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arctrooper69 · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! I love your stories. Could I request a Drabble about Wrecker being a body guard for a Princess trope? She likes him but he doesn’t think she does. And if it fits “Can you lock the door please?” From your prompt list. Thanks!

Hello friend! I'm so so so sorry that it's taken so long for me to get this out to you! I've been sitting on this for probably about a year now. So sorry! Also... it turned into a full-blown 12 page fic instead of a drabble. Hope you enjoy!!!! 😂❤️🫂

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The Princess and the Wrecking Ball

Wrecker x Princess!Reader

Warnings: Loss due to wartime, small mention of blood. Mostly just some cute hurt/comfort 🥰

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"Really Hunter?" complained Wrecker, "A princess?"

Hunter frowned and nodded. "Yes. Just for a few days." He looked around at the others for confirmation and they simply nodded.

"Why do you seem to be the only one that has a problem with this?" Hunter gestured to his brother with thinly veiled frustration. He'd never seen Wrecker this adverse to a mission before. Even when it required rappelling from treacherous heights.

"Because last time he met a princess he fell head over heels for her and she hated his guts." Crosshair spoke evenly as he sat on his bunk, cleaning his rifle.

Hunter frowned, looking back at Wrecker. "Is that what this is about?"

Wrecker looked down, shrugging nervously. He rubbed the back of his head. "I just don't like Princesses, okay? They think they're all that and then they look at you with those pretty eyes and you think you've got a chance, and you think they really like you and then they realize that you're a clone and call you a stupid, ugly mistake."

The group was silent.

Hunter cleared his throat, "Well, you don't have to get along with her. We're just supposed to transport her safely back to her uncle on Coruscant."

Wrecker crossed his arms, frowning, "Why do we gotta do it?"

"She's in danger, Wrecker." Echo explained, "and it's a favor for Senator Amidala."

"Why can't she do it?"

"She's a senator. She can't exactly sneak into Separatist territory."

"Besides," Hunter added, "The princess' uncle has offered us a lot of money to get her safely to him."

Crosshair looked up. "You mean, we're actually getting paid this time?"

"But - " protested Wrecker.

Hunter looked at him sharply. "We're going to get that princess and you're going to treat it just like another mission. That's an order. Got it?"

Wrecker groaned, "Yeah Sarge, I got it."

"Good. I don't want to hear another word about it from you."

"Do I at least get to blow something up?"

"We'll see."

Wrecker grumbled under his breath. Hunter narrowed his eyes at him but didn't say anything else.

"Well..." Tech spoke up, "Now that that's settled, I'm making a list of everything we need to requisition."

Tech held the datapad out to Echo. He looked over the list.

"I can't think of anything else."

"What about the princess?" Wrecker asked suddenly.

Crosshair sighed, "Here we go again..."

"Hey! I'm just tryin' to be helpful!"

Hunter closed his eyes, "What about her, Wrecker."

"Well uh.... Won't she need things too?"

Tech looked up, "I have included rations for an extra passenger on the way back. That will not be an issue."

Wrecker shifted awkwardly. "Yeah but... What about... women things?"

Crosshair choked on his caf.

Tech blinked, “What women things?”

Wrecker shrugged, “I saw some ad on Coruscant for it once. I don’t remember what it’s called. Think it happens like on a full moon or something, every couple rotations?"

Tech lowered the datapad in his hand to stare at his brother. “She is a woman, Wrecker... not a werewolf."

Hunter closed his eyes again and sighed, rubbing at his temples. Some days he wondered how exactly it was that they'd made it as commandos this long.

"I'm gonna go ahead and veto that one. I think it would be a little weird for a group of elite soldiers to have uh... women things.... on the ship."

Wrecker grumbled, "I was just trying to be helpful."

Crosshair nudged his shin with the butt of his rifle. "Lighten up, Wreck. We are literally getting paid to play taxi for a pretty princess. We could do this in our sleep." He chuckled, "Actually I'm pretty sure I have done something like this in my sleep."

Tech rolled his eyes. "Don't be an ass, Crosshair."

"At least I can get a woman's attention if I wanted to," he goaded.

Tech scoffed, "For your information, I have had several females ask for my com frequency."

"That's enough!" Hunter placed his hand firmly on the table. "Seriously guys? You're acting like a bunch of shiny regs. This is a mission. We're going to act like professionals."

"Have we ever really been professional?" quipped Tech.

Hunter sighed, "Let me rephrase that. We're going to do this just like we've done any other extraction. We get in, grab the target, get out. Got it?"

A chorus of "yes, sir"s announced the end of the discussion.

---

The smooth finish of the once beautiful wood floor felt cold on your cheek as you hid beneath the bed.

"Run! Run and don't look back!" Your mother's terrified voice echoed in your ears, and then the click of the lock as she pushed you into the back hall. Then the shrill scream she'd let out as the droids dragged her away. You'd only run when you heard the blaster fire.

One shot. Thud.

Your father and brother crying out in anguish.

Two shots. Thud. Thud.

Silence. Then voices - modulated and mechanical. Cold and calculating.

"Find the girl."

"Roger Roger."

You felt the dust creep up around your fingers, digging under your nails as you felt along the floor. It floated into your nose and down your throat, tickling and irritating. You suppressed a heavy sneeze that popped your ears, making you aware of every tiny noise. The metallic, icy fear that gripped your chest twisted every noise into something mechanical and violent.

It has to be here somewhere.

There.

Your fingers found purchase on a small, metal surface. The biometric lock whirred to life as you pressed your fingers to the surface.

A hatch hissed open revealing a small room in the wall beside the bed. You crawled out from under the bed, dusting off your pants. It felt naked, being out in the open like this. Dangerous. Vulnerable.

Deftly, you climbed into the hidden room and the hatch hissed closed behind you, locking you in. A dim light illuminated a small room. An emergency com device sat on a stool in the corner and a blaster hung on the wall. A ladder along the back wall led upwards. You had been here enough times with your father that you knew it led to the rooftop. But this time, it wasn't a drill and this time, you were alone.

You dialed the frequency.

A trooper sporting a red and white helmet appeared on the screen. Though you couldn't see his face, he seemed bored.

"This is a secure channel. You shouldn't have this number."

"I..." your voice left your lungs as barely a whisper.

"What's that?" He sounded annoyed now. A knot formed in the back of your throat.

"Speak clearly, please."

"I need to speak to my uncle." The words came out forced and choked.

"Look ma'am, this is a secure channel for GAR personnel only."

Someone said something in the background and the trooper turned, "...nothing, Sir. Just some civvie with the wrong number." He paused, listening to whoever was in the room with him. "...yeah she's trying to call her uncle or something. I'll handle it."

The screen shifted and suddenly instead of the trooper your uncle's face appeared.

"I... I need help." It took everything you had left in you not to burst into tears as you told him what happened. How the droid army came. How your father refused them. How they killed his family first and then him. How you ran and hid.

"Okay," Came his soft reply. "Okay. Keep the door locked and stay where you are. I'll send someone to come for you."

----

The message had come in only a matter of hours and now you waited, lying flat on the roof, for the ship to come carry you away.

Smoke rose in columns. You could smell the fires and tried not to think about the screaming. The people - your people - were dying and there you were, hiding away. Waiting for a rescue that the common citizen would have no hope of. Their choice was to surrender or die. They would die here.

Suddenly shouts rang out just below. "Hey! You! Stop!" The cold, whiny voice of a foot soldier. There was a scrambling of hurried footsteps as whoever they were chasing ran and tripped. You peered over the edge of the building.

"Hey! Where'd you go?" The battledroid sounded confused. Whoever it was chasing hid well.

You watched the figure slowly crawl, inching his way along the entrance to a garbage chute. There were only two ways for him to crawl. A dead end or the garbage chute. The droid seemed to suddenly notice this as well.

"Ha. Ha. You have nowhere to hide now."

He looked young - only a child. Maybe 12 or 13. He looked terrified.

Gritting your teeth, you made a decision you hoped you wouldn't regret.

"Hey!" You shouted. Both the boy and the droid looked up. "You leave him alone!"

"Look, it's the princess!"

"Wait, she's not supposed to be here!"

Kriff. There are more of them.

"I'll take care of her."

Both turned their blasters towards you. The boy was gone but now you'd given up your position.

Kriff. Now I'm dead.

You squeezed your eyes shut, ready for the inevitable blast that would carry you back into the arms of your family.

---

The blast came louder than you'd expected - more painful too. Your head throbbed fiercely and ears rang loud enough to muffle the sounds of yelling and blaster fire. The ragged edges of the wall lay rough and cold as your fingers found purchase on its stones, gripping tightly to shakily pull yourself to your feet. Something wet and warm trickled down your forehead, stinging your eye. You hissed as your fingers found the small cut above your eyebrow, fingers coming away red and slick.

Someone was shouting.

"Princess! Princess!"

This can't be happening. This can't be real.

"Princess!"

That voice again, loud and deep - shredding through the thudding of your pulse and the ringing shock in your head.

A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around you, yanking you from the ground where you stood.

Panic sprang from every pore in your body as you struggled against that impossible grip.

"Hey! Calm down! You're safe! I got ya!"

He was running. The world seemed to flow by as if you were watching it through someone else's eyes.

Smoke drifted through the sky. Fires burned hot and buildings lay broken and crumbled. The only thing that felt real were the strong arms of the man carrying you from the carnage. Away from everything you'd ever known.

---

Your eyes never left the burning horizon of your home until the vast blur of hyperspace wrenched it away. It was only then you found yourself taking a breath, gasping as if you'd forgotten how to breathe.

"Are you okay?" A figure knelt beside you, slowly drawing your gaze to him. Long, dark hair hung over a dirty red bandana. "My name's Hunter. That's Crosshair, Tech, and Echo." He pointed out each of his brothers, "and that's Wrecker. He's the one who brought you back here."

You looked up at him. The large man looked as if he wanted to say something but stopped.

Hunter got up to join his brothers, leaving you to sit alone on the bunk.

You winced, bringing a hand up to your forehead as the cut stung with the stale air of the ship. Wrecker's look of feigned indifference suddenly morphed to one of concern as he peered through the short passageway of the ship.

"Hey she's bleeding!"

Wrecker immediately grabbed the medscanner, turning towards you - then paused.

He glanced away, the urgent need to make sure you were okay, suddenly transformed into an anxious uncertainty. He rubbed the back of his head in a nervous gesture.

"Here you do it!" he grunted before violently shoving the device at Tech who fumbled it a nanosecond before deftly catching it with sturdy fingers.

Tech frowned, "You are perfectly capable of taking the scan yourself." He sighed as Wrecker averted his eyes. "...but I will take over from here if that is what you want."

"Thanks Tech... I - I just don't wanna make 'er uncomfortable, ya know... in case she's scared of me on account of how I'm... Ehh, you know..."

Tech raised an eyebrow. "I do not think that is a problem, but I'm sure she would appreciate your consideration."

---

Wrecker sat glumly on the floor, leaning against Gonky, watching as Tech headed back up to the cockpit. His eyes slowly lingered back to you as you sat on the edge of the bunk.

"See, she's staring!" whispered Wrecker, leaning over to Crosshair, "I don't think she likes me."

Crosshair shook his head. "She's just in shock. Her family was practically killed in front of her. She's scared."

You could hear them whisper, glancing over at the way you sat stiffly on the bunk he'd sat you on.

Wrecker, he said his name was. An apt name for his profession. Yet, contrary to the tales that Tech had regaled to you, Wrecker seemed to simmer to a calm around you - like any sudden movement might scare you away. The concern was nice, but unnecessary.

He'd seemed so passionate when he'd jumped to save you from that blast.

"Hold on!" he'd boomed. "I've got you!" And you believed him.

Wrecker - the calm within the storm, until he became the storm itself. That was a nice thought.

Lifting your feet onto the bunk, you curled into the thin mattress. You wouldn't sleep. You couldn't. If you closed your eyes, those sounds would haunt you again.

"Run!"

Screaming.

"No!"

Blaster fire.

Thud.

No sleep would come tonight if you could help it - but the heavy fluttering of your exhausted eyelids soon proved to be more than you could fight.

---

"She woke up screaming."

The words, supposed to be a whisper, echoed dimly from the cockpit into the bunk where you lay - not quite asleep, but not awake either.

"We all heard it, Wreck." Came the somber reply from their leader.

"Yeah." A moment of silence. "Think one of us should talk to her?"

"Maybe."

"Tech, you do it! You're good at knowing stuff."

"I am unsure if I would be a suitable candidate for a conversation on such a delicate matter. I can offer solutions to improve her sleep but I do not think that is the issue here. Perhaps Echo should be the one to talk to her?"

"I don't know..."

Another moment of uneasy silence.

"Aw, come on guys" Wrecker's loud voice complained.

"Shhhhhh!" Chorused his brothers.

"Oh. Sorry!" His whisper wasn't much quieter.

"Wrecker's right," Hunter spoke. "Someone should talk to her."

"Wrecker, you should do it." Offered Echo.

"Me!? Why? I'm no good at stuff like that!"

"Hmm.... Echo may be right. She does seem to have an emotional connection to you, Wrecker. More so than to us."

"Wha.... whaddya mean?"

"He means she likes you, Wrecker." His brother smacked him on the shoulder.

"Hey! She does not!"

Crosshair smirked, "Oh she definitely does."

Wrecker fervently shook his head, "Does not!"

"Does to! In fact, I heard her last night in the fresher." Crosshair's grin widened, "She was all 'oh Wrecker, ohhh'" he mimicked the sound of your voice in jest.

Wrecker froze. "She did not! Yer just making that up!" He glanced at Hunter. If anyone had heard anything it would've been him. Hunter glared at Crosshair, who sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine. I made that up. But..." he poked his brother in the gut with a boney finger. "I still think she likes you."

Wrecker frowned, rubbing a hand on the back of his bald head. He still looked unsure.

"Just get in there!" Crosshair kicked the back of his knee, causing him to stumble forward a few feet towards your bunk.

---

Wrecker sat awkwardly for a moment. He licked his lips. You blinked up at him, sleep still clouding your eyes in a confused daze.

He took a breath. He could do this.

It took you a few moments to fully wake, and another few to realize that Wrecker was sitting on his bunk, staring at you. A rush of heat stirred butterflies through your stomach - a feeling that had become all too familiar since being aboard this ship.

Wrecker looked nervous.

You blinked at him, tilting your head. He was still staring. "Uhh... Can I help you with something, Wrecker?"

"You dream bad." He blurted out.

Huh? A look of confusion crossed your face as a look of horror overtook his own.

"No! I mean.... I mean..." He shouted.

You jumped, startled.

He cleared his throat, looking mortified. "I mean... Ya... You..." he stuttered miserably. "Ya had a bad dream and I was just wonderin' if you were okay." He looked down, "That's all." He gulped. Great, he blew it. "I'll uh... I'll leave ya alone now."

He turned towards the cockpit, face red with embarrassment.

"Wait..." Your voice called out from behind him. "Wrecker wait...."

He paused.

"I... I think it was really sweet of you to come see if I was okay."

He heard you shift on the bunk, sitting up to swing your legs over the side.

"I... I'm sorry if I woke you up."

You sounded sad and Wrecker felt his heart crack. He turned back around, sitting down on his bunk again, facing you.

"Nah, I was already up." He chuckled, that explosive grin reappeared across his face. "Besides, it's pretty impossible to wake me up. Just ask Tech. One time him 'n Crosshair made a bet to see what they could do to make me wake up."

You giggled, the icy fear that gripped your chest began to warm. "What ended up waking you up?" You asked, genuinely curious. "Who won the bet?"

Wrecker grinned. "Crosshair did. He put a tooka treat in my ear and left the ship open. It was when we landed on Lotho Minor. There's lots of tookas around there."

You giggled, imagining a sleeping Wrecker surrounded by an army of tiny mewing tookas.

He was silent again and you felt those angry claw sneak their way around you again, freezing through your veins. Wrecker must have noticed, his smile faded.

"Didja wanna talk about it? Or..." he trailed off.

You shivered and leaned into him. Without thinking, he put his arm around you, pulling you closer - keeping you warm.

"I... It's just a lot to process." You said softly. "I just keep remembering. I keep hearing them die."

Wrecker didn't say anything. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see somethin' like that. Yer a princess. Yer supposed to go ta parties and drink those fancy juice things and eat those tiny sandwiches."

You sighed, "It's not all just parties and fancy stuff all the time, you know."

Wrecker sat up, looking at you. "It's not!?"

"No," you chuckled. "Sometimes it's sitting in on a really boring meeting. Sometimes it's learning how to fire a blaster in case you have to defend yourself."

"Whoa..."

You smiled sadly, "Lots of people don't like me when they hear I'm a princess. I think they think, that I think I'm better than them or something."

"That's a lot of thinkin'" Wrecker replied, not meeting your eyes. You chuckled.

It was silent again.

Wrecker cleared his throat, “I uhh… I think I know what you mean.”

You looked at him quizzically.

“A lotta people - “ Wrecker started, then paused. “Well, most people actually. They think I’m stupid just because I’m big and kinda slow with words and stuff.”

You frowned. “But aren’t you the demolition expert? You blow stuff up, right?”

Wrecker grinned at that, momentarily forgetting the awkward seriousness of the conversation before. “You bet I do!”

His smile was contagious and you found it inflicting its endearing passion across your own face. “Well then you can’t be dumb, silly!” you teased. “Don’t you have to be super smart to learn to build and disable all those explosives?”

Wrecker paused, “I dunno…”

You cut him off. “And not to mention the chemistry and physics and numbers it takes to do what you do so well!”

Wrecker shifted brushing his hand against your leg. You froze, suddenly realizing exactly how close you were to him - how his arm draped warmly around your back. The unexpected contact seemed to leave you breathless.

What was this?

Your skin seemed to burn where he'd touched you. You looked up at him.

This mountain of a man had saved you without even ever having met you before. He'd charged right into blaster fire, scooping you up as though you weighed nothing and he did it all with a smile on his face. You let out a shaky breath, shivering as he shifted and brushed against you once more.

Immediately, Wrecker jumped to his feet, realizing his mistake.

"I... I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare ya or... or touch ya... I..." He stuttered, "I... I'm such a..."

You looked up at him wide-eyed. "Wait! Wrecker stop!"

He paused, looking down miserably.

Now it was your turn to blush, "I... I didn't mind it." You said quietly, looking down at your feet.

He still looked unsure.

"I like being around you, Wrecker. You make me feel safe."

He looked down to where you patted the spot on the bunk beside you.

"You sure?" He asked tentatively.

You nodded, "I'm sure."

"You wanna know something funny?" He asked, voice uncharacteristically quiet as he sat again.

"What?" You smiled, leaning towards him.

"I thought you weren't going to like me... Just like you thought we weren't gonna like you."

"Of course I like you, Wrecker! And I'm really glad you were the one to find me."

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221bshrlocked · 11 months ago

Text

fatal dis|at|traction

Pairing: Hunter x AFAB!Reader

Words: 9774

Warnings: Unrequited feelings (in more ways than one). Touch-starved characters. Lots of sweet/dirty talk. Hunter likes to tease a lot. Oral Sex (female receiving). Fingering. Squirting. Just a bit of a knife kink (it's not everyone's cup of tea so it's a very short scene). Pentrative, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up folks). Creampie. Cuddling.

Summary: You have feelings for Tech who is now taken. Hunter notices your little predicament and decides to offer you a solution, one that you take enthusiastically. Little do you know that this could be the start of something new.

A/N: It's been a minute but I'm very thankful for the Life Day Gift Exchange by @cloneficgiftexchange because I finally managed to write something. This is for @intricatechaosofyou who gave a prompt after my own heart. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Coincidentally, this also fits into one of the @clonexreaderbingo prompts I got which I am embarrsingly behind on.

With every little chuckle you heard from Phee, your heart beat in jealousy at not being Tech’s center of attention. You thought it wouldn’t be an issue in the beginning, assuming that Tech would remain uninterested in Phee’s flirtatious advances. But the more she hung out with the team, the more he warmed up to her subtle compliments and faint touches. Before you knew what was happening, he was hanging out with her whenever you and the batch had time off from the crazy missions Sid continued to send you on.

Then she took you to Pabu and things really spiraled. Their time together increased each day and you barely got to see him. You couldn’t blame him really, or Phee. You just wished you had more time or perhaps been a bit more brave about your feelings towards him.

Another random laugh fills the afternoon air, this time from Tech, and you can’t help but stop what you’re doing and look at the two of them enjoying the preparation for Life Day. You look with longing at the man who managed to captivate your heart with a simple, random fact, and you sigh heavily at knowing that you’ll never really have a chance with him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter breaks your sad train of thought, and you turn around to look at him, silently praying that he didn’t just notice you staring at his brother. You pack the decoration boxes and look down to the ground, pretending you don’t understand what he’s talking about.

“What?” You ask once, and when Hunter doesn’t respond right away, you glance at him quickly to try and gauge his reaction, hoping that you can fool him by acting as clueless as possible about his question. He stares at you silently, uncrossing his arms and heading towards you to help you out with the rest of the boxes.

“I- I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Sarge.” You say in passing as you make your way to the storehouse, already thinking of some lie to respond with in case he dragged this out. When you set down all the empty containers, you shut the door behind the two of you and head towards the center of the town.

“Don’t do that…not with me.” Hunter breaks the silence after a while, stopping you in your tracks and waiting until you acknowledge him. You ring your fingers nervously, gulping down the nervousness that built up in your throat before facing him. There’s another fake reply at the tip of your tongue but before you can say anything, Hunter beats you to it, stopping you from embarrassing yourself any further.

“Come on, you can’t lie to me.” He furrows his eyebrows, looking at the couple standing not too far from you before centering his attention back on you again.

“I’m not lying.” You’re more defensive than you’d like and Hunter sighs in irritation, shaking his head and taking those last few steps towards you. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass you but he knows this conversation won’t go anywhere unless you willingly open up to him.

“Then why is your heart racing? I can practically feel you shaking. You’re not even looking at me.” Your palms grow sweaty the more he reveals those little details about you.

“Talk to me.” You never thought you’d hear him plead for anything and when you finally look at him, you see a genuine, heartfelt expression on his face, one that makes you feel even more horrible about the predicament you found yourself in.

“It’s not important, don’t- just don’t worry about it.” You wave your hand around and turn around to walk away from him, only to feel a strong hold wrap around your wrist and stop you from going anywhere else.

“Tech is a genius, but he can be incredibly dense at times.” Hunter waits until you meet his eyes again before he whispers that last sentiment. The shock of the exclamation sends your heart racing, and your eyes widen in horror at the prospect of everyone else potentially knowing your feelings for Tech.

“Wha- how…how did you know?”

“I know mesh’la, I know.” He loosens his grip a little, but doesn’t let you go completely, not wanting you to run away from him. The two of you stand in quietness for too long to your liking, and you give up on trying to pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about.

You give up on trying to make it seem like you’re okay.

“Is it that obvious?” The chuckle is self-deprecating, and you avoid looking into his hazel gray eyes, afraid you’d cry if he continues to give you that horribly sentimental expression.

“Not to the others, although Echo guessed just as much a while back. But no, the others don’t know.” Hunter lets go of you then, but he doesn’t move away from you, wanting you to know that he’s here to help in whatever you’ll allow him to.

“How did you find out?” You move away from the crowd slowly forming around the town square, wanting to have some privacy from prying eyes, from Wrecker and Omega.

“I notice the way your eyes light up whenever he walks in the room, or goes on one of those rants about kriff knows what.” Anyone else would have laughed at you, but you feel at peace knowing that Hunter would never tease you about something like this. He was too kind to joke about such an intimate little secret.

“Hmm.”

“And your heart beats like you’ve just run across the whole of Coruscant.” Hunter adds as he comes to a halt in front of the house you reserved for yourself when you first got to Pabu.

“Ahh, that is extremely embarrassing.” You turn away from him as you respond, not wanting to be at the receiving end of whatever comment he was going to throw your way.

“It’s not…it’s natural to react that way when you have feelings towards someone.” You’re a little surprised by his explanation, mostly because you never thought he’d be the type to speak so sweetly about something as awkward as emotions.

“Right.” You can’t help but smile when you see him shrug at you, and as you’re about to unlock your door, Hunter turns around and grabs the knob, preventing you from reaching for it, let alone turn around and get away from him.

“You know what you need?” He asks, and you shiver at the sudden drop in his voice, wondering why he was suddenly becoming so friendly with you.

“Please enlighten me, because this whole conversation hasn’t been humiliating enough as is.” You laugh in an attempt to diffuse the tension slowly building in between the two of you, but Hunter doesn’t crack a single smile, roaming his eyes down your neck and taking in a deep breath before meeting your gaze once more.

“You need to get your mind off of him, just for a little while. Find a distraction…sometimes you have to stay busy so you don’t feel.” You’re too distracted by the proximity between his body and your own to dwell on the true meaning behind his words.

“Yeah well, good thing we’re staying here. Helping rebuild the city will definitely take my mind off of him and…ugh, I guess make me focus less on seeing the two of them together.” Looking past him to the slowly busying town square, you completely miss the way he bites his lower lip as he studies you closely and shakes his head at your response.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh yeah, what do you mean th-” Turning your focus back to him, the words die in your throat when you finally notice the way he’s looking at you. You part your lips in a gasp, finding it difficult to breathe as Hunter leans into your space and groans his intentions against your jaw.

“I mean…you need to get your mind off of him, and onto something else…perhaps someone else.” Your body freezes at the unexpected intimacy of the moment, and although you know you should push him away and tell him to forget whatever was happening, you tell yourself that this might just be what you need to forget about Tech.

“I s-see.” Hunter’s hand reaches for your waist, holding you against him until he’s sure you’re accepting his advances. He smiles at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief that sends a zap of lightning down your spine.

It was a warm day in Pabu, but having Hunter flush against your chest makes you even more heated, and you gulp down whatever nervousness was threatening to make itself known in the form of a rejection, allowing your fingers to dance along his forearm before you grab onto his shoulders for support.

“W-what do you have in mind?” He gets even more bold then, wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you in until you nearly bump your forehead against his nose.

“I think you know.” His voice is gravely, and it occurs to you then that he may have always had this deep baritone, but you just never truly appreciated it until now.

“Humor me, Sarge.” You smirk right back at him, eyes dancing from his lips to his piercing gaze in preparation for what he’s about to say.

“Well, you’ll first need to find someone willing to help you out, someone who knows all about distractions. Then, you take them somewhere private and…how should I put this, kindly ask them to fuck your brains out…take the edge off a little…and if you start thinking of him again, you get on your knees and have them dick you down real hard…till you can’t think straight.” His lips graze across the skin of your cheek, down to your neck, as he promises you the filthiest sentiments, and if you weren’t sure you knew the man standing in front of you was far beyond the average man, you would have asked him how he had you melting into his arms in such a small period of time.

“Maker,” you nearly reach up to kiss him but then quickly remember that anyone can see you. Before you can push him away, Hunter nudges you harshly to get your attention again, not wanting you to get distracted by your surroundings or if anyone might hear what the two of you have in mind.

“Hmm, I think your body agrees with me sweetheart. Why don’t you have that tired brain of yours catch up?” He nods at your head, tilting his head to the side as if he was asking you a silent question.

“Do you…do you know someone that can do all of what you just said?”

“You’re right in luck baby, I happen to be free for the next couple of hours.” Hunter responds right away, knowing that it would be extremely difficult to have you like this again.

“Ahhh, t-that saves me from looking then.” You smile when he rests against you and nudges your nose with his own, aquiline one.

“So, what do you want?” Again, his voice is smoother than honey, sending you spiraling in a matter of seconds out of anticipation.

“I thought you…don’t be cruel, please.” You kiss the corner of his mouth, feeling the rough stubble across his sharp cheeks burn you in the sweetest way. Hunter turns his head far enough to finally tough his lips with your own, the kiss ending far too quickly to your liking but leaves you begging for more.

“Never…never. I mean, how do you want it mesh’la? You want it slow, soft, sensual…” He slithers his hands across your body, leaving a trail of fire across your skin with each sweet touch he graces you with.

“Or do you like it hard and fast…till you can’t scream anymore?” He digs his nails into your curves then grabbing and squeezing your ass until you nearly fall against him.

“Oh fuck…I- Hunter, please.”

“You’re a big girl, use your words and tell me what you want!” Hunter combs his hand into your hair, tugging on it harshly until you throw your head back and give him access to your neck. He descends down on you like a madman, nipping and sucking on the soft expanse of your skin until you’re panting in his embrace.

“You want me to be sweet with you…or do you want to feel me with every step you take tomorrow?” He licks the bitemarks he’s left behind, chuckling to himself when he feels you shaking in his arms and practically begging him to fuck you right out in the open.

“Please Hunter, be- be rough with me. As rough as you want.” You reach for the collar of his shirt, fisting it in your hands as if you were holding on for dear life. You should have known that as everything else, Hunter would easily take you down without breaking a sweat.

“A girl after my own heart.” He chuckles then, the sweet sound shooting straight into your chest and making you wish he just pushed the door behind you open and took you somewhere more private.

“I’ll take my time with you next time baby, worship every fucking inch of your body as you deserve. But tonight…tonight I’m going to teach you how to take me…please me…open up for me and take my cum like the good girl I know you are.” He kisses across your damp skin in between words, finding it difficult to continue holding back when he could practically smell your arousal the more he whispers into your ears.

“I’m going to fuck you into the next galaxy sweetheart, till the only name your pretty little brain can remember is mine and mine alone.” Your heart beats so fast Hunter thinks you might pass out, but as you melt into his arms and pull him closer to you, he knows that you’re enjoying this as much as he was.

“And believe me when I tell you, I’ll know if you’re thinking of him. So be a pretty little sweetheart and focus on me.” He moves away to take a better look at you, raising a curious eyebrow when he finds you completely lost in every touch and every sweet word he was gifting you with.

“Yes,” you barely manage to breathe out, waiting for whatever he still has in stock for you.

“Yes?” Hunter asks, his expression turning more serious when you open your eyes and look right into his own. There’s something so erotic about how much he can sense every little reaction you have to his advances, but he sets his thoughts aside long enough to hear you openly consent to him.

“Yes, sergeant.” Those two words are music to his ears, and he steps away instantly, but not before making sure you can still stand on your own two feet. You snap out of your haze when you no longer feel the heat of his body against yours.

“Good girl.” He grabs your hand and leads you away from your home, down the tiled pathway towards the quieter side of the island.

“Where…where are you taking me?”

“Some place where you can scream my name without worrying about anyone hearing you.” He nearly stops in his tracks when he hears you moan in response to his words, but he knows that if he looks back now, he might never make it to his own place. If anything, the reaction he gets out of you makes him walk quicker, not caring for how you stumble several times as he continues towards the smaller, but more private homes at the bottom of the island.

You can’t look away from him, and as you follow him blindly, you find yourself surprised at not wishing he was someone else. Maybe because you’ve always found him objectively handsome, all the clones were if you were being honest, or perhaps because you’ve always wondered what it would be like to be with someone like Hunter, someone who you knew would be so attuned to every sound and every muscle twitch you’d have that he’d know instantly how to please you. But the longer you dwell on it, the more you realize that you’re lucky to have someone like him pay you this much attention, or even be willing to give you this favor.

Little did you know that while you were longing for Tech, Hunter was struggling to keep his own feelings at bay. He didn’t want to take advantage of you, far from it, but he figured that maybe, just maybe, if he showed you how much he cares for you, you’d look at him instead of his brother.

He can feel your eyes on him, and his heart skips a beat at the prospect of finally having your attention. Hunter wants to ask you if you’re sure about this, but as he approaches his residence, he finds himself less willing to break the two of you out of whatever cloud you’ve fallen under, afraid that you’d change your mind and leave.

The thought nearly breaks his heart, but as he slows down and unlocks his door, he feels your hands shaking even harder, and he knows then that he needs to give you an out because you may not be able to take it yourself.

“Sweet girl, you’re trembling.” He turns around and cups your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes so you’re sure he doesn’t mind if you walk away from him.

“If you’ve changed your mind…if- if you don’t want this anymore, we can stop. It’s- it’s okay.” The words sound less convincing to his ears, but he braces himself for the rejection he’s sure you’re about to give him.

“No, Hunter please.” Your instant response sends a wave of relief and reluctance through his chest, and his eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they soften again, knowing that if you noticed his expression, you might push through just to not upset him.

“I won’t have you against your will baby.” He leans over and kisses the small space in between your eyebrows, waiting until you relax against him before he pulls away and meets your gaze again.

“I want this, Hunter. I- I want you. I’d be lying to myself if I said otherwise.” You tug at his forearms, wanting him to not shy away from you, perhaps even afraid that he’d change his mind and tell you to leave. Your nerves slowly rise again and Hunter must sense your spiraling thoughts because he pulls you into the small space and shuts the door behind you, pushing you against the wall and stepping impossibly close to you so you can only feel him.

“Tell me what you need. Right this moment.”

“Can you just...hold me for a minute? I- I need to feel your arms around me.” You barely manage to breathe out the request, not because you think he’ll laugh at it but because you find yourself having a difficult time thinking of a single coherent thought.

“Sure thing ad’ika, come here.” Hunter slowly walks back to the small bed at the edge of the wall, sitting down on the soft surface of the covers before pulling you into his lap. You follow him quietly, finding it oddly soothing to have him in control of your actions rather than your own mind. You throw your arms around him and rest your head on his chest, willing yourself to relax as soon as you feel his hands roam across your back soothingly.

“I want you to focus on my heartbeat.” You do as he says, moving your head down a little further so you can listen to his heart. If you’re shocked by how much faster it is, you say nothing and dwell on the fact that he may be just as nervous as you are.

“Take deep breaths,” Hunter slides one hand underneath your shirt to test the waters, shutting his eyes and smiling to himself when your muscles relax deeper into him.

“Nothing else matters, little one. Only you, and me…right here and now.” He reminds you one last time, massaging your back and turning his head every once in a while to kiss you. Hunter shuts his eyes to commit this moment to memory, unsure of whether he’ll ever get to have you like this again or not. He says nothing after, wanting to ensure that you have all the time you need before the two of you do anything.

You’re not sure how long you spend in his arms but when you no longer feel nervous at being in his presence, you pull away and rest your hands on his chest, willing yourself to be brave enough to look into his eyes after experiencing such an intimate moment with him.

“Feeling better?” He reaches for your chin and moves it up softly to take a better look at you. As soon as he looks into your eyes, he smiles at you, waiting until you return the expression before doing anything else.

“Hmm.”

“Then why don’t you lay back for me.” He moves you off of him and studies you closely as you maneuver yourself around his bed. You’re less shy than before, that he’s sure of, but you do as he says more confidently, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Hunter, and makes him imagine all that he can do to you.

“You know, I- I always thought you had a soothing voice,” you break the silence reluctantly, biting your lower lip when you notice Hunter smirking at the unexpected sentiment.

“Yeah?” He questions as he kneels on the bed and slowly crawls towards you.

“Yes, but now…now I’m realizing it’s your presence.” You waver in your response, finding it difficult to think of anything when he’s looking at you like you’re his prey.

“Tell me more.” Hunter demands, dancing his fingers across whatever skin he has access to and watching as goosebumps erupt across your body at the simple touches.

“It’s in your touch, your- kriff, your movements…your gaze.” You arch your back when Hunter digs his nose at the space just above the edge of your pants and takes a long whiff of your scent. You think that if anyone else has done something so strange, you’d be turned off by it, but this was Hunter, and scenting was important to him, especially since he must have been getting awfully close to you because he liked what he could smell.

“Glad to be of service,” he comments in passing, nudging your shirt up to get more access to the skin of your stomach. He kisses your navel, breathing you in with each new bit of flesh he came across.

“Gods above,” you can’t take it anymore, reaching for his shoulder and trying to pull him closer to you so he could speed things up a bit.

“No sweetheart, it’s only me.” He chuckles at the whine you send his way, looking up at you as he parts your thighs and makes space for himself in between.

“You’re d-driving me insane Hunter.” Hunter doesn’t move an inch as you try to bring him closer. If anything, he slows down even more and takes both of your hands into his own, softly kissing the wrist of each one before bringing them above your head.

“If you’re still coherent, then I’m not driving you insane enough.” He’s teasing you, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was pushing you to a point where you could do nothing but beg for him. So distracted with the patterns he’s drawing across your arms, you don’t realize where the other hand is reaching until you feel his grip tighten around your throat.

“Ahh, please.” You arch your back, grabbing the sheets beneath you in an attempt to keep your hands where he asked you to. You want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and surrender to his lips, but you knew better than to disobey his orders. Hunter was a strict man in the field, and you were positive he wasn’t any different in this context. If anything, he was probably even more severe now. At least you hoped he would be.

“And remember baby, it’s ‘Sergeant’ for you. Got it?”

“Yes, sergeant.”

“Now, do me a favor and keep your hands there.” He taps twice on them, waiting until you nod in agreement before he sits back up and takes your wrecked form. He hoped you’d open up for him easily, but he never thought you’d be so needy, let alone greedy for him.

“But how will you take my clothes off?” You pout at him, the expression making Hunter wish he could flip you over and fuck you into oblivion. But he knew you needed him to be soft tonight, even if you were adamant in making him get a little rough with you.

“Let’s not spoil the fun.” He warns with a pinch to your hip, chuckling at the way you jump and your thighs unintentionally close around him.

“A bit sensitive, aren’t we?” He rests one hand near your head as he leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth, waiting for you to breathe before touching your lips with his own. It’s a chaste kiss, yet it sends your heart leaping through the roof because of how unexpectedly tender it is.

“I…haven’t done this in a while.” You whisper against his mouth, chasing him along when he begins to pull away again.

“Shame,” it’s such a simple comment, and yet you feel a string of butterflies in your stomach at the implication behind it. The fact that you held Hunter’s focus when so many on the island were begging for it makes you wish he could have approached you sooner.

“Hmmph,” the sound of your moan reaches your ear instantly, and you try to hide from Hunter out of embarrassment, but he doesn’t let you, moving down your body slowly and continuing to drive you mad with need for him.

“Go on baby, moan for me.”

“What if s-someone hears?”

“Everyone’s in town for the celebrations,” he reaches down and unbutton your pants, looking straight into your eyes as he pulls the fabric down your legs and throws it behind him. You try to close your legs quickly, afraid he could smell how wet you are. But Hunter is much faster than you, and he prevents you from moving another muscle, looking down once at the dark patch on your panties before meeting your eyes again, silently letting you know that he could smell you long before this very moment.

“No one’ll hear you, mesh’la. So beg all you want, you’re mine tonight.” He slips one finger beneath the edge of your panties, thumbing at the skin of your hips to get you to calm down a little before he does anything else.

“Only tonight?” You don’t mean to ask this question, not now at least, but you figured you may as well see if this was a one-time thing or not.

“Oh I don’t get to decide that, you do.” He surprises you with his answer, and the shock must be visible on your face because Hunter tilts his head to the side and stares at you until you realize you really were in control of what goes on between the two of you.

“So if I- oh kriff, if I want you to fuck me every night…”

“Then ask me nicely.” He slips one hand underneath your shirt, raising it above your stomach to your chest and laying it across your sternum to feel your heartbeat. When you don’t respond right away, he slides his hand a little further and draws random patterns just below your breast.

“Better yet, beg me sweetly…and I’ll give you my cock whenever you like.” He promises as he continues to edge you into submission, something that makes you wish you could yell at him about and thank him for.

“T-thank you, sarge.” Your breathing becomes erratic the longer he touches you anywhere but where you want him, and just as you begin to give up hope, he removes his hands completely from your form and reaches behind him.

“Do you trust me cyar’ika?” The question is asked with hesitance, and you’re not sure why he’s asking you this all of a sudden, but when you hear the sound of a clasp coming undone, you know why he’s being so serious.

“You know I do.” It’s the first thing you said since he dragged you behind him where you aren’t practically shaking beneath him, and once he’s completely satisfied with your response, he pulls out the blade from its holster and flips it around. You’re enamored by the swift movement of the weapon as it dances in between his fingers, and the faster Hunter plays with the knife, the more difficult you find it to breathe.

“Then look at me.” He demands as he stops swinging the knife around, and you obey him instantly, gulping excitedly as he leans over your body once again and places the sharp end of the knife at the top of your shirt, inches below your neck.

“Don’t,” Hunter warns slowly, nicking small holes into your shirt until the article of clothing rips down the middle, “move,” his voice is somehow even more gravely than before, and you stop breathing altogether, not because you think he’ll hurt you but because you can’t help but feel turned on by how focused he is on you and how safe you feel with something so dangerous, “a muscle.” He continues to ruin your shirt and you can’t find it in yourself to care one bit, knowing that being at Hunter’s mercy was worth far more than any shirt you could own. When he completely separates both sides of the fabric, he slips the wide edge of the knife beneath the fabric and pushes it to the side before grabbing the other with his fingers and displaying your nude skin to his hungry eyes.

You let out a deep breath and refuse to look anywhere else but his dilated pupils, clenching your thighs tightly at knowing that you were the reason behind such a dramatic reaction from him.

“I can smell you, little one. Does this turn you on?” He finally looks away from your heaving chest to your eyes, and when he finds you already staring at him, he smiles to himself and places the knife down gently on the small table near his bed. You’re disappointed that he clearly won’t be using it anymore, and Hunter notices the small expression because he trails his fingers down your front and pinches one nipple to get your attention.

“Use your words and tell me.” You arch into his rough ministrations, whispering your response and moaning for more.

“Y-yes, it does.”

“I knew you’d be fun.” He soothes the heated skin of your breast, drawing small circles around one nipple just as he leans down and takes the other in between his teeth. You whine his name over and over again, and Hunter growls his approval against you, lapping up the bitemarks he left around your hardened peak before sucking harshly on it again.

“Fuck, I do love how sensitive you are.” He manages to say right before diving for the other nipple and tasting your natural scent along with the soap you use to shower.

“And how hard your nipples perk at the touch of my fingers.” He thinks you’re about to move one hand so he reaches quickly for it, gripping it tightly and keeping it against the bed while he leaves angry marks across your chest.

“Ahh maker, please sergeant.” Your moans are becoming louder, and Hunter decides then and there that if you were going to scream for him, it should be his name falling from your lips, not his rank. The only warning you get before he descends down your body is his hand slipping underneath your panties and instantly pushing two fingers into your cunt. You’re dripping for him, and his thick fingers rub against your tight walls with an embarrassing ease.

“Kriff, I know I asked you to call me that, but forget it.” Hunter looks into your eyes as he lets go of your wrist and grabs the back of your neck, not bothering to say anything else as he lunges for your mouth and swallows your moans. You part your thighs and your lips for him, not caring for any rule he’s given you as you throw your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. He fingers you slowly, but as begin to clench tightly around him, Hunter can’t hold back anymore and he moves off of you with a wet smack before crawling down your body. You’re shocked by the sudden urgency of his movement, and as soon as you reach for his hair and tug on it, you feel his warm lips close around your clit and his tongue aggressively lap at the engorged bundle of nerves.

“I want you to scream my name, mesh’la. Scream my name as you come on my tongue.”

“Hu- ahhh g-gods!” You’re not aware of what you’re saying, and the harder Hunter thrusts his fingers into you, the quicker you feel your release coming along.

“You smell…so sweet.” Hunter manages to breathe in between his assault on your pussy, and you let go of his hair to grab for the sheets beneath you, not wanting to hurt him by how hard you’d pull on his hair.

“But you taste so much sweeter.” He feels his cock harden as the taste and scent of you fill his nostrils. Normally, he’d find it overwhelming to be surrounded by so many strong scents, but the more you gush for him, the more he wants to dive into you and make you soak him with your arousal.

“Hunter, oh right there…please.” You reach for his hair again, but this time, you pull so hard that his red bandana comes off in your hand and reminds you to loosen your hold so as to not overwhelm him with too many sensations.

“Sorry, I-” You try to apologize but the words trail off when Hunter looks up and shakes his head at you.

“I don’t mind, sweet thing. Go on, pull as hard as you want.” He leans down and kisses the hand near his head, nipping at your thumb to let you know that he was feeling more than okay.

“But won’t that-” You don’t want him to feel like he needs to do this for you, but Hunter distracts you again, rubbing at your clit with his thumb to get you to listen to him.

“Please cyar’ika, let me feel you…everywhere.” Hunter begs you, pushing your thighs apart even more in an attempt to get you to do as he says. He doesn’t wait for a response then, descending down on you again with more passion than you thought him capable of in such a setting, and before you know it, he has you right at the edge with his expert hands and his enthusiastic mouth. You should have known that he’d know what you like quickly, but something about him being so attuned to your responses pushes you closer to your orgasm, and before you know it, you’re shutting your eyes and letting the flood of sensations overtake you.

“Hmm fuck, that’s it.” You scratch at his scalp as you pull on his hair, the action driving Hunter nearly mad and making him grab at your stomach to keep you planted to his face.

“Hunter…I- I’m co-” His harsh breathing and how hard he continues to lick at your clit is all you need to fall apart, and as soon as he coils his fingers inside you and rubs your tight walls, you come around him instantly, shaking violently beneath his firm body and screaming nonsense into the damp air of the room. It’s becoming nearly too much, and although you want him to stop, you can’t find it in yourself to push him away, a part of you sensing that he may need this as much as you. So you let him continue his assault on your cunt, and before you realize what’s about to happen, Hunter pulls away and watches as you soak his arms and his bed with your juices. He doesn't let up once, plunging his fingers into you so quickly that you manage to wet even his thighs. When he hears your heart beating impossibly rapidly against your chest, he slows down and removes his hand from you, pulling away and watching as your panties hide you from his eyes again.

He waits until you look at him before he slowly sucks on each of his fingers, smirking to himself when you hide behind your arms and close your thighs immediately.

“I changed my mind.” His voice is rough, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s turned on or because he’s having a difficult time breathing just as you. Then the words settle in your remind and you move your hands away to take a better look at him.

“W-what?” You don’t have time to grab him as he gets off the bed and reaches for his shirt, throwing it away as well before unzipping his pants and pulling them down his thighs and stepping out of them before kneeling on the bed again.

“We can do rough later. Right now, I want to watch you come undone…slowly.” He grabs your ankles and pulls them apart, not caring for how blatant he’s being with his staring as he moves towards you again.

“Fuck baby, you’re gushing for me.” His disbelief sends a shiver down your spine and you softly smack his thigh to get his attention away from your heated core.

“Hunter, don’t- don’t say stuff like that.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” He narrows his eyes at you, daring you to say anything in disagreement.

“It’s…embarrassing.” You manage to whisper out, only to have Hunter shamelessly wipe the wetness over your legs with his hand.

“No, it’s fucking sexy mesh’la….and if I had known taking my shirt off would turn you on this much, I would have walked around naked since you came on board.” He reaches for your hand and you squeal suddenly when he tugs you harshly until you nearly smack his chest. Looking down at you, Hunter bites into his lower lips as he pulls the rest of your shirt away and throws it away, not bothering to push you back into bed when you rest your hands against his naked chest and feel his muscles flex and unflex.

“Speaking of taking things off…” You try to grab your panties but Hunter stops you, shaking his head and bringing your hand back to his skin.

“No, keep’em on.”

“But-”

“These are mine now, and I want nothing more than to smell your cunt and my cum on them…when I take them.” Hunter nods down at the wet article of clothing as he swipes your hair away from your face and softly grazes your bruised lips.

“Hmph, you’re a shy little thing aren’t you?” He wonders out loud when you turn away from and rest your forehead against his stomach, once again feeling a sense of pride wash over him at being the one to bring such a reaction out of you.

“Do the honors.” He takes your hands and moves them down his rigid form, not missing the way your breath hitches when you feel the muscles on his stomach flutter at the soft touch of your palms. You don’t dare look up at him as you drag his boxers down his hips until his cock juts out from beneath the elastic.

“Oh fuck me.” You stop what you’re doing as soon as you see the size of him, and Hunter uses your moment of distraction to his advantage, pushing you back into the bed and moving away to step out of his boxers before returning to you again.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He remembers the biosheath and finds one in his drawer instantly, but before he can take it out, you take his wrist and bring it back to you.

“Wait-” You stop him, unsure of what to say now that he was looking at you with such an unreadable expression.

“You don’t have to- like I said, I haven’t done this in…in a while. And I’ve-” Your attempts to explain to him that you don’t have anything and that you wouldn’t mind it if he didn’t use a biosheath with you evaporate into thin air, and as you give up on trying to relay the message, Hunter shuts the drawer and lays on top of you. One look into his eyes gives you away and you turn from him to avoid whatever embarrassing words you’re sure he’s about to relay to you.

“You want me to fill you with my seed, little one?” The question is asked in such a low voice that you nearly miss the playfulness in between. You refuse to acknowledge him, afraid of how much he’d drag this out if you told him outright that you wanted to feel him leak out of you.

“You want me to fuck my cum deep inside your pretty little cunt?” He asks again, this time as he slips his hand in between your bodies and wraps his palm around his hard cock, lazily stroking his length while teasing your clothed clit with the tip of his dick. He goes on for too long, and when you can’t take it anymore, you moan in agreement, hoping that the outburst pushes him to finally, finally, fuck you.

“O-ohh gods, please…please.” The way he cups himself and teases the both of you nearly sends you into overdrive, and just as you begin to give up hope, Hunter tugs aside your panties, and pushes his cock against your wet folds, giving you a taste of what’s to come.

“Keep begging baby.”

“Please Hunter…I need you. I- I want you to come inside me, want to feel you all night long.” He was planning on making you cry for him, but the sound of your voice telling him everything he’s heard a thousand times in his dreams sends him reeling and before he can warn you, he pushes his cock into your slit, arms nearly giving out at finally feeling your cunt welcome him in. You arch your back as soon as you feel his thick, hard cock fill you, and although you should be embarrassed at how easily he slides into you, you don’t bother thinking about it, not when Hunter was finally giving you what you’ve been craving.

“Kriffing hells, you feel so good mesh’la…so tight and hot for me.” He stops moving, the heat of your cunt making him nearly lose his mind and whatever bit of control left in him.

“Hunter-” You don’t like the fact that he’s stopped pushing into you, but then he moves and you realize that maybe you needed a second to get used to him after all.

“I know, love. I know, just a little bit more.” Hunter kisses your forehead, lips quivering at the thought of being too much for you to handle. He waits until you’re relaxed a little before he gives you more of his cock, and when you drag your nails across his arms and grab onto his shoulder, he stops again to soothe you.

“You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

“Yes…oh maker yes.” Your voice breaks, making Hunter wish you weren’t so kriffing sensitive to him.

“Then open up for me…take me.” He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck, licking and nipping at the taut skin in an attempt to distract you from whatever discomfort you were feeling.

“Haa…ahh, you’re- so fucking hard.” Your words are unexpected, and Hunter fists his hands tightly into his pillows so he doesn’t do something he’d regret. He unintentionally thrusts the rest of his dick into your pussy, the action knocking the breath out of the both of you and sending a strike of pleasure down your spine.

“Only for you, sweetheart. O-only for you.” Hunter breathes against your chest, cursing at how much better you felt now than in his dreams. He could feel every inch of you squeeze him, and if it weren’t for the fact that you told him it’s been a while, Hunter would have begged to fuck you like he wanted. But it has been a while, and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you. When you wince at the slightest of movements, Hunter pulls back and studies you, carefully listening to your heartbeat and looking over you to see if you were too uncomfortable to do this now.

“Are you okay?” He should be the one asking you this question, not the other way around, and even though a million compliments run through his mind, he barely manages to respond to your question.

“Fuck, I’m more than okay.” He hisses out as you clench around him, and before he can let you know that he’s not reacting out of pain but of indescribable pleasure, you reach for his hair and tug him down, begging for him to do anything besides remaining still.

“Then move…” You cross your legs behind his back to tempt him into moving against you, but Hunter remains impossibly still, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to tell you why he’s having a difficult time moving.

“N-not yet, just let me feel you. Let me…feel all of you.” He hopes it’s enough for you to stop asking him to move, but he should have known better.

“Is- is it too much?” Your shyness makes itself known again, and Hunter swears beneath his breath because he genuinely didn’t mean to come off so strained in his response.

“No, it’s- you’re perfect.” It’s both everything he’s feeling and barely an explanation of what he’s reserved for you for so long, but he can’t find any other word to describe what he’s experiencing with you now. You’re about to ask him to keep talking when he finally listens to you and pulls out a little before thrusting back in.

“Oh.” The simple word riles him up more than he cares to admit, and he sets a slow and sensual pace to calm himself down and give you what you desire. The small room fills with sounds of your harsh breathing and Hunter’s controlled growls, and before you know it, he’s hitting every inch of you in a way that makes you see stars. Then you look at him, and you find his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes shut tightly, and you just know that it’s because he wants to do more with you.

“Hunter,” you call for him, soothing his back with your hands to let him know that you weren’t going anywhere.

“Hmm?” His eyes flutter open instantly and you wonder if their color was always so intense and dark, or if this was just a product of what the two of you were doing.

“Don’t h-hold back.” You cup his neck and pray to the maker that he listens to you.

“I already told you cyare, I want you to fall apart for me…nice and slow.” He pronounces each word with a soft push of his hips against you, and you know then that this would definitely not be the last time you sleep with him. It couldn’t be.

“But I-”

“I want to commit you to memory. The way your heart skips a beat when I kiss your shoulders,” he leans closer against you and leaves a trail of wet kisses across your sternum to your shoulder, biting it playfully when he notices you trying to move along with him.

“The way you bite your lips when I pinch with your nipples,” you throw your head back in ecstasy as he pinches your nipple and rolls it in between his thumb and his index finger.

“The way your eyes shut when I sink my teeth into your skin,” Hunter takes one last look at the pleasure etched on your expression before taking the other hardened peak into his mouth, rolling his tongue around your nipple before biting down harshly just below the reddened skin.

“The way your cunt clenches around my cock when I pull your hair,” you wrap your arms around his back and pull him flush against you when you feel him comb his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck and pull harshly on it, the action letting you know that Hunter was most certainly capable of being rough with you, but was choosing to get your body used to his soft touch first.

“And- fuck…ah fuck, the way your tight walls invite me in deeper when I play with your clit.” He lets go of your hair and slides his hand down your body, squeezing your hips and scratching along your thighs to leave his mark. As soon as you open your eyes and look at him, he begins to draw small circles around your clit, all the while picking up his pace just a little to get you closer to your climax.

“I want it all baby,” he begs for you, roaming his eyes across your body to get his fill of you before he brings the two of you to the edge. You’re so sensitive from before, but something about having Hunter pay close attention to you makes you welcome whatever he has to offer you.

“I- I’m close.” You manage to whisper to him as he continues to play with your body, and you realize the mistake you did in your claim when you hear him laugh and pause in his ministrations.

“Already?” He doesn’t expect you to answer, but you whine his name and roll your hips around to get any form of friction. Hunter is distracted by the movement, and he resumes his attention to your clit, grunting with need when you reach down and scratch his stomach to urge him on.

“D-don’t tease.”

“Never…never.” He responds immediately, thrusting into you with shallow pushes, already feeling the knot in his stomach slowly unwind the more he feels your heat pull him in.

“I can feel your fucking heartbeat, can feel it singing for me the harder I fuck you.” Hunter cries out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, sitting up and moving the hand on his stomach down to your clit to get you to touch yourself.

“Please Hunter,” as soon as you start teasing your clit, Hunter grabs both of your hips and fucks into you with slow, languid movements, knowing that if he picks up the pace any further, he’d have you screaming so loud that the rest of the batch may actually hear you.

“What do you want? Tell me.” There is a layer of sweat covering your body and making Hunter lose his mind. Your scent is more pronounced now that it has ever been, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to interact with you normally now that he knew what you smelled like as you prayed for him to fuck you harder.

“I want you to come with me.” Your request storms into Hunter’s mind, making him wish he could just tell you how he feels, how he’s felt for so long.

“Kriff,” he throws his head back and looks at the ceiling, knowing that tonight would replay in his mind until you came to him and asked him to take you to bed again.

“So close…so fucking close. Hunter, please…let me feel you come with me. Come inside me.” You grab one of his wrists in an attempt to remain grounded, and Hunter can’t help but whine at the desperation you were trusting him with. Never in his life did he think he’d have you so unabashedly wanton, but here you were, telling him that you wanted nothing more than to feel him come with you.

“You’re killing me baby.” Hunter growls and looks down at where you’re joined, not caring for how crazed he must appear to you as his hair swings back and forth, and his face shines with sweat.

“Oh-hhh f…fuck right there-” you scream into the darkening room, no longer able to hold back the pleasure from seizing you and showering you with a most beautiful distraction.

“Mesh’la, I-” whatever he’s about to say is cut off by your lips as you pull him into you and mold your lips with his own. It’s a hungry kiss, and Hunter prays to the Force that you’re desperate for him out of necessity and not out of simple, physical attraction. He gives you what you want regardless, slipping his tongue into your mouth and surrendering himself to the pleasure just as your walls flutter around his cock and signal your orgasm. Feeling you tighten even harder around him is almost too much, and he doesn’t realize he’s thrusting so violently into you until you break the kiss and scream his name. He fucks into you without abandon, growling your name over and over again until he lets go and falls over the edge with you. You’re aware of how harshly you’re dragging your nails across his back, and before you can apologize for accidentally sending him into a sensory overload, Hunter is falling against you and sinking his teeth into your shoulders, shooting his cum so deep inside you that you feel the warmth of his seed spread across your body. Neither of you stop moving, wanting the other to reach absolute pleasure before you finally slow down. As you come down from your highs, you wonder if you should ask Hunter what he was going to say right before he came, but you get distracted by the way he begins to slowly move off of you.

“No wait,” he’s about to move off of you when you throw your arms around his neck and keep him flush against you. You can almost feel his heartbeat sound against your chest, and you’re sure he can hear your own singing for him, but you pay no mind to it, instead focusing on the heat of his skin as it slides against yours.

“Stay.” You ask once, hoping that he’d listen to you without wondering why you wanted to have him crush you with his weight.

“Wrap your arms around me tightly.” He says after a while, and as soon as he knows you did as he said, he slips his hands beneath you and holds onto you as he rolls around. The action shifts his cock inside you, and both of you moan out in unison at the shock of oversensitivity that strikes across your spines. He is careful when he moves again, and once he’s comfortable on his back, he slides his hand up your body and grabs your neck. You pull back to look into his eyes, offering him a lazy smile before resting your cheek on his chest again.

“Does this feel good?”

“I- I liked your weight on me…but yes, this is nice.” You decide not to lie to him, knowing that he may misunderstand your answer if you didn’t give him the whole truth.

“Noted.” You can hear the smirk in his own voice and snuggle closer into him, not realizing that your playing with his hair until he nuzzles closer into your hands.

“Stay as long as you like, ad’ika.”

You make a mental note of asking him what all of those words mean later, but for now, you surrender to his embrace and the gentle touches he continued to grace you with. Neither of you say anything else as you relish the sweetness of the moment, and before long, you notice that Hunter’s heart was beating much faster than it should. You’ve been sitting without much movement for a long time, so you wonder briefly why his heart was threatening to leap out of his chest. The thought of being the reason behind such a reflex makes you think differently of Hunter, and you hope that your hunch is right or else you’ll end up making a fool out of yourself when you ask him to take you to bed again.

Just thinking of doing this again with Hunter sends your spiraling and you unintentionally clench around him, but this time, you realize that he’s grown hard again. In fact, you could feel him pulsing inside of you, and you hope he doesn’t sense the shift in your body or else you’d have to explain to him why you were getting wet again.

“Don’t forget our little agreement sweet girl. I told you I’d know if you were thinking of him.” Hunter breaks the silence suddenly, and you frown at the sentiment, not because it was far from the truth, but because Hunter thought you were thinking of Tech and not him.

“I didn’t forget.” You pull away and pout at him, wanting him to see that you clearly weren’t lying to him.

“Then what’s making your heart race so suddenly?” It’s the first time Hunter asks a question that he clearly doesn’t know the answer to, but when you look away from him and draw strange patterns over his chest, he knows instantly what it was you’re thinking about.

“Interesting…” You roll your eyes at him, unable to hold back from giggling along with him when he cracks a smile and laughs at your obvious irritation.

“H-Hunter,” you break the moment and gulp nervously when he meets your eyes and gives you his undivided attention.

“Yes, mesh’la?” If there was ever a moment where Hunter was at his most peaceful, you think it may be this one.

“Kiss me? Please?” You’re reluctant in your request, unsure of whether he’d draw the line here now that you weren’t actively trying to fuck each other. But as he’s done so many times in the past few hours, he surprises you with an answer that you’d later pinpoint as the first time you truly felt something deeper than attraction for him.

“Never ask for what’s already yours, cyare.”

#LDE23 #cloneficgiftexchange #hunter x reader #hunter/reader #the bad batch #hunter tbb x reader #hunter tbb/reader #the bad batch/reader #sergeant hunter/reader #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter the bad batch #hunter tbb #the clone wars #star wars #the bad batch fanfiction #the clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #clones x reader #CFB2023

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navybrat817 · 2 years ago

Text

A Little Push

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he deserves to be with you, but gets a little push to speak up when he sees your ex. Word Count: Over 5.1k Warnings: E.S.C, unprotected (v)aginal (s)ex (wrap it before you tap it), shower (s)ex, jealousy, (f)lirting, insecurities, slight feels (it's me), idiotic Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?) and an ex. A/N: For @drabblewithfrannybarnes and the gym prompt. I hope you like it! ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass (and thank you!), and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wondered some days if he made the right choice by working for S.H.I.E.L.D.. While he didn’t consider himself to be completely standoffish as he recovered, no matter how much Sam tried to joke about that, he still had a difficult time getting along with some of the agents. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He attempted to strike up conversations with a few, but that only led to forced interactions and awkward silences.

He didn’t try much after that.

Maybe they didn’t trust him because of his past, even with the work he had done with the Avengers, even though he had no choice in his past actions. He wouldn’t hold that against them. He was even ready to accept that his circle of friends would remain small, which he didn’t mind.

But he hadn’t expected you to come along.

“You can sit with me if you’d like.”

At first, he thought you were talking to someone else until he realized your gaze was on him. He didn’t recognize you, but he remembered Steve saying that they were getting a transfer from another division. He hoped he wasn’t glaring or giving you an awkward stare, but your beautiful smile threw him for a loop. Unless he was with Steve and the others, no one asked him to sit with them.

But you did.

It took another moment for him to respond, but he took you up on your offer and joined you. He also picked up on the stares right away from the other agents, like they were jealous that he managed to get your attention. He didn’t blame them for wanting it.

Especially since the next smile you gave him made him fall in love a little more.

Maybe love at first sight does exist.

“Do you go by Bucky or James? I can call you Sarge if you want, Sergeant.”

You explained over breakfast that you transferred because you needed a change and were excited to take on some new tasks. He didn’t pick up on any bad intentions as you spoke with him. He found it easy to talk to you. You even got a couple of smiles out of him.

“Thanks for sitting with me. Do you want to have breakfast with me again tomorrow?”

Bucky accepted.

As the two of you grew closer, it became routine to grab breakfast together in the breakroom and chat quietly between reps when you worked out. He even shifted his schedule around so the two of you could exercise together. He looked forward to it.

And naturally on his path to continue making amends, he had to punish himself by thinking he wasn’t good enough for you. Because why would he be? You became an agent to help others and how many had he destroyed? Not by choice, never his choice, but he was still waging that war in his mind and heart.

“Will today finally be the day, Barnes?” Natasha asked as she finished her stretches.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky grumbled, his eyes flickering to the clock on the wall as he waited for you to enter the onsite gym.

“Yes, you do and let it be today, please. I can’t have Rogers winning the pool.”

“You’re taking bets, Romanoff?” he asked with a cold stare, as if the Black Widow would cower under his gaze. “Un-fucking-believable.”

He told Steve in confidence that he liked being around you. So, naturally, Sam and Natasha found out not long after that. Steve said more than once that Bucky wouldn’t be breaking any bylaws by dating you. Natasha added in passing that mixing business with pleasure didn’t seem to bother you as you had dated another agent sometime back before your transfer. An amicable breakup from what Sam heard.

For living in a world of spies and soldiers, no one could seem to keep their mouths shut.

“I’ll split the winnings with you,” she offered unapologetically. “You can use it to take her on a date. You do have something nice to wear that isn’t a Henley, right?”

The smartass remark he had on the tip of his tongue died when you walked through the door. Clad in your normal black tank top and leggings with your bag on your shoulder, he found himself staring the way he always did as you glided along the floor with confidence and a smile. A few heads turned to get a glimpse as you walked by.

But you directed your gaze at him.

“Hey, handsome,” you smiled, setting your bag and water down. You didn’t call anyone handsome or any other sort of nickname, except for him.

“Hi?”

Why did that come out as a question?

“Hopeless,” Natasha muttered softly enough for him to hear. “Hey.”

“Hey, Nat. How’s it going?”

His cheeks warmed as you began your stretches and chatted with the redhead, wanting nothing more than to put his hands on your hips and guide your body. He wanted to believe that you liked him enough for him to make a move. Why else would you keep getting breakfast with him?

And why else were you bending over right in front of him in a pair of leggings that looked like a second skin?

Fuck.

“Oh, I have your book in my bag,” you said, looking at him from between your legs. “Thanks for lending it to me.”

Thank fuck I’m upside down from your angle so you don’t see me staring at your ass.

Guilt crept in as he blinked. You were nothing but kind and accepting and here he was oogling over you. Why couldn’t he get it through his head that he was your friend and nothing more?

On the other hand, why couldn’t he get it through his head that he had the right to be happy?

“Don’t mention it,” he said.

“Do you mind spotting me?” you asked once you finished warming up. “Unless you plan to help Nat. I can wait.”

“Oh, no. I’m just here for entertainment,” she joked.

“Thanks,” you smiled, heading to the first machine with Bucky in tow. “Any plans this weekend?” you asked, checking the weight on the bar before you took a seat.

“No plans,” he said, taking his spot at the end of the bench so he could spot you. “Kind of a boring old man.”

“You’re not boring,” you said, winking as you laid back. “But I’ll give you old.”

“Rude,” he smiled as you giggled. “What about you?”

“Nope. No plans,” you answered, giving him a glance as you set your hands on the bar. “No plans at all.”

Are you giving me an opening?

“That’s too bad,” is what he said.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you said with quiet disappointment.

Sorry, Nat. Not winning the pool today because I’m a fucking idiot.

Bucky kept stealing glances at you as the two of you went through your normal workout routine, unable to figure out how you managed to look beautiful while lifting weights. The fact of the matter is you looked beautiful to him no matter what you did. He fluctuated between his heart stopping and losing his breath whenever he saw you. Especially when you smiled at him.

And he wouldn’t take that leap.

“You know what sounds really nice? A massage,” you said, setting the weight down to grab your water. He focused on your mouth as you brought the bottle to your lips, his fingers flexing as you swallowed once. Twice.

Are you giving me another opening?

Before Bucky could think of a suave reply, the door opened. A tall, dark haired agent he didn’t recognize walked in and did a slow sweep of the gym. From the quick assessment, he gathered that the guy was in shape. He didn’t necessarily walk through like he owned the place, but it bordered on cockiness.

I don’t even know him, so why do I want to punch his face in?

“Wait. Is that Nate?” you asked, your gaze following the man as Natasha silently walked over to join you. “What’s he doing here?”

Nate?

“You know him?” Bucky asked as the guy, Nate apparently, stopped to chat with someone by the mirrors.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, setting your water down and wiping your hands on your thighs as you avoided his gaze. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Ex-boyfriend?

“You two worked in the same division, didn’t you? Before you transferred?” Natasha asked. You nodded in reply. “It didn’t work out with you two, huh?”

“No, but it wasn’t a dramatic breakup or anything. No hard feelings,” you explained.

Bucky remembered Sam saying it was amicable, but he still felt the need to shield you away from your ex. Even if he hadn’t spotted you yet. Maybe he was ignoring you. That couldn’t be it. No one could ignore you.

Did you want him to notice you?

“That’s a shame,” Natasha said, swinging her gaze toward Bucky. “He’s cute.”

Traitor. Thought you were my friend.

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed.

Bucky grabbed the nearest barbell to get his head back into why he was in the gym in the first place, gritting his teeth so hard he was shocked they didn’t crack.

“And there’s this thing he used to do with his tongue that just…” you trailed off with a sigh.

The metal hand gripped the barbell tighter. Nate was an ex, not a current boyfriend. It didn’t work out for a reason.

“You need a moment?” the redhead asked.

“No, I just need to get laid,” you said, glancing at Bucky out of the corner of your eye.

If you need to get laid, I can help you with that. Not Nate or some other prick. They’re not worthy of touching you. Neither am I, but that’s not the fucking point. I can do things with my tongue that’ll make you see stars.

“Bucky?” you asked gently. “Are you okay?”

Far fucking from it.

“Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

You pointed to the barbell in his hands. “Because you just bent that in half.”

Glancing down at his hands, he saw that the stainless steel was indeed bent in half and ignored Natasha’s snort as he tried to fix it. “I was just testing the durability. It’s terrible. A health and safety hazard, really.”

“I didn’t realize your job involved quality assurance,” you teased as he set the piece of equipment down.

“It’s kind of a new hobby,” he said, a weird look crossing his face.

A new hobby? Really?

“Okay, Sarge,” you giggled.

Your laughter seemed to catch Nate’s attention since he immediately looked behind him. A look of realization crossed his features before he smiled. The look on his face made Bucky’s heart drop as he excused himself from the agent he was speaking to and made a beeline toward you. The man may not be your boyfriend anymore, but he still felt something for you.

Either that or the look of longing was easily faked.

“Hey!" Nate smiled as he stopped in front of you, opening his arms as he leaned in. "Good to see you."

“You, too. And you don’t want to do that,” you said, gesturing to yourself. “I’m all sweaty.”

“Never bothered me before,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. He met Bucky’s gaze over your shoulder with the smallest of smirks. “Smell just as good as I remember.”

“Don’t,” Natasha whispered to Bucky when the hug lingered for a few more seconds.

Bucky wasn’t planning on doing anything. Not right now, at least. Committing murder wasn’t on his “to do” list when he woke up today, but he was seconds away from snapping. Would you forgive him if he broke one of Nate’s bones?

“You must be Bucky,” Nate said once he released you.

He had to stop himself from shoving you behind his back. “You must be the ex,” he said, not bothering with any attempt to be friendly. “Why are you here?”

Nate either didn’t intimidate easily or he didn’t care. “You talked about me?” he teased, nudging you with his elbow.

“No, not really,” you smiled a little, raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

He tried to keep a straight face because he wasn’t jealous. He had no reason to be jealous. That certainly wasn’t the reason why his fingers began to twitch. Wasn’t the reason he wanted to knock Nate’s teeth in.

Not at all.

“To anwer your question, I accepted a transfer and was getting a look around the place. I was also here to exercise, but now I think I want to catch up,” he smiled, turning his attention back to you.

“You transferred here?” you asked in disbelief.

You don’t sound thrilled, which is a good sign, right?

“Yeah, I got promoted,” he explained, angling his body to put distance between you and Bucky. “You doing anything after this?”

“Me,” Bucky said before his brain caught up with his mouth.

Maybe you didn't hear me.

Your eyebrows shot up as you leaned around Nate to stare at Bucky. "I'm doing you?" you asked.

Fuck, you heard me.

"Yeah, Barnes. Is she doing you?" Natasha asked without a hint of humor in her tone as Nate glared over his shoulder.

"I mean," he cleared his throat as he tried to think of an excuse, which wasn't easy with three pairs of eyes on him. "She's hanging out with me. Movie night."

"It's not even nighttime," Nate said skeptically.

"It's an early movie night," he grumbled.

"Yeah, an early movie night," you agreed slowly. Bucky almost sighed in relief before you looked at Nate. "But we can catch up later, okay? Think my workout is over for now."

Bucky's mouth fell open when you went to grab your things. "But-"

"Movie night. I know. Thanks for your help," you smiled, but it seemed forced. "I'll see you later, Nat. And Nate."

"Later," Nate said, his gaze lingering as you headed toward the locker room. "She really is something, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she is," Bucky agreed, staring after you, too. He couldn't argue with that.

"It's really nice that you two are friends," Nate smiled, clapping Bucky on the shoulder as his blood boiled. "Enjoy your movie night."

Natasha stepped in front of Bucky before he could go after the prick. "Do not," she said as Nate headed toward another machine.

"I have to do something," Bucky said because he was close to losing it.

"You really want to do something?" she asked, tilting her head toward the locker room. "Go talk to her. Please."

"Fine. I will," Bucky said, stepping around Natasha as he made up his mind.

"I meant when she was done!" she called after him.

Bucky stalked toward the locker room and pushed the double doors open. He took a breath as he walked through the first row of lockers and spotted you sitting on the bench. Was he making a big mistake?

"You lost?" you asked, removing one of your shoes.

He crossed his arms and shook his head as you took off the other shoe. "You didn't do a cool down."

You met his eyes and smiled. "That's why you came in here?"

"Did you know Nate would be here?" he blurted out.

Smooth.

You blinked slowly at him before you removed your socks. "Nope. And why would it matter if I did? He still works for this organization. Besides, we broke up and moved on."

"If he moved on, why was he smiling at you like that?" he accused.

You stood up with a shrug. "Because we get along? He's a friendly guy. That's just how he is."

"I know how guys smile at girls they like," he said. He knew because he smiled at you that way. "He's still into you."

The frown you gave him made him want to kiss it away before you giggled. "He is not into me anymore."

"Are you two going to date again?" he asked, taking two steps forward. You were still out of his reach. "I know I don't have the right to ask, but I have to know."

Because you're not my girl.

“No, you don't," you confirmed, your gaze softening as you shook your head. "But no, I’m not going to date him again. He's my ex for a reason and that's that."

Bucky inhaled and exhaled slowly, able to breathe a little easier.

"Why? Would it bother you if I did? Because if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous. Bending the bar? Your not-so-subtle excuse for me not to hang out with him? Following me in here?"

The words got stuck in his throat as you waited for an answer, an expectant look on your face. Why was it so hard to say that it would bother him? It shouldn't because if that made you happy, he'd respect that.

Was it wrong that he wanted you to be happy with him and not some other guy?

You hung your head for a split second before you turned back to your locker. "Look, are you done grilling me or are you sticking around?" you asked, pulling your top over your head. "Because I have to shower."

"You think I won't follow you and finish this conversation?"

Your bra came off next. He knew that because you tossed the garment at his face and he was too stunned to catch it. It took him a moment to realize that you were facing him again, your breasts on display as you placed your hands on your hips.

A gentleman would have looked away. A good man would have left. But he was something else entirely and he couldn't stop staring at the vision of perfection in front of him.

"You're free to do whatever you want," you said casually as you spun around and shimmied out of your leggings. His eyes followed the curves as your underwear came off next and it took everything in him not to throw you across the bench and fuck you until you screamed his name. "But I told you. I have to shower."

Bucky didn't speak as you grabbed your towel and shower bag. You didn't bother covering up as you sauntered away from him, like being naked around him was a perfectly normal thing. He wanted it to be a normal thing.

Was that an invitation? Should he take it? Or was it a test?

"Fuck it," he mumbled as he kicked off his shoes and stripped, leaving his clothes next to yours as he searched for you again. If you ended up screaming or punching him, he'd accept that punishment and beg your forgiveness later. He let this go on long enough.

He froze when he saw you under the spray of the water, his cock twitching with interest as he watched the droplets slide from your chest to the vee between your legs. You had your eyes closed and he wasn't sure if he should call out to get your attention. He didn't want to frighten you and make you fall.

You gasped when you opened your eyes, but didn't make a move to cover yourself. He imagined this is what some men saw when a siren lured them out to sea. Beauty that they weren't worthy of looking upon, but too far gone to care as the tide swept them away.

"I guess you really want to finish that conversation?" you asked, your gaze dropping from his face to his chest and a bit lower.

Under your gaze, he wasn't afraid of you looking upon his scars. "I was jealous. I am jealous. I hated seeing him touch you," he admitted.

He wanted to replace Nate's touch with his own.

"There's nothing to be jealous of," you said, swallowing as he moved forward.

"Can't help it," he said, not blinking as he moved closer. "You also said I could do whatever I wanted."

"I did," you nodded.

His wide shoulders blocked some of the spray as he stepped into the shower and backed you against the wall. "What if I said I wanted to do you?"

Very fucking eloquent.

"I'd say it's about fucking time since I've been trying to get your attention and it better not be a joke," you said, placing your hands on his shoulders as your gaze went to his chest again.

You actually want me. Fuck.

He grasped your chin and lifted your head. The corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile and his heart raced as his lips ghosted over yours. "You like me? And you want me to fuck you?"

He needed to hear you say it.

"I was hinting for you to ask me out this weekend. I thought it was obvious?" you asked, a small, vulnerable crack in your voice. "I like you, okay? I'm crazy about you. I have been since you sat down and had breakfast with me that first day and I-"

"I'm a fucking idiot," he whispered before his lips met yours.

His head spun as he kissed you unashamedly, unleashing the want he kept pent up for too long and showing no mercy as he swallowed down the moan you let out. His hands slid down to grip your ass, capturing another small sound in his mouth as he slipped his thigh between your legs. Now that it was out in the open, that you wanted him, he couldn't stop himself.

Unless you told him to.

"So, you like me, too?" you breathed out as he pressed kisses along your neck, your nails digging into his shoulders as he thrust his knee against your wetness.

Gonna lose my fucking mind when I'm inside you.

"So much that I wanted to break Nate's fingers. Or his face," he told you, nipping over your pulse, but careful not to leave a mark. "Want you to forget all about that thing he does with his fucking tongue."

"You up for the challenge?" you teased before he growled.

"Up for it?" he asked as he slid a hand up to your chest, his thumb brushing over your nipple as you whimpered for him. "I'm gonna ruin you. That's a fucking promise."

"Do it. Please," you begged, bringing a hand down to brush your fingers along his thick cock. "Ruin me."

You already looked overwhelmed with pleasure, your eyes half lidded and mouth parted as Bucky moved his knee away and brought one of your legs around his hip. He wanted to fall to his knees and get a taste, but he'd claim you later with his tongue. "Not letting you go if I have you," he warned you, helping you stroke him.

"You better not," you said.

Bucky could've put his fingers under the water, but he brought them to his mouth to wet them before he slipped it between your legs. "You'll be mine," he said as he teased your hole.

"I'm already yours," you gasped as he carefully pushed a finger in and thrust slowly.

"Are you?" he asked, brushing his lips against your jaw as he slid a second finger in. "Fuck, you're tight. You may kill me."

"Yes, I'm yours. And I won't kill you, but I'll make you sorry if you don't fuck me," you huffed impatiently.

He chuckled as he removed his fingers, missing the heat of your body. He understood not wanting to wait any longer. He fucked his own hand enough nights as he thought of you to know that it wasn't enough.

"What if someone walks in?" he questioned, sucking his fingers clean with an obscene groan.

I can convince you to take a day off just to eat you out, right?

"I don't care!" you cried, your voice echoing in the stall as he moved the tip of his cock along your folds. You canted your hips as you tried to take him in and, fuck, if that didn't feed his ego. "If you don't fuck me, I swear I'll- AHH!"

He groaned as he slid home in one thrust, his eyes fluttering shut as your velvety walls gripped him like your life depended on it. He took a deep breath so he didn't lose it on the second thrust. Your perfect pussy was his new home. He never wanted to leave.

"Fuck, baby, you're so needy. I think you want everyone to see that you're mine now," he groaned as he caressed your thigh and drove in deep. Your cunt welcomed each slide as he kept your hips still with his other hand. "Gonna fuck you so hard you won't walk for a week. The way I should've from the start."

"Don't hold back," you moaned, clenching lightly around him. "I can take it."

Bucky couldn't remember ever fucking someone so possessively. "Pussy's even better than I imagined. Made for me. Made for me to wreck."

"Fuck, yes," you cried in response. "Touched myself thinking of you fucking me."

"You fucked your perfect pussy thinking of me?" he asked, imagining your fingers deep inside you. "Moaned my name?"

"Yes," you replied, biting your lip. "Fingers aren't as big as you."

Fuck. There's only so much a man can take.

"Look so beautiful taking my cock. Gonna be so good to you," he grunted, his wet hair falling in front of his eyes. If he had to guess, he probably looked unhinged. Feral. Out of control. "Not letting you go."

Instead of looking afraid, you reached up and lightly threaded your fingers through his hair as your leg shook against his hip. "I won't let you."

He kissed you, almost delirious as the rush of pleasure began to take over. You took his hard, fast thrusts, the symphony of your cries and his moans adding to the sound of wet, slapping skin. Later, he'd make love to you, kiss over every square inch of your beautiful body. He'd tell how crazy he is about you. How you made him happy again.

For now, he needed you to scream his name for the whole gym to hear.

"I'm close, Bucky," you panted into his mouth. "Please."

He doubled his efforts, thrusting so hard he lost his breath with each snap of his hips. "If you're really mine, come. Come for me."

You nearly sobbed his name as you quivered around him, a wave of wetness coating his cock as he kept up his pace and fucked you through your orgasm. "Good girl," he praised as you went limp in his hold.

It was a beautiful sight. Your dazed expression, your cunt clenching with a fresh wave of wetness as you whined. A fucking vision.

"I'm gonna…" he warned, his muscles tensing up as he got closer to the edge.

"Come in me," you begged, tightening around him again. "Please, I need it."

Fuck.

Bucky spilled hot and thick inside you with a guttural moan as he let the ecstasy within him explode, relieved that you didn't make him leave the haven of your body. He was careful not to crush you against the wall as he tried to catch his breath and process that what just happened was real. It wasn't a dream or fantasy. He had you in his arms under the warm water.

Could've had this ages ago if I spoke up.

His lips found yours, his kiss softer than the previous ones. He wasn't sure how long he held you like that, but it was everything he dreamt of and everything he denied himself. He wouldn't do that again.

"You okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No," you smiled, your breathing still a bit tagged. "And I think I can still walk."

He growled playfully as he rolled his hips, thankful that he had the strength to keep holding you up. His stamina was good for some things. "Come to movie night and I'll make sure you don't walk. You did say you needed to get laid."

"I did say that," you smiled, nipping his bottom lip. "I'll do a movie night if you take me out on a real date."

"This weekend since neither of us have plans. I'd be a bad boyfriend if I didn't take care of you, right?" he asked, kissing the corner of your mouth to avoid your surprised gaze.

Pushed my luck this far. I can go a bit further.

"It's a date," you smiled.

Bucky smiled back as he reached over to shut the water off, wishing he could blame the warmth for the blush in his cheeks. "Sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass."

"I forgive you," you said, your nose nudging his.

"I just wanted you to have better," he whispered.

You deserve the best.

You blinked away the leftover pleasure that lingered in your eyes. "What? You're already the best guy I know, handsome. No one is better than you," you said, the sincerity in your eyes making his heart twist. "I know you'll be the best boyfriend for me."

Thank you.

"Well, as the best boyfriend, I think I owe you one more orgasm before we go," he smirked, his hands roaming your body. "If you're up for it."

"I'll take whatever you give me," you said before you smirked back. "But maybe I should thank Nate since he's the one who got your head out of your ass."

"Don't you fucking dare," he said, kissing you breathless before you could say his name again.

Bucky was your boyfriend now and the only name he wanted to tumble from your beautiful lips was his own. He'd do whatever he could to make that happen. And be the man you deserve.

Natasha watched from the corner of the gym as you and Bucky emerged from the locker room minutes later. You had stars in your eyes and Bucky looked over the moon. Your legs wobbled slightly and the soldier easily slid an arm around your waist to steady you and walk you out. He even threw Nate a smirk and a wink when he got a glimpse of the two of you.

The redhead messaged the group chat for the bet once the two of you were out of sight. "Locker room. I won."

"What? I was so close!" Steve messaged back.

"Cheater!" Sam sent. "I know you got her ex transferred here. Don't deny it."

"I did not get him transferred. I just knew and didn't tell them he'd be here today. I expect my payment at dinner tonight."

The redhead put her phone away as she tried not to smile. Bucky just needed a push and she wasn't afraid to play a little dirty. But she'd keep her word and split the winnings.

The two of you deserved a nice date, after all.

Oh, Bucky. Whatever will we do with you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #beefy!bucky barnes

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scealaiscoite · 6 months ago

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procedural prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🕊️ ꒱

¹⁾ “you’re not giving me any choice- i have to take you off the case.”

²⁾ “if i have to work another scene with you as incident commander, it may just push me into early retirement.”

³⁾ “please tell me i wasn’t that bad as a rookie.”

⁴⁾ “got a second for your favourite subordinate, sarge?”

⁵⁾ “are you seriously pulling rank on me?!”

⁶⁾ "seeing you in your dress uniform is the only good thing about these ceremonies."

⁷⁾ “you know you can’t avoid the captain forever, right?”

⁸⁾ "thanks for letting me ride with you today."

⁹⁾ "did you really think that disregarding me like that in the field would have no impact on things between us elsewhere?!"

¹⁰⁾ "this will never work with us both on the same team, and you know it."

¹¹⁾ “i heard about how the lieutenant’s exam went. do you want to talk about it?”

¹²⁾ “you’d better have a damn good explanation for whatever happened out there to make you abandon years of training on the spot.”

¹³⁾ "are you asking that as my sergeant, or as the person who's in my bed every night?"

¹⁴⁾ "please stop making me lumber through nightshifts and overtime just to hang out with you."

¹⁵⁾ “no, don’t give me that! you were seriously going to transfer divisions, and not tell me a thing?! after everything we’ve gone through together!”

¹⁶⁾ “not that i’m happy to have gotten the worst assignment going for the third week in a row, but i’m happy it’s with you clowns.”

¹⁷⁾ “stop taking work home with you before it bites you in the ass, yeah?”

¹⁸⁾ “you got pretty banged up out there. i know asking you to go to the hospital is out of the question, will you at least let me take a look at you?”

¹⁹⁾ “please do not make me suffer through drinks with the rest of the squad on my own.”

²⁰⁾ “you’re not the terrible leader that you make yourself out to be. not most of the time, anyway.”

#terrible procedural lovers rise upppppp #prompts #procedural prompts #procedural writing prompts #prompt list #writing prompts #writing exercise #dialogue prompts #rp meme #otp prompts

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nahoney22 · 7 months ago

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Alanah, my sweet, darling friend, congratulations to you on your many, many followers!! 💜💜 You deserve all of them and I'm more than delighted to be one of them!

My request is for Hunter (surprised? 😜) with the following 2 prompts, pretty please!

🫧15: “Smiling is the second best thing you can do with your lips.” (Fluff list)

🫧4: “The truth is I don’t hate you. I…I tolerate you.” / “I thought you were going to say love.” / and if I did?” (Enemies to lovers list)

Little angst wouldn't hurt, leading to something fluffy and nice...I trust you 🥰

I cannot wait!! 😆💜 Love you so much, bestie!!

Fall With Me 🌊

🫧 Pairing: Hunter X Female Reader

word count: 1.4k

prompts:

“The truth is I don’t hate you. I… I tolerate you.” / “I thought you were going to say love.” / “And if I did?”

“Smiling is the second best thing you can do with your lips.”

Summary: When paired up with Hunter for a mission, it takes a near death experience for you to say how you really felt about the Sarge… but you weren’t prepared for how you really felt either.

Warnings: Safe for Work, Little Angst, Fluff, Reader Is Scared of Heights, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Female Reader. Not Proofread.

Authors note: I love you too bestie! And no, not a surprise at all 😉 Hope this is okay! Enjoy! Love you so much, thanks for always supporting me. 🩶

“And that leaves yourself and Hunter to pair up.”

After Tech outlined the upcoming mission, the realisation of being paired with Sarge left you feeling a tad uneasy. It wasn't due to any discomfort around him or found him horrible; in fact, quite the opposite. However, the thought of potentially failing in his presence was unsettling.

There had been occasions where you'd caught him casting a displeased glance, not directly at you, but in response to mishaps involving you. So, there was a heightened sense of pressure to perform well. But, you took it with a pinch of salt and hoped to prove yourself to him today.

As Hunter nonchalantly announced, 'Alright, let's head out,' you silently appreciated his professionalism in not opting to change partners. With a quick exchange of well-wishes, the team gathered their gear and set off, Hunter leading the way while you followed closely behind.

Navigating the outskirts of a dilapidated settlement teeming with mercenaries and rogues, Hunter paused to comm the others, prompting you to remain vigilant and on lookout. When happy that everyone was in position, he refocused his attention on you as he inquired, “Ready to get up there?”

Your eyes widened beneath your helmet as you nervously asked, “Up where?”

Stepping aside, Hunter revealed a rusty and precarious ladder partially concealed by vines. A surge of apprehension washed over you; it seemed that Wrecker weren't the only one with a fear of heights.

“Oh.” you involuntarily squeaked, hastily composing yourself. However, Hunter picked up on your hesitation.

“Don’t tell me you're afraid of heights too,” he remarked with a sigh, adding to your mounting anxiety about the partnership. Despite your concerns, you hoped he wouldn't view you as a liability. Before you could formulate a response, Hunter secured his backpack and tethered it to both of you, assuring, “There we go. If you fall, I'll catch you.”

Though his expression was concealed by his helmet, the gesture provided some reassurance and even added a little flutter in your stomach. You may be scared of failing him but that didn’t make him all the less attractive. As you glanced at the connecting cords and then at the daunting ladder, a knot formed in your stomach. “Do I go first?” you tentatively asked.

“Yes. Now, let's get going.” he instructed, giving you a gentle nudge forward.

As you began the ascent, your heart raced with each rung of the ladder you grasped, your gaze fixed firmly ahead, avoiding the sight of the perilous drop below.

"Keep going, don't look down," you whispered to yourself, your fingers gripping the ladder tightly, praying that each rusted bar would hold.

Halfway up, the realisation of the height hit you with full force. Two hundred meters above ground, you reaffirmed your determination but then, as your hand clasped onto the next bar, it gave way, knocking you off your balance.

With lightning speed, Hunter surged upward, positioning himself behind you and using his body to steady yours, preventing you from falling back. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Speech eluded you, your chest heaving as the gravity of the situation sank in. Tears threatened behind your visor as you grappled with the near miss. "Just... give me a moment," you managed to utter, completely overwhelmed.

The sudden realisation of Hunter's close proximity jolted you back to the present. "Let's... let's keep going," you rasped, nodding slightly. Hunter obliged, stepping down but keeping a reassuring hand firmly planted on the small of your back, providing much-needed support until you regain your composure.

When you both finally reached the summit, you had to restrain yourself from collapsing to your knees and kissing the ground beneath you. Your limbs throbbed with exhaustion, and your mind reeled from the harrowing ordeal of nearly meeting your demise.

By then, a feeling of embarrassment washed over you. You watched silently as Hunter detached the cord connecting you both and proceeded to relay updates to the team. However, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, you found yourself leaning against a nearby wall, sinking to your knees as you removed your helmet, frustration evident in the way your fingers raked through your hair.

As Hunter's voice filtered through the comm, he briefly looked at you and concern crossed his face. “Hold tight until we are able to move forward.” He relays to the others before he abruptly cuts off the transmission, takes off his helmet and approaches you.

"Hey," he said softly, drawing your attention, "are you alright?"

Though you wanted to respond with an affirmative, your throat constricted with unspoken emotions, preventing anything but a shaky denial. Biting your lip to stifle any whimpers, you just shocked your head but found solace in his company.

"Why are you upset?" he inquired, his confusion mirroring yours as you struggled to articulate your feelings.

Sniffling, you released a heavy sigh, avoiding his gaze as you confessed, "I just feel like I always mess up around you, and that I annoy you… and I just nearly died!”

Your words tumbled forth in a torrent of insecurity, your ramblings a desperate attempt to verbalise how you felt. However, Hunter remained patient, allowing you to unload your burdens until you uttered the words that hung heavily in the air.

"What did you just say?" he interjected, genuine confusion etched in his features. "You think I hate you?"

Meeting his gaze, you hesitated, uncertain of how he would react. "I just thought..."

"You thought wrong," he interrupted gently, a small chuckle escaping him. "I don't hate you. I..."

His words trailed off, leaving an unspoken sentiment lingering between you. He seemed in deep thought as he pondered whether or not it was appropriate to express how he really felt.

Perhaps not, and so he held back, his silence speaking volumes as he searched for the right words. But you stared at him, wondering what he was really thinking.

Catching your expectant gaze, he offered a wry smile. "I tolerate you," he quipped, the humour in his tone breaking the tension and eliciting a relieved laugh from you, tears wiped away.

"For a second, I thought you were going to say 'love,'" you blurted out without thinking, only for Hunter to match your unfiltered honesty.

"And if I did?" Hunter's response caught you off guard, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn't retract his words.

Tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear, you tilted your head at him. "And do you?"

He visibly gulped. "I don't think it's a surprise that I'm not great with talking about how I feel," he admitted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Stunned, it took a moment for his words to sink in. "I don't know what to say," you whispered, completely bashful as your cheeks burned.

"You don't have to if you don't want to… I just thought you should know that my strict ways come from a place of me caring about you. A lot. I'm just not good at expressing things," he explained, his quiet vulnerability bringing a smile to your lips, a sight he secretly always adored. "I'm happy to see you smiling again. It suits you."

"Oh yeah?" you teased, mischief gleaming in your eyes as the newfound revelation sank in. "Your smile isn't too bad yourself, Sarge."

He chuckled, placing a hand over yours. The two of you gazed at each other for a moment, the mission completely on hold as you reveled in this new adventure. However, there was no hiding the signs of him looking at your lips and then back to you. "You know," he started, taking a nervous breath, "smiling is the second-best thing you can do with your lips."

Reading the signs and anticipation hanging in the air, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. Time seemed to stand still as the galaxy around you faded away.

He sighs against you, the kiss deepening with a loving desire. Your hands found their way to his face, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you closer. Hunter responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you, holding you in tight as the kiss ignited a fire within both of you.

Lost in the moment, you explored each other's lips with a soft hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface. The kiss was electric, sending waves of happiness through your body, making your heart race and your skin tingle in excitement.

Finally breaking apart, you gazed into each other's eyes. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," Hunter confessed, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you. "Me too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, Hunter pulled you close once again, his lips finding yours in another searing kiss, revealing all the unspoken words. The mission could wait for a minute or two.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia a @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @thiswitchloves9904

#the bad batch Hunter #the bad batch #Hunter the bad batch #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #Hunter x reader #the bad batch Hunter x reader #bad batch hunter x reader #tbb

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dindjarindiaries · 6 months ago

Text

character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)

prompts: "Everything's gonna be okay." "Promise?" "Promise."

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You paced the area outside the cockpit for a few minutes, debating whether or not you should actually walk inside. The rest of the ship was quiet, with everyone asleep aside from you and Hunter. He was on watch in the pilot's seat, facing hyperspace and twirling his knife around to keep himself awake. For some reason, though, you couldn't make yourself walk in and disturb his peace.

Thankfully, he made the choice for you. "You can come in, you know."

You stopped and sighed, your resolve withering as you finally stepped through the threshold. Your arms crossed over your chest as you stood just behind the co-pilot's seat. Hunter had already sheathed his knife, and his observant gaze was fixed on you. The more he studied you, the more his brow began to knit together in worry.

"You should be asleep." Hunter's words weren't a scolding; rather, they were coated in pure and genuine concern, an invitation for you to tell him what was on your mind.

You huffed and shrugged. "I tried."

You turned the chair so that you could sit in it, and you kept it swiveled to the side facing him. He did the same, leaning an elbow upon one of his knees. He was without most of his armor, which no doubt made his current position much more comfortable for him.

"I..." You paused, then chuckled as the words began to form in your mind. They sounded ridiculous when you started to give life to them. "I shouldn't have bothered you. I'm sorry."

You began to stand, but Hunter was quicker. He stood and held your shoulders to keep you in place, his eyes searching yours and providing a comfort that left you breathless. "You're not bothering me." His thumbs ran over your shoulders. "You came here for a reason. That's why it took you so long to come in."

The slight amusement he added to his tone made you huff. The sound brought a small smile to Hunter's lips.

"I'd like to hear what you have to say."

You nodded at that, returning his smile as he relaxed back into his chair. Hunter still stayed close, and he even offered his hands to you. You accepted his offer and held on tight, keeping your gaze fixated on them as you finally spoke your truth. "I'm afraid, Hunter. We don't know what we're doing, we don't know what's coming next, and... it's scaring me."

Hunter gave your hands a gentle squeeze, and as you dared to look up at him, you noticed the way his own shoulders had grown a little heavier. He released an exhale and let his own gaze fall. "I understand." He watched his thumbs run over the backs of your hands. "It's not easy navigating this galaxy when so much has changed in such little time."

You took a deep breath, wishing that all your worries could go with it as you closed your eyes. "I don't want to lose anyone, Hunter. We've already lost Crosshair in a way, and that's something I know none of us have fully healed from." You reopened your eyes to meet Hunter's gaze, and a glimmer of pain in his eyes proved your words to be true. "What if something worse happens to one of us?"

Hunter's brow lifted in sympathy, but before he could say anything, the sound of more footsteps drew your attention to the threshold. Wrecker was standing there with a yawn, rolling his neck before he looked at Hunter first. "All right, Sarge, it's nap time. I'm..." he paused as he noticed you were there, and his gaze settled on your entwined hands, "ready for my shift."

Hunter nodded, rising from his seat and helping you to do the same. You thanked him quietly before he responded to Wrecker. "Thanks, Wrecker."

He walked forward and you followed. Hunter's hand patted Wrecker's shoulder as he passed him, and you gave Wrecker a quick side-hug. He returned it with a comforting smile.

Hunter was waiting for you as you joined him outside the threshold of the cockpit. He gestured with his head towards his bunk, his voice now a whisper to avoid waking the others. "You can come with me."

You nodded and attempted to ignore the warmth you gained at the idea of sharing Hunter's space with him. He led the way to his bunk and helped you up first before following. There was a blanket that he drew up over the two of you, another layer of warmth that threatened to devour you and every dark worry that was still taking a hold of you.

It was only after Hunter had rested his head on his pillow to face you that he began to respond to your earlier worries. "You've been with us through much of the war. You've seen what we've been up against."

You nodded at that. The first time you had ever seen them in combat, it had blown your mind. It was a big reason why you tagged along with the squad in the first place.

"This Empire and this galaxy are unpredictable, but that never stopped any of us before." Hunter found one of your hands again and held it tight in his own, though his gaze never strayed from yours. "We're gonna be okay." He nodded. "Everything's gonna be okay."

The worried weight on your chest already began to dissipate, but you needed one last reassurance to make it disappear. "Promise?"

Hunter lifted his hand to your cheek instead and nodded once more. "Promise." He brought himself close enough to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your entire body began to relax in a way you'd never felt before as he pulled away to face you again. "Now, try to get some rest." His hand returned to yours. "I'll be right here."

You brought yourself even closer to him, but before you buried your head in his chest, you held the tattooed side of his face and kissed him. It was a quick yet sweet gesture, spelling out the thank-you you wished to tell him in a way that somehow said it even more strongly. He was beaming as you pulled away, though your head went to his chest to keep yourself as close to him as possible.

There was no clear resolution in sight, like Hunter had said, but you believed him wholeheartedly. Everything would be okay, and at the end of it all, he would always be there to make sure of it.

#some much needed comfort for this series finale era :) love you all #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #hunter tbb x reader #hunter tbb x you #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fic #prompts #dindjarindiaries

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year ago

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Ok so i just watched this youtube video about the rocca house incident (dont know if youre familiar..) but basically 2 fans attacked priscilla outside the house, she calls for help and Elvis goes absolutely insane. Apparently he came running out, enraged and even punched a hole in a windschield, 3 guys had to hold him back..

So the point here is, why am i absolutely needing this in maybe a short blurb form for sarge and elaine.. idek what timeperiod honestly, but fierce protective E just .. does something to me, and i have such a need to see what you would make of this.. ❤️

Gentle reminder, I am abandoning this blog, I can now be found at 💋@precious-lil-scoundrel

Oh lord I …I spend too much time contemplating that incident as is. I’m so glad you brought it up, Nothin’ more attractive than a man defending his lady -and from nasty, jealous gals? Hits different.

I mentioned in the Goldfish do It fic, that Elaine had been jumped earlier that year at the gate. And I totally intended that as a reference to this incident. I love peppering in throwaway lines to see if they intrigue y’all and then getting it requested! ☺️

#sarge prompt #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction

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therealslimshakespeare · 1 year ago

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Do you think you could do more head-cannons or something of Elaine and Elvis when they first got married? Love your writing!

Ooh sure think I could. Like fresh, quite freshly married, I assume. I’m currently filling a request for good ole lovin’ when she’s pregnant with Jesse and Ella so that may interest you as well, since that’s practically newlywed era.

#sarge asks #sarge prompt #sarge prompts #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis

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creatureofthe-creek · 1 month ago

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02. Fog//Mist

☁️💨🌫️||.•±*＊×•.⇔.•×＊*±•.||🌫️💨☁️

@lifenconcepts

#.•⇔🌘sarge’s|sideblog🌒⇔•.#.•⇔🌗sarge’s|kintypes//theriotypes🌓⇔•.#.•⇔🌓prompts🌗⇔•.#nonhuman #fictionkin #otherkin #therianthropy #cladotherian #therian #deer theriotype #deer therian

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marinas-drafts · 1 year ago

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Just a little prompt idea:: In the midst of all the turbulence and turmoil running amuck in Graceland, Elaine takes solace in the master bedroom with a newly married Ella for some very blunt conversation on married life and "wifely duties". What's the date? Who's late? Two new babies in the family may just be better than one, despite Elaine's shocked initial reaction. The master bathroom is the perfect place to tell your husband you're knocked up again, right?

(Shiloh maybeee? Or whatever you think honey! Run with it hehe)

Dear, I just lost my everloving mind over this.

Because I absolutely intended and have in mind a scene such as this it’s just hard to prioritize (and find time to write it all) that some of my personal favorites, I assume, might not be y’all’s -and then i get a prompt like this? I adore it. Absolutely you can and will have this. 💋

#sarge prompts #sarge asks #Ella asks #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction

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radiojamming · 2 months ago

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Prompting you for anything with Tartnell

hi i'm DJ and i and i want to write all the missing scenes i wanted to see in the terror.

---

In a memory with no date, they are children. It is a honey-gold day with sunlight playing on the river, a wood-warm scent in the air from the fences around the orchards. John carries Tom on his back down the road from the Burnt Elm farm, the corner of John's mouth still stained purple from the blackberries they picked out of the hedgerow. Tom's fingers are dyed the same shade, and their mother will surely have a few words to say about the stains on their clothes.

But for now, Tom is full, warm, and happy. There is sweetness in his mouth and the sun on his back, his brother to his front, the sound of magpies chattering in the trees around him.

John hums a tune. He's not a particularly good singer, but Tom likes to listen to him anyway. It's a shanty—one that they've heard at the Dockyard when they run down to see their father and walk home with him. Tom thinks it's about ladies; most of those songs are. He tries to hum along, but the sway of John's gait makes him too sleepy to try.

Instead, he yawns and asks, "Can we do this again tomorrow?"

"Sure," John replies, hefting Tom up a little further up his back. "We ought to bring a basket, though. To take some home."

Tom nods and turns his head so his cheek is pressed against his brother's back. He watches the Danbury farm slowly give way to the Simon orchard, and he counts the rows of trees until he gets to the one that was hit by lightning last summer. Eventually, he closes his eyes.

There's not much meaning to this memory. No lessons learned, no part of Tom's life altered. What's important is that John is there—a child, thin, tall for his age, keeping Tom close and safe. Walking so Tom doesn't have to.

No. This memory means everything.

---

They fight only once. Truly fighting; not just the general struggle of being brothers with only two years' difference between them.

Tom doesn't recall his exact words. All he knows is that he's angry. Angry that John keeps himself cloistered in the same job that's slowly killing him, that he exhausts himself day after day to make ends meet without a care for himself, that Tom's certain he'll come home on leave only to find John's headstone beside their father's in the churchyard.

(He's scared; not angry. But it's so much easier to mask it as anger than to ever admit he's frightened.)

But Tom's words are coarse, scoured over with years on the Volage and deckled on the edges with every gunshot or dying wail of a comrade in his ears. He curses in a way their mother would scold him for, but he can't take the words back even as he sees John go milk-pale at the sound.

He remembers only one sentence. The only one that matters.

"You're so selfish," he snarls.

(It's not true. It's never been true. John doesn't know how to be selfish. His life has always been attached to someone else, for someone else's benefit. His mother's, his brothers', his sisters', Mister Sarge's, Jane's. Selfish people don't lose sleep like John has, don't wince when they move their hands the way he does.

But all the other words Tom wants to say don't come out. They change shape, consonants, vowels. They turn into something awful.)

He sees the whites of John's eyes, and as soon as his brother takes one step forward, straightens himself out of his perpetual slouch, Tom remembers how much taller John is.

"Shut your mouth, Thomas," John says. His voice has always been low, a little scratchy like he's in need of clearing his throat.

And never—never has he used Tom's full name.

John takes another step forward.

(Where they are, Tom can't remember. There's a wall of a building. Home? Church? The Inn?)

And another.

(He remembers John's shirt, stained at the wrists. Shoemaker's black.)

And then John's hands are on Tom's shoulders, and he shoves. Tom reels back, catches himself before he can hit the ground. He knows he should step back and apologise. He knows there's so much more he could do or say that could fix this. But he's a sailor, and there's this awful crashing noise in his head that he simply can't quiet. He balls his fists and before he can think clearly, he swings.

At his fucking brother.

(He remembers crying into John's shirt at their father's grave.)

He has to aim up because John's so much taller.

(Remembers John standing under the lychgate into St. Mary Magdalene's, fist pressed to his mouth, biting his knuckles so he wouldn't cry.)

His fist connects with John's upper lip and nose, causing his brother's head to snap back. Something crunches under Tom's knuckles, and his stomach twists in a fierce knot at the feeling. He sees blood—orchard fruit bright red—on his hand when he draws it back.

(Remembers John in bed, gasping with breath that simply wouldn't come. A bloodstained handkerchief clenched in his fist. Their mother weeping as she watched their father dying of the same affliction.)

John doesn't make a sound. No yelp of agony, or gasp, or curse. Just silence. Agonising silence that makes a minute into an hour. Tom only sees him stagger a little, blood pouring freely out of his nose and onto his mouth, his shirt collar.

(Their mother scrubbing blood out of his shirt.)

It drips onto the ground. Slow. Raindrop-heavy.

(The bed linens on the line. A blossom of blood visible, drying in the breeze.)

He says nothing. Instead, he raises his head and sniffs once. Hazel eyes in skull-deep sockets. Exhaustion bows his back again as he nods.

"Alright, Thomas," he says. Another sniff. "Alright."

And he walks away.

(Where does he go? Where does this happen? Tom wishes he knew, wishes he would have run after him and begged his forgiveness. They never fight again after this, but Tom can't shake the memory of his brother's blood on his hands.)

---

They join up together. It's easier this way—two incomes flowing into their house, right when Charlie's on the cusp of joining up as well.

"I can help," says Strickland. He bounces on the balls of his feet as John signs his name in the allotment book. "Mum says she doesn't need the full amount or nothin', but I think Aunt Sarah would like it."

"No," says John, mostly to the book and to Mister Helpman who's watching the whole family scene with amusement. "Good Lord, Stricks. Why would we make you do that?"

"You're not makin' me do nothin', Harts," Strickland retorts. "I'm contemplatin' doin' a kindness, you joyless thing."

Tom doesn't have to see his brother's face to know he's rolling his eyes.

"Well, tell your mum so," John replies, then steps back and gestures to Tom just as Mister Helpman turns to a fresh page. "You're next, Tommy."

Tom walks up to the book and tells Mister Helpman all the details he needs to know. Where his pay goes, to whom, what's the relation, where does he hail from. He watches Helpman's quick hand neatly record every word.

"Sign here, sir," Helpman says.

Behind Tom, Strickland grunts in a way that suggests John has him in another headlock—his favourite method of subduing anyone. "Lemme go, you big oaf!"

"Come now, Mister Strickland," John says primly. "Is this any way for a member of Her Majesty's Navy to behave?"

"I'll show you Her Majesty!"

"That doesn't make sense. Actually, that sounds right obscene." John pauses, just as Tom finishes signing his name. "I'm just sorry, Mister Helpman. He's usually a good boy."

Helpman stifles a laugh and shakes his head. "Well, you lot will surely keep the ship entertained. Now, please release Mister Strickland so he can give me his details."

"You heard the gentleman, Stricks," John says, releasing Strickland who darts forward, sand-brown hair a mess. "Do we need to remind you how to spell your name again?"

Strickland gives him a very unkind gesture behind his back where Helpman can't see.

Tom returns to John's side and grins at his brother. People often comment how they look nothing alike, save for their smile. John gives him a perfect reflection of it now—playful, tilted up at the left corner, eyes squinting in happiness.

"You gonna behave yourself on this trip?" he asks John.

"Of course," John replies. "I have to be the responsible older brother, don't I?"

They laugh.

As if John's been anything else.

---

John starts to get sick in November.

It comes on slow. Coughs stifled in his fist or elbow. A wheeze he can pass off as simply poor lungs struggling in tight quarters with far too much pipe smoke in the air. Begging off early for bed even when they're deep in a game or a book.

Then he falls off a ladder, and Tom knows something's wrong.

John's never been particularly graceful. Uncle Hoar used to compare him to a colt that wasn't quite sure of its own legs. But in the rigging, he's a different creature entirely. It's as though he's waited his whole life to get off the ground, to see the world from some place higher than the world he'd been relegated to. His grip is always sure and steady, his footing secure. Only a few years in the Navy and he's done well by himself.

But it's the ladder—the damn ladder that does it. Just the one to maintain the lamps on deck. Only a few rungs. A few steps. It's not so very far to fall.

(It is. It's only ice and hard wood under his back when he lands. He's in so much pain by the time Tom, Sullivan, Tadman, and two Marines on duty get to him that he can't speak.)

He recovers for a few days in the sick bay until he can stand without wobbling on a weak ankle again. Doctor Stanley gives him some concoction and a few terse instructions. Mister Goodsir diligently follows up a few minutes later to advise on the dosage and how much rest John should get.

John improves.

And then he doesn't.

December comes in with a howling gale that sings in the lines holding the tent to the deck. And it comes with an awful sound rattling up from John's lungs.

It comes with blood on a handkerchief.

(Scrubbing it out of a shirt.)

---

"They say one of the stokers on Terror's got it, too," Tadman tells Tom in confidence. "He's barely conscious."

Tom stares down hard at the floor.

"You don't think he's been sick all this time?" Tadman asks.

Tom's quick to say, "He hasn't. He'd have been sent back by now."

Outside, on the stony shore of Beechey, two men sent by the captains of both ships make note of a particularly flat spot of land. Good for graves, they say.

"He'll make it through," Tom says.

---

In the doorway, Tom watches as Mister Weekes makes measurements of John. His height, the width of his shoulders, the width of his knees side-by-side. As he does, John sleeps fitfully, a pinch between his brows and sweat beading his top lip.

Weekes doesn't know Tom's there. He finishes his work, penning some numbers down in a little pocketbook. Then, he turns and sees Tom at last. His eyes go wide.

"Ah," he says. "Mister Hartnell."

Tom doesn't reply. Anything polite is caught in his throat. He only nods.

Weekes seems sheepish, apologetic. He fights for his words, but in the end only says, "A good evening to you," before walking by Tom.

Tom silently walks to John's side, looking his brother over now with new eyes. His height (for the coffin's length), his shoulders (for its width), his knees (tied together). But his eyes move restlessly under their lids, his cheeks are flushed, his fingers twitching as he dreams.

Then, he jerks away. He gasps, sputters, coughs. His glassy eyes cast about the sickbay until they catch on Tom's image, and immediately he settles.

"Tom," he croaks. Even sick as he is, he manages to smile. "S'dreamin' of 'alifax."

Tom forces a smile and pulls up his usual chair. He hasn't slept in two days, afraid of sleeping through what now seems inevitable. "Were you now?" he replies.

"Mm."

"Which part?"

John closes his eyes and grins. "You much for guessin'?"

"If it's what I think, then I'd rather not."

"Hah." He coughs out a laugh, and Tom tries his damnedest to ignore the rim of red on his bottom lip. "No. I was dreamin' about 'olystoning a bloody deck."

"You were dreaming about work?" Tom asks incredulously.

"Right?" John cracks an eye open. "I'm dyin' in a sickbay and that's what I dream about. S'awful."

Tom goes quiet then. John's never said anything about dying before. Up until now, it's been quiet reassurances that he'll make it through this again. As a veteran consumptive, he knows all the right strategies. He's made jokes about it.

John looks at him, his expression hard to read. If anything, he seems to try to read Tom's, searching his face for something. He clears his throat and looks away. "They plannin' anything for Christmas out there?" he asks.

It takes too long for Tom to comfortably respond. Eventually, "Yeah. Full-on feast or the like." He cringes, but manages to wrangle it into a weak smile. "Don't suppose there's a Goldner's Christmas Meal in one of those cans, d'you think?"

John laughs again, and it crackles in his throat. "I'd love to see it if there was."

"You will," Tom says. Maybe a bit too fiercely, too defensively. It takes him by surprise as much as it seems to take his brother. But he reiterates it, "You will."

"Sure, Tommy," John says. He nods, and a single drop of blood drips out of the corner of his mouth. He doesn't seem to notice. "I will."

---

By Christmas Eve, Mister Goodsir kindly tells Tom and Strickland that John's not doing well. It's soft sympathy, meant to cushion a blow that Tom's felt continually since November.

"He's not taken much by way of meals," Goodsir says. He fidgets with the cuffs of his shirt, apparently eager to do something with his hands. "I've managed with a little broth and some medicine, but he's gotten... Well, he doesn't seem particularly pleased with it."

He's gotten combative, Tom thinks. He's seen John's reactions lately, the way he strikes out at nothing, snarling at the ceiling like something there personally offends him. Tom can only imagine John trying to hit Goodsir as the man feeds him, like a temperamental, colicky child.

Strickland's hat is in his hands, and he's squeezing it so hard that Tom worries he'll crush it.

Goodsir goes on, saying they'll keep him comfortable, try to keep him fed, medicate him as needed.

Never once does he say John will get better.

---

They bury the stoker on New Year's. Tom doesn't see it—no one sees much of anything from the ships, as dark as it is. But he hears about it from Billy Orren.

That's how he learns about the open grave right next to the stoker's.

---

Tom sews a pillowcase. His hands are quick at this sort of work, learned from years of watching his mother and sisters, his aunts and cousins. He's always had a knack for sewing and mending, which is why some of the men on Erebus come to him for repairs. John was always—

John is good at it, too. Shoemaking and all.

He uses his fingertips to crimp the frills around the edges of the pillow, sewing them firmly into place. He's already got some cast-off rags and such to stuff it with, provided by some of the other Chatham boys who felt they needed to contribute somehow.

They've all been to see John—anyone who knew him in any capacity. Any man who didn't know him directly but who hailed from Kent and felt they needed to see their man off properly. Mister Armitage came the night before, offering his quiet condolences to a fellow St. Mary Magdalene congregant.

They paid their respects.

Tom swallows hard, blinks harder, and keeps sewing.

Then he pricks his finger with the needle, hissing at the contact. It stings, and he immediately sticks the tip of it in his mouth until he tastes copper. It seems to spread in his mouth, at the same time he notices the pin-sized droplet of blood on the pillow.

He stares at it for a long while as the bow of Erebus creaks and groans around him, as the sound of men enjoying the New Year carries down to his ears, as blood spreads across his tongue.

---

He doesn't want to remember this.

The high pitch in his ears, drowning out the ship, the Arctic, the world. His heart rampaging in his chest, throttling itself against his ribs like a prisoner. Tears ember-hot in his eyes.

No.

No, he doesn't want to remember this.

(He remembers it in sections now.)

The grief—

(John, still. Cold. Bloodless.)

Good God, the grief—

(Hands cold in Tom's. Unmoving. Callouses on his index fingers and thumbs from all those years of work.)

The way he cries out to nothing, to no one—

(Lips still, but slightly open. The barest shine of his teeth. Like he got caught on his last breath and forgot to shut his mouth after.)

The way his knees hit the floor—

(The blankets are damp with the sweat of a dead man.)

The way his whole body shudders, wracked with an animal noise—

(He can't look at his brother's face.)

And his forehead in his hands, like he's trying to hold himself together—

(Or the blood on his clothes.)

---

Tom shaves John's face. Orren trims his hair. Strickland cuts his fingernails. They wash him down, quietly trying to find something to joke about.

"God, remember when we were in Plymouth together?" Strickland says. His voice wobbles as though he's caught on a laugh and a sob. "That whole time he was trying to get Betsy off the breakwall. Like watchin' someone try to get a cat out of a tree."

Orren snorts and trims a piece of hair from behind John's left ear. "I heard about that," he replies. "The same time he fell in the water, yeah?"

"Absolutely," Strickland says.

"I'd have paid good money to see it," Orren goes on, brushing the hair off John's gansey. "This poor scrump absolutely soaked like a drowned rat."

It's easy to disguise a sniff as a laugh. "He's hardly a scrump, mate," Tom says.

"Eh, it kept him humble to say so."

They keep working in silence. Tom carefully shaves away the last of John's dark red stubble, the only part of him other than a smile that he shared with his brothers. He's clean-shaven save for some whiskers on his chin that he would no doubt be damned to see off.

Quietly, Strickland says, "I think he looks right proper, eh?"

Orren agrees. "Hardly a sailor no more. Looks more a'like one of those ponces in the high parish."

Tom silently agrees. Something about seeing John like this—shaven, trimmed up, relaxed—it almost doesn't look like him. For a moment, Tom thinks of what his brother would have been like if he'd been born anywhere else, to anyone else. If he'd just had more of a chance to be a child, to have a job he didn't hate and only find one he loved when it was far too late.

He hears Strickland sniffle beside him, and he wonders what he must be thinking. Of all their cousins, Strickland looked up to John the most. Proud to share a name with him, to sign his name alongside his, eager to follow him anywhere.

And now this.

Tom clears his throat. "He's to be buried in the morning," he says. "Sir John wants to say a few things then an' have a proper service."

"Feels wrong to just leave him tonight, though," Strickland replies quietly. "Should one of us stay?"

"No," says Tom. "I need— We need the rest, I think."

"Right," says Strickland at the same time Orren says, "Of course."

---

Fucking Christ, he doesn't want to remember this.

He sees his brother's chest open, blood bright on Goodsir's hands. He sees—

A heart.

His brother's heart.

Gore has to hold him back—

(Graham Gore, handsome and proud and practically glowing on the deck of the Volage. "You're a good man, Mister Hartnell," he'd once said.)

Restraining him by the chest, pinning his arms behind his back. Someone's hands are on Tom's shoulder, and someone else is yelling in his ear.

He feels delirious with it. The sight of Goodsir holding his brother's innards in his hands like he's simply been playing about in his chest. Oh, look what I've found, he imagines Goodsir saying. A liver. Ought we check if he drank overmuch?

Rage now.

(Not fear.)

Pure, bloody fucking rage.

(What could he be afraid of?)

He gnashes his teeth and wails. He snarls. He begs. He tries everything he can just short of clawing his way past all the men holding him back to shove the doctors and surgeons away and let his brother fucking be.

("They say men don't go to heaven if parts of them are amiss.")

Then he's on the floor, half-compressed under Gore's weight as he bodily holds him in place. "Hartnell, I know. I know," Gore says into his ear.

(Which Hartnell? he wants to snarl.)

"It has to be done. You know it does."

The person behind him hauls him back by the shoulders, and only then does Tom see that it's Armitage, his own eyes wide and face sickly-pale. He doesn't say a word to Tom, but Tom knows he's just as appalled. Only he's trying to keep Tom from getting a lashing or worse for acting out like this.

Tom moans in agony, the weight of this crushing him. He's steered away, the last sight of his brother open on the table like he's nothing more than a specimen to be studied.

Blood on the fucking linens.

---

Tom feels nothing on the day they bury John.

He's spent too much of himself. He feels like a candle guttering on its last supply of wax. Just smoke and air, now.

All he thinks to do is help cover John up a little more. His shirt, monogrammed, dated, wrapped around John like it'll keep him warm in the grave. That maybe something will change if he carries Tom's name on him to wherever it is he goes.

("They say men don't go to heaven—")

He doesn't hear Sir John's service, or the words of sympathy the officers give to Tom. He hears them say how John was a good man, and Tom wonders how they could possibly know that. How could men who scarcely leave their comfortable bedrooms and wardroom, who grew up in gilded halls with servants and cooks who made them wholesome meals that no one had to share—how could they know?

That's uncharitable. They're being kind.

But they don't know how this feels. The sensation of a heavy stone in his hand that he has to throw onto the navy-blue coffin lid, listening to the sharp tock as it makes contact, resounding in the half-filled hollow below.

He hopes to God they never have to bury one of their own.

---

Much happens after. Too much, too quickly. The world ends. A gun goes off.

Nothing happens at all. Not in this part of the world.

---

"Go be with your brother now."

---

John is carrying him back up the knoll. The air is summer-sweet, birds singing in the morning air. It rained last night, and John leaps over puddles while Tom shrieks in laughter.

They get to the hedgerow, still dripping with rain. John carefully lets Tom down and hands him the basket. "Remember to mind your fingers, Tommy," he tells him.

Tom eats more berries than he stores away. They stain his mouth and fingers again, and when he looks at his big brother, he giggles at the sight of berry stains on his face as well. They laugh together, their smiles identical.

When the basket is half-full, John pats Tom on the shoulder and motions for him to hop up on his back again. "Let's go home," he says.

#amc the terror #terror blogging #hartnell brothers #thomas hartnell #sorry this got SO LONG #big character study but also a study on love and brotherhood and grief and aughghhghh

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