Reblogging This To Show My Mom

ilym 🥺🥺💓

HEYAAAAA so like i’m absolutely binging your fics and i can’t your writing is so good 😅 it’s inspiring and making me want to write again lol so thank you!

ITS INSPIRING???

Crying bc that’s so sweet 🥺🥺🥺 thank you for reading my work ily 😭😭❤️ and ty for your kind words my heart is so warm rn 🥰🥰🥰

we had each other, that was all.

the road back to you — billy hargrove

summary: as you find salvation from your grief in the form of a beat-up car, you may find what you’re looking for in the most unlikely of places. aka, when billy’s girlfriend falls under attack by vecna, he’ll fight through death itself to save her. pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader category: angst with happy ending content warnings: temporary canon character death (billy), language, descriptions of grieving word count: 6k a/n: hi y'all !! i'm really proud of my work on this one, it was fun to do. just a note, any blocks of italics is a memory/flashback.

masterlist want to join my taglist?

It goes like this—the moment you realize you love him is also the moment you realize you’re going to lose him.

It’s simple, really. You saw the moment El was able to reach him from wherever he was locked away, you saw the moment he stood and set his shoulders back, determined to carry out whatever plan he had come up with in the narrow seconds he had to himself. You saw the moment he stepped forward, never once looking back at you—does he know you couldn’t handle a goodbye even if he offered one? 

You saw the moment he stared down the thing that had taken away his choices for so long, and you knew he never intended to step foot outside of Starcourt again.

People often say the worst moments of your life happen in slow motion, but this time it all happened in one terrifying instant, too quick for you to do anything but watch.

“Billy!” You were sure the word wasn’t yours, that some other voice had screamed with enough force to scratch their throat to shreds. It wasn’t your feet launching you down the broken escalators, taking as many steps at a time as you could manage without tripping. The Mind Flayer was gone, but the damage it had inflicted hadn’t vanished miraculously with it. Even from across the room you could see what it left behind on the man you loved—too much blood, every limb far too still, red everywhere, why was it everywhere?

Max made it there first, dropping to the ground beside him with enough force against her knees that it makes you wince. You practically slide across the tile to reach him too, hands grabbing one of his. His are dirty, mixed with the dirt and blood of too many of your friends, from him. They’re still his though, with the same rough callouses you used to spend so much time trailing your fingers across. You cradle his hand between both of yours, pressing a kiss to the back of his fingers as though that might take the pain away. Because there wasn’t anything you could do for him now but this, you’d try to bring him as much peace as you could, knowing he deserved so much more.

“—’m sorry,” he choked out, and you wished you’d never had to see the way blood slipped from those lips with his words. Already you could feel the sight imprinting on your mind, scarring over the once cheerful memories the two of you had made in this mall.

“Billy,” Max repeated, voice barely there through the tears that threatened to silence her, “please.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured the two of them, lower lip quivering around the words. Salt and iron mixed at your own lips as tears trail down your bloodied face, and a sob threatened to tear through your already scratchy throat. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”

It looked like he wanted to say more. You watched helplessly as his lips parted and closed a few times, gasps coming out instead of the words he wanted. You leaned forward, hand resting against his cheek and trying to ignore the blood that stained it. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many hopes and dreams you’d never quite shared with him in search of the right moment. There never would be a right moment now, and that thought alone was enough to constrict your heart.

But this moment wasn’t about you, it was about the fear in his blue eyes as he looked between you and Max, as his lips still struggled to voice the final words he wanted to tell each of you.

Billy needed peace, so you would give it to him in the only way you knew how. 

“We’ll be okay,” you told him, blinking away the tears in a desperate attempt to keep looking at him for as long as you could. Because up until this moment, you’d assumed you had forever, you took the ability to see Billy for granted. And now forever was reduced down to seconds, and you had too many words to say.

“I’ll take care of her, I promise,” you continued, not missing the way his shoulders relaxed just a fraction at the promise. You brushed away the stray curls that fell into his face even now, trying to memorize every inch of his face before he left you. For just a moment, through all the blood and signs of battle, you could almost imagine this was any other night. The two of you were laying in your bed, whispers falling between you as you fought to hide from your family. He would grin and hold onto you, saying he didn’t care if they found the two of you like this, and you’d laugh and say he might, your family could be scary when they were protective. They don’t need to protect you from me, Sweetheart, I’d never hurt you. What a fucking lie that was.  “I promise, we’ll be okay. All because of you, you saved us.”

When his breath stuttered and his chest grew gravely still, you felt your world grow colder. It was an immediate change, a crack in the dream you’d once had for how your life would end up. Because how could you ever have your happy ending when the person you wanted to share it with was laying here, in your arms, cold?

And when the paramedics finally pulled him from your hands, you were still whispering the same words.

I love you, I love you so much.

“Max! If you make me late to work again, we’re gonna have real problems!” you shouted through the rolled-down window of his—your—car.

“No, we won’t,” Max shouted back from the front door of her mom’s trailer, messing around with slipping a tape into her Walkman at the step instead of doing it in the car. “I know better.”

“Well, this time we will have problems,” you retorted, rolling your eyes at the level of sass the girl had. Though even now, you knew she had a point. No matter what she did, no matter how many words she tossed at you when she was frustrated, you would be there for her. You’d made a promise, nearly a year ago now. “Can we go, please? Harv is forgiving, but I don’t want to test his patience.”

Though she didn’t acknowledge you, at least Max sped up a little and climbed into the passenger seat as quickly as possible. You sighed when immediately headphones were placed over the girl’s ears and her head turned to face out the side window. After everything that had happened, you’d never expected her to be the same Max she’d been before but you’d hoped that she wouldn’t be this pulled back from the world. It seemed all she did anymore was drown everyone out in the music, only slipping off those headphones to convince everyone else that she was, in fact, fine.

You’d heard it from just about everyone now, that they were worried about Max but she’d stopped talking to them. Friends, teachers, and even Joyce Byers had called you once to say that Mike had mentioned what was going on to El. They all looked to you for help, expecting you to save her from the grief that threatened to drown her. But you weren’t a lifeguard like her brother, and all you could do was desperately reach for her hand and hope she’ll hold on someday. Until then, there was nothing you could do. Just like her brother, you couldn’t save her.

So you drove her to school every morning and took a few minutes off of work in the afternoon to drive her back home on the days her mother was working late. When she needed to go somewhere else, she knew to call you no matter the time. Sometimes she did, asking you to drive her to places just on the edge of town. You’d sit in the car and wait while she sat out there, watching the stars. You never knew what she did there, but if it helped then you’d take endless sleepless nights. All you could hope for was that, in time, she might open up to someone again even if that someone wasn’t you.

“Have a good day at school, kiddo,” you told her as you approached the school, and she must’ve barely heard you through whatever she was playing because Max graced you with a smile and nod before she slipped out the car. You stayed there for only a moment, making sure she got safely inside the building before you headed off toward work.

Harv’s mechanic shop was on the edge of town, giving you a long drive to destress. Every morning was the same anymore—you’d turn on music from a band you hardly liked but you’d found the tape on the floorboard the first time you’d worked up the nerve to slide into the driver’s seat. It had been sitting on the bottom of the backseat right where you remembered hiding it, when Billy spent an entire week listening to nothing but that song. Where before you only rolled your eyes at his off-key singalong, now you drove down country roads humming the tune with tearful eyes. ‘I’ve been waiting for a girl like you to walk into my life.’ 

And though you knew the car could handle faster speeds—Billy, slow down! Are you trying to get us in a wreck?—you’d take it barely over the speed limit, taking your time with the feel of the wheel under your fingers and the sound of the engine you’d come to adore. You’d never expected to see it again, much less spend so much time inside it. You often wondered what he would have thought if he could see you driving it around town. Would he smile fondly or would he sigh, reminding you there were better ways to take care of a car as beautiful as that one. Maybe you would roll your eyes back, proclaiming that if only he were still here, he could tell you what to do with it. But he wasn’t, so all you could do was use your best judgment.

When Max came to you in July in near tears, you didn’t know what else could have gone wrong. You were ready to fight anyone who dared to hurt her while she was already down, grieving someone she didn’t know she could grieve.

“He’s getting rid of the car,” Max hiccupped out after you’d brought her into your house, sliding a cup of coffee her way you knew her mother would have scolded you for. “I shouldn’t care, but, he’s just going to junk it and—”

“Who?” you asked, “Why?”

“Neil,” Max practically spit out, and though you knew she didn’t have a good relationship with him either you’d never heard such vitriol in her voice before. “He’s leaving town, and he wants to make as much money as possible selling his son’s stuff before he does, apparently.”

“Well, I promise you that car’s not getting scrapped,” you told her, already standing up from your seat at the kitchen bar. You grabbed your keys and hurried to find your wallet, a fierceness in your gait that hadn’t been there since the Fourth.

“How do you know that?” Max asked, following you out of the house and into your car. Any other time, you might’ve felt a warmness in your heart at the knowledge that she trusted you so much she’d follow you anymore without any explanation.

You shrugged, eyes on the road as you were speeding faster than you ever normally would. There was no way you’d be too late to talk to Neil, though, that was for sure. When you got there, you’d insist on buying the car off of him, taking whatever price he demanded because, to you, it was a priceless win. There were too many memories built into that car, too many smiles and laughs. You’d do what it took to make sure Billy’s pride and joy was saved. You weren’t an expert with cars, but you’d become one if that’s what it took. “I needed a new car anyway.”

The Camaro had sat untouched in your garage for a month before you were able to even look at it without crying, much less try to drive it. But eventually, you were able to sit in the driver’s seat without blurry vision and you set to work determined to restore its beauty after the damage it sustained at Starcourt. So you slipped Billy’s necklace over the rearview mirror and set out to find a way to bring the car back to life.

That was how you’d ended up with your current job at the local mechanic’s shop. You needed guidance in fixing the thing up and Harv was more than willing to impart his knowledge to someone else. After years of focusing on only the job, you were the closest thing to family he would ever get. He’d become something of a mentor to you over time, trading repair tips for well-cooked lunches. It wasn’t too much of a surprise when the older man offered you a job at the shop, making up some excuse that he’d rather focus on the cars instead of the business side of the shop. He let you work on the cars too, in between balancing the books and taking the occasional phone call. It was hard work, but you appreciated the chance to keep your hands busy before your mind filled in the blanks with memories you wished you could forget. 

“Forget the morning coffee?” Harv asked when you finally stepped through the shop. “You’re looking more tired than usual, tell me you’ve been sleepin’.”

“I can tell you if you want,” you hedged, slipping two brown paper bags into the fridge before grabbing a hand towel to throw over your shoulder. There were some days you needed more distractions than normal, and on those, he’d usually let you do more work on the cars than in the office. 

“Havin’ more dreams?” he asked, and the non-answer was enough for Harv to get the picture. For the past several months, you’d been plagued with nightmares of that night, of the immediate days after, of having to plan a funeral because his family couldn’t be bothered, of d—

“Please, please, no!” you screamed, the blankets becoming your new prison as you fought to escape them. Your voice was hoarse as you tumbled out of bed, landing on the same hip that was already bruised from previous impacts.

It was only two weeks after the ‘tragic fire’ at Starcourt, your wounds beginning their slow fade away. The nightmares seemed to get worse when you realized, that, soon you would lose any evidence of that night, of the sauna, of Billy fighting to stay with you all. Because he’d fought, no matter what the party seemed to think of him. You hated that you mourned the loss of the deep bruise around your wrist from where he’d grabbed it at the Mind Flayer, when you’d gotten roped into trapping him in the pool sauna.

“Y/N?” 

Fuck.

Max had been sleeping in the guest room of your parents’ house since the incident, admitting that it was too hard to be in the house where Billy had been. She’d told you it was confusing, seeing the rooms where he’d yelled at her so badly she’d cried but wishing he could be there to do it again. She hated the way Neil and her mom seemed to ignore what happened, carrying on as though nothing had ever gone wrong.

And you’d promised Billy that she would be okay, so you’d told her she could stay as long as she needed while she worked through her grief. You just never expected her to see yours, too.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, pulling yourself to your feet and trying to fix your rumpled pajamas and hoping she could hear through your closed door. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t, I was awake,” Max answered, slowly opening the bedroom door. Even in the dim moonlight, you could see the tear tracks shining on her face.

“Oh, Max, come here,” you called, and the second you held out your arms she was rushing into them. Her body hit yours harshly but all you could do was hold onto her for dear life, your own tears forming as she let out her sobs into your shirt.

“I don’t want to miss him,” she cried, “he hated me, I shouldn’t miss him so much.”

“Hey, hey, listen, okay?” you tried to tell her, moving back just enough that you could see her face. “Billy did not hate you. Do you know how often he talked to me about you? About how worried he was about you sneaking out so much, about how he was trying to keep you safe from N—your stepdad.”

“I want to hate him. He was so awful to my friends, I should hate him, and I hate that I—”

“What, Max?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, and you knew there was more to it but for the time being, she was already wiping away her tears with rough hands. “It’s nothing. I don’t think I’ve slept right since the Fourth of July.”

“Me either, kiddo,” you sighed, running your hand over her hair once before stepping back fully. “How about I make us some hot cocoa and we can watch a movie, something happy.”

“Still about that Hargrove boy of yours?”

“Always,” you sighed. It would always be him, no matter how many times you fought to move on. There was no easy way to erase the memories you’d made together, all the hard work it had taken to make your relationship set up to last.

“You know, there’s no harm in finding someone else to make you happy.”

“I know that I just,” you fought to find the right words, looking up to the sky as if Billy himself might help you conjure them up. “I’ve never loved anyone like I loved him. I don’t really know if I can again.”

“Why don’t you take the day off today?”

“I’d rather be here,” you told Harv. Because what else was there to do but sit and think about where you could have been? If you were alone, then you’d start thinking of the nights you’d lay with Billy, dreaming up a future for after the summer. In those dreams, you’d pack up his car with as few items as you could manage, and the two of you would drive. There wouldn’t be a particular destination in mind, as long as it was far past the Indiana border.

Instead, you stayed in the one place you knew he hated. Where else was there to go? You told yourself you could leave Hawkins when Max was out of school, when you knew she’d be okay on her own. 

“You can’t work yourself to death either,” Harv argued, grabbing the towel off your shoulder and tossing it over his instead. “Go, find some trouble to get into. You’re off for the rest of the week.”

At first, you were furious at the idea of a week off. It turned out, though, that Harv’s generosity came at a perfect time. Because suddenly, the Upside Down wasn’t as shut away as you once thought it was. Suddenly, Billy’s sacrifice wasn’t enough to completely spare the kids from the horrors that lurked under the city.

And as it turned out, you were frighteningly close to breaking your promise to him.

Because Vecna was coming after Max, and the only thing that was keeping her from a horrifying death was that damned Walkman you’d once cursed for existing. Now, all you could do was hope that the machine kept up, that you’d never need to read the contents of the letter tucked into your back pocket.

You’d do anything to keep your promise now, even cross into the Upside Down yourself.

The decision became even easier when Steve was pulled down into the lake, through the barrier he’d been investigating. Nancy had jumped in after him, Robin following soon after. It was an obvious choice, then, for you to jump from the boat.

The Upside Down was a living nightmare. You were sure this new scene would take the place of Starcourt each time you closed your eyes, between the bats determined to kill and the vines that connected all the way back to Vecna himself. You had to agree with Eddie in all of the panic over it, even though you’d been exposed to its horrors before. 

You thought the group made it out safe, though. Everyone was climbing up the curtains to get back to the safety of Eddie’s trailer, and you were up next but instead of falling through to hit the mattress set up on the trailer floor, you hit hard tile. It was white tile though was now marred with an eerily familiar red hue. Broken glass dug into your palms as you landed, though you hardly noticed it at all.

Because the moment you recognized those neon lights surrounding each store of the building, you knew you were doomed. Because Starcourt had been torn down months ago, yet now it looked the same way it had on the worst night of your life. You knew what was going to happen, you knew what memories Vecna would use against you. There was only one that continuously haunted you, kept you awake at night wondering if there was something else you could have done.

Immediately you took off toward one of the escalators, hoping to put as much distance between you and the mirage you knew Vecna would send to you. You didn’t want to see him, not after all this time, not like this.

“You always did run from your problems.” That voice, even as harsh and cold as it was now, was enough to make your heart race. It seemed to echo through the large courtyard, filling the space and making it impossible to ignore the form Vecna had taken on just for you. “What, too scared to face me, Sweetheart?”

The venom-laced nickname was sure to break you, if the sound of familiar boots on blood-stained tile wasn’t enough. You could hear Billy saying it a thousand times, each with more care in his voice than you’d ever heard before. It was some of the few times you could see his walls really melt, if only for a second. Now that love was being used against you, hurled at you with enough hate to make you wonder if this wasn’t how Billy had intended it after all.

“This isn’t real,” you shouted back in hopes of convincing yourself, never daring to look over your shoulder as you rushed up to the upper level of the mall. It felt real though, felt like you’d never been able to escape the nightmare of that mall.

“It’s as real as the day you let me die,” Not-Billy called back, letting out a near-hysteric laugh that you’d only heard post-sauna experiment. “I haunt you, don’t I?”

“No,” you gasped around the word as though the running at made you lose all breath stored in your chest. “No, you don’t.”

“Liar!” Not-Billy laughed, his pace quickening as the mall turned loops around you in an unbeatable maze. All you had to do was outlast him and hope that Eddie had a tape that you liked enough to snap you out of this. “You traded your entire life in for some promise you could never keep, didn’t you? You kept my car, my clothes, my music. You got a job somewhere you knew I’d like.”

He was gaining ground fast. Where were they with that music? How much longer could you last like this?

“It wasn’t for you,” you tried, keeping your eyes forward as you fought to find an escape. But the mall just extended, trapping you in the horror of the day you’d lost Billy. “It was for me.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you lay alone at night, Y/N?” Not-Billy teased, not seeming in a rush to catch up to you and instead preferring to break down your resolve inch by terrifying inch. “Admit it, you know you’re nothing without me. You know it’s your fault I’m not there for Max, so you’re taking my place.”

“No,” you denied, hating the rush of guilt that crashed over your shoulders like a rogue wave. “No, that’s not it.”

“You feel guilty. You know you could’ve noticed something was wrong sooner. You should’ve known. Did you really think I would hurt you like that?” 

Billy, what are you doing? This isn’t like you. Fine, if you want to act like that then you can do it alone, we’re through.

“I didn’t know!” you screamed back, the tears hitting your eyes at the memory of what you’d deem your greatest failure. Because you hadn’t noticed, you truly thought that he might’ve simply wanted to be so cruel that day. How were you meant to know he was taken over by a mythical creature from a kids' game?

You were just kids when it all went wrong. Fuck, you were just kids.

You finally chanced a glance at him, and the sight was enough to make you trip over your feet. You hit the ground harshly, wrist bending painfully as it caught your weight. But there was Billy, standing in his blue jeans and white tank, covered in blood the same way he’d been the last time you’d laid eyes on him. This time though, instead of blue eyes flashing in recognition they burned with a hatred you’d never seen before. He hated you.

No, this was Vecna. Right? Right?

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Billy’s voice overlapped with a deeper one, a haunting voice that settled deep in your bones. “You can admit you feel responsible for my death.”

“I don’t,” you shot back, ignoring the stirring of heavy emotions you’d long-since locked away deep in your ribcage. “We did the best we could, I tried to save you, Billy, I tried everything.” 

How many times had you tried to break him free from the hold the Mind Flayer had on him? How many times did you call his name, beg for him to return to you? And even when that failed, you launched yourself into danger just to keep him safe. Nancy, what the fuck are you doing? That’s still Billy, put down the gun, put down th—

“It wasn’t enough though, was it?” Billy stepped even closer, head tilted to the side as he regarded your prone form. He bent down closer to you, a familiar rough hand reaching out to tuck under your chin. “And the worst part of it all, you let him die without ever telling him how you felt. You let him die thinking you didn’t love him.”

 You knew this was it, the moment Vecna could take you. Yet still, all you could do was stare at the face you’d never thought you could see again. You took the time to study his face, searching for any sign that this was the Billy you knew and loved. It may not have been him, but he still had his blue eyes, gorgeous freckles peppering his cheeks, and blonde hair with a stray curl still draped across his face. 

And if this was the end, at least the view was wondrous.

“You don’t have to hurt anymore, Y/N. I can make it stop,” Billy spoke in Vecna’s voice, and it was then you began to rise from the floor against your will. You didn’t fight it, not when you knew there was nothing else you could do. 

As you stared down the Not-Billy, all you could hope for was that Max wasn’t watching.

Miraculously, though, the final blow never came. Instead, that damned song played loudly through the air. It was the tape you’d found in Billy’s car, the one you remembered tossing into the backseat on a long drive a year before, just so you wouldn’t have to hear it again. The tape you played on your drive to work every day, just wanting to feel closer to the man you’d lost.

“I need to know if you feel it too, maybe I'm wrong!”

“C’mon, Billy, can’t you play anything else?”

“What’s wrong with Foreigner, Sweetheart?”

“For starters, your singing.”

You’d never been so thankful to hear that song. It was enough to release Vecna’s hold on you, dropping you to the ground. The second your feet touched tile, you were sprinting without another spare thought.

And there the scene was, right in front of you.

If you hadn’t already been under Vecna’s illusions, you’d have thought this was another one. Because you could see your own body dressed in what you’d worn to the lake, laying on the floor of the Upside Down trailer with familiar hands holding onto you. He was shaking you, hair falling into his face as his expression grew more panicked.

“It’s not working!” that voice shouted, “She’s not waking up! You said it would work, Harrington, why isn—”

“Billy!” you shouted, not understanding how you could see him there but running for him anyway. Maybe you were running toward the end, maybe this was your mind’s vision of an okay ending. Maybe there really was no escaping from Vecna, but all you could do was follow the sound of the music, follow his voice yelling for you to come back to him.

‘I’ve been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive’

“I’m here!” you shouted though you knew no one could hear it, feet moving faster than they ever had before as you chased the vision. The second your hand brushed your own, you were tossed back into your body with a gasp.

Instinctively, you fought the hold on your arms. It was Vecna, the Not-Billy, he was coming back to get you, he made you think that you’d escaped when really i—

“Y/N, hey, Y/N, calm down it’s okay,” that familiar rough voice called. It was a voice you’d thought you’d only ever hear in a dream. “You’re okay.”

Yet there he was, Billy fucking Hargrove, alive and well. He looked a mess—months of Upside Down survival coated on his face, hands, clothes. He was still wearing what he had been at Starcourt, still with the same teary eyes that he’d had at your final goodbye. Though this time there was a distinct relieved smile painting across his face, proving that this wasn’t some harsh illusion created by Vecna but rather the real Billy, your Billy.

“How are you...?” you trailed off, hand reaching up to press on his cheek. You half-expected him to disappear the moment you reached for him, but instead, his face tilted into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for only a moment. You tried not to think about how long it had been since Billy had known any kind of touch that wasn’t that of something dangerous trying to hurt him.

“I don’t know,” Billy admitted, and later you’d come to the realization that he’d fought through it all without any prior knowledge of the Upside Down, of the gates, of Vecna. All he did was try to survive, try to get back. “I woke up here after Starcourt. I thought I was alone here but Harrington and Munson started yelling and—

“I love you,” you blurted out, leaning forward to wrap him up in a hug. Your hands dug into his shirt, and clung to him like any moment he could disappear. And maybe he still could. You couldn’t quite understand how he was still here, how any of you would take down the creature coming after all of you. All you knew was that by some act of grace, you’d gotten another chance with the man you loved. And this time, you wouldn’t dare wait for the right moment to come before you told him everything.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, there was so much I wanted to say that night, I just cou—”

“I know,” he answered, “I knew then, too. I love you, Sweetheart.”

“This is sweet and all, but I suggested getting out of the freaky nightmare portal,” Robin called down to the two of you, reminding you of where you were and what you’d just gone through.

You weren’t sure you’d ever let go of him. Even as you climbed back up and out of the Upside Down, as you watched Steve bend down to help Billy out of his prison world, your hands itched to hold onto him again. It was like after so long thinking you’d lost your forever, you were scared—terrified—to let it slip through your fingers again.

“How’d you know that song would work?” you finally asked, looking at the group who all seemed to regard you with, well, it wasn’t quite fear but maybe apprehension. After all, you were just one of the latest to nearly succumb to the terrifying death that fell upon Vecna’s victims.

“I heard you, every day in my car,” Billy admitted. You’d learned today that people in the Upside Down could hear parts of the normal world if they tried, could be strangely connected to the people they needed to hear. “You’d get in and play that song. Every morning.”

You fought not to imagine what else he’d heard in his months there. Did he hear you when you’d gotten home from the scene that night, not bothering to shower away the grime before you tucked into bed and cried? Had he heard the way you’d locked your door against your parents, screaming to them that they’d never been supportive of you and him before, so why the hell should they get to help you mourn now? Had he heard you apologize every single damn day since it happened, knowing Max was suffering and not being able to reach her in the way she needed?

“I hated that song,” you whispered, looking out the wide-open front door to see the leftovers of the scramble to save you. The driver’s side door of the Camaro was tossed open, a few tapes scattered around the grass beside it. Though you hadn’t been there, you could easily imagine the scene as it unfolded. Billy and Steve, still in the Upside Down and fighting to hold onto you as you lifted in the air. Robin and Eddie, fighting as they looked over his music to find something near your taste. Someone screaming, asking Billy what your favorite song was and him growing angry because why the fuck does that matter right now?

Him knowing, even now, that of course your favorite song would be the one that reminded you of him.

“I’m glad I kept that fucking tape,” you laughed, a little hysterically as you untangled yourself from him.

“I knew you liked Foreigner,” he grinned cheekily, and you weren’t sure you’d ever get tired of that look on his face. It didn’t happen often, especially not there at the end when he’d not been in control of himself. But you’d spend the rest of your days trying to recreate that smile as much as possible.

“Only because of you.”

GIRLIE THIS HAD NO RIGHT TO BE THIS HOT

I dont know if you are taking requests but if you are, could you please write something where reader has trouble masturbating, every time she tries she just CANT, so anakin (theyre just friends but they always had lots of sexual tension) helps her out and does it for her so she cums for the first time. THANK YOU!!!

A Dream Come True - Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader (smut)

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Wc: 5.4k

A low warmth is rising in your belly, pulled from the depths by your wandering fingers. They’re working against your clit, rubbing it side to side, faster and hard, trying so desperately to remain in that warm haze of pleasure you’ve spent so long building up. It feels good, but you need more. 

The many late nights spent with your girlfriends cross your mind, and how you would sit by idly during each one as they discussed their own personal affairs in the bedroom. You were the least experienced, but listened in awe as they told you the latest on what their partners have done to surprise them in bed. How they made them scream and shake, their eyes roll back into their head, and cum all over until they couldn’t take anymore.

You were too embarrassed to admit you’d never felt that way before. You thought you were broken.

Which is why you’re here, fingers glued to your hard nub, rubbing furiously to try and get yourself to feel something. You do feel something, but it’s not earth-shattering, leg-shaking, eye-rolling like your friends had described. Frustration fuels your movements as you attack your clit, holding your breath, forcing the warmth to build and build and build--

Nothing.

Your arm aches with the strain as you halt your movements, chest heaving when you allow yourself to breathe. Self-pity outweighs your disappointment as the subtle warmth dissipates, any pleasure that you had given yourself slipping away. 

Broken, a small voice whispers inside your head. There’s something wrong with you.

What other reasoning could there be to explain why you can’t feel good? 

Maybe, you argue, there needs to be something inside. That was always a big topic of discussion with your friends, how they “loved being filled.” Gathering your wits, you move your finger down, exploring your folds until you find your opening. Squeezing your eyes shut, you push a finger in, wincing at the sudden intrusion. 

It stings more than anything, but you’re desperate so you decide to give it a chance. You’ve tried this before, and it’s never felt like anything more than a finger inside of you-- which is exactly what it is. And now, this situation proves to be the same. You feel around, hoping to find that spot everyone raves about, but your fingers are too short and the angle is weird. You push your finger in and out like how you think you’re supposed to, and it feels like nothing.

Maybe you need two?

You let another finger join the one that’s already inside, struggling to get it in. 

Ow, you wince as your body rejects the intrusion. Your heartbeat picks up, a sudden anxiety joining the whirlwind of exasperation and discontent that has come from this situation. Is it supposed to hurt this much? The remnants of the need to satisfy yourself are still present, so you try again.

Making it back to your apartment had been a relief this evening, as all day you had been battling a relentless urge down below. You’re not too proud to admit that your… situation… had been a direct result of spending the day with Anakin, a good friend of yours who needed help finding a data entry in the corner of the Temple library. The entry supposedly had something to do with a cloaking mechanism for battleships, and when you had asked why he needed it when the Republic already had cloaking mechanisms, he mentioned that he was trying to translate the same technique to his own personal starship. No battlecraft as small as his has that ability, and with a ship as fast as his, it would give him a huge advantage on the battlefield. 

You could listen to him talk about it all day.

You virtually had, as the data entry was just one small piece of paper-- a piece of scrap blueprint scrawled on a fragile, worried edge of some larger text, worn with time. You spent hours searching all over for it. Once you had finally dug it out of a dusty box in the deepest corner of the library, Anakin had lifted you into the air effortlessly, swinging you around as he hugged you and laughed.

You had walked home with a damp spot in your underwear, an undeniable throb that needed to be relieved. 

He had no idea. No idea that his hands shot sparks up your spine as they closed around your waist. That his laugh turned your blood to lava, and his beautiful, smiling face made your heart skip a beat. He had no idea that he is the cause of your desperation, the reason you are torturing yourself by dangling an unknown pleasure before your face, knowing you can’t have it. 

You manage to sink your second finger in a little, but the sting is too much, and you have to pull them both out.

Broken.

The door to your apartment suddenly swings open, and you throw your sheets over your bare legs in a panic. Your eyes find the clock next to your bed-- Shit. You’d lost track of the time. 

The sound of those boots are unmistakable, and you find that praying you’re wrong is pointless when he calls out your name. 

“Y/n--?” Anakin rounds the corner to peer into your room, features lighting up when he finally finds you. Curious eyes roam over your figure, wondering why you’re in bed when it was barely evening. “Are you feeling okay?”

Your cheeks flame with heat, and you can’t find the words to explain yourself out of this situation. Mentally, you’re beating yourself up for losing track of time, especially since you knew Anakin was coming over tonight. While searching for the data log, you mentioned you had always wanted to try his favorite childhood drink-- ruby bliels-- and he promised he’d treat you tonight after you found the blueprint. It was his thank you gift to you, but now you needed to find a way to get him out of your apartment before he realized what was going on.

Your mouth hangs open like a gaping fish, and you know it’s too late. Anakin’s brain is as fast as his superhuman reflexes, and you can see the gears click into place as his eyes flit from your red cheeks, to the messy covers strewn over your legs, to the crumpled panties lying discarded on the floor. Your hand is even still frozen between your legs, your activities becoming clear as he senses the remnants of pleasure and disappointment still hanging around the room. 

“Oh…” is all he says, looking lost for a moment. You expect him to apologize and turn away, run out of the apartment and then never speak to you again. You wouldn’t blame him. Finding a friend in this position can never be a comfortable experience.

Instead a slow smirk crawls onto his face, and he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You need some help with that?”

You should have known. The smug little bastard-- of course he’d find this amusing. Your face grows impossibly redder, and you wish a black hole would just open beneath you already and swallow you up. Anakin finds your humiliation endearing, and laughs good-naturedly. 

“Alright, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to it,” he slinks out of the doorway, crooking his finger in the air to close the door after him. “I’ll be in the kitchen setting up for the bliels when you’re done--”

“Wait!”

You’re just as shocked as he is at the words that leave your mouth. He freezes in place, the door still open a crack. There’s too many thoughts running through your head right now, but the one that stands out the most has you pulling your hand away from your center, sitting up in bed so you can address him clearly. 

You never thought you’d be able to speak these words to him. For so long, you had wanted him in every way possible. But he’s a Jedi, unable to form attachments, and more than that-- a friend. A very good friend. And breaching the topic that you know you both feel for each other had the potential to ruin it all. 

But the minute he had opened that door, still dressed in that black leather armor, hair perfectly curled and messy, so tall and strong and devilishly handsome leaning against your doorframe-- he was beautiful, and you’d be a fool not to take advantage of his offering. Even if it might have been a joke. 

You had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t. 

“I… I do need help.”

There. You said it. And you’re pretty certain the only reason you could force the words past your lips is because his back is still facing you. But then he opens the door again, turns to meet your eyes, and cocks his head.

“Really?”

You’re not sure how to feel about the concern on his face. You guess it’s better than him being disgusted, or awkward, or uncomfortable. And it’s not an outright rejection. That realization gives you the push you need to explain yourself.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Now he looks concerned. Walking a few steps into the room, he stops by the edge of your bed and folds his arms across his chest. He’s studying every inch of you, reaching into the force to try and gauge the nature of your words. “What do you mean?”

He’s standing so close now, you can see the blue of his eyes and the wrinkle between his furrowed brows. It does nothing to calm your sizzling nerves. However, you’re concrete on your desires now. While you would have liked to confess your feelings for him in a more… romantic way, the intensity of your need for him in this very moment overshadows rational thought. Besides, it’s not like this is a declaration of love. That could always come later. For right now, you need his help, and you’re certain that you can trust him not to make fun of you or shame you for trying in if he declines.

“I can’t…” you take a deep breath, staring at your hands in your lap. “I can’t make myself feel good.”

Your voice is so quiet, embarrassed and ashamed, but he catches the yearning under it all. His face smooths, comforted by the fact that you’re not injured or dying in some way. Deep down, something sparks alive in his veins. 

That’s the issue? Well… it’s definitely something he can help you with.

“Hmm.” His face is thoughtful as he scans your position. His hand gestures vaguely down your body. “Do you want to show me what you’re doing?”

Your blood freezes at his request. For some reason, it didn’t cross your mind how asking for his help would require him to see you… naked. 

“If you’re too embarrassed, we can just--”

You cut off his words by throwing the blanket off. There, like ripping off a bandaid. His eyes drink in the exposed skin of your legs, and although they’re closed and he can’t be seeing much more than he’s already seen before, they darken. A small twitch of his fingers, and the door clicks shut behind him. 

He takes a seat on the side of the bed, next to your legs, and rests his metal hand on your knee. Your heart beats like a hummingbird's wings at the sudden proximity, and the nerves pile up again at the thought of what’s going to happen.

“Wait-- um… actually, can you come here?” 

You reach out to take his metal hand from your knee, and pull him up the bed so that he’s hovering over you. He’s still sitting, the upper half of his body twisted toward you, caging you in with a hand on either side of you. He’s smiling softly, and his eyes twinkle with something fond.

He doesn’t need to ask to know that you’re nervous. The rigidity in your muscles, the flightyness of your eyes, the hammer of your heart-- he can feel it all, and he wants nothing more than to quell your fears. So he lifts an arm to cup your face in his large hand, smoothing a thumb over your cheekbone in a silent request for you to look at him.

Once you muster up the courage to meet his eyes, his smile grows, and he says something that steals your breath.

“Can I kiss you?”

Oh, how long you’ve wanted him to say those words to you. Countless nights, you’d run them through your head, imagining all the scenarios in which it could happen. Certainly, this was not one of them, but you definitely aren’t going to complain.

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you give him a nod, and lean forward a fraction in invitation. Your veins sing with anticipation, warmth spreading from your cheeks to every small nook and cranny of your body as he angles your face up toward his. Your eyes flutter close, and he leans down, and--

Bliss.

His lips are warm against yours, soft, applying the gentlest of pressures. You always thought he’d be a good kisser-- he was experienced, and he’d hinted at some of his more scandalous escapades a couple times in passing conversation. You’d asked him before, how he could do that when Jedi aren’t allowed to form attachments, which resulted in him going into a full lecture on how non-attachment didn’t translate to abstinence being “The Jedi Way”, even if it was supported within the Order. Really, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything, until he fell on the defensive position that he was almost certain Obi-Wan had done stuff as well.

Which-- great. Now you realized you were less experienced than even two Jedi. 

These thoughts are snuffed out like candles, one by one, as Anakin kisses you. In fact, your whole mind goes blank, a wave washing over all of your worries away and dragging them out to sea. You’re drifting on that wave, drowning in the heady feel of him, the warm taste of him. His slow inhale reminds you to breathe as he moves his lips against yours languidly. It’s heaven, the way he’s yours for just this moment. He might not think anything of this kiss, but to you, it’s like your deepest fantasies are coming true. With each moment that passes where he tilts his head and closes his lips over yours, you can pretend that he is yours, completely and unconditionally.

Eventually he pulls back, eyes fluttering open, and you realize you’re still lost at sea.  

“Good?” his voice is low and raspy as his gaze bores into yours. You wonder if he knows how intense his eyes can be sometimes. 

“Yes.”

He presses another quick kiss to your lips, your heart spasming at the act, before he trails kisses down your jaw, tasting the skin of your neck. Your breath picks up again, hands finding his curls as you gasp at the feeling. His teeth skim over the junction of your neck and shoulder, and he presses a kiss to your throbbing pulse. He means for the kisses to be distracting, soothing, so that you’ll be more comfortable with him, and he thinks it’s working until a faint moan leaves your mouth.

So it’s really working.

Anakin’s eyes flick up to yours, and you can feel the smirk against your skin. Embarrassment crashes down on you again but Anakin repeats the motion, nipping at your skin and then smoothing his tongue over the mark, sucking gently to try to elicit another reaction. You gift him one against your will, and suddenly he’s got lava pouring into his veins.

You’re so lost in the feeling of his mouth on you that you don’t even realize his warm hand has travelled from your face, down the middle of your body, gripping onto the pliant flesh of your thigh and pulling you toward him. You let him, rolling your body into him to try and relieve that reappearing ache in your center. 

It’s the same feeling that had built up all day, and it’s returned with a vengeance. You can feel the wetness seep out, slicking your thighs up. Your clit throbs and your pussy clenches around nothing, begging for something to satisfy the ache. You rub your thighs together to help, but Anakin slides a hand to the inside of your thigh and coaxes your legs apart. Any embarrassment you felt before has been beat out by a yearning for his touch, the need to have his fingers on you, inside you--

“Show me how you’ve been doing it,” Anakin mumbles into your neck.

You open your eyes, pulled up from the haze of pleasure he’d submerged you in. Your hand only shakes slightly as you release his hair and bring it back to your skin. He pulls back a few inches to watch, the heat of his body so close to yours causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. 

His eyes hone in on your hand, following its descent to your warm center. You still can’t wrap your head around the fact that someone is seeing you like this, but now your veins sing with a satisfied realization that he’s the one seeing you like this. He’s the only one who ever has. And he seems to like what he’s seeing.

You don’t miss the way he inhales, the way his teeth capture a sliver of his bottom lip as your fingers finally reach your heat. You begin to do what you’ve always done-- rub your fingers back and forth over your nub, working that pleasure from it.

It feels good, different than what it felt like when you were alone. You’re sure his eyes on you, the proximity, his mere presence has something to do with that. You can still taste him on your lips and you close your eyes, licking them to relive the kiss. You focus on the warmth of his body, the dip of the bed where his arm is planted beside you, the weight of his other hand still holding your thigh open, the scent of his black leather and spice of his shampoo. It definitely feels better when he’s here, the knowledge of him watching adding to your excitement.

But still, you can only build yourself up to a certain point. The pleasure plateaus, and soon you begin to feel awkward at the fact that nothing is happening. It’s not enough to make you moan, or move, or show any reaction really. Your hand stills, and you look at him uncertainly.

Anakin blinks and brings his eyes back up. “Have you tried fingering yourself?”

You almost choke. You’re not sure why his blunt nature surprises you anymore. 

He’s looking at you curiously, completely serious, waiting for an answer. So you clear your throat and slide your finger down to your entrance, pushing in.

It goes in easier than before, and there’s no sting. But you don’t even have to move to know you’re literally going to get nothing out of it, and trying is useless.

“This is what I’m talking about,” you tell him. “It doesn’t feel like anything. And when I try two, it hurts. I think I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken,” he frowns, smoothing your hair away from your forehead and replacing it with a kiss. Your heart melts at the action that you’re sure is meant to be comforting, but only deepens your adoration of him. He sits up and you immediately miss him, although you understand he needs a better angle as he slides his hand from your thigh to the top of your pelvis. He hesitates, questioning. “Can I?”

You pull your finger out and push yourself up onto your forearms, nodding for him to go ahead. 

His touch is light as a feather as his fingertips make contact with your swollen nub. Your breath hitches in your chest, thighs immediately opening wider on their own accord to get him to increase the pressure. He watches your face as he fulfills your silent request, massaging your clit in slow, gentle circles. 

Fireworks are exploding behind your eyes, and you melt into a puddle on the bed. He’s barely even touching you, and somehow it already feels so much better than anything you’ve done to yourself. Quiet whimpers fall from your lips and the sounds make him need a steadying breath, reminding himself to go slow. Obviously, no one has ever touched you before, and he doesn’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.

The sight of your head tilted back, teeth biting at your lips to quiet your sounds, fingers clutching at the bedsheets-- a very sudden, very real desire to absolutely ruin you slams into him. 

But no. That can come later.

He brings his metal hand up to your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip and pulling it from your teeth. “You don’t have to be quiet with me,” he tells you, the ministrations on your clit with his other hand never ceasing. Instead, he picks up the pace, increasing the pressure, drinking in the sight of your hips moving against his fingers.

You’re absolutely drenched, dripping down your thighs and puddling onto the bedsheets. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this wet before, or felt this good before, and the warmth you’ve always felt is transforming into a ball of heat in your stomach. You hone into the feeling, the heat pulsing with each pass of his fingers, each wet slide of him against you--

“You have to breathe, Y/n,” Anakin chuckles, slowing his touch. You gasp in a deep breath, whining at the loss of friction, but he appeases you by slipping his fingers from your clit to your entrance. He doesn’t push in-- instead he circles his finger around it, collecting your slick, reading your every response. 

“Please, can you…” you buck your hips up, but he doesn’t allow his finger to slide in until you finish your sentence. “Can you put it in?”

He can’t keep the tiny, darkly satisfied smile off his face. He’s always had fantasies of you like this, squirming beneath him and begging for his touch. He basks in the fulfilled wish of his, drinking in every second so he can remember it for later. Meanwhile, his finger massages your hole, dipping in with just the tip before pulling back out. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, once again surprised at your own reaction. Your head is far past the point of clouding with lust, and now you’re dizzy with pleasure and the need to just have him inside of you already. “Anakin, please.”

“Patience,” he answers teasingly, although he does mean it. You can’t rush these things. And… he does have to admit that he loves seeing you so desperate and messy for him. Your neediness has him strain against his own pants, but he pushes that aside. For now, another dip of his finger into your throbbing pussy has you arch off the bed, urging him deeper, and it’s heaven to witness.

He didn’t want to go all in just yet, but you’re gushing around his finger and taking it so well. So he lets you have it, sinking his finger all the way into you. You feel him go deeper and deeper, the never-ending length of his finger a stark contrast to your shorter ones. He’s reaching places you were never able to, and even the slide of him inside you elicits a deep, warm pleasure that spreads to the tips of your fingers.

He keeps his finger all the way inside for a moment, still as he feels your walls clench around him. Once he’s sure you’re all good, he begins pressing into you with shallow thrusts, thumb returning to your clit and rubbing in time with each push of his finger.

Curses spill from your lips, and Anakin can’t help himself. He leans down over you and captures them in his mouth, swallowing your cries of pleasure. The kiss is wet, dirty, and the muffled sounds of your moans combat the indecent slick and slide below. Soon, another finger is nudging at your opening, and you press yourself deeper into his lips in anticipation of that painful sting.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, his finger slides in a couple inches and he keeps both of them there, letting you adjust as his thumb rolls over your clit. You had never been able to use two fingers before, and your head goes fuzzy as he pushes them deeper. Your walls stretch around him pleasantly, accepting the welcome intrusion as he reaches deep inside you.

How is it fair that he can make you feel so much better than you can make yourself? It doesn’t seem right in the whole grand scheme of things, but you decide not to question it as his fingers suddenly curl inside you, searching. It feels odd, and he pulls back from your lips to concentrate for a second until-- there. Found it.

You almost knock your head into his as you shoot up, a startled cry leaving your lips as your vision whites with pleasure. Your fingers claw at his back, meeting the leather that still sits on his shoulders, and scrabbling over the smooth material for purchase. Anakin laughs at your reaction, easing you into a more comfortable position as he holds you against him with his metal arm behind your back.

You can’t find it in you to care that he’s laughing, not as long as he keeps rolling the pads of his fingers into you like this. His wrist curls, applying a harder pressure as he rubs against that spot, and your head falls back, hips pushing forward, the lewdest sounds you’ve ever heard leaving your mouth. 

“You like that,” he notes, proud smile ghosting over your lips. He kisses the corner of your mouth quick and sweet, then asks, “Is it better when I go slow or fast?”

“Both,” you gasp. “Either. All of it. Oh my--”

“Soft or hard?”

“Anakin--”

Your brain is unable to focus on much else other than the feel of his fingers coaxing that blissful heat from your center. He plays around with paces and pressures, but everything feels good, it feels great, it feels amazing, it feels euphoric. Before long, your legs are shaking and a weird feeling comes over you, and you’re crying out,

“What’s happening?”

Anakin pauses, his entire body stilling as he meets your eyes. You’re completely serious, that much he can tell by the vulnerability in your eyes. He frowns, unbelieving at this revelation.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

You whine and shift your hips into his hand, trying to get him to keep making you feel good. If this wasn’t your first time being with someone else, Anakin would have held your hip still and forced you to talk to him no matter how much you begged and pleaded. But, it was your first time with someone else, so he was deciding to be nice. He soothes your craving, resuming his movements but at a much slower pace. A pleased sigh from you fills the silence of him waiting expectantly for your answer.

“Um..” you swallow, hips meeting his hand with every thrust. “I don’t think so. No. Nothing’s ever felt… like… this…”

It’s like a sneeze, except much, much better. The way his fingers prod into you, slick with your arousal, the tips brushing and massaging against that spot that have you careening into his body. You would have toppled over on top of him if he wasn’t so strong and rooted to the bed. He holds your shivering body against his chest with his metal arm, lips marking their way around your chin and jaw as your head falls back in ecstasy. 

He’s immensely turned on, that much is obvious from the painful straining in his pants. But it’s easy to ignore, knowing now that you’ve never fallen off that brink of pleasure before. He’s curious about it, oddly saddened by the fact, and wants nothing more than to show you the absolute highs he could help you reach. So he focuses back in on rubbing your clit with his thumb, fucking you deeply on his fingers. He allows you to clutch at his back and bury your hands in his hair, moaning in abandon.

Anakin shares you pleasure as the ball in your stomach unleashes, a blissful warmth crashing over you and invading your every cell. For a moment, your body isn’t yours-- it convulses and clenches around Anakin’s fingers, your cries bounce off the walls, your eyes squeeze closed. You hope the hands twisted into his hair don’t hurt him because you physically can’t let go as you ride that pleasure-filled haze, the feeling in your limbs abandoning you to be replaced with something much stronger. 

For a while, the only sounds in the room are your gasps of air and the blood rushing through your ears. Anakin waits until your muscles relax, and then he slides his fingers out of you, smoothing his hand around your waist to join his other behind your back. He lays you down into the pillows again, burying his face in your neck as you struggle to get your legs to stop shaking.

“Y/n,” he mouths a line up your neck. “You there?”

“Mhm,” you gulp, the shock of that intense, pleasurable feeling just beginning to fade.

He pressed his deep chuckle into the spot right under your ear. “Good. I thought I lost you for a moment.”

If you were in your right state of mind, you would have laughed at his teasing. Now, all you can do is cup his face lazily in your boneless hands, pulling his face up so that you can look at him. His cheeks are flushed the slightest pink, eyes dark and sparkling, lips so red and full and inviting…

You kiss him, and he’s yours for a moment longer. 

If only it could always be like this. If only this could be a daily experience, and afterwards you could take care of him, and you could feel that wonderful euphoria with him at the same time. If only he wouldn’t have to pull away soon, untangle himself from your still-shaking limbs, brush off what just happened, and be on his way. If only he could be yours forever.

All of this, you try to tell him through the kiss. Your lips are hot, sliding over with a wanton need. He feels your yearning, and he can tell it’s a different kind than earlier. You move to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away.

“I know what you’re thinking,” his low voice murmurs, and now he doesn’t look so playful. In fact, he looks very serious, and the rumble of his words causes your stomach to drop. “You should know, Y/n, I want you too.”

The whole room could be on fire and burning and falling to ash around you, but you wouldn’t notice. Everything pales in comparison to the flames that erupt in your heart at the sound of his words. 

“You do?”

He purses his lips, running his eyes up and down your face. You’re nervous, and hopeful, and so, so scared. And also… still shivering. Most likely due to the cold, at this point. And he’s sure the drunken affects of your orgasm are still holding sway over your mind.

“This is a conversation I think would be much better held over some ruby bliels,” he decides, and begins to unwind himself from you. You let him, that hopeful spark still searing through your veins. Before getting off the bed, he presses a kiss into your hand and then smooths over it with his thumb.

You want to say something cute or witty, but the only thing your dumb brain can come up with is, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he smiles fondly, moving toward the door. “I’ll meet you out there. Feel free to remain pantsless.”

This has you rolling your eyes, laughing lightly as you fall back against the pillows. Don’t tempt me.

The prospect of a future with Anakin is at the forefront of your brain, blood pumping thick as molasses as you struggle to convince yourself this is reality. He shuts the door behind him as you leave, and you roll onto your stomach to scream into the pillow. 

This was a dream come true.

Hold Me - Anakin Skywalker x Reader (one shot)

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff mainly

Words: 1.4k

This is my first fanfiction here, so hopefully you guys enjoy it! Message me if you have any requests for Kylo or Anakin :) gif made by me

~*~

Y/n opened her cabin door and sighed heavily, immediately running over to her bed and collapsing down onto it. She turned and buried her head into her pillow case, gripping it tightly and screaming into it.

She was more stressed out than she had been all month long - it was one thing after another, piling up and beginning to taunt her. First, she was appointed general of yet another army - making her commander towards two different armies for completely different battles during the Clone Wars. Being at two places at once was practically draining and exhausting, and she was barely holding on by a thread.

Not only that, but she was being hit with guilt upon the loss of her clones. Today had the biggest bloodshed her squadron had seen - and she broke down in front of everyone. Already stressed out from her Padawan, Felecia, almost getting kidnapped and completely disobeying her orders days in a row; and getting into a massive argument over her safety with her secret husband Anakin days prior, she broke down.

Completely embarrassed from the sudden outburst, she stood up, brushed off her robes and excused her prior actions, cheeks red with embarrassment.

Now, hours later, her squadron’s missions both were complete, and she had a bit of time to breathe. So of course, she retired to her quarters and did the one thing she needed to do most - scream and cry.

Crying louder than she had realized, she heard a faint knock on the door. Gasping softly and sitting up, she started to try and make her face look presentable before standing up. She already knew who was at the door, it was her husband, Anakin. She had sensed his presence, and knew he too was in distress.

She slowly walked over to the door and opened it, seeing her husband’s worried blue eyes and immediately melting.

“My love... I heard about what happened on the bridge,” Ani began, sighing. “Can I-“

“Just hold me,” she spoke lowly, afraid to cry again. Y/n moved aside and grabbed his arm, yanking him into her - well, their but no one but them had to know that - room, shutting the door with the Force and hugging him tightly.

Instantly, she started to cry into his dark robes again, the comforting arms of her husband ushering her to let out her emotions.

Anakin sighed and pulled her closer, hugging her even tighter, “I’ve got you...” he buried his face into her hair and sighed, pressing a soft kiss to it as he squeezed her tighter in his arms, “I’m here darling. Let it out.”

“I-i’m sorry,” Y/n croaked, embarrassment reddening her cheeks again as she realized she started unloading on him without asking. “I should’ve-“

“Shh, shh. It’s okay,” Anakin hums, walking them a few steps to the right of them and letting her go gently. He slid off the darker part of his robe, sitting on the side of the bed as he chucked it to the floor. He picked her up easily, her small figure light in his arms. He gently laid her down on their bed, pulling her to his chest as he played with her hair softly, “Cry to me sweetheart. What’s going on?”

Y/n sniffled and hid her face into his shirt, gripping just above his belt a fistful of grey fabric as she cleared her thoughts. “It’s just a lot.”

“What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t let my beautiful wife talk about her worries?” He spoke softly, playing with her (h/l) (h/c) hair gently with his bare fingertips.

Y/n smiled against his shirt softly and closed her eyes. Though they were married for almost a year now, she still felt her heart flutter at the mention of their marriage.

“It’s not just one thing, it’s a lot Ani,” she sighed, trying to figure out where to start as she calmed her tears, “I’m not sure where to start.”

“Start from the beginning. What started the emotions to build up,” he replied. Y/n nodded, “I guess it started when we fought.”

“I caused you this pain?” Anakin stopped, a hurt expression on his face as he looked down at her. “No!” Y/n replied quickly, “It was guilt from fighting with you, that’s all.”

“I fought with you about that because I worry about you, angel,” he sighed, sitting up and pulling her onto his lap, cradling her much smaller body, “I don’t want...” he stopped, trying to find the right words so he didn’t scare either of them, “I don’t want to be called onto a planet leading a rescue mission because you were taken or killed in battle.”

Y/n looked up and saw the pain and fear of that thought in his eyes, and her heart strained. She hugged him tighter, sniffling, “I won’t ever let that happen.”

“And I won’t either,” Anakin sighed, caressing the back of her hair with his large hand, pressing her head further against his chest. “Was that all?”

“No,” Y/n mumbled softly, her eyes fluttering closed softly as he stroked her head softly, “Felecia scared me. I thought-“ she froze, the thought of it happening scaring her to tears again, “I thought she got kidnapped. She was fighting so well, and then she just disappeared... I saw her get dragged away by some clones, and I just... snapped.”

Y/n recalled the scary memory easily. Watching her much younger Padawan get dragged away, screaming and kicking as her lightsaber fell from her hand. Y/n screamed her name and ignited her purple saber as she rushed towards the drones, slicing through their body easily. Sometimes, the pure anger that always seemed to be pent up inside Y/n scared her, but it certainly proved helpful in situations like that.

“I almost hit her,” she blinked back more tears, “she looked so frightened. She looked scared of me,” A silent, hot tear tricked down Y/n’s cheek, “and it broke me. I’m afraid my anger will eventually lead me down a dark path.”

Anakin began to rock her softly as she cried harder, gripping his shirt tighter, “I hurt both people I love in the same day. First you, and then her. She’s like the daughter i’ve always wanted, and I scared her half to death,” she sobbed, shaking softly as Anakin shushed her, rocking her gently, “I’m not angry at you. And she’s not scared of you. She was shaken up, clearly. Remember she’s young - younger than most - and the fear of possible death probably was what scared her.”

“I wish that were correct,” Y/n frowned, wiping her eye, “but she told me that she’d never seen that fury in my eyes before. It scared her.”

Anakin started moving the pad of his thumb against the side of her face, drawing unrecognizable shapes against her soft skin as he continued to listen.

“And i’m just worried about my armies... one is hard enough, let alone two. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Ani,” her lip quivered, trying to contain more tears to spare his shirt from becoming completely soaked with hot tears.

“Forget the shirt,” Anakin chuckled, “I can change.” He pushed her back slightly so he can look in her (e/c) eyes and smiled softly, “I promise you’re doing an amazing job, sweetheart. There’s not another person that would’ve been better for the job Master Yoda gave you,” he spoke softly. “You’re doing amazing.”

“You would’ve been the better fit,” Y/n frowned, closing her eyes and hanging her head down, “It certainly doesn’t feel like I was the right fit.”

“You are. And you know why?” Anakin pushed her chin up gently and Y/n shook her head softly, “because you’re my wife. And my wife is the most amazing woman in the galaxy. The second best pilot-“

“Second?” Y/n furrowed her brows as Ani chuckled, “Behind me of course.” he kissed her nose, causing her to crinkle her nose up and smile softly. Though Ani was being serious, he always had to have that special occasional Skywalker playful manner that Obi Wan and her both loved to hate.

“Okay, okay, second best,” she giggled softly. “Right.” Anakin kissed her cheek before continuing, “She’s the most amazing woman in the galaxy. The smartest, strongest, and most beautiful woman ever. And somehow... through every bad thing I’ve done...” Anakin reached for her hands, kissing them softly, “out of all the men in the galaxy... she chose me.”

She blushed softly and pressed her lips softly against his, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, Ani.”

did you finish/are you going to finish 19 years later?

i haven’t finished, but at the moment writing isn’t really my priority. i have a wip where the reader and vader meet right now currently but that’s about it. i’m sorry! i plan to finish it, i just don’t know when

normalize not writing everyday.

normalize losing motivation.

normalize smaller blogs.

normalize less notes and reblogs.

normalize lack of inspiration.

it’s okay if you don’t write, post or publish everyday. it’s okay if you don’t feel like finishing that work in progress. it’s okay if you can’t mentally or physically come up with something. it’s okay if you don’t have this many followers, notes, or reblogs. any of this does not define your worth. your value. your talent.

golden rule, support and love others as you’d want to be. don’t be afraid to reach out and self-promoted. it’s okay. it really is.

writing, editing, or creating in general is a hobby for most, maybe a future career. but regardless, it should be enjoyable. make it enjoyable for yourself. you have that ability to.

how many shots it would take me to make out with each version of Anakin skywalker (because I like this trend but I don't make tiktoks):

phantom menace anakin: N/A he is a literal child

attack of the clones anakin: 2, just to get over the rat tail

forces of destiny anakin: 57, what did they do to my poor trash man. I'm so sorry, you deserved better than this

clone wars movie anakin: 1 because he's cute but it doesn't compare to his later looks

clone wars later seasons: absolutely none. he looks so good in dark colors. please kiss me

dark side anakin from the mortis arc gets his own section bc I have issues: stone cold sober, kill me

clone wars season 7 anakin: -1000, objectively his best look. is he animated? yes. do I care? no I'm in love with him. also cockiness unmatched in this scene and I'm here for it

revenge of the sith anakin: -10 I love angsty boy

darth vader: can't make out with mask but he's still hot so 3 for courage to hold his hand

I regret nothing

oopsies. accidentally reblogged a sims 3 thing on here lmao

im currently working on some ani stories, so if you have any requests send them in xx