush toy that belonged to the child of the ship. His child, not by blood but by choice.

Taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Hunter wasn’t normally one for crying but he felt close to it now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew Omega took priority over himself. He HAD to find her. Bring her home. Oh Force, what was Hemlock doing to her?

He felt his head start to pound and his brow furrowed.

It hurt so much to love. This was love, wasn’t it? After all, what would he know? All he knew of it was what was in the novels and holofilms…

Something cold touched his head and he jumped in surprise. Opening his eyes, he found you had taken a few steps back surprised, with a blanket and an ice pack in hand.

It didn’t go unnoticed you’d had the scent of fresh tears on your hands.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were in one of your uncomfortable sleep cycles.” You offered gently. “You looked like you had a headache so I brought you this.” You shook the ice pack.

Hunter sat up and rubbed his head. “I…can’t sleep.”

He looked down. It was so hard to keep your gaze. His throat tightened and tears sprung against his will. All he could do was sigh, long and heavy.

Hunter was silent, not knowing what to say. He tried opening his mouth a few times but closed it at every attempt, frustrated.

You slowly drew near him, considerate as you always were. Giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted or needed, but he didn’t. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands.

A shock of surprise sprung his head up immediately and sent a shiver through his body. His brain registered your hands were cold and instinctively he moved to warm them, covering them completely with his own. But his mind was fully focused on your face.

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and your mouth had a half, crooked smile. A ghost of the one you’d had before. But there was something in your gaze he’d missed, he’d longed for.

It was ‘that’ look.

You hadn't looked at him like that in a long time.

There was a warmth and a love aflame. A gentleness that hadn’t been there these long past few weeks.

If eyes were truly the window to the soul, he’d seen that the embers were dying, but not gone.

You squeezed his hand.

“We’ll find her. I promise.”

There was such a conviction in your voice, determination. A rawness that almost freighted him. A testament to the power you had. The power of your will and spirit. The power of your determination. One of the reasons he loved you so much. One of the elements in your looks that he yearned to see again after missing it for so long.

He squeezed your hands.

“Thank you for everything.” He swallowed hard, voice now scratchy and sore.

You nodded and stood, pulling your hands from his. You placed the pack on his forehead and placed the blanket on him in two swift motions and made to go. You were fast, but not too fast for him. You’d tried to retreat, but Hunter jumped and grabbed your arms, centering you to himself.

A surprised look crossed your face and he saw you searching him, wondering.

“We need to talk.”

You looked away, tears starting to gather again, a breath catching in your throat wanting to break free.

Hunter cupped your face with his hand and slowly, softly turned your gaze back to him.

“Please.”

You nodded, but then looked away again.

“Ok, but not now.” Your voice was heavy and empty. That void look entered your eyes, extinguishing the flame that was there before.

“No, you should get some sleep, you look exhausted. You’re always looking after us. Tonight, take care of yourself, yeah?” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, whipping away a tear that escaped. “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Lifting the blanket you’d brought for him, Hunter placed it over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze then turned back to his chair, cradling the ice pack to his forehead.

Tomorrow came, but started off all wrong. Emergency lights flashed and sirens blared. The Marauder made an emergency landing on the treacherous mountainous planet below. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and threw you out of hyperspace. It was a tumultuous, uncontrolled landing but Hunter managed with minimal damage to the exterior of the ship. The haul was a little banged up, but other than that, the smoking hyperdrive was the focus of your concern.

There was no Tech to fix the ship now. You were on your own.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Hunter looked at you worriedly. You’d helped Tech plenty of times in the past. You considered yourself pretty capable with all the training you received from him.

Taking a look around, you carefully considered.

“I think so, but it’s going to take time. This superficial stuff I’m not too worried about. We’ll have to make port somewhere soon anyway for supplies. We’re low on everything.” You’d been looking at the inventory the last few days and the lists were concerning. “I think we have enough credits to get by until we can do a job and earn more.” You rubbed your forehead. “I’ve been running numbers on how to keep ourselves sustained without needing to distract ourselves from our mission with a whole bunch of side missions anymore. I think it’ll work but you’re going to have to trust me. But I digress. I’ll patch up the hyperdrive which seems to be the main problem. I’ve got a weird feeling about this place, I don’t want to be here too long. Weather might not hold out for extensive repairs either.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss this when I get back. I’ll scout the area and see what we’re dealing with.” Hunter turned to leave, then paused. Half looking back he spoke: “And, I do. Trust you, I mean.”

With that he put his helmet on and shouted to Wrecker.

“Keep her safe. I’ll be right back.”

It’d been an hour. And Hunter wasn’t back.

Whipping the sweat from your forehead you heaved a big breath.

“I think that’ll do it Wreck. Where’s Hunt?”

Wrecker looked nervous. “Not back yet.”

You looked at your wrist chrono and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Highly unusual.

“Ok, I’ll go look for him. Protect the ship.”

“We should stay together.” Wrecker added quickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“I would like that too but at this moment that’s a luxury we can’t afford. We have to split up.”

Wrecker groaned. “Bad things ALWAYS happen when we split up.”

You softened and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“I know, big guy, I know. But the less we argue, the sooner we get Hunt back.”

Wrecker paused and nodded. “Ok.” He sighed and took his place by the ramp of the ship. “And…..it’s good to hear you call Hunter, Hunt again…”he trailed off uncertainly, “but it’s kinda making me scared. You think he’s….?”

Your heart clenched in realization. You didn’t think how your hurt would shed and affect others. “Oh Wrecker….” You started but he stopped you.

“Aw Doc, I am just worried about ya. You two always meshed together, you know? So when you didn’t, and now get soft again…” He shook his head. “Get Hunter back, and everything will be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah, it will. I promise.” You started off your sentence quaking but with every word you found your conviction. It was time to go.

“I hope you two can work things out. I always liked it that way, ya know?”

You smiled, “Yeah I do actually, and I did too.”

“Well, do you think that … whatever happened…you two can fix it?”

Your smile faltered a little bit but Wrecker didn’t see that. Really, only Hunter would have been the one to notice.

“I’ll do my best.”

With one last nod to Wrecker, you set out.

You weren’t exceptional at tracking but Hunter taught you a thing or two.

It was time to bring Hunter home.

Hunter skirted the edge of the cliff carefully. His foot set a few loose rocks tumbling into the unknown. Knife unsheathed and corned against the endless void beneath him, he glared at his enemy. Hunter met these villains almost as soon as he left the ship. It didn’t take him long to realize their harmful intentions and led them away from the ship, hoping to buy you as much time as he could to fix the ship. He’d taken out ten of these bandits already, but this one was of a higher status, he could tell by the large hat he wore and more expensive weapons he possessed. He’d be more of a challenge but that would only make it more fun.

Hunter growled and lifted his knife in the ready. Blood and sweat dripped from his face from the few scratches and scrapes he had.

He was prepared for anything.

“Get away from him!” An agonized voice filled with terror screamed.

Your voice.

Hunter’s heart dropped to his stomach and for the first time since the crash, terror entered his veins. He was prepared for everything, except that.

Garnishing your blade, you swiped the air to show the mysterious stranger you were serious. “Leave him alone!”

Hunter’s throat closed up. You didn’t have your blaster, and while still decent with the blade, you weren’t ready for this yet. He hadn’t finished your training.

“Meshla, no!”

Hunter reached out, distracted only for a moment but a moment is all it took. In the second he tried to get in between you and the enemy, a kick to his stomach sent Hunter over the side

“Hunter!” You screamed after him in terror.

What you didn’t see was the flip he made or how he grappled onto the rock. If only you had the enhanced senses he did, you might have heard his hard breathing, the uneven sob, and the continuous prayer that somehow you could live long enough for him to get to you.

His heart pounded. He wanted to call for you but that’d only make things worse for you. He grunted as silently as he could. He had to get to you.

He heard your angry grunts, the slices of knives through the air, missing their marks. He heard you yelling unintelligibly and savagely. The man’s gleeful laughter.

Your painful cry.

Those were some of the longest seconds of his life. What happened? He tried to climb faster but the rock was so slippery.

Watching Hunter get shot. Finding him shot again in the same place all this time later by Cad Bane, and now seeing Hunter tumble over the edge was more than you could handle. Anger like you’d never felt it bubbling all over you, tingling your fingers and guiding your blade’s every movement with hardened focus.

No, you couldn’t lose him like this. You wouldn’t. The man was quick, practiced. But you’d had a good teacher. Now wasn’t the time to doubt. Sure, you wished your blaster had survived the raid on Ord Mantel but there was nothing you could do about that except replace it when you made port.

You tumbled, dived, parried. This demon wouldn’t win. He made a hit on your arm and you cried out. The evil, smug smile he had was enough to refocus you instantly. Jumping for him unexpectedly, you caught him by surprise. You pushed your entire body against his in a close roll.

And your blade found a home in his heart.

Breathing hard, it took you a moment to realize…you’d won. You defeated him! Hunter would be so proud.

Hunter!

Diving for the cliff, you slid toward the edge.

“Hunter? Hunter!”

Hunter looked up at you, face hidden behind his visor but all the emotions were spilling from his mouth. “Are you ok? Mesh’la, what the karking hells?”

“Grab my hand!” Ignoring him, you reached down. “I’ll pull you up.”

Hunter clasped your hand but you let out a cry of agony. Collapsing in a heaping pile. You were shaking but your grip held firm.

“Mesh’la…”

“Don’t you dare let go. Don’t you dare.” Your demand was dry and forceful, but fear spilled from every word. “Please.” Your plea was soft, broken.

“Alright.” He tightened his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you panted, hulling him up. Hunter seemed so heavy. You’d done exercises like this before and it was a lot easier. Hunter seemed to notice your lack of strength too.

You pulled and heaved and scooted and rolled until you managed to get his body over the lump. Immediately, Hunter started his barrage on you in between heaving breaths of his own.

“What were you thinking? Don’t you know you could have gotten yourself killed?”

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off, head dizzy with emotion and adrenaline.

“Do you,” you panted, “have any idea what you did to me? Don’t start with me…”

“Oh honey, just wait until I get started—“

You turned to look at Hunter who also had gotten to his feet, the words registering, but sounding quite distant. Was he yelling? You weren't sure. Suddenly, your breath was knocked from your lungs and a sharp pain invaded your entire body.

Falling to your knees, you clutched your side to find it wet and sticky, and warm. You didn't need to pull your hand away to look at it to know there was blood, yet that's what you did, and you were shocked nevertheless to find the red, sticky substance on your hands. Gasping with wide eyes, you missed Hunter’s cry of alarm.

“You’re bleeding!”

Hunter ran over to you and caught you as you crumpled to the ground in pain. Gathering you to himself, he rested your body against his.

Tearing off his scarf from around his neck, Hunter pressed it to your wound.

“You’re losing so much blood.”

“Nah, I know exactly where it is. Here, there, and a little over there.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” you faintly chuckled.

With a dark look, he cut the red fabric into strips and bound your abdomen tightly.

“I’ll get you back to the ship as soon as I can, just hold on for me ok?”

You nodded but your eyes now felt so heavy. You just wanted to sleep.

Scooping you up, Hunter started at a full run.

The bouncing hurt. Every pounding bounce sent fire mixed with ice through your body. Your head rolled back and your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, cyare, look at me. Look at me! Don’t give up on me yet, please.”

Hunter came in running.

“Wrecker! Wrecker! Get the ship started, we’re leaving NOW!”

Wrecker didn’t miss a beat. He saw you dangling limpless in Hunter’s arms and dashed up the walkway. Wrecker tore through the room, doing the start up sequences as fast as he could then meeting Hunter in the gangway, he threw the med kit at him.

Back in the cockpit, Wrecker took the controls.

Placing you in his bed, Hunter slapped your face.

“I know you’re in there, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me now, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Omega is depending on you. You’re stronger than this, come on!”

Injecting you quickly with a stim and re-wrapping your wounds, Hunter frantically chaffed your wrists until your eyes fluttered open.

“Hunter?” You were looking around, trying to sit up.

“Hey, hey don’t get up.” He placed a hand on your forehead, then your pulse points. He felt you slowly but surely starting to equalize. “Just rest for a bit, ok? I’m going to stay right here if you need anything.” He pulled up a chair next to you.

“I’m ok,” you smiled weakly, “I was so scared when I saw those tracks. I thought I’d lost you again. But you’re ok, and that’s all that matters to me.” You squeezed his hand, then let the darkness take you.

All was still and dark. The Marauder gently rocked in what would pass for the early hours of the morning, if there really could be a morning or night in space.

All was still and quiet inside the Marauder. Wrecker was by the controls watching the ship’s course and motion beacons, Hunter was fast asleep, leaned over the bed and holding your hand.

You on the other hand were restless. Buckets of sweat fell from your forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, even laying down, a nauseous feeling crept up your stomach into your throat.

You wormed your hand out of Hunters, not wanting to wake him. It’d been too long since he’d gotten any sleep at all and at last the complete and utter exhaustion took him over. You pushed on the bed, attempting and failing to drag yourself up.

You glanced at Hunter, considering only for a moment, then resurfaced your determination. No, you’d let him rest. You could do this. Grasping the blanket’s cocooning you, you attempted to untangle the heavy sheet entwining you. It was so heavy, suffocating.

With a heaving breath, you pushed your feet off the bed and lunged your body forward.

You were standing.

But as soon as you got up, you realized your mistake. The ship spun and the dull aches over your body were awakened. Your stomach’s pain blew its trumpet and your ears felt like balloons that were going to pop. You must have swallowed marbles because there was barely any room in your throat.

Oh well, you could only push forward.

Stumbling into the bathroom, you turned on the cold water. Perhaps that would help.

The first thing Hunter noticed was his hand was cold and clammy. The lack of warmth left a devoid and empty feeling embedded with a nervous foreboding.

Next came the darkness, which became a haze, and that haze turned into a bubble as he fought he was to consciousness. The bed in front of him was empty and Hunter could vaguely make out the things around him, noises indecipherable. He thought he heard trudging of feet scraping against the floor, the turning of a facet with the gush of water, then a loud crash, and thud with a BAM!

Instantly his body was alert. Dashing toward the source of the sound, he knew subconsciously what he’d find. Your body on the floor, sprawled out and drained. Your face was pale as death, eyes hollow. You didn’t look like this a few hours ago?

“Mesh’la? mesh’la! what happened? Did you hit your head? Why are you up?” A thousand questions spilled from his mouth in worry.

Worming his body behind yours, he gathered you up gently. You mumbled something that was lost even to his hearing.

Concerned, Hunter removed his gloves, and placed them on your face.

You leaned into his warmth, shivering, unable to get warm, yet your skin felt like fire to him. You were burning. Beads of sweat danced on your forehead as large as the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Cradling you now, he carefully wrapped himself around your body. This allowed you to curl in on yourself and tuck yourself in further to his chest.

“‘M sry.”

Kriff, you could barely speak.

“Don’t be sorry. I got you now.”

“Hunter, I-I can’t hear you too well.”

A wall of realization hit him hard. Kark it, he knew what happened.

The fever, the swelling, the loss of balance and your voice, not to mention your hearing?

You had an infection.

Fear invaded Hunter’s senses. He’d never been sick like this, having super immune genetics (one thing to thank the long necks for he supposed). But now, how could he help if he didn’t know what you were going through exactly?

This wasn’t the first time you were sick like this. He remembered the story you told of your childhood, and how one winter, you fell through the ice which resulted in something like this. The incident left you vulnerable and weakened, and he worried about you.

You were tough and fought it out. But what if you couldn’t fight this one off? Would your second brush with death be enough to claim you?

Tears swelled your eyes and poured onto your cheeks. Small sobs started to wrack your body as emotion overtook you.

“I…sorry…don’t burnden…’Mega, gotta find…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I got you, I got you. You’re not a burden. We’ll get you better then we’ll find her. Hey, I got you, it’s ok.” Hunter had no idea how he managed to sound so calm. He’d never seen you like this before and it terrified him. Your small sniffles and hiccups reminded him of a small child. Every nerve and essence of his being screamed at him to protect you.

“I’ll get you some water, I’ll be back. You have to stay hydrated.”

“Stay, I’ll get it.”

Hunter looked up to find Wrecker looking down at the two of you with a sad look in his eyes. “You should be with her.” He disappeared then returned a few minutes later with a full flask of cold water.

Hunter brought it to your lips, but you barely swallowed any before relinquishing your strength to an empty sleep, exhausted by the struggle.

Silence bore down on the three of you as Hunter and Wrecker looked on while you slept an uncomfortable sleep.

“I knew we should have stuck together.” Wrecker said sadly at last, not looking at Hunter. “I told her I’d come with her…”

“It’s not your fault, Wreck.”

“Bad things happen when we split up, I told her that….”

“This is all my fault.” Hunter hung his head. “I—”

“That kind of talk isn’t going to help her, Hunt. Don’t even think that. She made up her own mind. She was scared for ya, Hunt. She even started calling you ‘Hunt’ again.”

Hunter looked up surprised, then back down towards you. You’d stopped that since that morning on Pabu. You’d been formal with him afterward. It was either Sargeant or Hunter.

He shifted then lifted you in his arms, bringing you back to the bed. He set you down then ran his fingers through your damp hair, worry evident in his eyes.

“We need to get her to a hospital, Wreck. I don’t know what to do…Without Tech…I’m really scared right now.”

Wrecker placed a large, comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Then we go. We’ll get her better, Hunt. Don’t worry. I think we have a few of those fake IDs left Tech made. We’ll make something work.”

Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded.

Instead of letting go, Wrecker’s grip tightened. In one swift motion, Hunter was enveloped in a hug. If he was being honest, he didn’t mind in the least.

Hunter sat by you in silence as the ship flew through hyperspace toward the hospital, watching your fitful sleep. Your forehead was creased in pain and your mouth turned into a pout. One hand carefully stroked your sweat soaked hair, the other intertwined with yours.

The waiting was the worst part. Not being able to do anything to help or accept, fate could only take its course and he could only stand by and watch. The worst enemies were the ones he couldn’t protect you from and he hated that. He couldn’t fight the infection with his blade, or take away your pain by shooting the cause with a blaster bolt.

He leaned his forehead against yours and swallowed a sigh. Was this agony what you'd felt when he'd been shot? He remembered what delicate care you took of him. You'd been more than thoughtful, and tried not to show your concerns but he saw them anyway; just as he could always see you. But there was something else there that at the time he hadn't realized. And now he hoped he hadn't realized it too late.

“You asked me before if I’d settle down like Shep asked……………and in my dreams, yes. I always wanted to, even before he asked, with you. It was you, it was always and only you.”

Silence was your response.

“Please, don’t leave me now. I already lost the others, I can’t lose you too.”

The steady rhythm of your heart was promise enough for him right now, he had to hold onto hope.

“We can take it slow. Take our time. We don’t have to rush into anything but please, please stay with me and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives. That’s my promise to you. I–I love you. Always have, always will.”

Perhaps if he’d hadn’t been so tired, he would have noticed the slight squeeze of his hand you have him.

Hunter walked into the hospital carrying you wearing civilian clothing hoping he looked more inconspicuous than he felt. He approached the nurse at the front desk.

“Excuse me, my wife needs help. She had an accident…”

“Chain codes.” the nurse said flatly without looking up but holding out her hand.

Hunter fished them out and gave them to her.

“It’s urgent, she needs to see a doctor ri–”

“Just sit down over there and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

“But she needs a doctor NOW!”

The nurse glanced up annoyed.

“Keep that up and she’ll have to wait a full rotation, buddy.”

Hunter glared but didn’t say a word. Normally he would have fought back harder but with your life on the line, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he did as he was bid, and took a seat in the waiting area.

You blinked your eyes open with a smile.

“Hey Handsome.”

You reached up for his face, and he took your hand in his and gave it a quick kiss.

“Hey,” Hunter kept his voice low, giving you a quick smile before making a quick survey of the area, “to catch you up real quick, we’re married. You’re my wife and we took you here after an accident on our farm. You’re going to be ok, ok?”

His eyes darted across your face, looking, searching, for any indication that his words would come true. Even here and now on the brink of being saved, he felt like you’d suddenly vanish and be taken from him.

He didn’t know what he expected from you, a nod of recognition maybe? But he didn’t get that. Instead, you chuckled.

“Married? Already? So much for wanting to take it slow, Hunter.”

To his surprise, a laugh burst from his lips, a smile replacing the worry for a second. He shook his head. Even now, you were trying to look out for him, making him laugh while you were the one who needed help.

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” His voice was warm and full. The deepness of his voice like chocolate on your sore ears, not that he’d know that of course. All he could hope for was that you could hear the depth of love and gratitude he had in such a few words.

You smiled, “always have, always will, I promise you that.”

Hunter heard the nurse approach and looked up, only to be faced with a jaw dropping phenomenon.

“How can I help you today? Wait…Hunter?”

It was Nala, your old classmate.

“Nala?” Hunter repeated, stunned. “You work here?”

“Yes…” her eyes drifted down to you.

An unsettled feeling came over Hunter. You hadn’t been in touch with anyone since Order 66. Whose side was Nala on?

He didn’t have to wonder long when her face went white and she dropped down on one knee to be at your level.

“What do you need? Let me assess her and see what I can do.”

Nala came running up carrying various vials and all but shoved them in Hunter’s pockets.

“Give her this as soon as possible. It’s safer for all of you if you just take it and administer it on your ship. I got word of Imperials coming here shortly. I’ve listed instructions on how to give it to her safely. You should go before someone recognizes you and hands you over. Goodbye, and good luck. Take good care of my friend. When she gets better, tell her to give me a call!”

With that, Nala turned and left, trying her hardest not to give an impression of concern.

Back on the ship, Hunter did as instructed. After making sure you were carefully placed in bed and made as comfortable as possible, he enlisted Wrecker’s help as soon as they’d jumped to hyperspace. Hunter knew Wrecker wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t another way.

You’ll want to give this one to her first. It’ll regulate her body so she can take the following medications. It’ll help her breathe easier and adjust to what’s coming…it won’t appear so right away so don’t worry. You’re going to need to give this to her in quick succession so don’t wait to see the effects.

Hunter injected the hypo into your arm.

This one is the IV with the antibiotics. Get her hooked up quickly and make sure the bag is drained before you take it out.

He rubbed your arm and inserted the needle.

This one, inject into her chest near her heart. This one will hurt the most.

This one, he couldn’t do.

“This…is going to hurt.”

“I know.” You stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and collect your courage. “It’s ok.”

Of course you knew, you were a medic. He would have cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help it. His own fear mocked him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Pain was pain, and nothing could make him like it or want that for you. All he could do was prepare you in any way he could.

Your breathing was labored, huffing your breaths, greedy for air, gluttonously swallowing in as much as your lungs would let you.

“Tell me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to focus, “tell me about it? I can’t seem to remember anything from our big day. What happened? Who was there? How did it go….How did I look?” You huffed a little laugh at the last question, “nevermind, don’t answer that.” Your laugh caused a coughing fit to follow.

Hunter gripped you firmer as your body racked, fear unmasked in his eyes.

Shutting your own, you tried to center yourself.

“Crosshair probably made trouble, didn't he. He and Wreck competed to see who could eat the most cake and got sick, right?” Your voice was nothing other than a whisper, but Hunter could still pick up the dream-like tilt in your voice. The little smile as if it was a real memory, breaking across your lips.

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Another chuckle turned into a gasp of air.

Hunter kept his gaze on you as he spoke, his hand on your cheek facing him so you wouldn’t have to see what was to come. Rubbing gentle circles in your cheek and wiping away tears, he tried to speak without a shake in his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but ever after that, he’d remember the images burned in his mind both, of the story he was telling and the raw reality of your pain.

“Tech filmed the entire thing; we’ll have to rewatch it; would you believe Echo had more champagne to drink than anyone? He was so happy the entire night. He was also the only one next to Wrecker to cry.”

You smiled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked beautiful all dressed in white…” he stumbled over his words now as Wrecker garnished the needle, “your dress dazzled with little jewel thingies and you liked spinning in it because it reminded you of a waterfall or a butterfly’s wing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And when you walked toward me, I was a mess, because I knew I was the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn’t ever have imagined you more beautiful.”

You swallowed hard.

“Omega couldn’t stop smiling or singing; and when the music at the Pabu sunsets starts and the orange sun starts setting in the sky, it hit you just right and…”

You screamed as muffled of a scream as you could, but it rang in Hunter’s head so loud it bounced around until he felt like he was going to be sick.

“Aaand, and, when the sun set, we resaid our vows under the stars, just you and me. Always, just you and me. I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

Your eyes rolled back and all went dark.

Breathing never felt so sweet. You smiled, feeling like you could laugh and cry at the same time. The pain was gone and you felt great! Energy was surging, and life felt beautiful again. Despite the illness, you remembered everything that happened with vivid accuracy. Though your eyes were closed, your mind was very awake and registered everything in perfect memory.

Not just the pain, but the sweet moments too. Hunter taking such good care of you, his poor fear and concern, the thoughts he confessed because he thought you couldn't hear.

You felt the urge to stretch but couldn't move. Opening your eyes and looking around, the sight made your heart melt. Hunter was curled up half beside and half behind you. His body was curled in around yours, holding you as if he feared when he woke, you wouldn't be there.

Your heart was gripped by the softness of the gesture and you didn't want it to end.

You reached your hand up, running your fingers down his face and neck. The touch was enough to wake him. He stirred, then jolted with realization.

“You're awake!!!” Tears gathered in his eyes as he cupped your face with both his hands. “You're ok.” He smiled and swallowed so hard you could hear it. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you.”

You froze. You didn't expect him to actually confess to you while you were awake. Hunter sensed your hesitancy and started to pull away, but before he could move an inch, you were grabbing him toward yourself again.

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Can…we talk? I can't wait anymore.”

“Of course.”

Hunter turned shy. He found his hands extremely interesting as he fiddled with the blanket rim. His face turned red and he tripped over his words.

“I only said what I did because besides you….I wouldn't want to marry any other woman. Who would I even marry…if it wasn't you?”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I always felt like you deserved way better than me…I can't offer you anything but myself and that's not much of a gift.”

“Hunter! No! You—”

He gave you a sheepish look and cut you off.

“And I'm so sorry for everything that happened, for how I hurt you. I should have gone to you sooner, I should have…”

Now it was your turn to cut him off, but instead of with words, you captured his mouth with yours in a kiss

You felt his shock, which made you smile, and soon he joined and returned your soft show of love, holding you even closer than before.

“You scared me.” Hunter said, kisses becoming needier.

“You scared me first!” You countered, meeting his veracity. “More than once!”

When you both stopped for breath, you settled back in his embrace.

“Hunter, you're all I could ever need or want. The gift of yourself is more precious than anything or anyone in the galaxy, and that's more than I deserve. All I've ever wanted was the war to end so we could have a family of our own, your brothers all be near us if they're not with us while we raise Omega and children of our own.”

Hunter's face darkened.

“I wasn't strong enough to protect you or keep this family together. I lost Omega.”

“You didn't lose her, Hunter. She made a choice. She didn't want to lose you, and neither did I. You don't control the galaxy or have some responsibility for everything that happens. It's ok to breathe, Hunt, and let go. All we can do is move onward and face the galaxy together, just like we always do.”

Hunter nodded, the shadow slowly falling from his face, replaced with something gentler.

“And that story I told before, about you in the white dress?”

“Yeah?” You blushed sheepishly, recalling with a bubbling laugh trapped inside your chest.

“What do you say we make that real?” Leaning closer, he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you all in white, for real. I want to be yours, only yours, forever. I want to have a family, with you and only you. My brothers can all live close by and we can all be together. We can raise Omega the way she deserves to be raised…and I can love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Yes! Oh yes! My sergeant, I am yours and only yours, now and forever!”

Filled with new determination, you smiled even wider, gripped his hand and got out of bed.

“Come on, now, love, let's go get our kid. Time to bring our family home. Time to start healing and growing.”

"The Empire be warned, we're coming."

Dividers by @stars-n-spice @ve-ti-ver and @djarrex

#108 #🔪#💛

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

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warning : mentions of smut and cursing

desperate!james x y/n

it was no secret that james potter wanted to fuck you. it was an almost well known fact in your year. many people wanted to know why he wanted to fuck you, some completely questioning their existence.

there was no doubt that you were attractive, most boys in your year wanted the chance to be the ones to fuck you but you never let them.

the question everyone mostly asked was why you wouldn't let him. he was extremely attractive and his personality was a turn on in itself so why wouldn't you let him fuck you?

you had your own reasons.

james potter was childish at points. people only saw what they wanted to see but the people with brains actually knew that james could be a prick.

ever since lily evans started dating a girl in her year, he stopped pining after her and realized she may not be the one.

but you didn't understand his obsession with you or her.

and james did have his own reasons.

long story short, he saw you in sixth year, completely naked. your body hadn't left his mind even a little bit. he had tried fucking multiple other girls and even trying something new but you wouldn't leave his mind.

you were getting sick of his constant eyes and of the marauders begging you to fuck him, just to stop hearing him. it was extremely tiring and there was no more time for it.

you didn't feel peer pressure but you just wanted him to get over it.

so you did what you had to.

you went up to james, "i'll fucking do it."

he looked at you in utter shock, "do what?" he said with a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, "i'll fuck you potter."

the look in his eyes was something you wouldn't forget but you didn't have time to waste so you grabbed his wrist, leading him to his own dorm.

you made it inside as you started stripping, "are you sure about this?" he asked, a bit nervous.

"if you really think fucking me will be that good then i will do it." you answered quickly, stripping down to your panties and bra.

his breath was caught, "you are so fucking hot." he inched closer to you as you found it hard to breathe.

he touched your skin so softly and he was warm.

suddently, his lips crashed onto yours causing you to be gasp. he stuck his tongue in your mouth and collided it with your tongue.

he was completely devouring you as he unstrapped your bra which made you even more surprised.

you laid on the bed as he started taking off his shirt and pants. after, he completely tore your underwear in half, "i'll fix it later." he was completely nude and so were you.

he continued kissing your lips as he kissed down to your cunt, licking the bud as you moaned.

"fuck." you said, grabbing onto his soft curls.

he started devouring you so fast that you couldn't concentrate. his nose hit your clit which caused you to moan as you were about to come.

"you taste so fucking good." he growled into your pussy which caused vibrations as you almost came right there and then.

he licked harder, adding more assault to your puffy cunt. you were about to come before he stopped and looked up at you, "not yet."

you frowned but wanted him to get whatever he needed to out of his system.

you looked down at his cock which was above average noticeably.

he lined his cock up to your soaking entrance as you looked nervous. he went inside of you with a groan, "so fucking tight."

he went slow at first but progressed to a faster speed as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

"fuck me harder james." you demanded as he did as you asked.

"pussy of my dreams, you don't even fucking know." he whispered in your ear which made you wetter.

he kept mumbling how it was worth it and he was right about fucking you.

you even had to admit that fucking him was amazing.

he started rubbing your clit as he fucked you harder which only made you a mess and you were completely fucked out.

"i'm coming!" you announced as he looked at you with a smile at how beautiful you were.

"please do." he said it, almost whimpering.

you both came at the same time as he laid next to you. you went to sleep rather quickly but he stayed with you, not wanting to leave you.

about three hours later, the rest of the marauders came in to see james in bed with you which made them go in shock as he told them to be quiet.

"no fucking way." sirius whispered.

you nuzzled your head more into james chest as he gave sirius a smirk and pet your hair.

and you could honestly say,

that you should've been the one begging to fuck him.

#107 #🦁#💜

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

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𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 — 𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒉

summary — he’s falling and you risk yourself to save him

warnings — bad batch finale spoilers, fem!jedi!reader, angst, fluff, this is a fix if fic i will not accept the finale until there is a body ‼️

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓. you voiced your distaste for the riskiness of the plan, but the eyes omega gave you gave you no choice. being this close to the empire put you at risk, especially since they’d still kill a jedi at the mere sight of one. the fear slowly waned, seeing as the clones were going out of commission and the new troops, stormtroopers, didn’t know what a jedi looked like when one was standing right in front of them. you knew not to get used to that comfort.

tracking hemlock to see where he was going wasn’t a bad idea. the bad part of the plan was the location. it was a heavily guarded and fortified base holding very important commanders and information. the goal was to track hemlock to see where he’d been taking clones who defected, but your gut was churning.

“you look ill,” tech’s voice disrupted your thoughts as you landed. your eyes moved to meet his, a sigh escaping your lips.

“i’ve just got a bad feeling about this whole thing,” you admitted softly. tech’s eyes shifted downwards, mainly at your hands. he’d been getting used to being in an established relationship with you, and it had taken quite some time for him to get used to it.

“we’ll be fine,” he spoke in the softest voice he could muster. he wasn’t good at hiding his bluntness, but he was sure of himself and the plan. though risky, it would work. you nodded your head and smiled, stepping off the marauder with the rest of the bad batch.

—

of course, saw gerarra had to mess up everything. he blew up the compound. you probably would have done the same thing in hindsight, but it was not the time. your anxiety doubled as sirens sounded, as stormtroopers flooded the halls. even if you were on a rail car, getting away, you were still having to deal with the troopers on your car. you held a blaster, firing at them before the car came to a stop. your breaths could only be heard as you waited. they’d found out, and no one needed to voice that.

“what’s going on?” wrecker asked. you looked out of the slats of the back of the rail car, sensing something in the air.

“three ships inbound,” came the voice of your boyfriend, who’d volunteered to get the power back on to the rail car. your eyes scanned the sky, not being able to see what tech was seeing.

“where are they?” omega asked, and just as she did, three ships emerged from the clouds, blasters firing at the rail cars. things blurred after that. you fired your blaster along with hunter of the car, everything started to wobble from the impact. it wasn’t until the ships were coming back for another shot that your mind cleared and realized what was going on.

“where’s tech?” you asked, eyes frantically searching the area. he hadn’t made it back inside the car and the ships were coming back towards you. you peaked over the end of the car. you saw now why attachment was forbidden to the jedi, your mind completely froze. your boyfriend was hanging beneath the car, attached by a cable. every step wrecker took caused the car to topple, which would send you all to your deaths. you swallowed, nerves and fear creating a forbidden cocktail in your stomach.

“tech,” you whispered as you stepped closer and closer.

“i have to do this,” he shouted, “plan 99,” he finished, and you barely heard him. your stomach dropped and your eyes stung with realization. you shook your head, unable to form words.

tech aimed his blaster at the cable, and with a squeeze of the trigger, the bolt freed both him and the rail car. before echo could get the power back online, which would be a few seconds, your stomach dropped and your instincts took over. you were not losing tech today. you reached out with your hand, the force flowing through you with a strong current, saying thank you.

“i’ve got you,” you whispered. you grabbed ahold of tech, tears rolling down your cheeks as you strained to pull him up and into the rail car. once inside, the power kicked back on and you lurched with the car, racing towards the other side. you wrapped your arms around tech, and surprisingly, he did the same. you melted into him, trying your hardest to keep it together.

“don’t ever do that again,” you muttered against his shoulder.

“i won’t unless i have to, even then apparently you’ll be there to catch me,” he murmured, which was one of the sweetest things tech said. the words were sweet on his tongue because they were true; you’d always have his back.

tech isn’t dead until i see a body. period.

anyways it’s been a while and i apologize! i know i have some requests to get to and i will get to those! i just had to crank this guy out because i am in mourning.

#106 #🤓#🧡

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

Text

𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 — 𝒘𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒓

summary — you’re a very physically affectionate person, and wrecker wants to be that way with you, but something holds him back.

warnings — gn!reader, tooth rotting fluff, established relationship

requested by — my love @starlit-epiphany

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓. wrecker was usually the physically affectionate type, the type to give you a bone crushing hug without you expecting it. you didn’t notice how wrecker seemed to distance himself, physically that is, from you. after a month or so of being in a relationship is when you picked up on it.

“it’s weird,” echo mused beside you in the cockpit, you stealing tech’s spot in the pilot’s chair. you weren’t moving, so you didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal.

“what is?” you inquired, picking up your head from the datapad in your hands to look at echo.

“wrecker,” echo noted, “he’s barely touched you since you declared yourselves official,” he was watching the larger batch member through the viewport. wrecker was helping hunter with something.

“and?”

“and, isn’t that normal for a relationship? especially with him?” granted, echo didn’t know all that much about relationships or anything intimate for that matter, but he was sure that physical intimacy was a necessity. you noticed too, how wrecker seemed to embrace his brothers and even strangers but he didn’t embrace you at all. you began to wonder if things were alright between the two of you, or if you’d done something wrong. you inhaled deeply, trying to extinguish those anxious thoughts before they took hold. as you looked back at wrecker, though, that anxiety made its presence known and it’s roots tightened its grip.

“i’m sure it’s nothing,” echo quickly added, seeing the look of distress on your face. you quickly sent him a kind smile before giving wrecker one last glance.

—

your day continued on. you read further into your book and helped omega with her aim with her bow. the sun was setting and the batch was making plans to eat at cid’s.

“i’ll be right there!” you shouted to them, walking back into the marauder. you didn’t realize that wrecker hadn’t been with them. so, when you stepped back out of the marauder with a jacket in hand, you cocked your head to the side.

“thought you’d be the first to be in there,” you teased. though, you kept echo’s comment from earlier in mind.

“nah, i wanted to walk with you,” he waved it off. you knew something was off, though. the air was thicker between the two of you, and you knew what it was from.

“wrecker,” you started, bringing his eyes up to meet yours. “why don’t you ever, i don’t know, hug me?” you felt odd asking your question like that, but ever since echo pointed it out you started to realize that yeah, wrecker wasn’t being his usual, touchy self.

“oh, i uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, “i didn’t want to hurt you,” he muttered. you had to refrain from laughing.

“hurt me? wrecker, you could never hurt me,” you chuckled as you stepped closer to him, reaching up and placing a hand on his cheek.

“well i didn’t know because you’re not an enchanced clone and i am so i was afraid of hurting you,” he rambled, but wrecker felt relief flood his chest. he’s been wanting to embrace you ever since you started dating. he just didn’t want to crush you to death.

“just because i’m not enhanced doesn’t mean i don’t like big hugs,” you smiled softly.

“good,” a grin spread across his lips as he wrapped his arms around you, picking you and spinning you around, a joyful laugh escaping your lips. he put you down, but kept his arms around you.

“you’d never hurt me wrecker, never,” you hummed into his chest. he gave you one last squeeze before removing himself, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“let’s go get some grub,” he said excitedly, and you just laughed, walking with him to get some food.

THIS IS SO OVERDUE IM SO SORRY!! i hope you enjoy love!!

#105 #👊🏽#🧡

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

Text

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫? — 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒚

summary — you’re nearly killed by your lover, commander cody, when order 66 is announced. when you wake up, the war is over and you have to confront what happened.

warnings — gn!jedi!reader, so much angst, minuscule amounts of fluff, established relationship, mentions of death, mentions of injury, order 66

requested by — @starlit-epiphany

note — i listened to ‘what was i made for?’ by billie eilish for this whole thing and…well let’s just say it was inspiring.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 morning thinking the universe was going to implode. the bad feeling in your gut was because of your up and coming mission, not that the chancellor had everyone fooled.

you stood on the landing pad with the 212th in utapau. your arms were crossed, your face twisted with discomfort. something was wrong, and you didn’t know what.

“you’re in your own little world, aren’t ya?” the pleasant and comforting voice of your lover interrupted your thoughts. you peered up at him and smiled at him. despite jedi not being allowed romantic attachments, you couldn’t help it when it came to obi-wan kenobi’s commander.

“always,” you joked back.

“what’s wrong?” he asked you. cody was aware of the risk he took talking to you, but he saw the way your eyes were distant and your face was tense.

“it’s probably nothing, just nerves, i guess,” you shrugged it off. cody, however, didn’t. you didn’t get nervous often, you were confident in your abilities as a jedi and even when you weren’t, he was there. he was always there.

“it’s never nothing, you know. it’s gonna be alright,” oh how you held onto those words.

obi-wan readied to go, ending grievous’ life once and for all. you held back the droids the best you could. maybe that feeling in your stomach was misplaced. maybe, for once, your gut was wrong. then it was heavier, then it became harder to breathe. your eyes slid over to cody, begging him to turn to face you. he did, and there it was. the shift. your stomach dropped, your eyes filled with a fear you’ve never known before.

“cod-” you were cut short, two short blasts piercing two holes in your body. tears formed in your eyes, your body shaking. you dropped to your knees, your eyes looking up at cody again. you gritted your teeth, pain pushing through your body, both physical and emotional pain. how could you do this to me?

you laid back, your world darkening. your eyes watched as obi-wan fell, being shot at. a whimper escaped your throat as you watched your father figure fall to his death. what was happening?

darkness took over, covering your eyes. the last thing on your mind being the utter betrayal by the one you loved the most.

———

white. that was the first thing you saw. it was bright, blinding, and you had a hard time adjusting to it. you sat up, but was quickly reminded of precious events. your abdomen exploded with pain, and your chest heaved with every breath. please tell me i’m dreaming.

the door opened and in came in a medic. you stared at the medic, watching her every movement.

“what happened?” you demanded. your voice was firm and you didn’t care if you sounded mean. you were almost killed.

“i’m told not to tell you,” she spoke quietly and the irritation bubbled to the surface.

“i don’t care what anyone else says, what happened?” you demanded again. tears pricked your eyes and as the world came further to, you knew you were on coruscant. before the medic could answer, the doors opened again. your eyes flicked to see obi-wan kenobi walk through the doors.

“i’ve got it,” he nodded towards the medic, who seemed glad to leave you alone. he sat with you on the bed, his own expression sullen. your eyes were wide with a sorrowful curiosity.

“obi-wan, please, what happened?” you whispered, begging him to tell you.

“when the clones were still developing, there were chips implanted into the clones’ brains. these chips had different functions, one of them was an order called order 66, an order to kill all of the jedi,” he started, feeling the weight of it all, “we executed palpatine, managed to rescue as many jedi as we could, and…” he trailed off, his brow creasing, “and i managed to pull my padawan from the grip of the dark side,” he told you. your eyes went wide with the realization that anakin was going to turn to the dark side. the boy you considered a best friend. at least he was ok.

“are…are the clones alright?” you dared to ask. how ready were you for that answer, though?

“physically they’re fine, but the guilt over what they’ve done is unbearable,” he told you. obi-wan knew of your attachment to cody and in this moment, he didn’t care about the code. he didn’t care about following the rules to the books. he knew that you’d want to see him, but also he felt the conflict in you. he almost killed you, yet that love for him was so strong. it was persisting.

“i need air,” you breathed. he protested, but you ignored him. everything was too much, it was so heavy. the clones, from the beginning, were programmed? to kill? you wanted to go back to when you and cody would find the small moments to have dinner together, or when you’d read together, or even when you’d share moments of soft touches together. you couldn’t get those back, could you? tears streamed down your face, mourning what you had. you looked up, and your eyes fell on a familiar face.

“cody,” you breathed. he was in his blacks, but you felt the turmoil within him. he was in pain, so much pain. he almost killed you, for a second he thought he did.

“no,” he stepped back. he knew what he did, he knew what his own hands did. he never laid a hand on you prior to this order 66 ordeal, but now having almost taken your life, the love of his life, he couldn’t even look you in the eyes. he was gripping with the fact that he was just an object to the chancellor. he was used, he was programmed to be a killer. how was he supposed to feel?

“cody, love,” you whispered. you expected him to run, but he didn’t. cody didn’t run, and that wasn’t in his programming. that was his personality. the hallway was relatively empty, but you didn’t care. your heart ached at the sight of him, but it wasn’t his fault. none of it was. he needed to know that.

“it’s not your fault,” you told him, approaching him. you saw the tears brim his eyes. he never cried, and watching him on the verge of it broke you. you swallowed the lump in your throat as you walked up to him.

“i…” he couldn’t even form a sentence. he couldn’t even look at you. his eyes were towards the floor, but when he felt your hand on his face, he lifted his eyes to yours. such kindness and forgiveness swam in them, and he broke. he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, letting his tears fall. tears that held anger, resentment, pain, guilt. his emotions all in water from his eyes.

“it’s not your fault,” you kept whispering to him as you cradled his head, feeling his grief, his sorrow. you stood there with him, taking part in his pain and his guilt. you’d stand there forever as long as he knew you weren’t angry with him. that you were ok. that it was never his fault. as you kept telling him that, cody felt himself slowly start to believe that. maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t his fault.

i am so so sorry i always get to requests late. anyways, here it is dolly! i changed some things up and i hope you didn’t mind! i think it still is to your liking! pls enjoy!

#104 #💋#💜

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Attachment of a Child [part 1]

Pairings: Obi-Wan Kenobi x child!reader (includes Kit Fisto)

Imagine: one of the children in the Jedi temple seems to have formed an attachment to Obi-Wan and follows him around all over the temple whenever he’s there

Warnings: fluff, Obi-Wan hugs, Obi-Wan taking care of a child (that needs a warning for real), Obi accidentally adopted you, otherwise none, I think, it’s just fluff, Not proofread

A/N I couldn’t stop myself from writing this, it just came to me randomly and I had to write it, I don’t even know if it’s good or not I just had to write it bc just imagine Obi-Wan being followed by a child who copies his movements, that’s so adorable 🥰 <3

If you have any ideas for Obi-Wan x padawan!reader (platonic obviously) please feel free to send them to me, I love writing Obi-Wan x padawan

The first time Obi-Wan had stepped into the room filled with younglings after “defeating” Darth Maul, he wasn’t too surprised when he saw all of the children’s eyes light up. Big eyes stared at him with amazement and wonder, as well as curiosity and excitement.

The now Jedi master had gained some kind of fame with the younglings ever since he became a master and defeated a Sith Lord. Not to say that the children didn’t love him before (they sure did), but now they all seemed to look up to him as some sort of war hero. Look at him for wisdom more so than the other masters, Yoda being the exception.

One youngling in particular had taken a shine to the newly made master. You. Obi-Wan had nothing against you, he quite liked taking care of you from time to time, it was a distraction from all the chaos in the galaxy at the moment. He found it rather calming and he would never say no to teaching anyone something new, especially younglings who had the curiosity that could go on for forever. You were no different from those younglings except you didn’t ask your questions (too shy to do it) but rather listened intently to any information Obi-Wan would tell the class. It was one of the reasons why you loved classes with Master Kenobi. He was calm and could talk for hours and had most of the answers to all of your classmates questions (therefore your questions were answered as well, for the most part).

Nights were often spent with the younglings as he told them one of his many stories from another planet. He lulled them to sleep with his calm voice as he talked about facts he picked up from his reading about the planet, or missions he had with Anakin or his former master. Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped you when you crawled up onto his lap, nor did he stop any other of the younglings as they cuddled into the warmth he radiated to their sleepy forms.

More than one time you had been the child to sit on his lap, for some reason the Master nearly always picked you up and placed you on his lap, or he just let you plant yourself on his lap without a single complaint. He knew he made your anxieties calm down as he let you cuddle into his side. If he could help the younglings in any way, he would to the best of his abilities. He was once one himself after all and knew how the life of a youngling could be. The anxiety that could be brought to any of them at any moment if they failed, the strict rules or the doubt they felt, the rumors of danger. Especially with what everyone knew was an upcoming war and the betrayal of Dooku and the death of Darth Maul. Along with those rumors and facts they were supposed to study and become a future Jedi while not forming attachments and nor were they allowed to act on their emotions, especially the fear and anger that they felt. So yes, Obi-Wan would gladly let you sit on his lap if it helped you calm down while he told you and the other children a story before they were supposed to sleep.

It’s safe to say that it wasn’t uncommon for any one in the temple to see any of the younglings run up to Obi-Wan for help, especially if something troubled them. Nor was it uncommon to see you walking beside the master. Which was what happened today.

Obi-Wan had just walked past the room in which you and your classmates had just finished up your first lesson of the day. Some of the younglings had already rushed out of the room before Master Yoda could even finish his sentence, you were one among them. You had felt Obi-Wan’s force signature and you saw him through the slightly opened door walk past the room and you had sprinted out of the room not willing to lose him in the many halls of the temple. Luckily for you the temple was relatively empty at this time in the morning so it didn’t take you too long to find the brown cloak and his auburn hair among those walking the corridors.

The Jedi Master heard small feet sprint towards him but he made no indication of turning around towards the person or to wait for the child to catch up, he already knew it was you, how could he not, he was way too familiar with your force signature. He knew where you were at any time of the day, your force signature rather strong for a child.

If he had turned around he would have seen that you had mimicked his actions. You put your hand behind your back like he had done, you tried to walk in his pace as well as in the same way he walked. This proved quite hard even if the master had slowed down a tad bit for you as he felt you walking beside him, but the long strides were still too fast for a child to catch up entirely to. Any Jedi master that walked past the two of you thought they saw a mini kenobi as you mimicked his every action, even when he rubbed against his beard (even though you didn’t have beard yourself you still did it)

“Hello Master Kenobi” In watching Obi-Wan and trying to mimic him you had completely forgotten to look at where you were going and so you didn’t notice when Obi-Wan stopped in front of Kit Fisto.

“Hello Master Fisto” Kenobi answered politely, giving a smile back towards Master Fisto who gave his signature charming smile. By the time Obi-Wan said that you had looked up and the Nautolan turned towards you as he noticed you standing next to the jedi master you were still mimicking. He studied you for a second, a puzzled look grazed his future before his smile was back.

“And hello to you too youngling, I see you’ve taken a shine to Master Kenobi” A blush spread itself over your cheeks as you got called out by the Jedi in front of you.

The words stumbled out of you as you quietly said “Hello Master Fisto”.

After the words left you, you hid away behind Kenobi's robes not wanting anyone to see your embarrassed state. To this Obi-Wan, like a natural instinct, put his left arm to shield you. Kit Fisto’s reaction to this was what every jedi had told you and Obi-Wan a lot of times before.

“Be careful with the young one Obi-Wan, they might become a bit too attached to you otherwise”

The master like everyone else knew you were already attached towards the master that you hid behind. He could have stopped it all, right there and then, so could Obi-Wan and the rest of the order, but somehow they allowed it, they let it slide by them, if they didn’t see anything then it wasn’t their problem, and if they saw they opted to ignore it. You were like a bright shining cyber crystal in the temple as you cutely followed the auburn haired master around. And it seemed like everyone needed something bright at the moment, with the darker times that were approaching. No, Kit Fisto wouldn’t be the one to stop your attachment towards the newest member of the council, but what he could do was give a warning. He did not want an innocent child or Obi-Wan to fall, not that either of you would, but he could still give the occasional reminders, like Master Windu seemed to give away way too many times.

You were attached, and nothing would stop that. Obi-Wan noticed when he looked down at you, that you were still mimicking his movements. He gave you a fond smile as he studied your stance. You stood in the same posture as him and frankly you looked like a mini him, not that he complained about it, Obi-Wan found it quite amusing how you seemed to want to act like him any chance you got. Not only was it amusing to him but he found it adorable. But so was the thought of every other person in the Jedi temple who had seen you walk after the Jedi master any chance you got since you got old enough to walk.

#103 #☀️#🧡

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

Note

if your comfortable with it, could you do some ashoka x fem reader angst? and then cuddles?

i love your work! have a great day!

Aloha!

Sure, I love Ahsoka 😊

Ahsoka x Fem!Reader One-shot - Coming Home

Angst/Fluff/Comfort

______________

This is the part of your being together that you hate, waiting for Ahsoka to return from one of her Fulcrum missions. This uncertainty of if and when she will come back to you, every time, is nerve-wracking. Often she can't even check in from the road, sometimes you don't know for days if she's still alive.

You're almost sure you're going to break at some point, but you definitely don't want to give up on your relationship.

You are so relieved when you look out the window and see Ahsoka's shuttle landing. Expectant and impatient, you rush to the door, yank it open, and run out toward the shuttle. As Ahsoka steps out of the shuttle, however, your smile fades. The expression on the former Jedi's face is somber, melancholy.

"What happened?" you ask softly as she stands before you.

Ahsoka shakes her head ponderously, walking past you to the small hut that currently serves as your shelter. You follow her anxiously, closing the door behind you both and watching as she paces restlessly.

"Ahsoka, please talk to me. You've been gone so long. What's wrong?"

She looks at you and there is a deep pain in her gaze that you can hardly bear. Ahsoka is usually anything but easily upset. You're seriously worried.

"I found my former master," she says softly.

You blink and frown questioningly.

"That's good, isn't it? He's alive? Shouldn't you be happy?"

Again, the beautiful Togruta just shakes her head, rubbing her temples as if she has a headache.

"I suspected it," she says, "sensed it, but chose not to believe it, but now I know for sure."

Helpless and worried, you ask her, "What are you talking about, dear?"

"Skywalker is Vader," she says somberly, her hands clenched into fists, the expression on her face a mixture of helplessness and anger.

You're at a loss for words at first. You can barely grasp the significance of this statement, how hard this realization must hit Ahsoka.

"Oh 'Soka," you say softly and reach for her hands, gently unclenching her fists to hold her hands.

"I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't left the Order, maybe I could have stopped it".

You place a hand under her chin and gently but firmly force her to look at you, holding the gaze of her beautiful blue eyes with yours. Her beautiful face is right in front of yours and as always you can't help but admire how gorgeous she is, even in this doubtful, sad state, as if nothing could take away from her natural elegance. At first sight she seems so delicate, but you know that inside this pretty shell there is an upright fighting spirit, a skilled warrior. But even the strongest fighters need comfort and guidance now and then.

"Don't do this Ahsoka, this 'what if' road is a dead end. You were a Padawan, he was a trained Jedi Master, he made that decision alone."

Ahsoka says quietly, "He needed me and I let him down".

"That's not true. You made a decision, one that was right and important to you. At no point were you responsible for Skywalker's decisions or his career"

Ahsoka sighs softly, moves closer and wraps her arms around your middle, leaning her head against yours. The embrace is tender and yet also yearning for comfort. You know that she is really suffering right now, not knowing how to deal with what she has experienced.

"I need you now," she says almost in a whisper.

You smile softly, relieved and glad that she seeks comfort from you. You return the embrace tenderly and say, "I'm right here with you, 'Soka."

You hold each other for quite a while before retreating to the sofa bed, snuggling into one of the blankets, snuggled together, talking for quite a while. It's not easy, but you manage to keep Ahsoka from dissolving into self-doubt.

Ahsoka's head is on your shoulder, one of your arms wrapped around her, one of her legs hooked under yours. She takes your hand and gently kisses the back of it.

"What would I do without you?"

You laugh softly and say, "Probably take on way too much responsibility."

"Probably," Ahsoka agrees quietly.

After a while of silence, she suddenly says, "I don't regret leaving the Order. If I hadn't, I probably never would have met you. You know how much you mean to me, don't you?"

You tenderly hug her a little closer and hum contentedly.

"I know, 'Soka, I feel the same way," you finally say softly.

She giggles as you gently place a kiss between her montrals.

"That tickles"

"I know," you say, amused, and graze the same spot again.

Ahsoka turns and leans over you, she smiles then gently leans her forehead against yours and says, "I'm so glad I have you. Even if you are quite cheeky sometimes. Coming back to you, always feels like coming home, no matter where we are"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

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#102 #👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽#🧡

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Why? Because.

summary: reader gets trapped with an injured Zeb in a cave, and they come clean about their feelings.

relationship: Zeb Orellios x GN reader

warnings: mention of injury, blood, age gap i guess?

word count: 3609

A/N: i loved zeb in rebels and lost my marbles when he appeared in the mandalorian. and statistically speaking i can’t be the only zeb girlie (gender neutral), right? so this one goes to all of you out there, wherever you may be <3

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

It has been some time since you joined the Ghost crew, and you’re happy to say that you get along with everyone (except maybe Chopper at times). They had kinda taken you in like they ended up letting Ezra stay, though you were no Jedi. So the running joke was that Kanan brought “strays” on board. But you did and still do try your best to pull your weight around. You’re extremely thankful they decided to let you stay and considered you skilled enough to keep around.

Your homeworld had been brought to near extinction, similar to how Zeb’s planet got destroyed, so now you have no place to go back home to either. Hence why you got along with him from the start. He seemed gruff on the outside but you could see through it; that was the façade of a man who lived through pain and regret. But you know beneath it lies a rather charming personality and a caring friend.

A friend you like a little bit too much perhaps. A friend you find yourself drawn to constantly, torn between pushing your feelings aside and letting them out into the world.

That’s a problem for later though, because right now, you find yourself running for your life next to Zeb.

The latest mission brought the team to a wild jungle on some desolate planet, and you and Zeb got separated from the group. With the Empire hot on your trails, no less, because why would you have a normal, relaxing day? That would be boring.

You trip over a root peeking out from the ground littered in leaves, but catch your step just in time to keep running. The vegetation is dense, and you can’t really see much ahead of you except for splotches in several shades of green. Your legs are carrying you as fast as they can, but you can feel their stamina draining rapidly as your lungs burn, begging for a break.

From somewhere above you, you can hear the unequivocal engine of a TIE fighter, and you instinctively duck. You call out to Zeb, who’s a couple of metres ahead of you.

“They’re getting closer!” you scream at him.

“Then run faster!” he retorts over his shoulder.

“Well that’s easy for you to say!” you tell him between your breaths. “Look at your legs compared to mine!”

Suddenly, Zeb disappears from your view, swallowed by a dense bush. You do hear him cry out in surprise though.

“Zeb!” you call for him, worried.

Without lowering your speed, you take the last couple of steps to reach the point where he was, pushing the leaves out of your way, when your foot suddenly lands on air instead of the ground. Imitating the Lasat’s earlier scream, you also fall, as the vegetation had hidden away the very abrupt stop the cliff came to, the edge ending at a nearly perfect 90 degree angle, which sent you tumbling downwards.

On the way down, you feel yourself hit the side of the hill with an “oomph!”, then continue rolling down, protectively holding your arms over your head however you can, given the speed you’re spinning at.

When you finally make it to the ground, you hit a dead trunk with your back. For a second all air is knocked out of your lungs as you come to a sudden stop, and you need a second to recover your breath. Everything is still spinning, you hold your head, and all you can see are blurs of greens, yellows and browns.

After taking a moment to reorient yourself, you call out to Zeb. The only response you get is a pained groan from a little further away. You get to your feet, ignoring the pain that shoots up from your knee to your hip. The contents of your backpack got strewn around, so you go around hurriedly collecting everything before looking for Zeb. Following the sound of his grunts and heavy breaths, you find him leaning on a rock. You almost drop your pack when you notice the thick branch impaled in his side. He must have hit a tree on the way down.

You approach him quickly, kneeling down at his side.

“Hey, hey,” you say, waving your hand in front of his face. “Stay with me!”

“Ugh…” is all the response he can muster.

You check your comm; it’s busted.

“Where’s your comm, Zeb?” you ask. He paws at his leg with a groan.

You rummage through his pockets and take out the device, which is all but flattened. Great.

“We have to find shelter somewhere,” you say, getting up to your feet.

Taking a look around, you realise it all looks the same. The trees are so dense that you can’t even properly see the sky. Turning back to Zeb, you catch him just in time how he’s about to pull out the branch stuck in his abdomen. You fall back to your knees and swat away his hand.

“Leave it!” you order. “If you pull it out now you’ll bleed out.”

He growls, but doesn’t fight you. Taking in his state, you suddenly feel lost and small and helpless.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Zeb!” You try to sound threatening.

“‘Tis but a flesh wound,” he says with a chuckle that quickly turns into unpleasant sounding coughs.

Great, he's delusional.

“Did you break anything?” you ask him, checking for injuries. “Can you move your arms, legs, fingers?”

He first moves his ankles around, then slightly lifts one leg. With the other one he inhales sharply as it is the one on the side where he got hit.

“How about your hands?” you continue.

You talk to him in an attempt to keep him conscious. Meanwhile you rummage through your backpack for a rope. Zeb tries moving his arms but with his right one he groans in pain.

“Think i’s broken,” he says through gritted teeth, then his face starts relaxing, his eyes about to close shut.

“Hey, no no no. Look at me,” you demand, waving your hand in front of his face again; no response. “Hey!”

You slightly slap his cheeks, and his eyes snap open to shoot you a half-glare. Then you look down and see he’s losing blood, fast.

“Dank farrik, Zeb!” you curse, looking around again. Your gaze falls on the Lasat one last time before you run in the opposite direction you fell from, looking for some sort of shelter. Not far, you luckily find a cave.

Running back to him, you fall to your knees at his side once again.

“Wake up! I can’t carry you alone!” you demand, desperation starting to creep into your voice.

But he’s too weak to stand up, so you pass the rope you had under his armpits and back, throwing the ends over your shoulder, and pulling with all your might to drag him. He drifts in and out of consciousness but tries helping you with his legs and good arm.

It takes you what feels like an eternity and a full workout to drag him into the cave, and just in time. Of course, it has to start raining. You wonder how the water even gets down here when the trees seem to have built a solid roof over the whole place.

Once you have Zeb in the cave, you take a moment to shake some life back into your limbs. Don’t fail me now! you plead with your arms and legs, and you get to work. Using some wood you found on the way here you build a makeshift splint for his broken arm. Then you prepare some bandages, bacta patches and bacta gel. You’re glad that you weren’t carrying anything in glass vials in your backpack that could have broken; all supplies survived the fall.

You kneel at Zeb's side, whose forehead is now covered in a thin layer of sweat; he’s probably running a fever. You exhale slowly through your nose, trying to calm yourself for what you’re about to do.

“Zeb, I’m gonna take it out now, okay?” you warn him, pointing to the branch he got impaled with. “This is gonna hurt… I’m sorry.”

“Ugh… Just- just do it,” he replies with shallow breaths.

“Okay,” you say more to yourself than him, and place your hands around the splintered branch. “One, two, three!”

As you pull out the piece of wood, Zeb clenches his teeth with a groan, and blood comes gurgling out of the wound. You’re quick to generously apply the bacta gel to disinfect the area, put a bacta patch on top and some gauze over it all to stop the bleeding. It takes a little bit of effort on both sides to get Zeb to lift his back enough so you can wrap the bandage around him, but it works.

Now that the most critical part is taken care of, you inspect him further. He’s got a couple of scratches on his arms and face. You take a clean piece of gauze and step to the cave entrance to dampen it in the rain, then come back inside and start cleaning the dried blood and grime off him as best as you can. He tries swatting you away with his good arm a couple of times.

“‘S okay. Take care of yourself first,” he speaks through heavy breaths. But you insist.

Once you're sure you cleaned him up to the best of your abilities and minimised the risk of something getting infected given your precarious situation, only then do you repeat the process for yourself. You also got a couple scratches all over you, and you're sure your back and hip are gonna bruise because of that rock earlier.

Once you're done cleaning yourself up, you sit back and heave a deep sigh. For a moment, the cave is silent save for Zeb’s laboured breathing and the patter of the rain. You take a moment to think about what the next best course of action is. You need water, food, and you have to find a way to contact the Ghost.

From your backpack you take out your busted comm. Zeb’s one got absolutely obliterated, but yours seems in better condition.

“Hey, do you think that we could fix this and send some message to Hera at all?” you ask.

Zeb is struggling to keep his eyes open, trying to focus on the device you’re holding in front of him.

“Do- d’you know how to… rewire?”, he asks.

“Not really… but you can talk me through it?” you offer.

It takes several attempts, but through broken sentences and you having to shake Zeb awake a couple of times, you actually do it. You manage to more or less recall your coordinates given your last known position before the fall, and send that plus the fact that Zeb is hurt. You couldn't fix it enough to know if it actually got through or if you received a response. But you hope and pray to the Force and every other deity out there that Hera and Kanan got the message and come to find you soon.

Now that that is taken care of, you go through your mental list again. Next up: water and food.

You give your past self a pat on the back for packing so much stuff when everyone said the weight would just slow you down. You could really never know when you’d need all this.

You find your emergency light; it's like a bag filled with gel that emits both light and warmth. You hit it in the right spot to activate it and place it next to Zeb, who’s starting to tremble slightly, you now notice.

Your water canteen is a bit banged up but still usable, so you step to the cave entrance to collect some rainwater. While you're here you focus on any sounds of ships or blasters, but you only hear the jungle around you.

You take a couple of swigs from the bottle, then fill it back up. With a sigh, you go back into the cave and take out one last thing from your backpack: ration bars. Not the yummiest but enough to get out of a pinch.

You offer Zeb some water, which he accepts. After he’s done drinking, he leans his head back down with a groan. It must be uncomfortable. Unfortunately, you didn't bring any shock blankets or anything. In fact you don't even have a jacket because of the planet’s tropical weather.

You look up at the cave’s roof again, ticking off the items from your mental list. Now that everything is taken care of, there’s only one thing to do: wait. And hope for the best. Your nose crinkles at the thought. Waiting is the worst part.

Zeb’s shuffling as he moves around trying to find a comfortable position to lie in catches your attention. You grab your blaster and move in between him and the cave wall.

“Here,” you say softly and carefully lift his head to sit down, so he can use your lap as a pillow while you lean back onto the cave wall. You prop up your hand with the blaster on your other leg, aiming at the cave entrance. “You rest up now. I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”

He groans, trying to get comfortable, and then silence surrounds you two.

You’re trying to keep watch but your eyes keep drifting back to the Lasat on your lap. His breathing is evening out, so you assume he’s trying to fall asleep. You take a moment to roam over his face, his meiloorun shaped head, his big ears, his beard. You notice the wrinkles between his brows, a testament to his almost constant scowl, and you have to gather every ounce of self control in your body not to smooth out the skin with your fingers.

“I can feel you staring,” he remarked suddenly, startling you. He opens his eyes and looks up at you.

“Sorry…” you apologise with a sheepish smile.

He holds your gaze for a second longer than you’d have deemed necessary, then closes his eyes again and turns his head slightly away from you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, softer this time.

“Huh? Like what?” you ask.

“Like a sad, lovestruck Loth-pup.”

Heat rises up to your cheeks, and you turn your face away as well, but then realise that you don’t care anymore if he sees you. You knew that at some point you had developed a crush for the guy but you’ve been trying your hardest to push the feelings down, and evidently failed. It did occur to you that lately things seemed to have changed; but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. So you weren’t imagining it after all, the lingering looks and quick glances your way when he thought you weren’t looking.

And if he really decides to bring this up in a cave in who knows where, then so be it. You might as well have the conversation you’ve been procrastinating on right here and now, since he can’t really run away either.

“That’s not how I would describe it,” you start. “But I can’t help it…”

“You can do better,” he says, still not looking at you.

“Try me,” you retort.

He hesitates for a second, considering if he should give in to this or not. For an instant you think that’s it, and are about to keep watch again, but then he speaks.

“I’m old, and scarred,” he tries to convince you.

“You’ve lived through a lot of things, and yet you kept your kind soul,” you counter, ready to disarm any argument he gives you.

“I get angry easily.”

“You have a strong sense of justice.”

“I’m stubborn.”

“So am I,” you say with a chuckle.

He sighs deeply, and finally turns to face you.

“Why? Why me?” he asks and you can tell he’s genuinely wondering.

“Do I need a reason?” you ask, slightly shrugging your shoulders. “When I’m with you, I feel safe, and understood.”

“Who knew the bar was so low,” he teases, and you playfully nudge his shoulder.

“I’m serious. You’re someone I know I can confide in, someone who can read the room and differentiate playtime from ‘time to be serious’. You get things done. You’re loyal. You know what you want and what you fight for,” you recount. Then with a smile and a poke to his cheek, you add, “And for all it’s worth, I do think you’re rather handsome.”

Zeb makes a sound between a snort and a mock-offended gasp, averting his eyes from yours. You could swear his ear just twitched as well. Is that his tell-tale sign for when he’s flustered? Cute.

He remains silent, looking back to you with a soft gaze that holds something else, maybe resignation, or a little bit of sadness.

“But, you know, now that we’ve established how I feel, I do wonder about you,” you point out. “You don’t have to answer now, though. In fact, you don’t have to answer at all if you don’t want to–”

“That wouldn’t be fair, now would it?” he cuts you short.

“Then, do you have anything you want to add?” you ask, hopeful.

He thinks about it for a moment, then gives you an apologetic look.

“Whatever it is I want to say, I don’t think I could properly put it into words right now,” he says, gesturing to himself. “Let’s continue this conversation when I’m… not on the possible brink of death?”

“Right,” you answer, only slightly disappointed, but you try not to show it.

“And hey,” he calls for your attention, and you look back at him. “Thank you.”

“You would have done the same thing for me,” you smile back at him, thinking he means treating his wound.

“Not just for patching me up”, he remarks. “Also for… For your words. And honesty. I can’t deny it’s nice to have someone like you looking at me the way you do. Hopefully I can be half as eloquent as you.”

He then takes your hand with his good one, bringing it to his chest. Once again, you feel your face burn. Zeb Orellios is holding your hand. While his head rests on your lap no less. With that little spurt of courage you just got from his gesture, you lean down and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. He squeezes your hand lightly at that, sighs, and closes his eyes.

You lean back up, resting your head on the hard cave wall behind you, but you don’t mind. You’re on cloud nine right now.

Just as you remind yourself that you’re supposed to be on watch, you hear some rustling from outside. Quickly you lift the blaster, pointing at the entrance. It sounds like someone is approaching. You aim, and–

“Found them!”

It’s Sabine.

You slump back onto the wall, lowering your weapon, letting go of the breath you were holding.

“Are you guys okay?” she asks as she approaches you.

“I got away with just a couple bruises, but Zeb got essentially skewered, and I think his arm is broken,” you explain, turning to show her the wound on his abdomen and tell her how it happened, when you realise Zeb is still holding your hand.

You stop mid-sentence, your eyes meeting Zeb’s, who’s looking at you with a cheeky smirk. That little–

“What happened? Are you okay?” Now it’s Ezra’s turn to step into the cave.

You let go of Zeb’s hand to carefully remove yourself from under him and stand up. You manage to get up but are a little wobbly on your legs, since you’ve been sitting for so long. Sabine quickly helps to support you and guides you outside.

Kanan is the last to get into the cave. With Ezra they try their best to support Zeb to walk but he’s still too weak to get up, so they decide to essentially fly him just outside of the cave by means of the Force, where the Phantom is parked. Zeb did not like that one bit.

– – – – –

Bonus:

Once Zeb is in his bunk on the Ghost with fresh bacta patches and bandages, you give him one last once-over to check if he’s comfortable.

“Anything else you need?” you ask him, packing the remaining gauze and bacta you didn’t use into the first aid kit.

“I think a ‘get better kiss’ would help,” he says matter-of-factly.

You jump a little, his comment having taken you off-guard.

“Well I’m no doctor, but let’s see what I can do,” you try saying as nonchalantly as possible, but your flustered cheeks betray you.

You gently hold his face as you kiss the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes.

“Uhm?!” comes a startled noise from Ezra who’s standing at the now open door. Oh right, for a second there you forgot they shared the room.

“Is this gonna be a thing from now on?” the boy asks, pointing between you and Zeb.

You don’t really know how to answer because you haven’t had the second part of your conversation yet, but the Lasat chuckles and folds his good arm under his head.

“You better knock from now on,” is all he says and proceeds to close his eyes to nap.

“But it’s my room too?” Ezra looks at you for help, but you just shrug with an apologetic smile.

Walking past him, you go to your own bunk, trying to calm your pounding heart on the way.

#101 #😈#💜

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

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Confessions

Captain Rex x f!reader Summary: Fives not so accidentally lets the cat out the bag that the captain has a crush on you. Not quite knowing how to deal with this new information, you start avoiding Rex like the plague. He notices and decides to confront you about it. Word count: 2,6k T/W: none A/N: I am, and always will be, a sucker for soft!Rex so I hope you like this self-indulgent fic as much as I liked writing it <3. Also please enjoy the awkward Rex gif. He is too cute and needs to be shared as much as possible. my masterlist

Being assistant medic to the 501st meant you had a lot of dirt on a lot of troopers. The things these men were capable of coming out with when they were under even the lightest of meds never ceased to amaze you. It was like they lost their filter (not that the had much of one to begin with) and would just blurt out whatever came to their mind without a second thought.

You still remember when Tup had come to after being unconscious and admitted in a fit of giggles that you were “The prettiest girl he’d ever met”

Or that one time you’d had to stay overnight with Hardcase in the med bay after giving him some pretty strong pain meds. You’d spent your whole shift listening to him babble on about some girl who was apparently the love of his life and the one thing he couldn't live without. Later on when you were relaying the story to Kix you found out that he wasn’t talking about a girl at all, rather about his favourite DC-17 blaster that he insisted on carrying with him everywhere.

Anyway, the point was that you were used to having all these weird and random things thrown at you by the clones, so much so that you actually found yourself looking forward to hear what they were going to come out with this time. You were prepared for anything these men would throw at you. Or so you thought.

—

You were currently caring for Fives. He’d got knocked out by a detonator during the last mission, so as soon as you saw him start to open his eyes you rushed over to his side.

“Hey there trooper, how’re you feeling?”

He frowned up at you confused “Am I dead? Is this heaven?”

“Nope sorry Fives. You’re still very much alive” You chuckled “Just got a bit knocked up is all, but I’ll have you right in no time”

He groaned as he started to sit up “Are you sure? Could’ve sworn I was dead. You look like an angel right now”

Gently pressing on his shoulder you tried to get him to lay back down. He huffed but complied, letting you push him back and watching as you dipped a cloth in cold water, gently dabbing it on the gash that went from his temple to his jaw.

You talked to him as you worked, a gentle smile on your face “Trust you to almost die and then the first thing you do when you wake up is flirt with your medic. ”

“Oh no no. I wouldn’t dare flirt with the Captains' favorite medic”

He hissed when you pressed a little too hard on his wound. “Ow, what the hell-?

“What did you just say?”

He scowled up at you “I said ow-”

You shook your head at him “No no, before that. What did you say about Rex?”

“About you being his favourite medic?” he said frowning at you confused when you nodded in response

“Yeah, that”

“I thought it was obvious”

Now it was your turn to frown at him “What’s obvious?”

He lets out an incredulous laugh at your obliviousness, only making you more impatient “Fives, you better tell me what the hell you're talking about?”

“Oh come on, everybody knows the captains got a thing for the pretty little medic”

You freeze, eyes quickly dropping back to the cloth in your hand. “Don’t be ridiculous Fives” you mutter, pointedly going back to cleaning his wound.

He grabs your wrist to stop you, a disbelieving look on his face “Wait- Do you really not know?”

“Don’t mess with me, Fives.” you shake you hand free from his grasp “It’s not funny”

He looks taken aback by the coldness in your voice before a look of realisation crosses over his face. “You like him…” he whispers as if it’s the biggest secret in the galaxy

You blush slightly “No I don’t, I just- well I just-” you clear your throat, avoiding his eyes “I just respect him that's all.”

Fives lets out a chuckle “Bullshit. You like him!"

Shushing him quickly, you glance around at the other troopers in the med bay “Not so loud for kriff sake” you whisper at him harshly. This only makes him smile wider, pointing at your face and exclaiming loudly

“You do! You like Rex!”

You grab his finger angrily, shoving it back down “Ok fine I do. Now can you please shut up before the whole GAR finds out"

He smirks but settles down anyway "I knew it"

You scoffed, picking the cloth back up and wetting it again "Sure you did Fives"

"Did too" he replies smugly. You smile, shaking your head and getting back to work cleaning up his cut. After a few moments silence he breaks it again

"He likes you back y'know"

"Mhm I'm sure he does"

He sits up indignantly "It's true!"

"Fives…" you warn quietly

"I'm serious. He talks about you all the time when he's drunk. And he stares at you so often that it's actually kinda embarrassing"

You pulled back, staring into his eyes and searching for any hint that he's messing with you but were surprised to see him completely serious. A very rare sight for Fives.

Swallowing nervously you take in a shaky breath "Does he really like me?"

"Mhm he sure does. Tries to pretend he doesn't but we all know Rex can't keep a secret to save his life"

That gets a laugh out of you because it's so true. It's actually one of the things you love about Rex. The way he stutters and blushes anytime he tries to tell even the smallest of lies is something you find insanely cute and endearing.

You’d liked him for a long time, and who could blame you? This was Rex we were talking about. Handsome blond Captain Rex.

There was no chance of anything happening between you two. You’d accepted that and were content on just admiring him from a distance, occasionally sharing a few conversations, a couple glances from across the room. Never anything more.

But what Fives had just said lit a small flicker of hope in you. Hope was bad, very bad. Hope meant that you couldn't keep ignoring your little crush and pretending it didn't exist.

Hope meant you actually stood a chance.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts before you could get too carried away in your fantasy.

"It doesn't really matter, it's not like anything could happen between us anyway"

Fives gaze snapped to you "What are you talking about? You two would be so good together"

"You know that's not what I'm talking about." you rolled your eyes at him

"Then what are you talking about?"

" I'm talking about what would happen if someone found out. Rex would be court-martialed Fives, you know what that means right?"

Fives open his mouth to answer you but you cut him off before he had a chance "This is his whole life Fives, I can't expect him to risk everything for me like that."

There was a moment's silence before Fives softly replied "Maybe he'd think you're worth the risk"

—

It had been a couple rotations since your interaction with Fives, and you had been trying desperately to avoid both him and the Captain, so far succeeding in both.

But as if he insisted on not leaving you alone, Fives voice kept echoing in your head. Repeating the same sentences over and over. Even though you tried to ignore it, it kept coming back and haunting you.

"Everybody knows the captains got a thing for the pretty little medic"

As if your thoughts had summoned him, the very same handsome captain you'd just been thinking about strolled through the mess hall door. His eyes doing a quick sweep of the room, giving you a double take upon seeing you and decidedly walking over to your table.

You quickly ducked your head down, panic beginning to rise in your chest. What if Fives had spoken to him? What if he'd told him about you silly little crush? What if-

Rex's shadow looming over you made you look up, eyes instantly locking with his and taking your breath away. Stars, those eyes.

"He stares at you so often that it's actually kinda embarrassing”

"Hey" his voice shook you from your thoughts "Haven't seen you around much lately"

"Yeah…" you chuckled nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear " Um Kix has been keeping me pretty busy the last couple days"

"Oh." He slipped into the seat across from you "Well if he's working you extra y'know I can always stop by and have a chat with him."

"No no" you shake your head quickly "It's fine. Hard work’s what I sign up for after all"

Rex looks at you doubtfully, taking in your tired eyes and dark circles "Are you sure? You look pretty tired"

"I'm fine Rex." You smiled reassuringly "Promise"

"Okay, if you say so… Y'know I'm actually kinda relieved. Thought you'd been avoiding me or something" he chuckled, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

You stiffened and quickly looked back down at the table. His smile flattered. "But you haven't… right?"

Getting ready to answer you took in a shaky breath " Um…" You stalled trying desperately to come up with some excuse but his worried gaze was making it hard to think of anything

Suddenly you're comm chimed, breaking the tension and making you both jump. You stood up quickly "Sorry Rex, I've gotta go. Duty calls"

He looked taken aback as you hurried towards the door.

"We'll catch up some other time" you said over your shoulder. You heard his voice calling your name, only prompting you to walk faster.

Making it out into the corridor you heard your name again, this time louder. The med bay was just around the corner, if you could just make it there before he caught you, you would be fine

Breaking into a soft jog, you panicked when you heard his own heavy footsteps matching your pace. They were much too close for your liking.

The door to the med bay was just a handful of strides away now. You could see it.. C'mon almost there, almost there…

You almost screamed when you felt a hand grab you wrist, halting you and pulling you around to face him.

“He talks about you all the time when he's drunk”

Rex must've seen the panicked look on your face because he quickly released your wrist and took a step back.

"Hey, hey what's going on? Did I do something wrong?" He was slightly out of breath from running after you

"No no of course not" you shook your head before adding quietly "I don't think you could ever do anything wrong"

"Then why are you running away from me meshla?"

The pet name made your stomach flip, taking in a sharp breath and hesitating from a beat before replying

"It's nothing Rex, don't worry"

"Of course I'm gonna worry," he scoffed. "Something is obviously bothering you."

When you didn't reply he sighed and gently took one of your hands in his, holding it loosely

"I just wanna know what I've done so I can fix it," he whispered. Looking up and seeing the hurt in his eyes brought tears to your own.

"He likes you back y'know"

"It's just… something Fives said the other day" you said, keeping your gaze down to hide your embarrassingly watery eyes.

But he saw them anyway, jaw clenching and a hand tightening it's hold on your own "What did he say to you?" he growled protectively "Because if he said something out of line-"

"No no it wasn't anything like that" you answered quickly. A look of relief passed over his face

"Good. But it still something that obviously upset you"

You swallowed nervously before responding "It was about you actually"

Rex stiffened "Me?"

“Tries to pretend he doesn't but we all know Rex can't keep a secret to save his life"

"Yeah…"

"Well what- what about me?"

" He was suggesting that maybe- that you might-"

Rex could see you were struggling to say whatever it was you needed to say so he took a step closer, leaning in towards you "Hey it's ok, you can tell me."

"Maybe he'd think you're worth the risk"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you somehow mustered up a tiny ounce of courage, letting it all out in a rush "He said that you had a crush on me"

Keeping your eyes shut, you heard Rex's breath hitch and felt his hands tighten their hold on your own. After a few moments silence you slowly peeked your eyes open, heart beating fast as you took in the man in front of you.

He looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Well… I- I don't really know what to say…"

Nodding you tried to hide your disappointment by looking down at your feet. Of course he didn't like you, how could you ever think he did

You bit your lip as tears began brimming in your eyes How could you be so fucking stupid and start to let yourself believe that Captain Rex could possibly like you, a lowly medic.

"It's ok" you whispered, blurry eyes focusing on the ships shiny floor "Don't worry I knew Fives was just messing with me"

That really broke Rex out of his trance " What do you mean?"

"I mean of course you don't actually like me, why would you?" You replied, laughing sadly.

Rex frowned, genuinely confused "What are you talking about?"

When you didn't answer Rex called your name softly, making you look up at him, his breath hitching when he saw your teary eyes

"Oh meshla come 'ere" he pulled you into his arms, your head nuzzling into his neck and his hands finding their home around your waist.

"Listen to me carefully" he whispered into your hair "don't you ever, ever say that again."

You smiled into his neck but he wasn't finished "Of course I like you meshla, have since the moment i met you. How could I not love you when you're so fucking perfect?"

He pulled back and you immediately looked down shyly, avoiding his gaze. Calling your name, he gently lifted your chin with the crook of his finger, making you look him in the eyes

"I want to be able to call you mine"

You could feel you carefully built walls slowly falling down at his confession. Every second you spent this close to Rex another piece of them crumbling.

"But… what if someone finds out Rex. What then? How much are you willing to risk for this?"

He lent in impossibly closer, foreheads touching and lips brushing against yours as he spoke

"For you? Everything"

The last stone in your wall tumbling down, you closed the gap between you, enclosing your lips with his. He sighed into your mouth kissing you back hard, months of bottled up feelings pouring into this one single kiss.

Your hands travelled over his chest, one sneaking up behind his neck and into his short buzzed hair. He growled appreciatively, his own hands already grabbing your waist and pulling you into him, clutching onto you like a man drowning.

Breathless you both pulled back just far enough to catch your breath. He chuckled, nuzzling his nose into yours as you smiled softly.

"I love you Rex"

Your confession lingered in the limited air between you, his eyes flickering down to your lips before he gave them a gentle peck

"Love you more, meshla"

----

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#100 #👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼#💛

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

Text

undercover - captain rex

Request: nope Pairing: captain rex x reader (reader has long hair) Summary: you're sent undercover to get an important data stick from a separatist leader Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries Word count: 1.8K A/N: give me PINING rex he needs to be YEARNING. love me a pixel man. enjoy reading!

it's an easy mission. a very important one, but it seemed rather easy. anakin's briefing was short as well.

one of the separatist leaders had a data stick with important information about a few new secret bases. they thought it was so important, that the separatist kept the data stick on him at all times.

which is where you came in.

there was a popular summer festival coming up on the separatist's home planet. your job was to go there, have fun, talk with the separatist and steal the data stick.

to avoid attracting too much attention, only anakin and captain rex accompanied you. the three of you arrived via public shuttle, dressed in civilian clothes.

you had traveled to the festival and separated once you got closer.

and now anakin and rex are hiding on the edge of a mountain ridge, looking out over the festival terrain, waiting for you to show up.

rex is glad he's not wearing his full armour for once, because the planet is extremely hot.

'general.' says rex after a while. 'isn't she going to stand out? they're going to notice a jedi general attending a festival.'

while they'd all worn civilian clothes while traveling, your clothes had still resembled jedi robes a little. you claimed you felt more comfortable that way. and if rex could recognise them as "kind of jedi robes", then surely the festival crowd could recognise it as well?

'well, then it's a good thing she won't look like a jedi general.' says anakin.

as if on cue, you enter the festival. rex looks at you through his scope, and anakin was right. you don't look like a jedi general. you look like a girl who is excited to have a good time at a festival. and you had changed your outfit.

you're now wearing a blue skirt that reaches your calves, and it's fluttering in the hot summer breeze. a tight fitting black top and a pair of comfortable shoes finish up your outfit. no jedi robes, no armour. but what catches rex off guard is your hair.

normally, you wear it tied up in several buns or braids, saying it was annoying if it got in your face all the time. after all, you're moving around a lot during battle. but you wouldn't cut if off, you loved your long hair.

now it flows freely down your shoulders and back, and it moves in the wind and shines in the sunlight.

rex knows you're off limits. you're a general, he's a captain. you could be thrown out of the order, he could be removed from duty - or worse.

so he's kept his mouth shut all this time.

but seeing you like this, no armour or weapons or a concentrated frown on your face. your hair and skirt moving in the wind. rex has never had to hold himself back so much. to stop himself from staring at you so many times.

meanwhile, more and more people have joined the festival terrain and the music has gotten louder.

anakin and rex keep an eye on you as you dance and laugh and have a good time in the valley below. they watch you as you approach the separatist leader and laugh this jokes and touch his arm, pulling him to the dance floor.

it sparks a flame of jealousy in rex's chest. that separatist leader with his girl.

no, not his girl.

a respected general of the GAR. one of his superior officers. who is now on an important undercover mission.

still, rex doesn't like watching you and the separatist leader.

after a while, the separatist leader has had enough of the dancing, and orders a few drinks. you sit with him and talk, leaning in close as you're listening to him.

because rex had been watching you so closely, he notices the exact moment when you swipe the data stick from him.

but you don't leave immediately, that would have been suspicious. a couple more minutes pass before you get up and head back to the dance floor. without the separatist this time.

just as rex is looking at you slowly making your way to the exit, the separatist yells out that someone has stolen something from him. anakin and rex hear how he shouts for a girl in a blue skirt.

given that your cover is blown, you give up trying to blend in with the crowd. you run away from the festival as fast as you can, heading towards the meeting point anakin told you to go to if things went wrong.

it's still hot, and within minutes you're sweaty and out of breath as you make your way up to the mountain ridge. but you won't tell yourself to slow down til you've put enough distance between yourself and the festival.

you're running uphill and just as you round the corner of a large boulder, you smack into something solid. before you can defend yourself, a pair of hands grabs your shoulders to stop you.

you look up into anakin's familiar eyes.

'got it.' you say, still out of breath, handing him the data stick. 'let's get out of here.'

you start to move past anakin, but you're stopped again. this time, by rex.

'general, your leg.' he says.

you look down and see your blue skirt is stained with red. you frown. in the crowd and while you were running away, you hadn't noticed you got hit by something. so it probably wasn't too bad.

'I'm fine.' you say. 'I hardly feel it, let's just get out of here quickly while we still have a head start .'

anakin eyes the amount of blood on your skirt, then looks behind you at the festival.

'no, you'll lose more blood and slow us down.' he says. 'rex, bind her leg. quickly.'

'yes, sir.' says rex.

'it's fine.' you say.

'rex, bind her leg. that's an order.' says anakin, with a slightly playful look in his eyes. you all know rex won't refuse a direct order from his general.

rex looks at you. 'sorry general. general's orders.' he says.

'what if I outrank anakin?' you say.

'do you?' says rex.

'rex.' says anakin, a little more firmly this time.

rex clears his throat and steps closer to you, then crouches down. he pulls out a knife and looks up at you.

'I'll need to cut a piece of your skirt so I can use it to bind your leg.' he says.

'yeah, go ahead.' you say.

rex carefully cuts a strip of fabric from the bottom of your skirt, then puts his knife away. he briefly looks up at you and silently asks permission before he slides your skirt upwards, til it reaches just above the cut on your thigh.

'hold it there, please.' he says.

you take a hold of your skirt and your other hand comes down to rest on rex's shoulder for balance as you take the weight off of your injured leg.

as you feel rex's gloved fingers on your thigh, you clench your teeth to keep yourself from looking down at him. you're fully aware anakin is standing right next to you, keeping an eye on the path in case separatists would show up. you wished anakin wasn't here.

you feel how rex wraps the piece of fabric around your thigh.

'this is going to hurt.' rex warns.

'I can-'

you're cut off by rex pulling the knot tight and a sharp pain shoots through your leg.

on instinct, you groan rex's name, your fingers digging into his shoulder. rex tries to ignore you saying his name like that, and focuses on securing the piece of fabric in place.

rex gives the knot a small tug, and when it stays in place, he stands again. your hand falls from his shoulder and you drop your skirt, which is now knee length instead of reaching your calves.

'thanks.' you say.

rex nods. 'you're welcome.'

'we need to move.' says anakin. 'they would have heard that if they were close.'

you nod and the three of you start your way back to the shuttle bay. rex occasionally helps you climb over rocks, to make sure you don't put more pressure on your injured leg.

when you get to the shuttle, you quickly board it and take a seat near the back of the craft. anakin takes off his jacket so you can wrap it around your waist, hiding the biggest part of your blood stained skirt.

the way back to anakin's flagship isn't that long, but you start to get tired nonetheless. it's probably due to the blood loss, you think. you know if you close your eyes, it's a bad sign, so you stay awake by focusing on rex's presence next to you. you can feel his shoulder against yours.

when you get to anakin's ship, he goes to inform the other jedi masters the mission was a success while rex escorts you to medbay.

one of your arms is over his shoulder while his other arm is around your waist, given that your energy has drained since running away from the festival.

'thanks.' you say, as you and rex walk though the halls of the ship.

'for what?' says rex.

'being a literal shoulder to lean on.'

'you would have done the same for me, general.'

'you know I prefer it if you call me by my name, rex.'

'and you know I call superior officers by their rank, general.'

maybe it's the blood loss. or the dizziness. or the fact rex is so close. whatever the case, you get a sudden burst of courage.

'is that all I am to you? a superior officer?' you say.

you feel rex briefly stiffen besides you.

'for the sake of my rank, yes.' he says.

you feel anxiety and regret growing in your stomach and think of something to say to change the subject, but rex speaks again. softer, this time.

'for the sake of who I am without this armour and the rank of captain, you're more than just a superior officer, y/n.' he says.

you smile as rex walks you through the doors of medbay.

'I'm glad to hear that.' you say.

rex gently places you on a bed and calls over the chief medical officer. he smiles at you.

'sorry your skirt got ruined.' he says. 'I... liked it.'

'of course you do, it's the color of the 501st.' you say.

rex raises his eyebrows. 'is that why you picked blue?'

you shrug. 'I figured it would look great next to the blue of your armour.'

before rex can answer, the chief medical officer arrives at your bed.

'we'll talk about the mission later, captain.' you say to him, with a quick wink, as the medical officer examines your leg.

rex smiles briefly and nods at you. 'certainly, general.'

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Max/Marit

#99 #👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼#💜

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

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Imagine Din Djarin finding you asleep with Grogu.

i just wanna nap with grogu. this whole thing is entirely self indulgent, sue me. written by: archie

He emerged from the refresher after an hour, body and beskar finally squeaky clean. Sand was always too good at getting inside his armour, and after being swallowed whole by the krayt dragon outside Mos Pelgo, he knew he’d stunk of stomach acids and monster’s insides. As soon as the Crest was in hyperspace, he’d excused himself away to save both you and the Child from living with scrunched noses.

He felt much better now as he climbed up the hatch into the cabin, only to be met with a sight that brought out surprising warmth in his chest.

There you were, curled up in the Crest’s passenger seat, fast asleep. Your boots on the edge of the seat and knees drawn to point at the roof. With a stray blanket draped over your form and head bowed as you dozed, you’d never looked so cosy.

He stayed quiet and turned to the other seat to check on the Child, too- But he wasn’t there.

His brows furrowed behind his helmet. He glanced around, wondering if he was hanging by his feet like he so often was, but no. He was nowhere.

A gloved hand reached out to your sleeping from, about to shake your shoulder to ask, but-!

A soft gurgle. A twitch beneath the blanket over your chest.

The building panic melted away like it’d never existed.

He stepped in close and took the corner of the blanket, lifting it ever so carefully to not disturb either of you… And was greeted by a sight that brought surprising warmth to his chest.

His troublesome green blob was bundled safely in your arms, eyes closed and ears flopped against the fabric of your shirt. His head was nestled into your chest as soft babbles and gurgles spilled from his mouth, a little thread of drool attaching him to your shirt. It left a tiny patch of wetness that was uncommonly cute. He’d never looked so peaceful, Din mused.

He raised his eyes to your face. Peaceful, tired. It was clear you loved the Child like he was your own. With that, Din trusted you like no other.

In a pure moment of affection, he extended his finger to run a knuckle delicately down the bridge of your nose, then touched lightly on the kid’s hairy head. Each of you shuffled slightly at his touch, but didn’t wake. It was no surprise: he’d put you both through a lot that day.

He smiled to himself and tucked the blanket back the way he’d found it, soon settling into the pilot seat. He leant back and crossed his arms, allowing his eyes to fall closed, too.

With any luck, he’d see the two of you in his dreams.

#98 #😶#💜

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chelseaslibrary · 2 years ago

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Your Bear

summary: Joel Miller doesn’t just lose Sarah that night but his other daughter too. but maybe you can still be found. (part II)

Joel Miller x daughter!reader -- she/her pronouns used & AFAB

warnings: guns, violence, angst, mentions of death, birth, hurt/comfort, happy ending ;) (kinda), no spoilers for part 2/canon divergent

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open!

word count: 3.2k

Joel Miller was always a good father - no matter what he thought. He cared for his girls more than he cared about anything in his damn life. So when they were both taken from him... there was nothing left to care about.

It was Sarah first.

He held Sarah as she died. His shirt was still stained with her blood. The watch on his wrist shattered by his failure.

But his other daughter, you, looking back he can only imagine the worst.

It all happened so fast. He had Sarah in his arms she gasped for air that was growing distant by the second, while Tommy watched with a pained look.

You, however, no one was watching you. Only 5 years old - you didn’t understand a thing. And so when you heard a loud noise. When you saw your sister go down and hearing the cries of both your father and her you panicked.

You thought you were getting help. That’s what’s your dad always told you to do if something bad happened. “Find the nearest phone or adult. Call me or Tommy or this number, okay? 911. Remember that number babygirl.”

And you did.

You ran as quick as you could, which wasn’t all that impressive but it was fast enough for them not to notice you had gone.

By the time you had found your way back into town, Tommy had noticed. “J-Joel,” His voice wavered, fear taking hold. Tommy searched the clearing, calling your name.

Joel looked away from his limp daughter then. His heart was thumping in his chest. His ribs ached as did the wound on his side but nothing compared to the terror that tore through his whole body.

“W-where is she?” His eyes darted over the area but you were no where to be found.

“No, Tommy,” He sobbed already fearing the worst, “T-tommy not her, please.”

Tommy shuddered. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t real. You were just here. Sarah was just here.

“Joel,” He began until he heard shrill, painfully familiar scream from off in the distance.

“No,” Joel cried looking down at Sarah, hesitating just for a moment before setting her down, “I’m sorry baby.”

Tommy was already running at that point, hoping not to be late, not like he was for Sarah. Joel screamed your name as he sprinted - he couldn’t lose anyone else. He couldn’t lose you, his babygirl.

When he got there he saw Tommy knelt beside a bloodied teddy bear.

Your bear.

He collapsed. Knees giving way. He pulled the bear of the ground, its white fur tormented by the red hue.

Tommy shouted your name a few times. Joel didn’t have the energy to bother. His answer was here.

You were only five. You’d never have survived on your own.

And he would never survive without you, without his girls. He hugged the bear as if it was your body and he never let go.

“Why’d you have a bear in your bag?” Ellie teased as she caught sight of an fluffy ear sticking out.

Joel clenched his jaw, stuffing the teddy back inside. “What?” She laughed innocently, “Is it for your bad dreams? Chase the monsters away?”

The man grunted, discarding the bag on one of the chairs - away from Ellie’s view, “None of your business.”

Ellie frowned as she caught his eye. The brown was darker than usual, which was really saying something. They were empty, hollow but at the same time watery. Like he was one step away from crying. She shook the thought off - this was Joel she was talking about. Joel never cried, not in front of her - not really... She didn’t even think he could cry. But his eyes told her something else. They told an unspoken story. One she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. But one, at the same time, she needed to hear.

“Sorry,” She mumbled, moving into the living room of the house Tommy and Maria had given them.

Joel sighed as she did, guilt running through his veins. “Sorry,” He called out, gruffly, stopping her in her escape. Ellie turned back waiting for him to continue. “it was...” He cleared his throat roughly, “The bear was my daughters.”

“Oh,” She whispered, looking up at the man with sympathy, “If i had known it was Sarah’s... i wouldn’t have said anything.”

Joel sucked in a breath, turning towards the cupboards behind him, grabbing a cup. “Wasn’t hers,” He corrected trying not to let his voice catch on the lump forming in his throat.

“What?” Ellie dared a step closer, “But Sarah was... is your daughter.” Joel bit his tongue, forcing himself to face her again. “Joel?”

He let out a watery sigh, eyes set on the ground, “I had... i had another daughter.” He spoke your name softly but with fear. He hadn’t said it in years - he couldn’t. He hadn’t spoken about you in nearly 20 years either. He hated to talk about you. It was hard enough letting Ellie in, letting her know about his past, about Sarah. But it was too hard to say your name. You were only a baby. His baby.

“I didn’t know. You never mentioned her,” Ellie almost felt guilty asking - like this was something she should’ve known. That she should’ve known wasn’t something you just bring up.

“Yeah,” He scrunched his face a little, the feeling of your loss rushing back.

He thought and he believed for a time that if he didn’t talk about you, about the way he failed you then all that hurt would go away. He was wrong. He saw you every night in his dreams. He saw the woman you grew up to become. He saw your smile and heard your laugh. But then he’d wake up alone. He was always alone.

The worst was when the dream felt real. You were a baby again, Sarah was young too. It was just the three of you. You’d be doing something mundane - watching TV, eating dinner, whatever. He’d have conversations with the pair of you, forgetting that none of it was real. He’d hold you to his chest, sing to you, make you laugh. He’d dance with Sarah to their beat up radio in the kitchen. He would watch you take your first steps, say your first words, form your first smile.

But he’d always wake up. He hated waking up.

“How old was she?” She dared to ask.

Shakily he replied, “Five.”

She fell silent after that. Five. Five years old. Joel lost a five year old - no wonder he didn’t want to talk about it, idiot.

Ellie thought for a moment, a question daring to fall from her lips. “But she’s wasn’t on the memorial at Tommy’s.”

Joel’s head snapped up, anger residing in his chest. Who he was mad at he didn’t know. Himself? Tommy? Ellie? You? “Tommy... he,” He huffed, “He doesn’t believe she’s gone. Holds out hope on that fucking plaque - fuckin’ delusional.”

Ellie leant against the countertop, eyes not leaving the man for just a second, “Why would he think that?”

“No body,” His voice was cold all of a sudden as if it meant nothing at all. As if he wasn’t talking about the body of his five year-old.

“But then she could be-“

“Don’t,” He snapped, “Don’t say another word.”

Ellie rolled her eyes but complied. Joel turned back to his cup, filling it with coffee he had just traded for. He didn’t speak until he was finished and even then he wished he hadn’t.

“We heard her scream... And we found-“ He grimaced, gesturing to his bag, “And we found that damn bear.”

“But,” She tried again.

“Ellie-“

“No, seriously, if all you found was a bear she could still be-“

Without another word, Joel stormed past her, ripping the bag open, slamming the bear onto her chest.

Ellie saw it now.

She understood the haunting look in his eyes. She understood the story it told. It was matted, showed its age. What once was white was red now.

All of it.

Not just a patch here and there.

Everywhere.

It reminded her of Joel.

“That look like she could be alive to you?” He shouted.

“Fuck,” She felt sick just looking at it let alone touching it.

“You kept it?” A voice called from behind her.

Joel met his brothers eyes. “‘Course i did,” He spoke defensively.

“Joel,” He simpered. They stared at each other for a while. Almost like they were having a silent conversation.

Until Joel spoke, “It’s all i have of her left.”

And there was nothing else to say.

Years had gone by since they had gotten to Jackson. And things were surprisingly good. Eerily good. It was the type of good that Joel knew deep down wouldn’t last. It was the type of good that only existed before this mess.

Every morning he would wake up here he had a weight on his chest. A feeling that something was going to happen. This was the calm before the storm, he’d remind himself.

He didn’t tell anyone about it. He couldn’t. He’d just sound paranoid.

Him and Ellie were on a run. It was simple - it always was. The people in charge at the commune never liked to overstep - go to far. Never liked to do what Joel craved.

All they had to do was scope out a few cabins that were spotted deep in the woods. Ellie had jumped at the proposition as soon as Tommy had suggested it. She hated being cooped up for so long - Jackson could only give you so much freedom.

And just because Ellie agreed he knew he had to as well. There was no way in hell he’d let her go out risking her life when there was no way he’d be able to save it.

Getting there was the easy part. The horses at Jackson were a godsend. When they got there the place was still. Ellie gave Shimmer a soft pat before joining Joel who was stalking up to the door. He knocked first - not out of curtesy, just to attract any infected that it may hold. Because that’s what they expected. But Joel should’ve known better.

Joel should’ve thought about their biggest threat - people.

They had only cleared two rooms when Joel felt the cold sting of mental on his temple.

Ellie gasped but kept her gun up, eyes trained on the figure that held Joel’s life in their hands. “Put it down,” The voice ordered.

“Like hell I will,” Ellie retorted, finger edging closer to the trigger.

“I said put it down or the old man gets it,” She forced the barrel against his head - so hard he was sure it would bruise.

“Jesus, fuck, okay,” Ellie mumbled, slowly setting her gun on the floor infront of her, “Just let him go?”

The woman laughed, “So you can kill me, yeah, no thanks.”

“We can work this out,” Joel tried, hands raising to show he was unarmed but it only aggravated her more. Her arm wrapped around his neck, making him stumble back into a chokehold.

“Hey!” She yelled at Ellie as she reached for a gun. The teen stopped, taking a few steps back.

“Just put it down. We can work this out,” Joel proposed, gasping as she applied pressure to his neck, “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Bullshit,” She spat, breathing heavily, “What the fuck else are you here for then, huh?”

“Supplies,” Ellie told her, “We’re from a commune-“

“Ellie-“

“We can take you back there - help you. If you just put the gun down.”

“Bullshit,” The woman removed the gun from Joel’s head aiming it now at Ellie, “You’ll kill me the first chance you get.”

Ellie shook her head, going to respond before Joel gripped the woman’s arm flipping her over. She gasped as she forcefully hit the ground, splinters from the wooden floor embedded into her spine.

Her breathing picked up, hand scrambling to get to the gun he had knocked out of her hand but a foot stopped her.

Joel’s boot pressed harshly against her wrist, “Don’t.”

“Christ Joel,” Ellie huffed, “You scared the fuck out of me.” Joel watched her as she reached down to get her discarded gun. Ellie laughed as she caught her breath, “Where the hell did that come from? You’re like 80.”

“Ellie,” He scolded with a strict look.

“Right, sorry,” She chuckled.

“So this is when you kill me then,” The woman heaved, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Joel turned to her then, catching her eyes for the first time. He faltered, boot leaving her wrist as he took a step back.

She was a spitting image of... you.

No.

“Shouldn’t’ve tried to kill us, i guess,” Ellie retorted humourlessly.

“You came into my house,” She shot back.

“This is your house,” Ellie muttered, “Needs some work. Right, contractor?” She shot a look over her shoulder at Joel. The man was pale, breathless. His eyes were trained on his attacker with a foreign look she couldn’t decipher.

“Joel?”

“Name,” He ordered, gun pointed down at her but both of them could see it shake.

“What?” She coughed, struggling to understand the strangers.

“Your name, what is it?” He yelled.

“Jesus,” She almost let herself laugh - she would’ve if she wasn’t so shit scared.

Joel gave her a stern look so she said it. She spoke your name.

Ellie’s lips parted, confusion leaving her face, “Holy shit.”

Joel’s expression crumbled as did the grip on his gun, which now hung loosely at his side. “Last name?” He asked, voice a mere whisper.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Answer.”

“It’s Miller, Christ,” She answered, “What the hell is the matter with you people?”

Joel’s knees felt weak, his breath caught in his throat. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. You died. You were gone.

“Joel is she-“

“Stand up,” He told you.

Hesitantly you did as he said, struggling slightly as your injuries caught up to you. Seeing this Joel stepped forward, hand outstretched. With an odd look in your eye you took it - ignoring how the mans eyes lingered on it for a second too long.

“Are you alone?” Fearfully you shook your head. “Where?” He ordered.

You shook your head again, “Please don’t- You can’t. I was just trying to protect her.”

“Who?” Ellie spoke up, despite it not feeling like her place to be in this conversation.

��M-my,” You started but a cry interrupted, echoing through the cabin.

You didn’t think for a second before you ran out of the room. Joel cursed as you did, going to rush out after you before Ellie spoke up, “What are we doing here, Joel?”

“I-“ He paused, shaking his head and leaving the room.

“Is it her?” She questioned, following closely behind him, “Is it really her?”

He gave her stern look as he entered the room you escaped into. His eyes blurred as he saw you with a baby to your chest.

“Please don’t,” You held up your free hand, stopping them, “You can’t- not her.”

“Holy fuck,” Ellie gaped, “You have a fucking kid!”

“Ellie!” The baby fussed in your arms, cries escaping despite your comfort.

“Please leave,” You beg, “Just let us go. I know i messed up. I didn’t want to hurt you guys but i- i couldn’t let you find her.”

“It’s okay,” Joel spoke softly, a type of softness you wouldn’t expect a man like him to be capable of. He holstered his gun, carefully and moved his hands where you could see them.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” He told you, “Ellie, put your gun away.” Ellie did as he said.

“So leave,” You pulled your child closer to your chest.

“We can’t do that,” Joel said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s-“

“Ellie, don’t,” He cut her off, turning back to you, “We weren’t lying before. We have a commune - it’s safe. You’ll be safe there. You both will be.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, repeating the same question, “Why?”

“B-because you’ve got a kid,” He lied, “We can’t leave you here to die.”

“I don’t trust you,” You frowned. Joel mirrored your action, looking around the room at the makeshift cot you had constructed. He felt his heart ache when he spotted a blood stain on the carpet in the corner - you had given birth here, alone. You went through that alone.

“Please,” Ellie spoke up, “You won’t survive out here. You need somewhere safe. And maybe you don’t trust us, that’s okay but we’re honest. We want to help you.”

Hesitantly, you nodded after a few minutes, anxiety building in your chest.

Joel’s eyes were still stuck to the bloodied patch and he was reminded again of how he failed you. How he failed Sarah. He thought about that damn bear. The bear that he thought was the last part of you he had. And despite the pain in his chest and the ringing in his ears he was so glad he was wrong.

“What’s her name?” Ellie asked as she took a tentative step forward.

You didn’t flinch, you wanted to but a part of you, a naive, childish part, wanted to believe them. “Sarah,” You returned, pinching your girls cheeks causing her to smile.

Joel’s eyes filled with tears, tears he had been trying to suppress for the past 20 minutes. For the past 20 years.

Sarah. His Sarah. Your Sarah.

Ellie’s eyes snapped to Joel. He almost felt embarrassed, showing this side of him. Showing his weakness.

“She’s beautiful,” He whispered.

You smiled as he spoke, kissing the side of Sarah’s head. “She is,” You kissed her again before whispering - more to her than them, “My babygirl.”

#read later

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