#truly is a nightmare to be a woman right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stardust-kenobi · 14 days

Text

moonlight & heartbeats

Hunter x Fem!Reader

Summary: A year after being rescued by Hunter from near-death on Tantiss, your peaceful life on Pabu is plagued with rampant nightmares. Hunter, now your close friend, senses your distress one night and comes to check on you.

Word count: ~5.5k

Warnings/tags: SMUT (piv sex, fingering, oral, dirty talk), hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentioned violence, friends to lovers trope, Hunter cheesily senses reader’s heartbeat, the usual “use of his abilities” smut tropes, sorry not sorry<3

A/N - this has maybe more backstory than necessary but I decided my porn would have SOME plot this time. Enjoy <3

Read on AO3

Partially requested by @yunggoblin. Hunter uses his hearing more than his scent here but still goes along with your prompt :)

The rain poured relentlessly from the darkened sky. Your clothes now weighed heavy upon your beaten figure. The metal beneath your knees felt more unforgiving by the second. The trooper behind you, a clone trooper, held you by your shoulder, keeping you firmly in place.

Your trembling body barely had the strength to sit upright as you painfully craned your neck upward to the steel blaster barrel now level with your forehead. Just moments before, you were sheltering from the attack on the base inside Hemlock’s ship that you were repairing. A mechanic. You were just a mechanic. They’d accused you of treason, and there was no right to a fair trial if they’d thought you betrayed your mighty employer.

"The Empire thanks you for your service" The well-dressed Imperial officer spoke blankly as his finger hovered over the trigger. You’d never even seen him before, and somehow he held the right to take your life.

Your heart sat uncomfortably in your throat as your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the final breath you'd ever take.

Just as the blaster fired, your vision went hazy, and your eyes flashed open.

You found yourself sitting upright in your bed, panting frantically as a bead of sweat dripped down your temple. You grasped at your chest like it would help you breathe better, but you knew it was useless. It was only the third time this week you'd had the same nightmare, or at least, some variation of it. Usually in your nightmare, you were in the rain, as it truly happened. Other times you found yourself elsewhere on Tantiss base. Regardless, the dream always ended with a blaster at your head, reliving what you thought was going to be your final moments.

That is, if you had not been rescued by Clone Force 99. Had it not been for Hunter stealthily jumping into action. He didn't know you, not at the time. He saw a woman seconds away from execution and didn't think twice. You wonder, though, why he saved a woman in imperial dressings. What about you made him see you differently among every other imperial he and his squad killed without hesitation that day on Tantiss?

You were a mechanic for the Empire, and barely one at that. You were in training at the time of your near-execution. Somehow, your skills working on speeders on your outer-rim home world caught the attention of an Imperial Admiral during their invasion of your planet. You didn't have much choice, but you tried to make the best of it.

A few weeks into your job, you were accused of tampering with the safety of Admiral Tarkin's ship. It wasn't true, but your word meant nothing once you were accused. Truthfully, you never signed up for what the Empire had planned for you anyway.

Almost a year had passed since that day, but it never seemed to get any easier. The warm and happily endless days in your new home on Pabu were an oasis compared to your days serving the Empire. Unfortunately, though, even in a paradise of unbothered territory, the Empire still held you in its grasp with these unrelenting nightmares.

Your head rested heavily in your palms as you leaned over the side of the bed. Your roommate was thankfully gone for the night, so you were confident that no one heard your panting and muffled pleas for mercy in your sleep.

The beating of your heart began to pump the breaks ever so slowly. Looking around your home, you felt comfort in knowing you were safe. It always took you a few moments to let it sink in:

It wasn’t real.

The Empire cannot hurt you.

You are safe.

Your attempted solitude was abruptly halted by a sudden knock at the door. You rubbed your face to gather your composure before walking to the door and cracking it open.

Hunter’s face, illuminated by the glow of the moonlight, came into view. Your heart skipped a beat. His presence was always welcomed, but no matter how close you were to Hunter, he always gave the gentlest butterflies.

“Hunter, wh-” You began, your voice rough from sleep.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” He spoke gently, his eyes heavy with worry. He cared so deeply for you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer that question verbally. Pulling the door open, you gestured for him to come inside.

He entered, hesitantly. His eyes not so subtly traveled the length of your body, barely covered by the silk nightgown you wore. His jaw clenched as he made himself look away.

“Sorry, I’ll cover up” You said frantically, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Scrambling to find a tunic, he politely interrupted you.

“No, please” He begged. There was a hint of desire in his tone that you chose to dismiss, “I mean, it’s your home. Don’t worry about me”. His eyes still wandered. Hunter couldn’t peel his eyes away from your exposed skin. At least not completely before finally finding your gaze and holding it.

Setting down the tunic, you crossed your arms, nodding in agreement.

“I’ve…been better. Just a…bad dream is all” You struggled with your words, answering his initial question.

“I, um, sensed that you were…distressed” He started, nervously, “Sorry, It’s not by choice. But I couldn’t ignore it”.

It was no surprise that he could tell. The villa you were housed in was side by side with Hunter and Crosshair’s villa, with Hunter’s bunk being on just the other side of the thin walls of your own room. It wasn’t a lot of space, but it was graciously gifted to you by the Pabu government, and you were grateful.

But although it wasn’t surprising, you were startled by the idea that he could sense your nerves and heartbeat through the wall.

What else could he sense? What could he hear?

“What were you doing awake? It’s the middle of the night” You countered, shaking your head subtly, wearing a soft smile in admiration of his concern and derailing from the topic only slightly.

He sighed and sat himself on your bunk, “Was having some bad dreams myself” he confessed, his elbows resting on his thighs. You followed suit, sitting on your bunk next to him.

You nodded and let the silence between you fill the small space for a moment. It wasn't awkward. It never was with him.

“It’s been a year. I just…I can’t shake how real it feels. Every single time I have this dream -- it’s like I’m right back on Tantiss, staring up through the barrel of a blaster. But…in my dream— my nightmare—you never come to save me” You breathe out, almost choking on the last part.

Hunter’s brows furrow with concern and pain. He thought it over for a few seconds, reliving that moment when he saved your life, shooting the officer dead where he stood as well as the troopers surrounding you. His face twisted in sorrow once more before he spoke again.

“I see Tech” He began, his voice broken, “Every time I close my eyes to sleep. Over and over again, I see him die”

“Oh, Hunter” your voice cracks with his name falling off your lips. Your heart broke for him, for the others. You never had the pleasure of knowing Tech, but from the endless stories the others in the squad had to share, you knew he was extraordinary.

Hunter's eyes remained on the ground for a moment before looking over to meet your gaze. He reached out and rested his hand upon your knee. You were ashamed to admit that the gentlest of his touch was electrifying to you.

“I know what it’s like” He consoled you, “it’s terrible”.

You nodded and stared into him, communicating more in your expression than what your words could provide.

“That trauma — it’s a part of me now”

“It is. But it does not define you” Hunter countered, “That’s what I tell Omega. Shes a tough kid but…she’s haunted by the Empire, too”

You thought of her and smiled. Over the past year, you'd grown close to all of them and were so happy to have them in your life.

Hunter always tended to you back when you were trying to adjust to life on the island. He used check on you several times a day, just to see if you were okay. He still does occasionally, but he’s given you more space as time has passed. He was a good and caring friend.

A Friend.

You chuckled to yourself at the thought of that word. It wasn’t even a week after you met him that you’d fallen head over heels for him. He blissfully plagued your every waking thought. Often you’d worry that he noticed your fixation on him, and were weary of his possible rejection. Other times, you’d hoped he noticed and would do something about it.

There were lingering glances, brushes against one another in a hallway, kind and flattering words exchanged…but you’d both been too afraid to act on it. You accepted that it may never be anything more than that, but it wasn’t without disappointment. Everyone around you, the other guys specifically, all noticed the tension between you two, but it never affected your friendship.

“Can I ask you a question?” You broke the silence, seemingly curious in your tone.

“Anything” Hunter quickly responded.

“Is this the first time you’ve sensed that I was… distressed in the middle of the night?”

Slowly, he sat up straight, “Yes…and no” He answered, hesitantly. You swallowed hard in anticipation of what you already assumed.

You tilted your head at him inquisitively.

“It's your heart rate. But I uh...I don’t think it’s always nightmares" He trailed off, cautious of what he was insinuating. Your heart sunk to your belly. Surely he didn't mean that he could sense when you pleasured yourself?

"What do you mean, Hunter?” You pried, hoping to get him to bring it up first.

“I shouldn't have said anything. I was just worried about you and wanted to check in" He hurried through his explanation, standing to his feet and walking toward the door to look out your window.

Your cheeks burned red with both excitement and embarrassment.

"Sometimes it's the best way to get to sleep" You indirectly admitted, shrugging your shoulders and letting a playful smile sneak upon your face, “Don’t you do it, too?” You casually suggested.

His eyes snapped back to where you sat on your bed.

Touching yourself was the best way to relax. Truthfully, you were starving for Hunter’s touch instead, and you had been yearning for him all this time. It was always him that you thought of when your curious fingers traveled in between your legs.

Hunter swallowed hard, feeling the delicate tension in the air.

“Well, of course I do, I-“ he stumbled over his words.

“Hunter, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it” You reassured him, cutting him off before he felt any more flustered.

You approached him at the window, feeling so dangerously close as you placed your hand on his arm.

“Thank you for checking on me. I’m okay” You offered a gentle and reassuring smile.

“I want to protect you, cyar’ika. You mean a lot to me and I…sometimes I don’t know how to help”

Hearing endearing terms in Mando’a always melted your heart.

“Just having you around is enough protection for me”

“I’m on the other side of the wall if you ever need me. You know that”

“I know” You nodded, but couldn’t seem to break your attention away from his face. The tattooed side, something you’d always adored, was lit once again by the brightened moon. Stars, he was so beautiful.

It was a mutual exchange of a longing expression between you two. Hunter’s eyes searched your gaze for any hesitation as you both leaned into each other. Your body pressed firm against him as your hands rested on the back of his neck. In the quiet of your room, it was you who could hear your own heartbeat now.

His lips landed blissfully upon yours, sending a radiating current through your body. You sucked in a sharp breath, overcome with the feeling of this sudden intimate contact. You kissed him back delicately, letting your mouth become barely familiar with his after so much longing for this exact feeling. You pulled away only slightly, seeing if he had any urge to stop. You looked up at him, searching for any sense of regret but found none. Hunter’s eyes were hungry for you...so much more of you.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice low and desperate.

You ached for him. Maker…you had ached for him for so terribly long. His lips on any part of your body were near close enough to send you into a frenzy. As your lips returned to his, Hunter’s arms found themselves wrapped around your barely clothed waist, pulling you closer to him, and deepening the kiss.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt ready to remove it, eager to continue this further. To your puzzling surprise, he stopped you.

“Oh, I-“ You began, flustered and confused.

“Mesh’la” he groaned.

“I’m sorry”

“No, don’t be. I just…I can’t” He strained through his words, shutting his eyes for a moment, finding it difficult to reject you but forcing himself to do so.

As you stood there confused, he looked at you with a wordless apology on his face.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I'm right here if you need me” He concluded, gently planting a kiss on your forehead before seeing himself out.

Emptiness consumed you as you stood alone in your villa. Had you done something wrong? Surely not, it was clear he wanted you too, but something stopped him.

With such worry on your mind, you laid awake for a while before your fatigue finally took you over, sending you into a deep sleep.

————————————

“Have a nice day!” You called out to your last customer of the day. You loved your job working in the marketplace in the city square. It was a peaceful and rewarding existence.

Throughout the day, memories of the night before played like a broken holoscan in your mind. You could still feel his lips against yours, devouring you. It was hard not to smile as you reminisced about the feeling, but your smile would quickly fade as you remembered how it ended.

The sun casted an amber glow over the sea, letting you know the day was near over. The entire day had passed without seeing Hunter, which made you anxious. You wanted to see him. To talk to him. To apologize for trying to go too far.

As you processed these thoughts, you felt a presence approach your booth.

Hunter.

“Oh, hi!” You said surprised.

“Hi” He began, his smile warm, “can we talk?”

“Sure. I’m just closing up for the day”, You grinned back to him.

“I’ll be at our spot by the cove” He said, pointing toward the side of the island where your secret spot was. Only you, the guys, and Omega really knew about it.

You nodded before hurrying to finish closing your shop. Never had you packed that quickly before.

You arrived on the shore, in the hidden cove on the beach to find Hunter sitting alone on the boulder.

“Hey stranger” You said, approaching him.

“Hey, you” He smiled. Maybe with anyone else, this would be awkward. But with Hunter, somehow it wasn’t.

“Everything okay?” You questioned.

“I wanted to apologize about last night” He started, not making eye contact at first, but finding your eyes shortly after.

“It’s okay, Hunter, really. I understand” You responded, not entirely sure what you were understanding. Truthfully, you still weren’t sure why he stopped you last night.

“I don’t think you do, sweetheart”

You sat next to him on the boulder, leaving a bit of space between you two, contrary to how close you’d found yourself the night before.

“I had to stop myself” He continued.

“Why?”

“I care about you” He sighed.

“I know you do, Hunter. I don’t see why that made you want to stop what we had started” You countered, growing flustered, shifting your hips slightly.

“Because no matter how hard it is for me to resist you, I cannot take advantage of you like that”

“Wha— you’re not taking advantage of me, Hunter” You subtly scoffed in disbelief.

“I want you. Make no mistake about that” He said confidently yet softly, sending a tingling feeling through your veins.

“I want you too. I think about you…a lot” You began, letting your tone lead his mind toward the deeper meaning of your words.

Hunter looked over to you and raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

“I don’t want to mess up what we have” He admitted, disappointingly, “you mean too much to me”

You wanted to fight it. You wanted him. But he made a fair point. Was it worth running the risk of ruining your friendship?

You nodded, offering no further comment on the situation. It made your heart ache terribly, but you couldn’t risk losing him due to your mutual desires.

“I’m lucky to have you, Hunter” You said, scooting closer to him before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too” He concurred.

The sunset on Pabu had never felt so bittersweet. As its warmth and glow made a gradual exit, you felt any chance of something more with Hunter disappearing with it. You sat and talked with him for another hour, chatting about the weather and how his job on the island was going, and you were just grateful for his presence, even if you’d never feel his lips upon yours again.

Returning home some time later, you noticed your roommate had left you a transmission.

“Sorry, still off-world, be back tomorrow!”

You felt relieved. Having privacy was rare but welcomed and appreciated.

The steaming shower in your refresher washed the day away from your body. You didn’t bother to put on your clothes, as you preferred to sleep naked anyway. As you sunk into your bed, you feared this would be another night of endless tossing and turning.

To make matters worse, you couldn’t stop feeling Hunter’s lips on yours. Over and over again, you kept feeling the tingling sensation that came over you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You were already wet just thinking about it, but as you rubbed your legs tightly together, you provided a friction that lit a fire in your lower belly.

He’d know if I masturbated, you thought. He’d sense it.

“Fuck it” You whispered to yourself.

Your fingertips found their place where they always did, right atop your sensitive bud. Rhythmically, you rubbed delicate circles around your clit, just beginning to tend to your aching needs. You whimpered softly. So softly that even you barely heard it.

What you were doing was going to drive him crazy. You knew that. The walls were thin, and he’d already told you that he’d sensed something in your heartbeat other than your nightmares before. But you’d be dammed if you’ll be left unsatisfied after the tease you’d felt last night.

You rocked your hips upwards into your own touch, biting your lip to suppress noises any louder than a heavy breath, especially with what you knew now. Visions of Hunter came to you as you fantasized. You pictured his fingers touching you like this, his body on top of yours.

Slowly, you felt your climax creeping toward you, inching closer like a looming threat. As you covered your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your orgasm was suddenly ripped away from you at the sound of a knock on your door.

You froze.

“Y/N” Hunter’s voice rang quietly from the other side.

Quickly, you pulled the covers to shield your naked body.

“Come in” you boldly called out. Sure, your door definitely should have been locked, but, you never worried for your safety here.

Hunter opened the door with caution. His eyes met yours immediately. As he closed it behind him, he leaned against the door as he took in the sight of you.

“Not a nightmare this time, was it?” He slyly suggested.

“No” you breathed, your heart now certainly beating in your throat.

He walked to your bed, slowly, “Tell me, mesh’la, all those times you’ve pleasured yourself, did you think I couldn’t hear those pretty little noises you make when you come?”

You stared at him, eyes heavy with intense lust and hint of blissful shame. There was a primal desire in his expression and demeanor, something you’d not seen but only a hint of last night, but it was undeniable tonight.

“Every time you touch yourself, I know” He whispered, “And you know what else? Every time you touch yourself, I can’t help but touch myself, too” He admitted, hovering above your bed, looking down to your delicately covered body. You melted at the image of him masturbating and getting off on the idea of you pleasuring yourself too.

“Hunter” you breathed.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what you want” He begged you. Hunter needed you to give him the green light he desperately needed.

“Please, fuck me” You begged shamelessly, “I can’t take it anymore. I need you”

Within the same second that the words left your lips, he was in bed above you, your lips tangled within his. He kissed you passionately, his tongue slipping into yours, exploring you further. You moaned at the satisfaction of his raw desire, picking right back up from where you left off. One hand held him up while the other ran through your hair. As you stayed covered beneath him, you reached up to grab his face and pull him into you and the kiss deepened between you.

The presence of his body above you pulled the blanket down, revealing your bare breasts. Hunter pulled away from your lips to look down at the sight. He growled lowly in approval and pent up urge to see you like this.

“Cyare” he whimpered, releasing his hand from your face down to cup your breast. He then redirected his attention to your stiffened nipples, taking one into his mouth, causing a gentle cry to fall from your lips.

With his mouth still upon your breast, he pulled the blanket completely off your body, tossing it to the floor, exposing your skin to the chilled air.

Maker, he was eager…so incredibly eager to see you fully bare beneath him. Every inch of your skin on display. Something he’d only dreamed of. Something that fueled every fantasy he had while he stroked his cock mere inches from you on the other side of the wall. And here you were, right beneath him, laid out pretty, just for him.

“You are so beautiful, sweetheart” He praised you, leaning back to fully take in the view. Swiftly, he removed his shirt, revealing the chiseled, beautifully scarred body beneath it. You stared in awe at his physique, your heart skipping a beat.

"Spread your legs for me, baby", He instructed. You obeyed, opening your legs to provide him better access to where you desperately ached for him the most. The moonlight gleaming through your window was enough to offer you both the light you needed. As Hunter caught sight of your pussy, already slick with desire for him, his face turned in pure adoration.

"Touch me, please, Hunter" You begged, feeling as though you could do nothing but beg him in this state of arousal. You were his. All his.

FIngertips trailed softly up your thigh before reaching the wetness between your legs. Hunter whimpered as he felt you.

"Oh sweetheart, is this all for me?" He asked, beginning to rub your clit gently while he whispered into your ear. Chills erupted down your body.

"It's for you. It's always for you" You responded breathlessly, letting your words flow in between your cries of pleasure. Hunter applied more pressure before inserting two fingers inside of you. While he does this, he watches you, enamored with the way your face twists in pleasure, all from his hands. Not yours this time — his.

With a curl of his fingers and a steady pace, Hunter fucks you with his fingers. His thumb remains at your clit, stimulating you beyond what you're used to. No one had paid this much attention to your body before.

His lips returned to yours, stifling a moan that escaped you as you felt your orgasm quickly approaching.

"I'm so c-close" You choked on your words muttered against his supple lips. The bundled coil in your lower abdomen threatened to burst at any second.

"I can feel you tightening around me. Come on my fingers, mesh'la" He encouraged you.

Hearing Hunter talk to you like this, after so long of being just friends, was exhilarating. His words alone were enough to push you over the edge, but the way he worked his hands to pleasure you was so good. Too good.

Your climax unraveled, washing over you gracefully, starting at your core and radiating like a fire throughout your entire body. Profanities flew from your lips as you instinctively rolled your hips against his palm.

"That's it, princess, right there" He coaxed you gently, unrelenting in the curling of his fingers, fucking you steadily through your orgasm, "good girl".

As you came down from the pure euphoria with stars dancing in your eyes, Hunter was careful to pull his fingers out of you slowly. Holding your gaze, he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you and savoring it like a last meal.

You leaned up, propping yourself on your elbows. Hunter stood, quickly pulling the hem of his pants down before removing them completely. You audibly gasped at his size when his cock came into view. Hunter was smirking as your eyes travelled back up to his gaze.

As he stood beside your bed, you got on your hands and knees and put your mouth level with his length. Hunter melted when your tongue licked up the side of his cock. His eyes fell closed when you took him into your mouth completely, or at least, as much as you could. You started to suck him off, using your tongue to guide your motions.

You peered up at him, watching his face twist in ecstasy as you bobbed your head back and forth. With a swirling of your tongue on his tip, you felt his hips twitch subtly.

“Fuck, Y/N. Just like that. Suck my cock” He growled through his pleasure, using a tone you’d usually only heard when he gave orders. This was an order you’d follow any day without question, “That’s my girl”, he praised through his clenched jaw.

His hand rested on your head, gently guiding you in your motions. The sound of his soft little whimpers that quickly turned into deeper groans made your cunt ache for him even more. You clenched your walls around nothing, pitifully empty and needing to be filled. As you moved your hand to your clit to relieve the ache, he reached down your back and plunged two fingers into your pussy from behind. You cried out, sending vibrations over his cock as you tried to still focus on his pleasure.

He pumped his fingers at a faster pace than before, sending you into a overstimulated frenzy and you couldn’t take it anymore. You pulled your mouth from him, desperately catching your breath and crying out his name.

“Fuck, Hunter, don’t stop” You begged him, but instead he disobeyed your request, removing his fingers completely.

Without struggle or hesitation, Hunter lifted you and placed you on your back on the bed. He positioned himself in between your trembling legs. He kissed you passionately once more while lining his cock at your entrance.

The whole world fell silent for you as your bodies seemingly fused together. You’d dreamed of this moment, this intimacy with Hunter, for so long. To have him inside of you was the most erotic experience you’d ever had. He bottomed out slowly, both of your mouths agape, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the connection you felt in that moment.

There was only a slight tinge of discomfort as he filled you completely. You winced only a little, before it was replaced by pure pleasure.

“Mesh’la” he moaned deeply, “You..ugh…you take me so well” he praised you through his expressions of pleasure.

“Feels so good, Hunter” you whine, staring deep into eyes, seducing him further.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to feel you like this?” He whispered against your ear before moving his lips down to your neck, kissing softly at your skin while he thrust deeper and faster.

You choked on your moans as his change in pace overwhelmed you. The room was filled with your whimpers, along with the irresistible sound of Hunter’s rough and deep moans.

“Such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this” Hunter’s praises lit a fire within you, and he could tell, encouraging him more.

You lifted your knees, pressing them against his chest, allowing him to slide inside of you at an even better angle. You cried out, overstimulated and overfilled in the most amazing way. The thin walls were no match for how good you made each other feel, but you cared very little about who heard you.

The year long pent up tension between you two was unraveling beautifully as he fucked you like he was making up for all that lost time.

With one hard thrust, he stopped, holding his cock fully sheathed in your cunt, “Gonna come on my cock, princess? Make those pretty little sounds for me?” He teased, grinding his hips hard against your thighs. Held inside you like this, he brushed against your most sensitive spot, driving you crazy.

You were drunk off him, drunk off his words, drunk off his body. You could barely form a response, but offered him a nod as you felt your next release building quickly inside of you. Maybe he just loved to tease you endlessly, because he then pulled out of you, making you whine pitifully at the sudden loss of his cock and your orgasm.

He was firm yet gentle with your body as he flipped you over flat on your stomach. Similar to how he reacted to your breasts, he growled at the sight of your ass, grabbing a handful to admire as he ran his other hand down your back.

He leaned down, his cock resting on your ass, and he moved your hair from your face, pulling you into a passionate kiss as he sunk himself into your pussy from behind. You moaned against his lips, so satisfied with being filled again.

He continued his pace from before, fucking you with raw desire to claim you. Hips slapped firm against the skin of your ass as Hunter grabbed your waist for even better leverage.

“Hunter!”, You cried out, “right there…right there…I’m gonna come”

Never would he dare to stop now. The sounds he emitted grew louder and more inconsistent, and you could tell he was close too.

The fire that burned inside you erupted into the a burst of absolute ecstasy. It took over every fiber of your being as your vision went hazy. A slew of profanities flew from your lips while your body convulsed, your cunt pulsing around his cock as you came harder than you ever had felt before.

“Yessss, good fucking girl, come for me just like that” He cursed, grinding and pounded hard to chase his own release as well. You tightened your walls for him, pushing him closer, even though you never wanted this to end.

You were breathless beneath him, still taking his cock like you were made for it.

“Come inside me, Hunter. Please” You pleaded. It seems your words sent him over his limit, because as the words left your mouth, his hips faltered and his breath grew shaky. Hunter filled you, coming deep inside you, marking you like he wished he’d done a long time ago.

Together you caught your breath slowly. Hunter was careful to remove himself gently, knowing that you’d be sensitive, as was he. You winced as the last inch of him left you. Exhaustion overtook your body as you lay there, floating on a high like no other.

Hunter laid down next you, your bodies pressed closely together on the small bed. You turned to your side, looking up at him in pure adoration.

“Y/N…” Hunter broke the silence that was only filled with panting as you both tried to catch your breath, “you are…so perfect”

“So are you” You smiled at him.

“I’m never letting you go. That’s a promise” He assured you. The words brought you comfort, and you truly believed him.

It wasn’t but shortly after that you both drifted into a deep sleep, holding each other close while your minds rested. The sleep was peaceful and uninterrupted, as neither of you had nightmares that night.

——

A/N: Please comment/reblog if you enjoyed. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!❤️

Thank you for reading 😊

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littlemisssatanist · 2 months

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my acotar unpopular opinions

taking this time to come out as an acotar reader. yes i've read all the books and i've spent way too much time thinking about it. i enjoy the books in the sense that i enjoy hating on many of the characters and loving a few of the others.

be forewarned inner circle fans. you will not like this.

rhysand is not a 'morally grey' character. he's a rapist and a groomer. he sexually assaulted feyre utm, he groomed her (reminder that she was 19 in acotar), and he withheld important medical information from her. 'you'll always have a choice' my ass.

nesta telling feyre about her pregnancy was not a bad thing. why do people act like it is? 'oh she did it to hurt feyre' hurt her by doing what? revealing the lies that her beloved husband had woven? revealing the fact that she'd die giving birth? the fact that rhysand told literally everybody but feyre?

mor is not the champion for women everyone thinks she is. this i will give to sjm it is truly impressive to make a character like women and still be a pick me. i'm not even going to go into her whole weird ass relationship with her dad (i still don't understand why she wouldn't just kill him. 'oh rhys needed the army' rhys is supposed to be the most powerful high lord ever. either admit he's a fucking loser or give me an actual good reason for this) or the fact she's seemingly incapable of doing anything to help the women in the court of nightmares, but everytime she was mentioned, i had to let out a heavy sigh and rub my temples.

on a similar topic. i liked eris. like a lot. out of all the acotar characters sjm has written, eris is by far my favorite.

the inner circle needs to sit the fuck down. they are the most hypocritical bitches i've ever met. they like to think themselves high and mighty. reading them make fun of lucien's band of exiles while their name is literally 'court of dreamers' was the most infuriating thing ever. and then they have the gall to be insulted when called out. don't dish what you can't take.

out of all the inner circle, the only one i don't hate is azriel. this is simply because he is the only one who hasn't opened his big fat mouth and done something bad (except if you maybe count his whole thing with elain). cassian is on my hit list. it's on sight with cassian.

nessian is sjm's worst ship and i will stand by that. lucien/nesta could have been so much. 'nesta would have ripped lucien apart' and cassian was your first choice? not even azriel was considered? like be so for real right now. sjm didn't see the potential of lucien/nesta and i will forever mourn that.

sjm is a terrible writer. i'm not saying this to be mean but she seriously just sucks at it. that being said i admire her ability to still make millions of dollars off her shitty writing. as a woman, i am rooting for her. as a reader, every day i wake up a shoot a prayer to the heavens begging the gods to not let sjm write any more books from the inner circle's pov.

lucien/elain is better than azriel/elain. argue with the wall.

eris/azriel is better than azriel/elain. you can kiss my ass.

NESTA/ERIS IS BETTER THAN RHYSAND/FEYRE. i know this because i have been enlightened.

feyre is a victim to rhysand. that being said, she is also a major bitch. both can be true because these things are not mutually exclusive. i wish she could make friends outside of the ic like nesta did, but i know that's unlikely.

feyre's pregnancy storyline was completely useless and went against her whole character.

acomaf retconned everything about tamlin and feyre's relationship in order to make more money. idc.

tamlin gets a ridiculous amount of hate. rhysand is hypocritical. so tamlin locking feyre in a house because she wants to ride out with him into potential danger is terrible and abusive, but rhysand locking nesta in the house of wind for... *checks notes*... having sex and spending money on alcohol is helping her? what?

#anti rhysand #anti sjm #anti inner circle #anti acotar #rhysand critical #inner circle critical #acotar #acotar critical #pro nesta #anti nessian #pro eris vanserra #anti mor #this might be a controversial one

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sadnymi · 19 days

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「 ✦ Fresh Out the slammer. ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary: Y/n made a decision she thought was right, but it ended up costing her the only real thing in her life. Now, instead of finding peace and stability, her life has turned into a nightmare a slammer. She ran away, only to realize her mistake and now she knows there's only one person she can turn to—the only person her heart truly loves.

Warnings: angst,fluff,smut,strong language.

Words:5k.

The dress shimmered like moonlight on water, a cascade of champagne silk that clung to my curves in all the right places. I stood frozen, a statue sculpted from fabric and societal expectation. Perfect. Flawless. Engaged.

Yet, the reflection staring back at me held no spark of joy, just a hollow echo of a smile. It wasn't sadness, not exactly. More like a numb acceptance of a life carefully mapped out, not by my own desires, but by the whispers and needs of my family.

Charles, my fiancé, was everything a respectable young woman could desire. Handsome, wealthy, with a lineage as distinguished as his manners. On paper, we were the perfect match – a union that would solidify our families' positions in high society.

The party buzzed around me, a symphony of congratulations and well wishes. I played my part, radiating a picture-perfect fiancée. Laughter bubbled on my lips, practiced and polite. This was the new normal, the life I'd been groomed for. A gilded cage.

Then, across the crowded room, my gaze locked with a pair of dark eyes. A jolt went through me, a spark that had nothing to do with champagne or diamonds. Mattheo. There, in the shadows by the doorway, stood the one man who disrupted all carefully laid plans. His lips were curved in a smirk, a knowing amusement that sent a shiver down my spine.

He wasn't celebrating. He was observing. Analyzing. Like some predatory toying with the carefully orchestrated scene before him.

Exhaustion, emotional and physical, washed over me. I needed a moment, a single breath outside the suffocating air of expectations. Slipping through the French doors, I stepped onto the cool balcony overlooking the city lights.

And then, there he was, leaning against the railing a few feet away. Mattheo, his gaze following mine as he took a long drag from a cigarette. I clutched the glass of juice in my hand tighter, the cold seeping through the crystal.

"Care to share the joke?" I finally managed, my voice low and laced with a touch of bitterness. He didn't turn towards me, but his voice, when he spoke, was a smooth caress in the night air.

"Just admiring the performance, love," he drawled. "You play the part beautifully. Almost makes you believe it yourself."

The words tumbled out of my mouth, a torrent of frustration and a desperate attempt to mask the truth even from myself. "What are you doing, Mattheo? Making fun of me?" My voice rose a notch, defensive and angry.

"He's a perfect man. His family and mine have been friends for decades! Don't go acting like you care about some fairytale love story." I knew I was overplaying it, the words spilling out too fast, a frantic attempt to convince someone – maybe myself – that Charles was the answer.

He didn't flinch at my outburst. "No, not that," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "It's just… I don't get it. Why settle for 'perfect' when you could have something real?" His gaze held mine, a challenge and a question all at once.

"Real?" I scoffed, the bitterness dripping from my voice. "What's real? This?" I gestured at the glittering party scene below, the forced smiles and hollow laughter. "Or a life filled with… with what? Uncertainty? Danger?" The words hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the life I'd always secretly yearned for, a life that somehow always seemed to revolve around Mattheo.

"Maybe," he conceded, shrugging a shoulder.

My breath hitched. His words were a direct hit, piercing through the carefully constructed walls I'd built around my heart. "I…" I started, but the words wouldn't come.

Frustration bubbled over, a cocktail of anger and confusion. "This is for me to decide, Mattheo! I don't need him, I want him! He'll be a good husband, a good father, a good partner. " My voice grew louder, the carefully constructed facade crumbling with each word.

"Sure, love," he said, that infuriating smirk twisting his lips once more.

"Dammit, Mattheo!" I exploded, tears stinging my eyes. "Either be happy for me, at least pretend, or leave!" The words were out before I could stop them.

Regret washed over me as quickly as the anger had risen. The light in his eyes, playful just moments ago, vanished, replaced by a flicker of pain I couldn't decipher.

For the first time that night, he looked at me seriously. No smirk, no amusement, left me speechless. "I think I'll leave then “.

And then he was gone, disappearing back into the throng of partygoers. The air felt suddenly colder, the weight of his absence a physical blow. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a mix of anger, fear, and something far deeper twisting in my gut.

A desperate urge to chase after him, to call him back, flooded me. But pride, stubbornness, and the carefully constructed image I'd spent all night portraying held me frozen in place.

I watched him go, a lone figure swallowed by the crowd, and a single, tear finally escaped, tracing a glistening path down my cheek.

The engagement ring felt like a lead weight on my finger. It was supposed to be a symbol of happily ever after, but all it brought was a dull ache in my chest. Charles, my fiancé, had proposed on a gondola ride in Venice, a picture-perfect moment straight out of a romance novel. The only problem was, the picture was a lie, a carefully staged facade.

The cracks began to show soon after. Charles, always so attentive during our courtship, started developing a curious habit of "forgetting" dates and appointments. His phone, an ever-present extension of his hand, would suddenly become a mystery when important calls came in. Excuses piled up like unwashed dishes, each one chipping away at the foundation of trust.

One particularly galling instance involved a charity gala. Charles had promised to accompany me, a public show of unity for my family's foundation. As the guests arrived, resplendent in their evening wear, I stood alone, a nervous knot twisting in my stomach. An hour later, with half the night gone, he sauntered in, a sickeningly self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. His excuse? A "business meeting" that ran long. The lie was obvious, the scent of his cologne a dead giveaway – the same kind of perfume that clung to the woman flitting at his side the previous weekend.

One blustery Saturday, we planned a picnic by the lake. Charles, however, turned up two hours late, reeking of butterbeer and with a smear of lipstick on his collar. My accusations were met with a dismissive, "Oh, Y/N, you're being paranoid again."

Selfishness was another of Charles's defining traits. He saw everything in terms of "me" and "mine." My interests, my dreams, were relegated to mere footnotes in his grand narrative. One weekend getaway we'd planned, meticulously tailored to my love for hiking and stargazing, was abruptly rerouted to a luxurious spa resort "because stress relief is good for everyone, darling." My protests were met with feigned sympathy and a dismissive pat on the head.

The final straw came at a Ministry charity gala. All night, Charles was glued to a group of Aurors, completely ignoring me. I stood alone, clutching my champagne flute feeling like a pretty ornament on his arm. As I excused myself for a moment of fresh air, I rounded a corner and saw him, laughing carelessly, his hand resting on Astoria's waist. They were kissing, a passionate embrace that ripped the last shreds of hope from my heart.

Tears blurring my vision, I confronted him later that night. "How could you?" My voice trembled, the anger barely masking the deep well of hurt.

He sighed, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Y/N, darling, don't be dramatic. It was just a kiss. A silly little thing."

"Just a kiss?" I cried, the dam of my emotions finally bursting. "And all those lies? The neglect? Charles”

His face contorted in anger. "You," he snarled, "are supposed to be the perfect fiancée. All smiles and beauty. You're just a pretty face, Y/N, that's all. Your role is to stand there and look pretty."

“I deserve better than this!"

He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. "You deserve exactly what I'm giving you, Y/N," he said, his voice cold and hard. "A comfortable life, a prestigious name. Do you think your father will be thrilled if you call off the wedding? Think of the scandal, the gossip! That's all that matters, after all."

His words cut deeper than any wand. In that moment, I saw him for who he truly was – a self-serving, arrogant man who only valued me as a trophy, not a person. The anger surged through me, hot and cleansing.

"I don't care anymore about what any of you want!" I ripped his grip on my face, my voice a ragged scream. "This doesn't matter anymore!"

With that, I spun on my heel and fled, leaving him and the shattered remnants of our engagement party behind. Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of anger, sadness, and a newfound sense of freedom.

Escaping the suffocating confines of the argument felt like breaking free from a Dementor's grip. My phone buzzed incessantly, a frantic symphony of missed calls from Charles and my furious father. Ignoring them, I switched it off, the silence a balm to my raw nerves.

There was only one person I craved, the one face that flickered behind my tear-filled vision – Mattheo. He'd been a constant presence in my mind, a forbidden flame that refused to be extinguished.

With newfound resolve, I hailed a carriage, the rocking motion mirroring the turmoil within me. He might not want to see me, might not even care. But right now, there was nowhere else I'd rather be. Nobody else who understood the storm raging inside me the way he did.

Love. It was a terrifying, exhilarating word, a truth I could no longer deny. I loved him. We'd never spoken the words, not truly, but in stolen glances and secret smiles, a connection had bloomed, defying all societal expectations.

The ride seemed to stretch on forever, each passing minute mirroring the frantic beat of my heart. Finally, the carriage drew to a stop before the imposing gates of Mattheo's mansion. As I stepped out, a heavy rain began to fall, mirroring the tempest within.

The grand entrance, familiar yet intimidating, recognized me with a soft hum. It creaked open without a touch, a silent welcome that sent a tremor through me. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I approached the heavy oak door that separated me from him.

"Mattheo," I whispered, my voice barely above a choked sob. "It's Y/N. Please, I… I need you."

Silence. The only sound was the insistent drumming of the rain and the frantic pounding of my heart against my ribs. Doubt gnawed at me. Maybe he wasn't there. Maybe he didn't want to see me.

Tears welled up again, blurring my vision. Just as I turned to leave, defeated, the door creaked open. Light spilled out, illuminating Mattheo's tall figure framed against the warm glow.

Relief washed over me, so intense it took my breath away. His face was etched with surprise.

But before I could decipher it, his surprise melted into a mask of cool indifference. My tears, held at bay for a moment, finally spilled over, cascading down my cheeks in a torrent.

Ignoring the shocked silence, I threw myself into his arms, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline in a storm-tossed sea.He reacted instantly, his strong arms enveloping me, lifting me off the ground with surprising ease. His warmth seeped through my cloak, a familiar comfort amidst the chaos.

Buried in the crook of his neck, I poured out the events of the evening, the anger, the hurt, the suffocating realization of Charles' lies. He held me silently, his touch a silent reassurance. I clung to him, feeling a sense of safety I hadn't experienced in a very long time.

Finally, the sobs subsided, leaving behind a raw vulnerability. I pulled back slightly, wiping a tear from my cheek.

The room spun as he set me down on the plush couch, a soft cushion beneath my tear-streaked face. His strong arms cradled my shoulders, steadying me. Then, cupping my chin, he tilted my head up with a gentle yet firm touch.

"Y/N," he said, his voice a low rumble laced with concern. "What happened? Did someone hurt you?"

His worry, raw and unconcealed, was another dam breaking within me. Shaken sobs wracked my body again, each one a release of the pent-up emotions.

"I…" I choked out, voice thick with emotion. "I just… needed you."

He didn't pry, just nodded understandingly, a silent promise of safety washing over me. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes first, love," he murmured, his touch surprisingly gentle.

He helped me remove my soaked dress, the cold fabric clinging like a memory I desperately wanted to shed. A blush crept up my neck as he handed me one of his oversized shir. I slipped it on, the familiar scent of him – a mix of expensive cologne and something uniquely Mattheo – wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.

Settling back onto the couch, he cupped my face again, his thumbs brushing away stray tears and a lock of hair that clung to my damp cheek. "Now, tell me everything," he said, his voice low and steady.

Taking a shuddering breath, I spoke. Words tumbled out, a torrent of pent-up emotions finally finding release. I told him everything – Charles' lies, the crushing disappointment, the suffocating loneliness of a horrible engagement.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, clutching his hand like a lifeline. "I was so afraid. I thought feelings, love, they would make me weak. So I thought Charles, with his perfect reputation and his predictable life, was the safest option. I didn't want to end up like my parents, constantly fighting, their love a battlefield. But this... this is worse. An empty shell of a life. And the hardest part…" My voice hitched, threatening to break again. "I lost you in the way. And I missed you, Mattheo. I missed you almost all the time."

"You will never lose me," he said.

Surprise flickered across my face. Never lose you?

"I never wanted you to leave," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "That night of the engagement, I… I wanted to run back to you. Run back home."

The tension in the room crackled as I stood, my body fueled by a newfound courage. My gaze swept across the opulent room, searching for escape, for a way to bridge the chasm that had grown between us.

Then, I met his eyes. A storm of emotions brewed within him – surprise, vulnerability, a flicker of something that made my heart skip a beat.

"I love you, Mattheo," I blurted out, the words tumbling forth with the weight of a thousand unspoken confessions.

He held my gaze for a long, agonizing moment, then looked away, a muscle clenching in his jaw. He turned towards the window, the rain now a gentle patter against the glass.

"You're not going to say something?" The silence stretched, threatening to suffocate me.

He finally turned back to me, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Well, I've spent my entire life only loving one thing, Y/N. Only one thing. And it was you. So yeah, I don't know what to say now."

My mouth opened, ready to respond, a million questions swirling in my head. Images of a younger us flooded back – a scraped knee, whispered secrets, and a childish declaration that love was a fool's game.

"No, no," I stammered. "I remember when we were kids, and I said I didn't believe in love, and you said you didn't too. You said—"

He cut me off, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, I lied."

My heart skipped a beat. "You lied?"

He walked towards me, his smile turning tender. "You were terrified of the idea, and I may not have believed in love then, but I believed in loving you, Y/N. So I would have done or said anything you wanted me to."

Shame clawed at me. How could I have been so blind, so wrapped up in my fear that I missed the love that had been right in front of me all along?

"I'm so sorry, Mattheo," I choked out. "I'm so sorry. I don't deserve your—"

He cut me off, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Stop being so harsh on yourself, love," he murmured, his hand stroking my hair gently. "Look at me."

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze. His eyes, usually filled with a mischievous glint, now held a tenderness that made my breath catch.

"You rest now," he said, his voice a soothing balm. "And if you're still in your word tomorrow…" He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"I love you, Mattheo," I repeated, my voice firm and unwavering. "And tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that."

He smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile that sent a warmth radiating through me. "Okay then," he said, his voice husky. "If you're still sure tomorrow, I'll be here. I'll always be here for you."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, the soft touch sending shivers down my spine. As I burrowed into his oversized shirt, a new sense of comfort and belonging washed over me.

Holding the pillow to my chest, the scent of his cologne lingering on it, I drifted off to sleep. Two things were crystal clear in my mind. One, I loved Mattheo with a fierceness I never knew existed. And two, never again would I let fear or societal expectations dictate my heart. He was mine, and I was his. And nothing would ever tear us apart again.

The morning light streamed through the window, painting the room in a soft golden glow. Sunlight and the lingering scent of Mattheo's cologne pulled me from sleep. The events of yesterday flooded back – the storm of emotions, the confessions. Was it real? Had I imagined it all in the heat of the moment?

Uncertainty gnawed at me. Should I stay curled up in this bed, a safe haven from whatever awaited me downstairs? But the thought of not seeing Mattheo, was unbearable.

Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself, 'It's Mattheo. My Mattheo.' The fear ebbed slightly, replaced by a nervous flutter in my stomach. Ten minutes later, after a pep talk in the mirror and a failed attempt at straightening my sleep-tousled hair, I crept downstairs.

The kitchen was bathed in the warm glow of the morning sun. And there he was, leaning against the counter, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. Relief washed over me, as welcome as the familiar aroma of roasted beans.

His eyes lit up as he saw me. "There you are," he said, a smile playing on his lips. He crossed the room in two strides, handing me a steaming mug.

My heart did a little skip. It was my favorite blend, a subtle smoky aroma that always reminded me of cozy mornings at home. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "Thank you," I murmured, accepting the mug. "That's perfect."

"I'm so sorry for showing up like that yesterday," I stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I thought… well, I thought you'd be mad. That you wouldn't want to see me."

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Mad that you came to me? Y/N, I'd be mad if you didn't. I'm glad you're here."

The weight of anxiety that had been building in my chest began to loosen. But with the tension gone, my nerves started playing up. In a desperate attempt to fill the silence, I launched into a monologue about the weather, the latest Quidditch news (which I barely followed) and the peculiar new flavor of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans I'd tried the day before.

I could feel his eyes twinkling with amusement, but he didn't interrupt my rambling. Instead, he leaned against the counter, a smile playing on his lips. Finally, he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

"Yes?" I squeaked, my eyes locked on his.

"Calm down, love," he murmured, his thumb brushing my cheek. "You're safe here. And you don't have to talk if you don't want to." He paused, his gaze holding mine. "Just stay. Just be with me."

My fingers traced the familiar lines of his face – the strong jawline, the slight furrow between his brows that always appeared when he was thinking, the little scar above his left eyebrow from that time we tried to ride a rogue Hippogriff in third year. I missed it all – the details, the imperfections, everything about him.

As I looked up to meet his eyes, a wave of emotion washed over me. It was a cocktail of relief, happiness, and a lingering nervousness that fluttered in my stomach. This was the same feeling I used to get whenever he was near, but this time, it wasn't laced with fear. It was pure, unadulterated excitement.

"Every time you look at me like that," he murmured, his voice husky, "I lose control."

My heart skipped a beat. "And is that a bad thing?" I leaned in closer, the space between us shrinking with each passing second.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. Our lips were a breath apart, the tension crackling in the air. Then, he closed the distance.

The kiss was electric, sending shivers down my spine. It was filled with a raw emotion that neither of us had dared to express before. But just as quickly as it began, he pulled away.

"We can't," he said, his voice strained. "You're still confused with what happened, and I can't take advantage of that."

A pang of disappointment shot through me. But then, a cold realization dawned on me. He thought my confession, my affection, was a way of coping, a distraction from the fallout of yesterday.

"Mattheo," I said, cupping his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my gaze. "You would be crazy if you thought I didn't mean what I said. I'm in my right mind. I meant every word. I love you. I have for a long time, even when I told myself I didn't."

And then, without further preamble, he closed the gap. His lips were on mine again, this time with a fierce intensity that left me breathless.

He picked me up, setting me on the kitchen table. The cool wood beneath me was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. He trailed kisses down my neck, making me shiver with pleasure.

“Your skin is so soft against mine. I could spend eternity just touching you."

I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," I moaned, as he nibbled on my earlobe.

He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through my body. "I have no intention of stopping," he said, his voice full of promise.

He continued his descent, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire on my skin. He reached the waistband of my pants, teasing me by hooking his fingers under the fabric but not pulling it down.

I squirmed under him, desperate for more. "Please," I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at me, his eyes full of desire. "Please what?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Please touch me," I said, my voice filled with need.

He didn't need any more encouragement. He pulled my pants down, exposing me to him. He leaned in, his breath hot against my skin. He kissed my inner thigh, teasing me even more.

I moaned, my hips bucking towards him. "Please, Mattheo," I said, my voice filled with desperation.

He finally gave in, his tongue darting out to taste me. I cried out, my fingers digging into the table. He licked and sucked, driving me wild with pleasure.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge. I wrapped my legs around his head, pulling him closer. "Don't stop," I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

He picked up the pace, his tongue working its magic. I could feel myself tightening, my orgasm building inside me.

And then I was there, my body shaking with pleasure. I cried out, my fingers gripping the table even tighter.

He didn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap at me. I moaned, my hips still bucking towards him.

Finally, he pulled away, looking up at me with a satisfied smirk."You taste like heaven. I could spend hours between your legs." he said, his voice full of affection.

I smiled down at him, my heart filled with love. As I pulled him up for a kiss.He lifted me off the table, carrying me to the couch. laid me down, his body covering mine.

I could feel his hardness pressing against me, and I wrapped my legs around him. "I want to feel you inside me today and everyday I want all of you," I whispered, my voice filled with need.

He kissed me, his lips hot and demanding. He reached down, positioning himself at my entrance.

He looked at me, his eyes full of love and desire. "Do you want me to show you how much I've been thinking about you?" he said, his voice full of conviction and i nodded.

And then he thrust into me, filling me completely. I cried out, my fingers digging into his back."You're so big." I say and he shuts my cries with a kiss.

He started moving, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. I met him thrust for thrust, our bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“want to hear you say my name over and over. Let me know who's making you feel this good." He reached down, his fingers finding my clit. He rubbed in circles, sending waves of pleasure through my body.

"I want to mark you as mine, leaving my scent and my love all over you." He whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. He placed soft kisses on my neck, nibbling gently on the sensitive skin there.

"The way you look at me when I'm inside you drives me wild, love." He murmured, I could feel myself getting even wetter at his words if that was even possible.

His phone rang, interrupting the moment. He looked at the ID and smiled. "Turn around for me, my love." He said, his voice low and commanding. I did as he asked, turning around so he could take me from behind.

He put the phone on speaker and pulled my hair to the side, exposing my neck. He sucked and bit gently on the skin there, marking me as his. I moaned at the sensation, my body trembling with pleasure.

"She's with you right?" The sound from the phone was Charles, my ex-fiancé. I moaned at the thought of his call while we’re doing this, and Mattheo put his hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.

"Yes, she's very much with me, Charles." Mattheo said, his voice confident and sure. He thrust hard into me, making me scream into his hand.

"I don't want any rivalry, just stay away from my fiancé." Charles said, his voice filled with anger. The moment the word fiancé got out of his mouth, Mattheo thrust into me again, harder this time.

"I want that rivalry, it's fine with me. And she's your ex-fiancé, I can see no ring in her finger anymore."

"What was that? Was that Y/N? Can I talk to her?" Charles said.

"No, you can't. Not now, not ever “Mattheo said, He turned me around so I was looking at him. He pulled his hands away from my mouth and leaned down to kiss me.

"If I saw you near her, if I saw you in the same place as her, even by accident, if I saw you breathing the same air as her, you're a dead man, little Charles." Mattheo said, his lips touching mine. And then he ending the call.

He kept thrusting into me until I knew I was close. "I'm so close, Mattheo." I said, my voice breathless.

"You're such a good girl, taking me so well. Cum for me, baby." He said. I did, my body trembling with pleasure. He thrust into me a few more times, then cum. He pulled away, his cum on my stomach.

"One day, I'm gonna cum inside you." He said, his voice low and commanding. The thought turned me on so much, my face was red by now.

"Oh, you like that? Like the thought of me putting a baby inside you?"I nodded, unable to speak. He pulled me so I was on top of him, hugging me so tight.

He played with my hair as we lay there, our bodies still trembling with pleasure. "I love everything you say, I want everything if it will be with you." I said, my voice filled with emotion.

Now that I knew better, forever was no longer a scary word, but a beautiful vow. I would never lose him again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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lover-of-mine · 3 months

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Let's talk about this and patterns in the show, shaw we?

Okay, so Buck wearing green here is stressing me out now. I have a really long meta in Buck and green and red clothing (you can read it here), but I'll explain the green side of the point here if you don't want to read that. Basically, Buck wears a lot of red, enough for it to be a stable color for him, and red's complementary color is green. He's usually on the reds, pinks, and oranges.

The point of a complementary color, is to create contrast, and they used green on Buck in the coma world, so we would feel like something is wrong even if we can't quite figure out why.

They made a lot of choices about his wardrobe in the coma dream that just looked weird, up to getting him black vans instead of the usual white hightops, and that creates a contrast with the usual Buck that's unsettling.

Why is that relevant? Well, green is his something is wrong color. The coma world being the most blatant example because that sweater is green, BUT he wears green during breakups and when he's doing misguided stupid shit in the name of love. The breakup with Ali, the breakup with Taylor, and I will throw in the graveyard as a breakup with Eddie, because that's the feel of the scene and he's wearing green, but technically he's just being an idiot about love.

He's also wearing green when he takes Red to see Cindy, subsequently when he talks to Maddie about how it feels to always be left, when he's hiding at Eddie's place because he doesn't want to confront Taylor because that would lead to them breaking up and he's not there yet, and when he is trying to convince himself Abby is coming back (this last one really confused me but I did color picked a palette out of that shirt and that's green).

But if we established enough of a pattern to say he does misguided shit when it comes to love, like inserting himself in Red's love life, saying this random woman he met 5 minutes ago really sees him, trying to convince himself the women who fled the country is coming back to him, then Buck wearing green with Eddie is worrying.

Because if you look at the conversations they have in the firehouse, they are usually close to the point but still need something else to truly fix the situation, they hiding something or holding on to something they shouldn't, and it goes from the first fight at the gym with the way Buck is making his insecurities about Eddie and not really working through what's really bothering him, after the lawsuit, they do clear the air but Eddie is still hiding the whole fighting thing and the fighting thing actually makes Eddie flinch away from Buck, when they are talking after the dinner with Buck's parents, Eddie is trying to have a conversation but Buck wants to hold on to anger, when they are talking about the panic attacks, Eddie shuts Buck out because he doesn't want to admit Buck is right yet, and when they are talking about Chris having nightmares, Eddie is fully taking the blame for Chris missing Shannon, even if that's something completely out of his control and that eventually even leads to Eddie quitting and the thought process starts there.

So they always involve one of them wanting to have a conversation but the other not being fully ready to be honest about everything so they are talking but they are not on the same wavelength. They also always end with one of them walking out.

I have a really long meta about the framing in a lot of their big conversations (you can read it here if you want all the thoughts), but basically if they are on the same level, as they are both sitting down they are usually talking about Eddie.

Because when they are talking about Buck, Eddie is usually standing up and Buck is looking up at him. (I have a meta on the looking-up thing if you feel like reading more thoughts on that)

And if they are discussing their relationship, they are face to face.

Random add on, if they are talking about Chris, they are usually sitting side by side on the same surface in a sense, yes I'm counting the counter as one surface lol

So signs point to the new stills being Buck forcing Eddie to talk about something he's not ready to talk about. But when you add the green while Eddie is not wearing blue, so the green is not about the blue and green thing, (I have a meta on the blue and green thing in general and it applied to buddie too that one is truly unhinged tho), and the way talks at the station mean holding on to something they shouldn't and the still of Eddie talking to Bobby, this conversation can very easily be a moment of tension.

AND, I know I'm not the only one who saw those stills and immediately thought about the panic attacks conversation, BUT, stay with me because now I'm reaching, the graveyard conversation tries to call back to the dumb luck conversation (I also have a meta on the graveyard that touches on that if you want thoughts)

But basically, similar outfits and angles, locations we never saw before and probably will never see again. But, while the equine therapy talk works to give Eddie hope and bring them closer together, the cemetery has the exact opposite effect. It creates space between them.

If we consider this and the way it seems to be calling back to a conversation that led Eddie to do the right thing about Ana, they could very much be calling back to that just to do the opposite and having Eddie refuse to listen to Buck for whatever reason.

Because one thing about the dumb luck conversation is also the movement, they are walking, the camera is moving, the conversation is moving and they are making progress, something we don't feel in the cemetery because they are in the same place, the conversation is not leading them anywhere besides away from each other.

And the conversation about the panic attacks that happen while Buck corners Eddie while Eddie is trying to sleep, so Eddie will be in a more relaxed state than when Buck is walking in wearing civilian clothes and Eddie is so deep in his workout he's glistening with sweat, so Buck is walking in on Eddie with a completely different energy. And assuming conflict to the point Buck feels the need to corner him in the gym? That means fight.

This is a very long way to say divorced era 2.0 is upon us lol basically they are arguing and it's about Eddie refusing to listen to Buck about something. Maybe even love related.

If you reached this I love you 🫶

If you liked my brand of crazy, you can find all my metas here.

#911 #buddie #otp: you don't need to pretend with me #911 meta #buddie thoughts #buddie meta #911 spoilers #911 speculation #this is very chaotic #this is very unhinged #but not the craziest thing ive ever typed laoskaoskaoksaoksas #if im right im gonna scream soakoskaoksaoks #911 abc

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 6 months

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Northern attitude

Previous chapter

a/n I welcome you to the second part for more Sugar and Ghost. Did I have a right to form attachment to these two in two chapters? No. But here I am. Enjoy.

summary: mission gone bad, feels a little like enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort sort of goodness.

warnings: blood, wounds, needles, death, hospitals, IV's, vomiting, trauma... I think that's all...

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"Keep the chest compressions going", the female voice filled the space that now seemed as buzzing as the actual hospital room. Not that any of them truly had been in the midst of it all. But army hospitals, especially while on the move, could and did get chaotic at times. "You'll need another shot of adrenaline", a calm and collected tone instructed. Gaz looked into Soap's eyes, who has been ramming at your heart for some time now. The two males nodded at one another. "Coming in 3 2 1", Gaz called out as they switched for only a heartbeat or two. Soap's hand left your chest, while Gaz aimed the needle right toward your left shoulder.

Simon felt as if he was in a daze. In one of his nightmares, maybe. Yeah, maybe that's what it was. One of his nightmares where he was aware that he was in his mind traps. Yet he didn't recall what had happened after he started shaking your body. Who pulled you out of his arms? Who pushed him to the side?

"Go back to stimulating the heart, Johnny. Hum, while you're at it", Ghost knew that voice now that his brain had granted him a moment of clarity. Eleanor Price's wife was a medic and a woman not ready to give up on her adoptive daughter. Desperate and ready to do anything. Make the four basic medical knowledge-baring males do everything they can so her baby girl will come back home. Come home, but not in a casket. Simon had no clue who even dialed her number. The phone was used for emergencies only. They were strictly advised not to use it until it was a life-or-death situation. The call had to be directed straight to the base. Eleanor wasn't at the base. But somehow, that made Simon calmer. He was happier that it was her and not some careless idiot in charge.

"You need to start the drip", another desperate order filled the space. "I can't, El,", Price said, running a hand through his face in frustration. "John, for fuck sake, you've done it before. Put it in her hand, the palm; don't go full vein, but do it damit", that was the first time Simon caught onto her voice, quivering. For a split second, her cool doctor mask had slipped, making Price clench his jaw so tight that his voice was barely a groan. "Eleanor", he breathed. "Keep humming, Soap," she barked at the man now responsible for pumping your heart, ignoring her husband. And Soap did. His humming grew louder. I got a pocket—a pocket full of sunshine echoing from the walls, accompanied by his thick Scottish accent—now that he too was under lots of stress.

Gaz ran back into the main room with the pouch full of liquid. "Got it", he said breathlessly. "Good, you see that there are two different colored liquids?", Gaz nodded too overstimulated to realize that Eleanor could not see him. "There is", Price said for him. "Good, bend it. It needs to mix, then start the drip, or so help me, God, I will never forgive you, John".

Maybe not a nightmare. Maybe a bad movie. One Ghost hoped he would forget eventually. He just sat there. While everything buzzed around him. For the very first time, he felt helpless. That was a lie. He had only felt helpless that night. The night when all of the people he loved got slaughtered. The night he was forced to lock the last bits of his humanity away. To promise himself that no one would ever get close to him. He would not make friends. He would never fall in love. But here he was. Your blood was still all over him. Simon's hands were tinted. Permanently tinted. It felt almost like an out-of-body experience. He knew this was happening, but a part of him kept on screaming that this was not real and couldn't be. That fate wouldn't be so cruel. Yes, Ghost wasn't a good man, but selfishly, he was sure that after all that he had been through, his debts had to be paid off by now.

Ghost didn't know why, but his brain took him back to the base. The room you two shared. Did he hate it at first? Yes. But you brought peace. You brought life. His room was bland and colorless. Now, with your posters and books, plants, and fucking throw blankets, it felt like living there was intensional. Like you, and only you had to return there. And that was important to Simon. He cared about it. Cared about you even if his snarling demeanor wouldn't let it show.

There were nights when he would find you passed out with your book in your hands. The hardcover digging into your neck. It was not enough to hurt, but it sure had to be uncomfortable. Simon had stood there for a solid ten minutes, the first time it had happened, just watching your slumbering frame. He turned around and went about his nightly routine. He had gone and laid down in his bed. But only a handful of moments later, he was out, crossing the white line. He had gently pulled the book from your skin, using your pen to mark the page you were on. Pulling the blanket over your shoulders because the base got rather cold at night. He told himself that he couldn't allow a soldier on his team to get sick because manpower was crucial, but deep down, he knew that any other lad could be freezing his balls off for all he cared. It was you. You were the main factor in this equation. There was something even back then that didn't sit well with him when it came to you not being well.

"It's bleeding, Eleanor", John's desperate voice filled Ghost's mind, and it was like his systems had been restarted. His eyes darted toward the table. Onto John's slumped shoulders as he fidgeted with the needle. Simon jumped up. He rounded the table to push John's hand off as he reached for the tape, repositioning the very tip of the needle before securing it in place. "You need to keep it stable", Eleanor's voice rang out. "Simon just did it", John breathed out. The room stilled for a moment. They were running out of things they could do to keep you alive. To keep you with them. Ghost held onto your hand. He hoped that everyone would take it as just him making sure that your skin wasn't puffing up, indicating that the incision was done incorrectly. And none of the men, sweaty and mentally exhausted, would have said anything. But Eleanor did.

"Simon, you're okay, sweetheart?", It was so soft. Too soft. She should be yelling. Simon was responsible for what had happened here. Maybe even more, because he should have ripped all the doors that separated him from you. Should not have followed everyone into the safe house. "She will fight; you know it; you stay strong for her. She needs you", Ghost bit onto his cheeks, feeling the taste of iron filling his mouth. He had met Eleanor a couple of times. The woman was an angel. How John had landed her was beyond him, but she was exactly what you had been for the team. A breath of fresh air. Some days when everyone was off duty, she would ring up everyone, inviting them for a barbecue at her and Price's shared home. "Positive", Ghost breathed out, yanking the wall of steel back up. He couldn't let himself feel it. Not here. Not now.

"Her chest", Soap's two words were enough to shift the focus back to the table. His big eyes looked between the rest of his team and the women on the living room table. "Soap", Eleanor's voice carried both worry and hope. "It's moving, she's...", Johnny's voice died down, only to be overshadowed by Eleanor's once more, "Count her pulse for me; tell me if it's steady enough". No one breathed for a moment, as if afraid to chase it away. As if they inhaled too much oxygen themselves, there would not be enough for you. A minute passed. Two. Three.

"Yeah", Johnny breathed, "It's steady. Weak but... but...", a sob slipped past his lips, followed by a cry from Eleanor. Gaz sank to his knees, his chest heavy, as he tried to catch his breath. John moved past them all, rushing towards the side door. But the distance between him and the room wasn't big enough for the rest of them to not hear him heaving. "Fucking hell, Bonnie, you just took ten years of my life", Soap carefully ran his hand over your leg, his head falling back as the quiet tears continued to flow. "Keep a watch on her for me, boys", Eleanor sniffled from the other side. Simon leaned over. His face pressed into your side as he tried to keep his tears at bay. Not even for a moment letting go of your hand.

That was three weeks ago. They had managed to keep you alive for two days in that house. Two days. Finally, transportation from the base was provided to get all of them out of there. The doctors had told them straight to the face that what they had been doing was God's work. They were the reason you were still breathing. But even under the unfaltering gaze of the base doctors, Ghost still couldn't shake the feeling of you slipping away.

Simon was down in the medical wing every day. Some days, he stood for hours in the corner of the room. Some days, he pulled himself a chair and sat by your side. It was the nights that were the hardest, though. Because now all Ghost saw was you. All he felt was a lack of your presence. If he did manage to slip into a restless sleep, he would be up in no time. Sweaty and panting. He would reach for his hoodie as he moved through the quiet hallways to get to you.

"Debrief starts at five", Soap's head popped into the hospital room. Making Ghost stutter on the last words that he was reading as he slowly lowered one of your books to his lap. Most of his mornings looked the same. Quick shower. Breakfast if he was up for it. Your hospital room. Training. Back to your hospital room. Days when he had to be in meetings or debriefs were the ones he hated the most. That meant he had to be away from you for longer than he was willing. "Copy", he said sternly, eager to at least finish the page he was on. And even more so, hoping that Soap would go away. Simon had nothing against the guy. Out of everyone, he liked Johnny the most. The two had a similar sense of humor, and working together never felt like a never-ending nightmare. Just the Scot talked a lot. At times, it was fun, and Simon's ever-running brain benefited from it. But there were times, like now, when he wished that the man would get the message and go his own way. "Ain't my place to say this, but...", the door cracked open a bit more, "I'm sure that she loves that you're here", Simon was so glad that his back was turned to Soap because he was sure that he would be able to see his face falter. Fingers grinning at the book just a bit tighter. "Copy, Soap, you can go", Ghost's tone was more than unamused. He didn't want to break in front of any of them. The safe house had already been a dead giveaway of how Simon felt when it came to you. And he didn't want anyone to know anything else. "And she...", Soap started once more, but Ghost just lifted his hand up, making all sounds die down. "Copy", Simon said thickly through his teeth. He knew that it was selfish to push everyone away like that. You two were also friends. Close ones at that. Simon knew that Soap loved you. He had a front-row ticket to watch that after the mission went south. But he just couldn't. Couldn't do it now. When the door quietly kicked shut, Simon let out a sigh, his eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. He had to go, even if he didn't want to.

"I'll be back", he muttered softly, placing the book on the little table by your bed. "Will finish reading that book for you later", Ghost reached his hand out, softly running his fingers over your forehead, lingering touches stretching out for longer than they should. "You sleep well, Sugar", he breathed out, leaning in to place a kiss on the side of your head and stilling right beside you as he let himself listen to the sound of your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. And he was pulling away, running a hand through his face before he walked out of the room.

Ghost barely said a word in the debrief. When Kate asked for his input, the man shrugged his shoulders and said, "You read my report; you know my thoughts". Was the upper management getting fed up with him at this point? Most definitely. Yet no one managed to put the lack of everyone's involvement against them. Most of the base had been rather quiet when they wheeled you through the corridors, almost lifeless. And yes, the key thing was not to get emotionally attached. Teammates came and went, but everyone knew just as well how tight everyone in this group was. Or came to realize that with the four men following the doctors in one quick stride.

"Ghost", Price's voice yanked Simon back to the meeting room. An almost empty meeting room at that. "A word alone in my office", the captain said, only waiting for a head nod before walking away. Simon followed suit. He knew there was no other option. "Eleanor said you didn't call her back", John mused, reaching for the lighter as he puffed out smoke. Ghost's face stayed blank as he muttered, "I didn't see the call". That was a lie. He did. And there was more than one. Simon just couldn't pick up. The same way he couldn't watch the way Price's wife had sobbed in her husband's chest when they had just returned. The guilt was too much. The sight of her sobbing only made Simon think that it was over. An hour. Maybe two. And your body will be in the bag. Stored away in the cold room.

"Simon", John snapped his hand in front of Ghost's eyes, making the male blink a couple of times. "Is that all, sir?", his voice was grim. Even Simon was struggling to recognize himself. John frowned, "Don't you sir me, boy", a warning finger was jabbed into Simon's chest. A moment of silence. A deep exhale. "Her vitals are getting better. She will pull through", Price said softly, clapping Ghost's shoulders, but the man simply shook his head and said, "You don't know that". And it's like that's all Price needed to realize where the stem of all of this denial was rooted. "I called the shots there. It's on me, not you", the captain said firmly, that same warning finger now pointing directly at his chest. Neither of them said anything else afterward. They just stood there. Eyes burning into each other.

Price's eyes narrowed for a moment before he muttered, "Do you like her? My, Sug, do you like her?", the question threw Simon off the hilt. He didn't expect it here. Now. It wasn't supposed to be discussed here. Like that. And my Sug... Fucking hell. It was his captain's daughter Simon was falling for. Biological or not, she was still a daughter. And for the first time, did he realize how much shit this could bring you both? Maybe it was one-sided even. But the way you held onto him. Your touch. Simon had never been touched so tenderly in his life. And what's more, for the very first time, he didn't want to pull away. "Because if you play...", Price's tone shifted completely as he spoke his words, and Ghost cut him off quickly, "Positive. I do... I like her". John simply nodded at his words, making Simom mimic his movements. The older male scratched his chin before waving Simon away, and he didn't waste a minute before turning away. He'll deal with the potential consequences later on.

Simon was almost out the door when a voice stopped him. "Simon", Price called out once more, making the soldier turn back, "I expect you to mow my lawn in the summer". A strange, warm sensation filled Simon's chest as he looked at the man in front of him, smiling as he puffed out another cloud of smoke. Ghost lets himself linger for a heartbeat more before he closes the door, heading towards the medical wing once more.

"I also overwatered your succulent", Simon said quietly as he looked out of the window in your room. The rest of the team had slowly turned the little, awfully sterol-looking room into a somewhat comfortable place. Or at least a place that screamed less about the inevitable outcome they all feared the most. A plush blanket. Some of your books. A night lamp in the shape of a duck. That was a gift from Soap. Was it slightly questionable? Yes. But everyone dealt with this in their own way, so if bringing you a light-up duck made Soap happy in some way, so will it be.

"I bought you a new one, but... still felt like you should know", Simon continued. He was doing this a lot. Way too much. Maybe? Ghost wasn't sure what was normal or not at this stage. Yet he couldn't help but feel that you would be sitting there with an eyebrow lifted at the number of words he was sharing. One thing everyone knew was that Ghost didn't speak unless it was necessary. Some called it arrogance. Others said that that was just his cold demeanor. The truth was, no one truly stopped to listen or cared for Simon for most of his life. So he got used to it. But talking to you, at least now, made him feel lighter. Besides the reading he did here, Simon also went over meetings with you. A part of him didn't want you to feel left out. Not that your unconscious body cared, but... if you could hear him. He wanted you to feel involved. Then there were an endless amount of stories about how and who had pissed him off that day.

"I...", Ghost's voice dies down as he turns back to face you. You looked like a doll laid neatly on the sheets. They have moved the IV out today. Nothing more but a heart monitor left running. Eleanor had no doubt been here while he was in the debrief because your hair had been brushed. Simon let out a sigh as he pulled a chair for himself, quickly shrugging off his gloves.

"You know, you caught my attention the moment I saw you", his hand hovered above yours for a moment. He didn't trust himself to touch you. What if he harmed you in some way? What if he triggered a negative reaction? "Fucking hell, did you keep us on your toes", Ghost shook his head, "I took it for granted. I'd do anything to see you striding past the main entrance once again". Simon let his head fall over your stomach. Oddly enough, that was the only time that his head seemed to work these days. Taking a deep breath, Simon let the feeling of your body slowly ground him. You're here. With him. He can hear your heart beating. Your body is no longer cold. You even have some of your color back. He can...

A sudden rustling of the sheets makes every single muscle in Simon's body seize. For a moment, he can't even hear his own heart as he stays as still as he can. One heartbeat. Another. Nothing. Devastation rushes through him. He had gotten so sensitive to the sounds in this room. A gentle hand caresses his scalp, and Simon jerks away.

Blinking rapidly, only to find your half-hooded eyes open. Looking right back at him. "No", Simon muttered, fully convinced that his lack of sleep had finally gotten the best of him. He doesn't move away, but he digs the back of his palm into his eyes. "Simon...", and it's barely a whisper. So weak still, but it's there, and... Simon's shoulders quiver. There's no sound. Not a single hick-up, but you know.

Every single part of your body feels as if it's on fire. The room is dim, but gods, it's still too bright for your sensitive eyes. Yet you can't take your eyes away from the man drowning in his own emotions right next to you. You carefully reach out for him, muscles soar from the lack of movement. Brushing your fingers through his hair. Scratching his scalp. You have no idea how long you've been out, but you've heard him talking. Soothing the anxiety of being trapped in nothing but darkness.

"Si", You breathe out once more, trying to tug at his wrist softly. Wanting nothing more than to see his eyes once again. Simon gives in instantly, the tears soaking his mask. You try to wipe some of them away, but his fingers wrap around your frail wrist. For a second, you are convinced that he will push you away, but he does quite the opposite. With both of his palms, Simon presses your hand into his cheek. Leaning into your touch.

"You died... I held you," he says through heavy breaths, pulling at your heart, "You... the blood". You shake your head slowly. "Look at me", you say softly, coughing slightly. At the feeling of your dry throat, Simon is out of the chair, lifting the water jug to pour you a glass before carefully cradling your head as he helps you take a couple of sips. That's enough to chase some of the big emotions away. Enough to give time for Ghost to pull the iron mask back on, but his eyes still glisten.

"I'm here, aren't I?", you whispered, "That pink rug was too appealing to give up", you joke slightly, and it's enough to make Ghost let out somewhat of a chuckle. "You don't have to die to buy a rug for our room", Simon says, head turning to look at the monitor as if waiting to see something that would still prove to him that this wasn't happening. "You look like shit, LT. Losing sleep over a girl doesn't look good on you", you mutter, and Simon lets out a dry huff. "Because I'm a decent bloke, I won't comment on how you look", you let out a gasp in return, and that nearly sent him flying off his chair because the man is on such high alert that anything rings danger bells in his head now. "I'm okay, just trying to be dramatic with you", you say, squeezing his hand softly, trying to get him to calm down once more. Silence falls. Not an uncomfortable one. One that fully captures the shared amount of words running through both of your minds.

"I heard you, you know? Kind of pissed that you think that Jack deserved to get his heart broken," Simon snorts, running his fingers through his hair. His shoulders droop. All of the adrenaline that's been keeping him upright is finally wearing off. Leaving him feeling heavy and weak. "Should I get the others? Price would...", Ghost breathed, turning to get up, but you grabbed onto his hand quickly. "I just want you right now", you muttered straight away, realizing how dumb and desperate that sounded, "If you don't mind".

Simon scoffed, "Sugar, I sat here for three weeks begging for all the holy things that you would pull through", You bit your lip at his words. You knew that he did. You felt him. Heard him. Smelled him. He had been your lifeline all this time. "If I could, I would pull rank to get myself off duty so I could sit here till you fully recover", Ghost says, rolling his eyes, now doubtful at everyone who has been up his ass for not attending every single meeting. You smile at him weakly, feeling the little bits of your energy slowly giving out. Yet you still muster what's left of it to move your head up so you could run your fingers beneath Simon's eyes, where the darkest tired bags screamed about the lack of sleep he was getting.

"Get in bed," You tap the side next to you softly. You have no idea how you both will fit here, but you can't watch him practically fall asleep by your side. He had already spent way too many nights in that tiny plastic chair. "Shouldn't we at least go on a date first?", Simon jokes, making your cheeks grow crimson, and you're convinced that they are a dead giveaway of how you are feeling. "Oh, fuck you...", you huff, trying to frown, but the smile that tugged at your lips was too strong. "Lay with me, so you could sleep. So we both could sleep", you say once more, not letting go of his hand. With the size of this man, the bed will get crampy. But you didn't care. You needed to feel him close. To just know that he was with you. Fully. As if reading your mind, Simon got up, climbing into the bed from your good side. Making sure your uninjured shoulder was pressed against him.

"Is this okay?", he said after a moment of you two moving around to find a comfortable position for the two of you. "You can wrap your hands around me; you don't have to lay there like a log", you chuckled, tugging at his sleeve and urging him to cling onto you the way you were clinging to him. Ghost chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss your head. Your hand instantly moves up to cradle the side of his masked face. The feeling of the soft material soothing to your senses. "I fucking missed you", Ghost breathed after a moment of silence. Fingers running up and down your back. You slowly peeled your eyes open, fighting the tiredness just for a heartbeat longer. Meeting his soft eyes as looked down at you. "I missed you too, Simon. Been missing you since the moment I saw you", you smiled softly, turning to press a loving kiss on his chest, right over his heart, before you lay your head back, listening to the steady drumming.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod imagine

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kaleldobrev · 11 months

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You Deserve Love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sometimes Dean needs reassurance that you love him

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Dean talking bad about himself :(

Authors Note: Back at it again with my vulnerable Dean. This man just wants to be loved | The italics are dream world | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean was sitting on a pier in one of those Adirondack chairs he’s seen only a few times in his life. He was looking out into a vast lake; a fishing pole in his hand, with an open cooler with ice and a six pack on his left. The sun was out, but it was slightly cloudy; but not cloudy enough for the sun’s rays to make his skin feel slightly warm to the touch.

He looked over, past the cooler; you too were sitting in an Adirondack chair. You had a sketchbook in your lap with a pencil in your hand, an eraser on the right arm of the chair. You were sitting on one of your legs; he never understood how that position was even comfortable for you, but he’s seen you sit that way countless times before.

He smiled at you; one of those warm, loving smiles. He looked at you with admiration. He couldn’t believe that you could be with someone like him. In his eyes you were perfect, even if you didn’t see yourself that way. “Nobody’s perfect” you would tell him. But he would always reply, “You are though.”

You looked up from your sketchbook and smiled back at him. “What?” You asked.

“How did I ever get so lucky?” He asked. “I mean, you’re everything I could possibly want in a woman. You’re sexy, smart, and funny as Hell.” He felt himself chuckle. “You can fight; even taking down Sam and me once or twice.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it Sweetheart.”

“Don’t sell yourself short Dean.” You replied, closing your sketchbook. “I honestly love you so much. I wouldn’t dream of being with anyone else but you.” Your words sounded so reassuring to him; of course they would be, it was his dream after all. You would say anything he’d want to hear because it was in his head.

“I know you love me Sweetheart but…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t actually speaking to you, just the dream version of you.

“But what?” You got up from your chair now, lifting up his chin slightly with your fingers. “How many times do I have to tell you, show you, that I love you until you believe that you deserve it?” You leaned down so you were eye level with him. “Why don’t you wake up uh? We can talk about it.”

“I don’t want to wake up.” He mumbled. His dreams were some of the only moments he truly felt like he was at peace. He knew though, that when he woke up you would be lying there next to him, like you always did, he didn’t want this dream to end. He loved when you were in his dreams, especially in mundane ones like these.

“I know baby.” You whispered. “But I’ll be there when you wake up. I promise.” You gave him another reassuring smile.

“I know.” His voice going into a whisper like yours.

“Close your eyes and count to three.” You told him, your voice getting more and more faint. “I’ll count with you so it’s not so scary, okay?” Dean closed his eyes. “One…two…three.”

Dean woke up, gasping as if he had a nightmare or couldn’t catch his breath. But he hadn’t woken up from a nightmare, he had woken from a dream that he didn’t want to leave. He was lying on his back while you were lying on your left side, your face looking in his direction. You always looked so peaceful whenever you slept, like you didn’t have a care in the world.

He felt you shift slightly beside him. You moved so your head was now resting on his chest, your arm lay across his stomach. He brought his arm around your back, bringing you closer to him. He kissed the top of your heart before staring up at the ceiling again. He wished dream you hadn’t woken him up.

Dean laid awake for a while. Either staring up at the ceiling or looking over at you. Even before the two of you had started dating, there was just something about watching you sleep that brought him a strange kind of comfort. He never told you, dared tell you, because he always thought you’d call him a creep for doing that. In his defense, he knew it was a little creepy to watch you sleep; but at the same time, he couldn’t help himself.

He felt you shift again. “Mmm…Dean?” You whispered, almost inaudible. Your eyes not open.

“Yeah Sweetheart?” He replied in a similar tone.

“You okay?” You asked. Your voice was still full of sleep, but with a slight hint of concern. Your eyes started to flutter open.

“Yeah, I’m fine Sweetheart. Go back to sleep.” He didn’t want you to worry more than you needed to; you already had enough on your plate. He also worried enough for the both of you.

“You’re not fine.” You said as you rubbed your eyes. Your voice sounding a little less tired now. “What’s on your mind Dean?”

“Can we talk about in the morning?” He asked. He didn’t really want to talk about the way he was feeling, what he had told dream you. How he didn’t feel like he deserved you or your love. He hated having that conversation with you because he could see the disappointment in your face every single time he had brought it up. Disappointing you was something he hated doing; but felt like he did often, even though you had told him countless times that he could never disappoint you.

“Hmm. That’s code for ‘we’re never going to talk about it.”’ You had known Dean for years, and practically called yourself an expert when it came to the man. You knew his tells, his code words and phrases. You could read his mind solely on body language or facial expressions alone. “It wasn’t a nightmare right?” You wanted to make sure.

He shook his head. “No…thankfully.” He replied, his no sounding very hard and blunt. More blunt than he had intended it to sound. “I uh, I actually had a great dream.”

“Tell me about it?” You asked. You liked hearing about his dreams. It really amazed you when he told you about some of the things that he dreamed about, how comforting a lot of them sounded. When he wasn’t having nightmares, he was dreaming about mundane things. Going to a Jayhawks game, mowing the lawn, fishing, going for a drive. The things he dreamed about weren’t just of him doing those things, but they were activities that you were doing with him. The two of you were going to Jayhawks games together, you were watching him mow the lawn, you were with him fishing, you were the passenger in Baby.

“It was the fishing one.” He said. The fishing dream happened to be one of your favorites that he had dreamed about; it also happened to be one of his favorites too. You wished you could be in that dream with him, experience it for yourself, because the way he had described it, it sounded so wonderfully peaceful. “But um, it was a bit different this time around. Our…our conversation was different.”

“Yeah? How was it different?” Dean had told you that whenever he had the fishing dream the two of you would just be talking about what you were currently drawing – the drawing changed with every iteration of the dream; and how he was planning on cooking up the next fish he had caught for dinner for the two of you that night. Simple conversation, nothing to do with monsters or the supernatural.

“Don’t hate me.” His voice sounded a tiny bit pained, like he was holding back some kind of painful memory or emotion.

“Dean, I could never hate you.” It was true. Even after everything he has done, hating this man was never possible or even an option for you. There were times when you had tried, when you had actual reason to; but you just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t in your blood to hate him.

“I don’t deserve you Y/N.” His voice was soft. “You, you deserve so much more than a fuck up like me.”

“No. Don’t you dare say that to me Dean Winchester.” You hated whenever he brought this up. He didn’t bring this up often, but it killed you every single time he did.

Dean saw the disappointment invading your eyes and he felt his heart sink. “You’re disappointed.”

“I’m not…I’m not disappointed. I’m…angry. Upset. I’m not angry or upset with you though.” You sat up in bed now, Dean did the same following your lead. “Dean. I hate, hate when you say that you don’t deserve me.” You took his hands in yours. “Because God Dammit you do. You deserve me. You deserve love even when you think you don’t.” You sighed, feeling a wave of emotions just balling up in your chest. “I wish you could see what I see.” You reached out and touched his cheek.

“What’s that?” He asked, his voice sounding slightly uneven. As much as he hated to admit it, there were times when he hated what he saw when he looked at himself in the mirror. He hated how broken he looked. He hated how empty and damaged he felt inside sometimes.

“I see someone that I love more than anything. I see someone who I’d sacrifice myself for, and have sacrificed my life for on numerous occasions. I see a loving, caring, selfless man. Someone who cares more about others than they do themselves. You give off this rough, brute, soldier exterior but, in reality, that’s just a front. Yeah, you might consider yourself a soldier but, you’re more than that. You’re funny, smart, a little bit nerdy, and handsome as Hell. You’re everything I could ever ask for. And…you’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with, no matter how long that may be.”

Hearing your words surprised him a bit, unsure of how to respond. Some of your words sounded so familiar, sounded similar to what he had told you in his dream. He had told you that you were everything he could ask for, and here you were telling him the same. A small part of him couldn’t comprehend that. How you didn’t see a broken, damaged, empty man; but saw someone who was full of life and love. He loved that you had said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him because he wanted – wants – the same.

“I don’t get it Sweetheart, really. How you could love me this much. I really, really, don’t deserve you.” He smiled a pained smile. “After everything I’ve done to you, said to you…” He trailed off, now cupping your cheek.

“Even after everything, I never stopped loving you. Even when, when you thought I had.” You reassured him. It amazed him, your love and dedication. It even amazed you. You knew that other people would find it stupid or naïve to still love a person after all the heart break that they have caused you over years and years, but you didn’t think so; nor did Dean. Deep down, the two of you felt it – the connection between you two.

“Dean Winchester, I honestly love you so much. And I honestly wouldn’t want to be with anyone else but you.” You smiled a soft smile. “How many times do I have to tell you, show you, that I love you until you believe that you deserve it?” You were word for word as you had been in his dream.

“You said the same thing just now…in my dream.” He admitted.

“Dream me sounds pretty smart. You should listen to her more.” In that moment, you leaned in and kissed him. Comforting him and reassuring him that you were in fact, in love with him.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn #supernatural #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #reader insert #female reader

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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seroh · 5 months

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something blue

suna, f.reader

in which you try to get the courage to divorce your cheating husband.

words: 0.7K

notes: angst; edited and reposted from my other blog

something old | something borrowed | something blue

What is a vow?

The question popped in your head as you stared at your wedding photo. It hung proud and mighty on the wall opposite your bed, so big it had seemed pretentious and self centered when you’d ordered it, but your husband had insisted. He had called it proof of his love and devotion for you. You called it overcompensation and deceit.

If only you hadn’t been so naive, so trusting. If only you had opened your eyes instead of blindly entering the fantasy world Suna had so carefully crafted for you.

“Poor girl. Poor pathetic, stupid girl,” you muttered, words not reaching the ears of the woman frozen in time, living a lie. “You really thought he was perfect, huh?”

And truly, you had. He had once seemed like the most perfect, most idyllic of men. Even months after the wedding, he still played the role of the doting and loving husband. Now, the real face that hid behind the mask plagued your nightmares, kept you up at night. The bitterness of truth wouldn’t leave your mouth, its vile taste made you nauseous just from thinking about it.

If it hadn't been for the getaway trip you had planned just because, you would've still been caught in his webs. It was your prevalent postnuptial bliss what had, in the end, shone the light on his deceit. It almost made you laugh. A cruel, resentful kind of laugh.

Instead, you cried.

‘What is a vow?’ You asked yourself again, spite rising against the pain. Was it a promise born of love? Was it an ode to fidelity? Wishful thinking? Pretty lies?

A vow, you decided, was the purest form of deception.

Even now, having known for so long what he was doing in the shadows, you still thought about his voice, his face, his smile as he declared your love eternal, and saw a man deeply in love. His eyes hadn't seemed anything but adoring, his words nothing but heartfelt. His mask had been so carefully crafted no one would've doubted his heart and soul belonged to you.

Oh, what a fool you must've seemed. You could almost see them, laughing at your expense after your many anniversaries, mocking the love you held for him, your happiness and tears after his proposal. And to think that, at some point, you had come to consider her a friend too.

His best friend. He had kept his lover right by your side, even encouraged you to get closer to her. And you were too in love with him to notice.

Suna hadn't put any effort into his affair and neither, looking back on it, into hiding it. Memories came to you of them in compromising situations, but they were just so affectionate with each other. They had been friends for so long, way before you came into the picture. It was just the way they were with each other, so how could you try to pull them apart? How could you even think he would see her that way? Were you really so insecure that you didn't think a man and a woman could be friends?

It was obvious now, of course, that he was just manipulating you with those words. Realizing it really put into perspective just how long he had been seeing her behind your back. He hadn't woken up one day and realized you weren't enough, that he needed more. She had always, always had him for herself, even back when you were just getting to know him, it was her he belonged to.

You had just borrowed him for a while, and it was time to give him back.

You stood up, wiped the tears off of your face, and grabbed the crumbled envelope beside you. As you left your apartment and went down the stairs, you realized it was for the best. Divorcing him was for the best. He had been gone for weeks now, and you weren't planning on taking him back.

You ignored the pity-filled looks the neighbors gave you, and marched to the front desk. Your hand faltered for just a second before extending the envelope to the receptionist.

"Next time the mailman comes, give this to him. To send urgently."

Your voice quavered and your fingers hesitated to let go when he grabbed it, but the old man just gave you a comforting smile.

It's time to let go, you reassured yourself.

You could only hope Suna had enough compassion to make it easy.

SEROH 2024

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #hq angst #hq x reader #haikyuu fic #hq fic #suna angst #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro angst

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dearestspirit · 6 months

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a note heard in heaven - 01

mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 3,388 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health. series masterlist | previous part | next part

“Fuck!” Mizu grunts, knocking her head into the ceiling of her little room after hearing your scream.

Hissing, she hurriedly flails up and out of bed, Madame Kaji’s words on her mind. The older woman had told Mizu about your nightmares– she was no stranger to them herself. If she were back in that dingy village she called home right now, she would’ve gone right back to sleep. It’d be a lie if she said she wasn’t thinking about ignoring you, even now. Taigen would have her head if she didn’t follow through with the plan, though… The thought of losing out on the money is enough to make her quicken her pace through your door, nearly tripping over herself.

Your voice is torn between muttering and full-blown shrieking– crying for your mother. Your mother, who, as far as Mizu knew, was long gone. Once she reaches your bed, she’s out of breath and already has her arms at, what she assumes is, your shoulders to hold you in place. Buried under your blanket and absolutely thrashing around, Mizu can barely get a word out to calm you down. Eventually, she can tell you’ve become more conscious when you start calling out for the name of your old handmaiden.

“No, no, I’m the new one,” Mizu hushes you, your wild movements slowly ceasing. “You had a bad dream, go back to sleep.” Her tone is rough, hoping you’re through the worst of it.

Finally, you take hold of the blanket, easing the hem of it down to your midsection. Mizu, for a moment, gulps as you’re revealed to her. In the glint of the moonlight, your eyes were almost crystalline. Tear tracks stain your cheeks, complexion ruddy with grief. Her eyes trail down to your lips, trembling. Grasped tightly in your arms was a doll. You looked… fragile. Fragile in an all too familiar way. Fragile in the way that she knew she once was too– a child, having a bad dream, calling for their mother. No mother would come for either of you.

She watches you raise your arm, finger pointing out into the gardens your room faces. “Do you see the cherry tree? My aunt… she passed. There’s nights where I see her out there.” Your rasping barely breaks through the quiet, hoarse and shaky.

Mizu’s attention is turned towards the large window, squinting out of it. Watching you from the corner of her eye, she can’t shake the thought of how eerie you are. Neither Taigen nor Madame Kaji had even hinted at the notion of you seeing ghosts to her. She wasn’t superstitious in the slightest, but she felt the weight of her responsibility for you become heavier. Melancholy like yours was easy to sense, deeply buried as it may be. This job was going to be the end of her. She sighed, hoping to turn around and find you peacefully sleeping.

“For fuck’s sake!” Mizu grits her teeth, finding you not even in the room at all once she turns back.

She’s quick to chase after you, finding you huddled in a swathe of your own blankets at the top of the stairs. You’re sniffling into them, knees pressed tightly to your chest. When you peer up at her, a zing of guilt courses up her spine. Maybe you didn’t just look fragile.

“Come to your senses yet?” She asks, tilting her head with her arms crossed. Reaching a foot out, she nudges at your legs.

You give her a sluggish nod in response, having exerted all your energy. Between the scrambling in bed and the mad dashing to the staircase, you felt well and truly exhausted. Part of you felt remorse; for looking at Mizu, even in the dim light, you could see the weariness under her eyes. In the gauntness of her cheekbones, too. Despite feeling despair holding you down, you reach your arms out, gesturing for her help. Mizu drags a hand over her face, grumbling. Squatting down, she’s somehow able to enclose her arms around the mass of blankets covering you, lifting you easily. It barely takes her any time to lug you back into bed.

Her awkward nature is obvious as she stands once more at your side. “Okay, well… goodnight?”

Sitting up, you don’t hesitate to take Mizu’s sleeve into your hand and pull. In response, she tugs herself away from you, scoffing.

“Don’t grab me like that,” Mizu seethes. “Ever. Just call for me.”

Your mouth runs dry. Whether that’s due to the harshness of her tone or the fact you upset her, you aren’t entirely sure. “I apologize… Could you stay with me until I fall asleep again?”

Her face scrunches. “Don’t you have a husband? Call him in here.”

You squirm, clearly uncomfortable. “We aren’t actually married yet. Calling each other husband and wife… it’s for appearances,” Your head lolls back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling. That doll you had– it’s returned to its position of being clutched tightly in your arms. “Men like him are only gentle with women when others are watching.”

Mizu’s chest heaves, a strong exhale leaving her as she contemplates her next move. “Fine, just for tonight.”

Your eyes light up almost instantaneously. The sight makes her swallow, stiffly. Had… anyone ever looked at her like that? Those sparks of joy, finally overtaking that shadowy gloom in your irises; it captivated her. Briefly, at least.

“Ugh,” she shook her head, taking little care to climb into the spot next to you. “Look, if I’m staying here until you fall asleep, you’re facing the other way.”

“Your eyes are blue. I couldn’t see them that well before.”

“Yes, they are. Just another good reason for you to turn around, right?” she sneers. “Or better yet, go ahead and fire me.”

You frown, holding her gaze. “I wouldn’t fire you for something like that,” you’re mumbling as you bring a hand up to her cheek, caressing it with the back of your knuckle. “For what it’s worth, I think they’re beautiful. Someone would’ve been very happy to have you as a wife someday, I’m sure.”

Mizu snorts at that, carefully edging her face away from your touch. “I’ll pass, but… thanks. Even if it’s empty flattery.”

She can see your lips form into a pout. “It’s not!”

You’re playful, all of a sudden. She figures that this is it. Your loneliness bubbling to the surface. An undrownable creature made of desires and aches. Mizu knew your old handmaidens were mostly a lot older than you– elderly women vastly more experienced than the other youthful servant girls. It’s been very, very long since you’ve had a friend, if you’ve ever had one to begin with. It was only slightly unfortunate to her that she’d have to be the one to prey upon your vulnerabilities.

“Do brats like you whine all the time?” She huffs, taking your arms within her hands and turning you around herself. “You must be worn out by now, so go to bed. I’ll… be here.”

You chuckle at her, the grimace she must be sporting is obvious even though you’re not looking anymore. You can’t help but think that your mattress felt a bit softer tonight.

It was a long few minutes that passed by, Mizu’s eyes trained on the motions of your breathing. When your body rose, fell. The slight shivers that would run through you when your blanket slipped lower than wanted. Clearing her throat, she eased herself off of your bed. With her first night as your handmaiden over, she questioned just how sane she’d be after the end of all this. At least she’d be rich, she supposed, slipping back into her bedroll with a smirk.

Mizu awoke to a bleary morning and the sound of Madame Kaji’s grating nags in her ear. Something about even the handmaiden eating in the servant’s quarters– she didn’t care all that much, barely half conscious to hear it. It took her a few groggy minutes to make her way outside and get her hands on a bowl of rice and some sort of… porridge, she assumed.

The hall was filled with the gossip of the other young girls serving here. Together they squealed about The Count; he was due to make an appearance today. Supposedly they saw a light ghosting through the hallway, speculating it was him meeting you in your bedroom. She almost laughed at that, knowing the reality is that it was her going after you during your nightmare. Fiddling with her chopsticks, she felt little appetite knowing Taigen would be here today. Everything in this plan had to go perfectly, there was no room for her to be suspicious or lack confidence in her abilities. Perhaps the seemingly endless downpour of rain was also putting a damper on her? Taking only a few more bites, she pushed her bowls away from her. Padding over to where she left her shoes, she felt a bristle of anger. One of her shoes was gone, with a crowd of other servant girls giggling. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for them, Madame Kaji was approaching her with a parasol held over her head.

“Is that how you intend on going to meet with the Lady?” Her eyebrow raises, gesturing to Mizu’s feet.

“I didn’t exactly plan on having my shoe taken.” Mizu fumes.

Madame Kaji sighs, massaging her temple. “Ah… Very well.”

A sense of unease settled in Mizu’s chest. This would be her first official meeting with you. It’d be up to you whether you’d take her on as handmaiden or not… and it was looking grim for her, right now. As if she isn’t on enough people’s hit list, she’d have to go and be added to Taigen’s for screwing up. She follows closely behind Madame Kaji as she leads her to your room, trying her best to ignore the sogginess of her footwear. It takes everything in her to not grumble with every step, keeping up a polite disposition. Even if you were willing to put up with her irritable nature, Madame Kaji certainly wasn’t.

Before long, she stood in front of you in a deep bow, hands folded at her waist.

“This is Mizu.” Madame Kaji spoke.

You felt a prickle of heat trail up your neck, a twinge of embarrassment at realizing that through the entire night, you hadn’t asked for her name once.

“I’m at your service, my Lady.” She straightens herself out, eyes now set on you.

You’re much more put together today. That hair of yours is pinned up neatly, off your shoulders. And your eyes, today, aren’t sullied by the red tint of sorrow. Your choice of dress guides the eyes– from nose to lips to neck to the faint hint of exposed collarbones. Delicate; the word that comes to mind when Mizu collects her thoughts. Madame Kaji leaves a less than pleasant swat on her back.

“Right, a letter from my last mistress.” Mizu stands before you, holding out the paper.

You don’t open it yet, instead choosing to focus your sight on Mizu. “Did you enjoy your first night here? It’s rare for the sun to come out. My husband prefers it that way, otherwise his extensive library would be at risk. To take joy in a place like this… it’s difficult, no?”

Mizu’s eyesight flickers between you and Madame Kaji, wondering how to answer. “I don’t mind it.”

“Hm,” You hum inquisitively. “You don’t have to lie when I question you. I want your honesty. Do you have parents?”

“What?” Mizu asks, somewhere between anger and surprise.

“I’ll be going now.” Madame Kaji shakes her head, sighing.

“I don’t have any either, so don’t feel bad. I had my aunt and Madame Kaji, so how much can the love of a mother really be worth?” For a second, she hears the twist of something bitter in you. You look back down at the letter Mizu handed you. “Read this to me, if you will.”

“You’re spoiled, aren’t you?” She grunts, taking the parchment out of your hands.

“It’s only because my head hurts before every reading session with my husband. Though your honesty is refreshing.” You’re grinning, unused to someone like her. Your previous handmaidens were at your beck and call– annoyingly so.

It’s odd, but in her mind she’s quick to consider you… charming. You’ve been spoon-fed and privileged your whole life, yet here you are conversing with her without taking any offense. Delight has always been scarce for her; still, she reminds herself whatever she feels now will and must be short lived.

“Dear Lady of the House… The Count said you needed a new maid…” Mizu starts, reading off the neat handwriting which she knows is Taigen’s, but you're oblivious to.

“Ah, enough,” You wave a hand at her, taking the letter back. “You’ll be my handmaid. I know Madame Kaji forbids it, but I don’t particularly care if you curse or steal. It’s my word that decides whether you stay or not.”

“You speak like you have a condition for my staying?” Mizu questions.

“I do. Don’t ever lie to me.” You smile, though your words are cold. It’s a chilling ultimatum that rings in the back of her mind for a while.

She freezes as you put her hands on her– resting them on the outside of her arms, slowly trailing to her wrists. There’s a second where she can pinpoint the exact change in your expression. Where it morphs from man-eating to genuine. She thinks that through all the rain, the sun might be shining a little brighter through the gray now.

“And, another question,” You’re scanning her appearance, zeroing in on the frames sitting on her nose. “Did Madame Kaji ask you to wear those- your glasses?”

“Yes, for my eyes.” She mumbles, finding the topic easily aggravating her.

“You don’t have to wear them if you'd rather not, and…” A finger of yours comes up, untucking a curl of her locks from their neat place. “You can wear your hair like this. It’s how you had it last night, too. You seemed more comfortable.”

Since when has anyone like you ever cared about the comfort of someone below you? She opens her mouth to speak, maybe even say some sort of gratitude, but you’re already flitting away from her. You’re eager, waving her to and fro every corner of your room. Trinkets on display are taken out of their designated place and into her palms, each one connected to a story. You talk.

You talk, and that loneliness once again bubbles, showing it’s soft underbelly to the skies.

“This is my mother.” You open up a locket to reveal an old photo.

To Mizu, the two of you have an uncanny resemblance. It’s almost bizarre, the way each of you is the picture of a man’s ideal wife. Again, the word delicate springs to mind. “She’s stunning.”

You tilt your head, eyes squinting. “And me? My husband says I don’t compare to my mother.” You turn, mimicking your mother’s pose. There’s nerves in your tone, a shadow looming over you as you wait in suspense for her answer.

Fuck. Your own despair would betray you. You’ve unknowingly gotten yourself ensnared in the perfect moment to sink her teeth into you. Your softness would be met only with blades. With her as his wing-woman, you’d be eating out of Taigen’s hand in no time.

Her stare lingers on you. “The Count says–”

“You’ve met him?”

“What?” She stutters, blinking rapidly. “I mean, my… aunt met him. She used to nanny him, so I’ve just heard things from her.”

“So, what did he say about me then?” Your eyes hold an expression of curiosity, maybe even a tinge of hope.

“He lays awake at night thinking of you. In bed.” She tacks on the last part of her sentence as an extra measure.

There’s a brief flash of a smirk upon your face before you speak. “In bed…” You trail off, gaze landing on her one shoeless foot. “And what happened there?”

When she recalls the events to you of her losing her shoe, you click your tongue, sighing. You reach out a hand to take her by the arm, but remember her warning about never grabbing her. Instead, she herself holds out her arm for you, rolling her eyes. Guiding her over to a large closet, you open the two doors, displaying your wide collection of shoes.

“Take a pair, please.” You indicate which ones would fit her. “It’s not like I’m allowed to go anywhere, so someone should get some use out of them.”

Mizu, uncertain, takes the plainest pair out of the ones you’ve shown her. They’re simple and black, seemingly comfortable enough to do her handmaiden work in.

You seem to be happy with her choice, the way your lips upturn. “You didn’t want any of the flashy expensive pairs?”

She shakes her head, shrugging. “Not my style.”

“Hm,” You look out the window, then shift your gaze to the room’s clock. “I have to go for my husband’s reading. You can stay put, I’ll go alone.”

“It’s pouring out there.” Mizu says, as if you can’t see the state of the weather.

“Come get me at noon, okay?” There’s that smile of yours again– do you have to smile so much?

The door is closed behind you before Mizu gets any sort of goodbye out. Adjusting her glasses, she snorted as her eyes landed on the clock you were looking at before. You’re rich, of course you have the latest inventions at your disposal. It was a handcrafted Western clock made of brass. She wondered who had gifted it to you, were they too trying to get in your good graces? Seduce you? She’s not sure if it mattered, since she– The Count, she corrects herself– would be the one to succeed. Letting out a moan of boredom, she decides to pass her time by looking through your belongings.

The overindulgence of wealth nearly sickens her. Your extravagant kimono collection, sorted by color, the best season to wear them, what obi pairs well with them. She thought that was nauseating until she plucked through the cases of jewelry. Gold, silver, every gem you could imagine existed right here in front of her very eyes. It’s not impossible for her to picture you bathed in their opulence, as the kind of woman that such a fortune suits. Would you ask her to put your earrings on for you? Moreover, would she be tame, tender? Snapping the jewelry box shut, she checks your foreign clock once more.

Noon. With clouds still darkening the sky, she grabbed one of your umbrellas, heading out the door to follow the path you had taken to your husband’s library. Stepping carefully to avoid scuffing her shoes– or, your shoes– in case you’d ask for them back. There was a thin layer of trust she was willing to grant you, but she of all people knew how quickly one could turn. When she makes it to the door of the library, she sits at the entrance.

You’re kneeled on the floor, your husband sitting at the table. He shoots you a questioning glare once his eyes land on Mizu.

“This is my new handmaiden, Mizu.” You’re talking to him, but your eyes stay on the floor, hands neatly in your lap.

Mizu goes to walk inside, before your husband shouts, pointing at a golden snake decoration. It gives her a shock, stepping backwards. She sees you pull a lever in the corner of the room, bringing down a grated gate.

“You may not cross that barrier!” He sounds fucking deranged, Mizu notes. She also makes the observation of his black tongue. Ink?

Trying to peer through the gaps of the metal, she searches for you. At the lever she saw before, you’re rooted in place. Trembling, in the face of an unhinged man you were forced to call ‘husband’, you looked scared. Fragile. Delicate.

Mizu wondered just how long she could pretend to be picking up the pieces of you until she would have to let them fall and shatter– to dust, to infinitesimal shards no one could see anymore.

a/n: the official chapter 1!! i hope people enjoy and can see where i'm going with mizu's characterization. there's a lot of shuffling i have to do of the plot to make sure i feel it's accurate to mizu. or at least as accurate as it can be in an au. so i hope that it's worth it and people enjoy!! i can't guarantee the quickest publishing rate with chapters, as i'm still figuring out how i want to structure them and they'll probably vary here and there in length. anyway thank you for reading!!

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #bes x reader #bes x you

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lilbitdepressed27 · 5 months

Text

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader The Last Of Us AU

Warnings: mentions of attempted r*pe but it doesn’t go into detail. Torture.

WC: 7.0k

Author’s Note: no one asked for it but I was replaying the last of us and I got inspired. So here y’all go. Hope y’all enjoy. Also I’d like to wish everyone happy holidays :D sorry for any mistakes in advance.

***

"So you and Tara. What's that about?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come on everyone saw you two kiss at the dance."

"I don't know. She just kissed me, she probably just did that to make Chad jealous. You know how she gets when she's been drinking."

You were riding on the back of the horse that had been yours for the past five years. Ever since you got to the town, Jackson with your best friend who was more of a father figure to you. Things have been decent. Ever since you and Dewey left Boston things have been...different. But it was good type of different. The journey to Jackson was tough. It was something you were sure you'd never forget. The pain and suffering you went through was scaring.

The five years you've been safe behind the walls of Jackson. It was a beautiful place to call home. But even with time moving on, you still had nightmares of the year you had been on the road with the older man. It had been hard to get used the peacefulness of living in Jackson.

Now here you were on patrol with a friend of yours. Mindy had been a close friend since you arrived in Jackson. Along with some others. She also happened to be Chad's twin. She had always complained about how Chad and Tara weren't right for each other. Tara had also been a close friend of yours. A girl you also had a massive crush on.

"You haven't spoken to her?"

"Of course not. You were literally the one to wake me up for patrol. I haven't seen her since I ran out of there after the kiss last night." You got off the horse once you reached the radio tower. Feeling the judgmental look coming from Mindy. You purposely ignored the look as you moved to go up the stairs.

"Dude you're such a pussy." Mindy spoke out as she followed you up to the logging book.

The tower looked over the north side of the land. It really was a beautiful sight. The patrol was set to check the tower along with the surrounding area. Your partner was usually Tara but she had an accident last time she went out with Chad on patrol. She had a nasty fall and still hadn't been cleared to go back out on patrols. Even though she seemed fine now.

"Looks clear. We'll go out to the small town near by make sure it's clear down there as well. We don't need any infected or raiders near Jackson. We'll go quietly. Just to be safe." You spoke as you looked through the binoculars looking down at the small town that was near by. There were a few houses, most of them being destroyed, where no raiders could use as cover. And a grocery store that had seen better days.

"If we move now we could beat the storm coming in from the south." You handed the binoculars to Mindy, as you pointed to said storm.

"Yea come on then. I have a lady I'd like to get back to." She handed back the binoculars back to you. You stuffed them back in your bag and nodded.

"Come on then."

You had always taken the roll of a leader since being allowed to patrol. It was a roll that was given to you by Sidney, who was seen as the leader of Jackson. Sidney was the sister of Dewey which you had no idea at the time. But as you spent more time in the walls. You had grown close to the older woman. She had become like mother figure to you. She had helped quite a lot when you first arrived. She had seen the best of you and knew you'd be great out on patrol. Dewey had taken a bit to get used to. He always wanted you to be safe and careful. Which you were. He truly had nothing to worry about.

As you rode down to the small town you mind wondered to your best friend.

*Flashback*

You were drawing the destroyed clinic. You had always wondered what the world was like before the infection took over. Dewey often told you stories about the world before the infection hit. It was something you would have loved to see. You had been amazed at all the things you saw on the journey to Salt Lake and then back to Jackson. It had been your first time out side of the walls of the QZ. You had spent fourteen years in those walls. Being able to be outside of the walls had you excited but also terrified. You had heard of the stories that happened out side of the walls. Ever since you had been given the journal by Dewey you used it as a way to express yourself.

"You are so good at drawing."

The sudden voice right next to your ear had you jumping just a bit. You looked to your left to see the face of your best friend. Her chin resting on your shoulder as she looked down at your journal. She was standing on a empty supply box in order to reach your shoulder. You loved how short Tara was. Her height was one of the many things you loved about her. Tara had been your first friend when you arrived at Jackson. It had been hard at first, getting used to peacefulness that came with living in Jackson. The year you were on the road with Dewey had been a tough one. Especially during the winter. The winter had brought back some memories you wished to forget.

But with Tara around, she had become such a great help. Opening up to Tara had been difficult, you didn't open up to her right away. And you didn't tell her everything. You had felt so, ashamed of what happened during the winter. You had never felt so...weak.

"You should paint me like one of your French girls."

You could tell that what she said was meant to be a joke but the joke had gone right over your head, cause you didn't have slightest clue on what she was talking about.

"What? Like my who?"

With a small laugh escaping from her lips, she moved to stand in front of you with a teasing smile on her face. "It's reference from a movie, I'll have to show you when we get back. Now come on. I wanna see what's inside of the building."

You felt Tara's eyes on you as moved to stand in front of her after putting your journal away. You knew Tara could take care of herself. She was strong and smart. You tried not to show it but you had shown signs of protectiveness towards her. Something you knew she hated it, when someone thought she couldn't handle herself. She's complained about Chad doing it all the time. Sam did to. But you couldn't help it. You had to protect her.

*End of Flashback*

"Yo Y/n, you good?"

The voice snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked at Mindy and nodded. "Come on, we'll tie the horses good distance from the actual town. It's small, but we don't know who or what could be hiding in there. Horses could bring us some unwanted attention. We'll go on foot."

You got off your horse and loosely tied her reins to a tree. You had to make sure that if something spooked her she'd be able to get away. All the horses knew their way back to Jackson. Which was a good thing. You'd hate for her to get lost and killed.

"Alright then, let's check the pharmacy first. The houses seem too run down for someone to be in there. Then we'll check the market and lastly the ski lodge." Mindy spoke as she also tied her horse next to yours and walked towards your side. She didn't really want to go to ski lodge. Especially with the storm coming in. But she had drawn the short straw with the other patrols. Once a week, one patrol has to make the trip to the lodge to make sure there was no raiders there.

"Let's go then. The quicker we finish here the quicker we get the lodge and then back home."

"Home base come in, this is patrol 3 done with the grocery store. Heading up to the lodge." You spoke into the walkie talkie. There had been a few of the infected in the store. But it wasn't nothing that you and Mindy couldn't handle.

"Roger that. Please be careful going up there okay. Check back in the second you're done."

The sound of Tara's voice had you cheeks feeling warm. The look that Mindy shot you had been enough for you turn away from her. It was a hundred percent due to how cold it was and not because of the memory of Tara's soft lips on your own.

"We will Tara don't worry."

"Hurry back to me okay? Cause we have a movie night to get started."

The walkie talkie was taken from your hands before you could reply. "Don't worry Tara I'll bring your little girlfriend back to you. Now stop flirting so she can focus. Over and out."

"...Over and out."

You heard Tara mumble, you could picture her face at the this very moment. The small blush that colored her freckled cheeks. How you loved loved counting her freckles.

"You're such a dick." You pushed her away from your horse. Mindy laughed as she put the walkie talkie in her bag and getting on her horse.

"Oh come on. Don't you think it's about time you and Tara get together. I mean, even Dewey noticed how you two act around each other. Dewey out of all people." Mindy groaned in mock frustration. She truly wanted you and Tara to be happy. Anyone with eyes could see the bond you and Tara have. They way Tara was quick to become your friend. The way Tara, from the moment you arrived had been determined to be around you and be your friend. The way Tara had become so protective of you, it had all been something so obvious.

"Nuh uh, Gale had done nothing but flirt with the old man since we got here. And he hasn't noticed. Plus like I said earlier Tara's just...confused. Her and Chad had always been off and on again." You argued, there was just no way. And you sure as hell didn't want to get your hopes up.

"God Y/n, you are so bad at this. How can you not see it. I'll never understand."

"You don't understand, I'm not-I've never really had a..." A wave of her hand urging you to continue. "Ugh I've never been in a relationship." A wave of embarrassment crossed your face.

"What?!"

"Dude, would you shut up." You looked around with red cheeks (although you would blame it on the cold) to make sure the cost was still clear.

"Wait what do you mean, you haven't been in a relationship? I thought you dated Quinn. Literally everyone thought you two were dating."

You shook your head. Quinn was a great friend. Other than Tara, Quinn had also been a good friend. She was also the main reason why you could now wear sleeveless shirts. The chemical burn was a nasty scar and you had been insecure about it. So at first not only did you have to wear long sleeve shirts cause of the bite mark. But also cause of the chemical burn. Quinn had been the first one out of your friend group to see the chemical burn. She had offered to cover it up with a tattoo.

But back to the rumor, Quinn was just a friend. Don't get it wrong you had a one night stand once or twice. Quinn liked you as friend and that was it. It was same for you.

"Well I, I mean we did fool around once or twice. But that was it. It was never anything serious. Now can we save this talk for another time. We're almost there." You got off your horse and tied her up once again. The ski lodge wasn't far now. It looked empty from a far. But you knew it was a great spot for raiders to be camping in. The lodge was in perfect condition, it was a great spot to hide in to get out of the cold.

"Home base, we are at the lodge. Stand by for status." Mindy spoke into the walkie talkie. With a conformation coming from Tara.

"Okay, check in the second it's cleared."

"Copy."

You guys moved up wards. Taking your rifle and getting it ready. You were a good distance from the lodge where if someone was in there they wouldn't see you coming.

"You take the back, and I'll take the front?" Mindy spoke as you both went through the hole in the fence.

"No we stick together. I have a bad feeling about this. Stay close and stay quiet."

But nothing would have prepared either of the two for what was to come.

The short brunette sat next to the radio waiting for the patrols to give the all clear. She had woken up in the morning with her lips still tingling from the kiss she had with her best friend. The feeling of your lips on her were everything she dreamed of and more. The way your lips moved against hers were just so exhilarating, she wanted more. She needed more. The love she had for you was something she had been hiding for years now.

She never really hid the feelings. You were just so damn oblivious it was cute at first but it had started to get annoying. Why couldn't you understand that she had feelings for you.

The confused look you always had when she flirted with you, she couldn't help but to laugh sometimes. The innocent look on your face was so, cute. The feelings she got every time she looked at you. It was feelings that she had never felt before. She had thought she was in love with Chad but from the moment she first saw you. She knew she wasn't.

She remembered the first time she saw you. It had been few months before you actually stayed in Jackson with Dewey. She had seen you walking around with the older man and Sidney. Later she found out that Sidney and Dewey were related. But she remembered you clearly. She had wanted nothing more than to walk up to you that day but she couldn't cause they got attacked soon after. And then you were gone with one of the horses.

She had seen Sidney and Dewey take off to find you, only for Sidney to return alone with an extra horse. No sight of Dewey or you. She had been left with so much...regret? Regretting that she didn't talk to you before you left. She had really thought that she would never see you again. But almost a year later she had watched how you and Dewey came to Jackson.

She'd never forget the look in your eyes, when you followed Dewey and Sidney. You had changed from the last time she had seen you. But this time she made sure to talk to you. You had been closed off at first. But with time she was able to get through your tall walls.

Your smile was something she absolutely loved. Along with your laugh. It took a while for to hear it. But once she did, she was on a mission to always hear it again.

There was just something about you that had her heart in a tight grip. Taking you out to dance last night had been her sitting her foot down and taking the first step. Cause she knew if she waited for you to do it, she'd be waiting way too long. She was done waiting.

It had been going great up until that asshole Frankie interrupted the kiss and called her a dyke. That asshole had interrupted something she had been working hard to get and when you stood up straight your smile no longer on your face. She knew there was no stopping you. You stood in front of her as you demanded Frankie to say it again. And Frankie being the moron he was, had repeated it. He didn't necessarily get to finish the slur before you punched him so hard he had been knocked out.

She knew how protective you were of not only her but of every single one of your friends. Remembering how you punched someone else for calling Ethan a faggot. She had seen the way your shoulders tensed at all the eyes being on you. You were never good when it came down to having all the attention on you. Before she could go to comfort you, you had ran out of there. She tried to follow you but she had lost you in the crowd.

"Home base come in, this is patrol 3 done with the grocery store. Heading up to the lodge."

At the sound of your voice she was quick to snap out of her thoughts and quickly reach for the radio.

"Roger that. Please be careful going up there okay. Check back in the second you're done." She hated that she wasn't the one with you. It's not that she didn't trust Mindy or believe that Mindy would keep you safe. It was just that she wanted to be the one with you. When it was you and her, it was like you both were unstoppable. She had preferred being parred with you. She just felt more reassured of your safety when she was with you.

"We will Tara don't worry." Your gentle voice had her smiling with out her even realizing.

"Hurry back to me okay? Cause we have a movie night to get started." It was a small date, she had named it that, before the kiss happened last night. Teasing you was always so easy, she just wished she could see your blush right now.

"Don't worry Tara I'll bring your little girlfriend back to you. Now stop flirting so she can focus. Over and out." Mindy's voice teased right back. This time she was glad she was alone, so no once could see her own blush that was no doubt on her neck as well.

"...Over and out." She mumbled in the radio. She swore she could hear Mindy's laughter from here.

"Not fun being on the other end of being teased is it?"

Tara looked up to see Sam standing there with a small smile on her face. Tara had arrived in Jackson with Sam when she was eleven and Sam was eighteen. Sam had been in bad shape when they met Sidney. Since then Sidney had taken them under her care and basically became somewhat of a mother figure. She had never been so thankful that in that moment they met Sidney. Cause for a moment she had thought that Sam wasn't going to make it.

"Shut up. How was patrol?" Sam had been tasked to go on patrol. It had been the short route. Apparently Sam had won it playing poker with some of the older men.

"It was alright. No signs of infected or any raiders." Sam looked back at her younger sister. The red of her cheeks was still noticeable. When Sam had first met you, you had been a quiet, shy girl. Sidney had spoken to her and Tara when you and Dewy arrived for the second time. She had also remembered how much Tara had asked Sidney about the older man and the younger girl he had been with. The first time she saw them.

The amount of times Tara had asked Sidney when they were coming back. Or if they were coming back. From the very first moment. She had known that Tara wanted more than just friendship.

Or how obviously jealous Tara had gotten when you started hanging out with Quinn more often. She had never seen her sister get so jealous. Not even when Chad would speak to other girls or be seen hanging g around other girls. Not to say Chad was the cheating type. But how annoyed she'd see Tara get when you'd be seen around with Quinn. It was almost too funny.

She being the mature person she was and simply asked you about Quinn. Like a normal person. You had said that you and Quinn were just friends and that was it. She had asked a few days ago.

"You do know that Quinn and Y/n never dated right?"

"What? Yes they did. Everyone has seen them together. Not to mention when Ethan said he saw y/n coming out of Quinn's apartment."

"Okay so if let's say Y/n is dating Quinn. Why would you kiss her?" Sam sat down and really looked at her sister. The way the younger girl looked down at her hands. The guilty and shameful look glossed over her sisters face. The crestfallen look directed her way.

"I don't know. I mean, Quinn hasn't said anything to me and I saw her this morning. She even smiled at me. Lord knows what I would have done if someone kissed my Y/-my partner. I sure as hell wouldn't smile at them." Tara looked down at her hands. "I love her Sam. I love her so much. I thought I loved Chad. And I do love him. Just not in that way. He's great. But I-You want Y/n." Sam finished for her.

She nodded as she felt her eyes fill with tears. The fear of rejection had become to crawl its way back.

"Well then Tara you-Base come in!" Mindy's voice cut through the room. The faint sound of gun fire being able to be heard in the background.

"Mindy what's wrong?" Tara was quick to respond.

"Fuck, there's too many! They got Y/n! Fuck, I'm hurt and I barely have any—" The gun fire was heard and Sam moved fast to call in Sidney and Dewy. Moving to gather a group to help her friends.

"—Ammo. Fuckfuck. They got Y/n. They took her. And I don't know where. Send help! Quickly!"

Tara wouldn't be able to explain how she felt in that very moment, even if she tried. Gale, who had had come into the room the moment Sam ran out shouting. The older woman took the radio from Tara. Signaling for her to go.

At the sound of more gun shots coming from the radio. Everything snapped back to normal. Tara was out of her seat and running to the armory. She needed to find you. She needed to get you.

She has to save you.

"Now tell us about Jackson."

A hard punch was delivered to the side of your head. You hadn't expected for things to turn so quickly. The ambush was something you truly weren't expecting. Maybe a few guys, no more than five. Something you knew you and Mindy could handle. But almost a dozen people had been in that house. It was like they expected for you to come.

"Fuck," You groaned, letting out a wet chuckle. The beating you have been receiving has been, well just that. A beating. "Go fuck yourself."

"Mmh a feisty one. They always turn into the begging ones." The man smirked as he leaned down getting in your face. His yellow dirty teeth just about made you want to throw up.

"Ugh ew gross. Ever heard of toothpaste?" Your head snapped to the right from the force of the punch.

"Your people, they won't find you."

"Oh I don't know man, I don't mean to brag but my best friend is very protective of me. And she's a scary woman when she's mad. And she can be very ambitious." A punch to the gut had you hunched over in the chair you were tied to. Gasping for the air that was punched out of you.

"Shut up. Now if you won't talk we will make you talk."

Tara, Sam, Dewey (there was no stopping that man from getting to you) Chad, Ethan (who both had been on patrol and over heard Mindy's distress call), Anika who had been quick to follow Sam the moment she heard. A few others had also gone.

"We don't know how many are in that lodge. We can use the storm as cover. Stay with your partner we can't risk one of you being lost in the storm. Okay?" With a nod of understanding. Dewey moved from the table. "Keep things quiet. Chances are they have Mindy's and Y/n's radio." Taking out his radio and holding it up to his mouth. "Patrols, this is home base. Return to home base. Storm is going to get worse. Too dangerous to be out."

"What are you doing?" Ethan spoke from standing next to Chad. He wanted to get to his friends. Who knows what those assholes were doing to them. He also couldn't lose them. He had been so close to just going off to the lodge with Chad. They had been closer Mindy and Y/n.

"We gotta make them believe that no one is going to the lodge. Hopefully that brings down their guard. Come on let's go."

"Patrols, this is home base. Return to home base. Storm is going to get worse. Too dangerous to be out."

"Oh well you listen to that. Looks like your people aren't coming. Now tell us what we want or, suffer." The man smirked down at you. His hands still had blood, your blood. You wondered where was Mindy in all this. You had hoped that she wasn't facing the same suffering as you were. Hoping that she somehow made it out.

"Fuck you."

A scream full of pain tore through your throat as the knife went down on your thigh. The agonizing pain as he tapped the knife. Your tried not to show any signs of pain. But you could only hide the pain for so long. The knife in your thigh was clear sign of that. You already had one knife going through your palm.

"Now, how many of you are there?" When he didn't get a response, other than the heavy breathing coming from the girl, he slapped her cheek. Then roughly cupping her cheeks to make her look at him. He couldn't deny that she was much stronger than any other guy he's done this to. But there was a clear difference between torturing a man and a woman.

One of the biggest fears for woman was being helpless in the hands of a mad man. A man no one was going to stop.

Tara barely remembered getting to the lodge. Quietly killing some of the guards that were too unbothered to actually do a guards job. She had one goal in mind. One thing. Save you and Mindy. The men that stood in her way, saw no mercy. The knife she used, a knife you had given her, a modified buck 120. It was knife she treasured with her heart. Caring it everywhere she went. The way knife slit there throats, hearing them choke on their own blood. She didn't hear.

A hand on her shoulder indicated for her to stop. She looked back at Sam, who pointed at one of the doors. A door to what she assumed was a supply room. With a nod she prepared herself for her sister to open the door. The door was pushed open only to see Mindy tied to a chair badly beaten. Mindy's wrist tied to the arms of the chair. Her mouth tapped shut. Eyes widening when they made eye contact with Sam.

Sam was quick to untie Mindy and removing the tape. "Fuck. Did you guys find Y/n yet?" Mindy whispered as groaned from the pain coming from her arm. The gun shot wound burned but she knew she'd be fine.

"No. Do you know where she could be? We've cleared the down stairs area. Most of the men I'm sure." Tara whispered back.

"Fuck, I heard them say she was in the main office upstairs. With the leader I'm assuming. He asked to not be disturbed. Fuck, that was few minutes ago. We gotta go stop him. Who knows what he's doing-No Tara wait for us." The whispered shout was not registered.

Tara had not waited for Mindy to finish was she was going to stay. The implication was there. The horrifying picture was there and they were rage filled.

With those in mind, she was still not prepared for when she pushed open the main office door. You chained up to ceiling by your wrists. To see your shirt cut open from the middle exposing your bra. Your jeans being unbuckled with the zipper down. You showing no signs of consciousness. The man in front of you had no shirt, had been in the process of taking of his own jeans.

This rage that coursed through her body, it was something she never felt before.

"I said to leave us alone-"

The sentence was never finished. Tara moved with a speed the man couldn't process. The knife cutting the man's popliteal artery. The screams of the man were heard. The way he fell clutching the back of his knee has the blood gushed out. She didn't stop there. Moving to cut off the genitals, that had been out. The disgust and anger she felt were fueled. His screams grew louder. Letting him suffer for few more seconds before she silenced by stabbing him in the mouth. His blood spraying on her face as he chocked. The life fading from his eyes.

She was quick to turn around taking in your beaten body. The way your bra had been cut half way down the middle. Almost exposing you. She felt her eyes fill with tears at what you almost went through. The choked sob as the amount of blood, your blood covering your body.

"Y/n? Baby open your eyes. It's okay now. He's dead. Fuck, Sam!!" Your breathing was uneven, she couldn't get you down by herself. The rope tying your wrist to ceiling being too high.

"Dewey! Somebody fucking help me!!" She dropped her back pack. Taking out the medical supplies. The gauze to stop the bleeding coming from your leg. She had moved with a with such a hurry. She couldn't lose you. The blood coming out of your body was too much.

"Oh my god."

"Don't just fucking stand there. Help me get her down." Tying the wound after stuffing the wound with some gauze, like she was taught hoping that would stop the bleeding. Hearing your groans of pain had her tears escaping her eyes. She had also been quick to button up your jeans.

Sam, Dewey and Ethan were by her side in seconds. Sam and Dewey holding you as Ethan cut the rope. Your body falling into her arms almost taking her down if it weren't for Sam and Dewey holding you.

"We have to get her back to Jackson." Ethan said as he glanced back at the man. The anger he felt had been so intense. But seeing the state of the way the man was left. He figured that the man got what he deserved although he wished he could done some harm to the man. He saw how Tara tended to you, the way she was fast to take out everything she needed to help you.

"We have to go."

Tara moved to grab your jacket that had been thrown to the side. With the help of Sam she was able to put on the jacket making sure every wound she saw had been covered and cleaned in hopes you wouldn’t get any infection. Ethan had moved to carry you out of the office. Tara following close behind.

Dewey would have carried you but he knew with his injured leg he wouldn't be able to. His leg had been shot during a raid, a year back. His leg almost being shot off completely. He had been lucky to still have his leg. Although he couldn't carry heavy things, not at risk of his leg giving out.

But he did hold on to the y/hc haired girl when he got on his horse. The girl he looked as his daughter. The fury he felt was still there. Seeing the bruises, cuts and dried blood on your face was-, the storm was raging on and they had to get back to Jackson quick. The group rode close and fast. Tara being close to him as they rode, her eyes looking at you every few seconds. He knew how much the short brunette cared about his daughter. The concern that was obvious in the girls eyes. He could still see the rage in her eyes as well. He had seen the bodies left in her wake, the way no one could stop her to get to Y/n.

He held Y/n closer to him. Making sure she wouldn’t fall from his grasp from all the movement. That guy had what was coming and he hoped he felt every painful stab before he was killed.

With how fast they were moving, they had gotten to Jackson in no time. Sidney had her husband Derek, who was the doctor of the town. Ready. She had been ready to go with the group to save you. But she knew she couldn't. Not when she had a baby on the way. So she stayed. Waiting in the tower hoping to see any sign of the group returning. She waited about three hours before seeing lights. With storm she could barely see the lights, but when she was sure it was them, she had the gates opened. Hurrying down the stairs to get to the group.

Seeing Mindy first. The girl was injured but from what she could see the girl looked okay. Which was relief. But when she the state Y/n was in, she gasped. Hurrying after Ethan who had gotten off his horse to help Dewey. He had been quick to take Y/n and rush her to the house that was their own little hospital. Tara was on at his heels hurrying after him. Derek had also moved so fast she could barely register what was happening.

"What happened?" She asked Dewey as soon as they were out of the storm.

"They wanted entail on Jackson. They had been camped out there for at least a week. Seeing is that they weren't their last week. They tried to get information out of the girls. They-" Dewey clenched his jaw. The image of how he found you flashing in his mind. His fists shaking wishing he had gotten his hands on that man. "They're dead now. There won't be anyone coming looking for them."

Sidney knew, she didn't have to ask. The way Dewey was acting from the way Tara had been covered in blood and from what it looked like, it wasn't hers. To the way Ethan (who was usually a sweet, caring boy) and Sam had the looks of just anger that she knew.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was the pain. The pain coming from all over your body. It was almost too much to bare. The dryness of your throat felt like it was rubbed with sand paper. The last thing you remember was being hit repeatedly by that asshole. Then everything went black. You didn't remember anything after that. You were clearly saved, which you were grateful for.

Eyes snapping open, when you remembered Mindy. You tried to get up but the pain prevented you from that. Not only did the pain stop you but warm hands gently touching our shoulders. Your eyes (one eye cause the other was swollen shut) connected with the familiar dark chocolate colored eyes you loved.

"Tara." You smiled softly, your uninjured hand reaching over to wipe the tear that escaped her red puffy eyes. Then cupping her cheek. Smiling through the pain when she leaned into you hand, one of her hands moving to be in top of yours. You had been so grateful to see her beautiful face again. "Is Mindy okay?" You rasped out.

"She's okay." Tara whispered back. Her eyes taking every single cut, bruise that she could find. Your face cleaned of any blood, making the bruises and cut stand out more. She couldn't help the tears as she gripped your hand with both of hers. Crying as she brought your hand to her lips.

"Fuck, I was so scared, I thought I was going to lose you."

Your heart clenched at the sound of her sobs. "I'm okay. Come here." Taking the shorter girls hand gently pulling on it.

"But you're hurt—I don't care. Lay with me, please."

With a bit of hesitation, she laid by your side. Your good arm wrapping around her shoulder pulling her closer. She was careful not to cause you any harm in any way. Feeling her shoulders relax as her head laid on your shoulder. Feeling your lips on her hair line. With your warmth pressed to her body, the exhaustion finally took over.

Tara had stayed by your side. Helping you when ever she could. It had been a week since, that day. You were thankful that Tara had stayed by your side. But something had been off since that day. You could tell something was bothering the shorter girl.

You sat on your couch in the garage right behind the house Dewey lived in. Tara was in the kitchen making a small dinner for the both of you. She was a lot more quiet than usual. It was starting to worry you. You figured she needed time to process what happened to you. But the more she had her moments like this, quiet, stuck in her head. The more you felt like she was keeping something from you.

You carefully took your injured foot off the coffee table where it was resting. Biting your lip at the pain. Your thigh and palm wound had been thee most painful out of the injuries. From what Derek said you had been lucky. Only severally bruised ribs, lucky to not have your eye socket broken, or nose for that matter. And lucky that the knife to the palm didn't cause any nerve damage. Even with all that luck, the pain was still very much there.

You stood up straight making sure to put too much weight on your bad leg. Taking the crutch Ethan had fixed up for you.

"Hey you're supposed to be off the leg." Tara was by your side in seconds. Her hands going to hold your waist only for them to freeze before she actually touched you. That had also been something that you had noticed. Tara wouldn't touch you until she had your full consent. It was something she usually never really had to ask for.

"Okay, tell me what's wrong? At first I thought it was due to injuries I have. But that's not it, is it." You stood straight in front of her. You wanted to know what was causing her to act so strange. When Tara refused to look at you, you took her chin with your good hand. Gently turning her head, you were a bit taken back when you saw the tears in her eyes. Even with the tears, you could see a hint of anger in her eyes.

“Talk to me Tar, what’s wrong?” With your thumb you took her bottom lip away from her teeth. You knew she had a habit of biting her bottom lip when anxious.

“Fuck Y/n, I-I don’t, the guy he was-that mother fucker was going to-” She couldn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to. You knew exactly what she meant. The feeling of disgust and dread at what happened.

“He didn’t-He didn’t you know—No! No I got there in time.” This time Tara was quick to take your hands in hers. There had been no hesitation on her part this time. She lead you back to the couch.

“Is he dead?”

“Yes. He died a very slow painful death. I made sure of that. No one harms you and gets away with it.” Tara held your hands and looked back into your eyes.

“Tara, thank you. For saving me.” You looked away debating whether you should tell her.

“You don’t have to thank me, I love you Y/n. You’re my best friend. I’ll do anything for you. Even if it means cutting off a creeps dick.”

Your jaw dropped a short surprised laugh escaping your lips. “What? His dick?”

She smiled proudly, “Yup, chopped it right off. It’s what he deserved. Nobody messes with my girl.” Her confidence never breaking eye contact had you blushing.

“Your girl huh. I like the sound of that.” It had been her turn to blush.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask.” With that you pulled her into a long awaited kiss. This time you would make sure to pore everything into the kiss. To make sure Tara knew how much she felt for her. The feeling of her warm hands cupping your cheeks bringing you even closer to her. Only pulling away when lack of air became an issue. She rested her head on to yours. Her thumbs creasing your cheeks.

“I love you to Tara.”

Tara smiled, her dimples on full display. She couldn’t help herself as she once again pulled into a kiss. The feeling of your lips on her was something she had dreamed of. And now she had you.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE:)

#tara carpenter x reader #scream #tara carpenter #fem!reader #The Last Of Us AU

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bigtreefest · 3 months

Text

Chapter 3: Honey Trap

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: A Farmer’s Market and Pouring out your heart over a beer leads to Bucky learning more about his favorite mysterious farmer

Content/warnings: mentions of previous heartbreak and descriptions, a surprising amount of crying/near-crying, soft mobster Bucky, Heartless Jake, Creepy Cole, mentions of blood/period (not graphic and should be normalized because this happens to me all the time and I know I’m not alone in that), excessive drinking and lowkey alcoholism, cowboy hat rule, mutual pining and reluctance towards that, y/n used like three times

Word Count: 5,295

A/N: I didn’t mean for this chapter to be this long, but also, I definitely meant for it to be this long. Sorry for making dear, wonderful, Jake Jensen out to be a bad guy, and NOT sorry for making Cole Turner a creep. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are SUPER appreciated. Thank you for reading, I love you *gives forehead kiss*

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Bucky knew lots of languages. Country was not one of them. You would think it would be, with how many arms purchasers were from the south, but he kept his dealings with those folk as short and formal as possible. It was better for his sanity and everyone else that way.

He’d been running into a lot of country folk today, helping you run this farmer’s market out of one of your barns. Half of his conversations with people were full of twangy words and phrases he didn’t understand, so he just lightly laughed, hoping that was the right response. The other half were children, asking him what the bump was on the side of his head, the result of the bee incident earlier this week. Before, it was slightly swollen and red, but it was nearly back to normal. Darn kids have keen eyes, though, and no shame. He’d just about had enough. These people were too polite, besides their annoying children. Lucky for him, though, he’d sold off the last of the turnip greens, and his cash box was full, so he made his way over to you at the stand holding the freshly jarred honey you’d successfully, and he’d not-so-successfully harvested earlier in the week. It was just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation he saw you were having with a slightly older woman.

“You’re like our very own honeybee”

“Oh please, Mrs. Jensen, you know the bees do all the work. I just put it in a jar”

“You’re too modest, dear. My Jakey says no one makes sweeter honey than you. I always tell him to come back and help if he loves it that much, but it seems he’s too late now. Looks like you’ve got yourself a new farm hand who’s easy on the eyes”

Bucky glanced up at her through his eyelashes with his signature smirk, raising to a stand from setting the empty turnip green crate at your feet. “Well you know what they say, honeybees don’t work alone. And their hard work makes the world go round.”

For some reason unbeknownst to him, Bucky slung his hand over your shoulder. Was it jealousy he was feeling? Possessiveness? Why, he didn’t own you and he promised himself he wouldn’t fall, physically or metaphorically (although it was far too late physically, and he didn’t want to think about how close he truly was metaphorically). Plus, it’s not like he was having the best time right now. This whole week was a nightmare, and the only reason he was in a decent mood was from seeing your smile as you interacted with the town’s folk today. You were a person of the people, in juxtaposition to how Bucky was often only looking out for himself. So why did the mention of Jakey make this feel necessary and why did it feel so right? Either way, he was proud of you and your hard work and the way it made people beam as bright as Mrs. Jensen. But he’d never say that. Where he’s from, hard work is expected and definitely not praised, although not nearly as manual. But seeing all the effort for that couple jars of honey made him question if the work he was even doing was that hard. Maybe he’d been away from the city too long and was losing perspective. Yeah. That had to be it.

“Well, either way, bless y’all’s heart for putting in the work. I’ll tell Jake you say hello.”

You and Bucky both waved goodbye.

“Well how about it Honeybee, Jakey appreciates all your hard work” he smirked, but watched the smile slide off your face.

“Try telling me that with our awful breakup years ago” you shrugged off with a small chuckle, but Bucky could see the light drain out of your eyes a little. He had obviously struck a nerve, but didn’t want to push farther, at least not now when there were still a few customers aimlessly shopping around for the last bits of produce left. Maybe he’d catch you once the two of you were alone.

You turned away from him to hide your grimace. Thinking back to that whole situation with Jake, on top of serving others all morning had completely drained you and it was quickly catching up.

“Um, why don’t you finish cleaning up the rest of the empty crates after you ask those last few people how you can help them with anything” you waved off Bucky back towards the other end of the barn, head down, starting to look through the cash box he had handed you. You waited until you could hear his receding footsteps on the hay floor to sniffle and take a deep breath. Bucky had keen ears, though, and hesitated hearing your sigh, before he continued on, giving you your chance to regroup. He had never seen you like this before, you were normally chipper and full of energy, often a little too much for his liking, but luckily it was Friday, and after he closed these deals, you both were home free.

Bucky quickly helped the last few stragglers take their rather large haul back to their car. An older man and woman who owned the bar in town had come to get some fresh vegetables for their salads, and Bucky convinced them to take the lot with his charm. That, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t have to carry them all the way back to storage. That was a long way, and you made him walk it. He rolled his eyes when you had told him about the task, too, handing him the handle to a little red wagon with a beaming smile on your face, insisting “that’s how Pappy did it before his first tractor” and “what did you think, I like wasting diesel for food that’s supposed to have a low carbon footprint? That’s why I’ve got you, Bucket.” So Bucky grumbled under his breath at first light, angry, yet amused that the nickname stuck, but still too tired to react any differently when he started the first of his dozen trips to move the produce from storage into the farmer’s market barn. And there was no way he was gonna do that again, so he convinced the couple to take the lot, even offering to carry it out to the car for them, because that was better than the quarter mile walk both ways through the tall grass of your fallow fields to return them.

“Thank you so much for your help, Jamie. You’ve taken such good care of us, you should come by the bar later if you can get some free time from Miss Y/L/N over there. She’s quite the hard worker, maybe bring her along. Drinks on us.” The older lady looked at Bucky with a soft smile.

Jamie, no one had called him that since his mom. Country folk and their want for instant closeness. He hardly knew this lady and already she was trying to be endearing, but her forced charm was nothing compared yours even when you weren’t trying. She looked over Bucky’s shoulder at you carrying a stack of heavy wooden crates out of the barn, hardly struggling, but very determined before sliding them back into the truck. Bucky’s eyes followed hers, a small grin of admiration creeping onto his face at your independence and mastery at everything you do, no matter how simple.

“Yeah, hardest worker out there. I’ll see if I can convince her to take a break.” He turned back and walked the lady to her door, opening it for her to get in.

“Drive safely. Hope to see you later Mr. and Mrs. Carter.” He shut the door and made his way back over to your truck. You had already gotten in and started it with the windows down. Bucky slid into the bench seat to be met by you with your forehead resting on the wheel in between your hands. You took a sharp inhale and shot up, putting on a fake smile, albeit less forced than earlier.

“Ready to go meet Curtis? We’ve just gotta touch base with him and then we’re good to be done for the day.”

“Um, yeah. Sounds good.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to continue with you in that mood. Should be keep talking? Did you prefer the silence to think? The radio was low on the dash, but not silent, so he decided to speak up.

“Did you see who I was helping? They said they own the bar in town. Maybe we can go for a drink tonight? Celebrate a long week done?”

You sighed. Again. “Um, yeah. I actually think that sounds really good. We both need the decompression. TGIF, ya know?” You forced out a small laugh which Bucky returned and he turned forward as you continued the drive back toward your house.

When the two of you entered the farmhouse, your were greeted by Curtis, your weekend farmhand, sitting at the dining room table. He had already helped himself to a glass of sweet tea you kept in the fridge, mainly for him, which was made from your Aunt’s recipe he loved so much.

“Oh, good, you’re back from chores already.” Curtis had been kind enough to come in today to work on some tasks since you and Bucky had your hands full with the market. He usually only worked Saturday and Sunday since this was his second job, but he’d sometimes come in to help extra, like today.

“Bucket, this is Curty b—oh sorry, Curtis. He’s the one that makes sure things run smoothly when I’m not. He’s a whiz at fixing the machinery, perks of him also being the best mechanic in town.”

Bucky warily stepped forward, eyes narrowed, barely noticeable, and shook Curtis’s hand. Who is this guy who let himself into your house? “Bucky is fine, really.”

Curtis let out a chuckle, “nice to meet you, Bucket. It’s ok, I talked to Y/N about making cheese curds once, and she’s called me ‘Curty boi’ ever since.”

Bucky laughed and shook his head, looking over his shoulder. You just shrugged with a small smile on your face, already more relaxed and relieved to be inside your home with someone you didn’t feel like you had to put up a front for, that was reassuring. Bucky went into the kitchen to get you both a glass of water as you sat next to Curtis at the table, joined by Bucky sitting across after he handed you your glass. The three of you briefly talked about the chores Curtis had done that day, how the farmer’s market went, and what all needed done that weekend.

Curtis seemed nice, not threatening. The visceral tinge of jealousy left Bucky’s body as the conversation went on. If Curtis was going to make a move, he would’ve done it by now, surely. But the two of you were clearly just close friends. Why did Bucky keep feeling like this?

As you wrapped up, Curtis slapped his knees with both his hands and went to stand. “Well, I better get going, sun’s starting to get pretty low.”

Curtis and Bucky had been getting along pretty well, so you spoke up. “Well actually, Bucky and I were gonna go to the bar in town tonight. Care to join?”

“Yeah, I’d love to. There are just a few things I’ve gotta check on in the shop first, but I can drop by after. Does that work?”

“For sure. We’ll see you then” You and Bucky shared a small smile before you closed the door behind Curtis and turned back to the mob boss standing in your foyer.

“Ok, Cowboy. Good job today. Go take a shower, we’re going out.” Bucky beamed, which you returned, and he felt a warmth bloom in his chest at your praise.

“Yes, ma’am, Miss Honeybee” you smiled and rolled your eyes as he ran up the steps, following behind to get ready, yourself. He was really glad your mood was starting to turn around.

As Bucky went to his room to gather his clothing, his mind started to drift towards why he cared how you felt. He was just here for business, right? So why did it bother him if you were sad? If anything, he should want you vulnerable to help him come out on top of your business, but something deep inside of him felt more satisfaction when you were winning. He shook the thoughts from his head. Maybe a cold shower could help him sort this out.

Bucky came down the stairs and sat on the couch just as he heard your hair dryer start up. He had gotten ready quickly, throwing on one of his henleys, his nicer jeans, and a pair of boots Sam had sent him this week when he had heard about the whole ‘borrowing clothes situation.’

He shot Steve a text, telling him that the two of you were going out to the bar with Curtis, to which he replied Have fun, Bucket😉.

Ugh, why did he have to tell Steve about that, it was never gonna go away now. Bucky had gotten a call from Steve each evening giving updates on the business, with Bucky doing the same on his end, keeping it short, only noting the highlights and trying to keep his emotions in check and out of the updates. His best friend knew better, though, even if Bucky wasn’t fully aware of the extent of his feelings yet.

Bucky got up and walked around, looking through the photos and knick knacks in your living room, before stopping by the mirror behind your front door and checking his appearance. This look wasn’t what he was used to. He was extremely dressed down compared to the designer suit he’d likely be sporting in one of his clubs if he were back in the city. He hadn’t even bothered to gel his hair because it seemed you didn’t care when he did, plus, he wanted to save that valuable product for a real occasion, no use in wasting it to go slum with a bunch of hillbillies. He looked to the coatrack next to the mirror to see a hat that matched his boots perfectly and plopped it on his head, swaying side to side to see how it looked.

Just then, you started to make your way down the stairs but stopped in your tracks seeing Bucky in that hat. His head snapped up to look at you.

“What? Does this hat make me look dumb?”

You smiled and shook your head.

“No, not at all” Bucky could see tears well up in your eyes, accompanied by sparkles of fondness and, sadness?

“That was my uncle’s hat. He taught me everything I know”

“Oh, I’m so sorry” Bucky went to take the hat off but you stopped him.

“No- it’s okay. It looks good on you. Go ahead and wear it out tonight.”

Bucky looked back at you with a somber nod as you continued back down the stairs, taking a deep breath to settle the emotions that had nearly breached the surface.

Even in this state, you looked gorgeous. Hair flouncing in the breeze that was created as you drifted down the steps, wearing makeup he hadn’t seen since the first time you two had met and a sundress that blew him away. You were gorgeous in all states because you were you. Bucky looked down, kicking his feet, to pull his magnetic glance from you. He’s really gotta switch up the power dynamic here, and if there was one place Bucky could feel at home after a week of embarrassing himself, it was a bar. He grabbed the keys and you followed with an eye roll, getting into the passenger seat of your own truck. He didn’t even know where he was going, but he looked at you with a sly grin. Like for the first time, he had the upper hand, and that would only come from being anywhere but on your farm.

Bucky was a good driver, despite his statements about some guy named ‘Gio’ and grumbles about Sam, who you had met once before. Besides that, the drive was filled with laughs reminiscing all the mishaps he went through that week, well, mostly you laughing, and Bucky doing his best to hold a smirk from showing too obviously, his eyes narrowed at you in contrast.

The two of you pulled into town as you pointed Bucky towards a decent-sized building which housed the bar, still nothing compared to what he was used to. The two of you hopped down from the truck and walked through the front door, which jingled, signaling your entrance.

Bucky was greeted by the smell of old wood and stale beer, the dim atmosphere lit with old neon beer signs and fluorescent lights which hung over the pool tables. You looked back at Bucky as you crossed the threshold where he held the door for you.

“Hey, all I’m saying is, I bet you wouldn’t last a week in my world the way I did in yours.”

You rolled your eyes as you sauntered up to the bar, taking a seat at the corner, Bucky next to you, and a few more empty seats to the other side of him that would hopefully stay that way until Curtis came. As the two of you had walked up to the bar, you had seen a bunch of girls groups whose heads turned, seeing the stranger that was Bucky make his way across the floor. Why couldn’t he be ugly? And why did you let him wear that hat? Bucky didn’t even notice. His eyes were only on you, besides his trained peripheral vision catching the eyes of men whose heads turned towards, doing the same.

“Oh please, Bucket, you hardly made it through this week. I’ve never seen anyone cut their finger on wheat before. How did you even do that? You were literally up on the tractor… wheat should not have been anywhere near your hands, yet you came to me with several paper cut-looking marks. And what do you even do all day? Your hands have calluses but a totally different kind. You can hardly toss a hay bale a story high into the barn loft. I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard for me to just sit at a desk, bark orders, and sign paperwork all day.”

Bucky’s mouth gaped open as he feigned offense and put his hand on his chest.

You flashed a fleeting smile at him in satisfaction as you waved down the

bartender ordering two shots of whiskey and two beers.

“Now just because that’s all you’ve seen me do for work, doesn’t mean that’s all there is to it.”

“Oh really? Please, Bucket, then be my guest…indulge me.”

“Well, if I told you, I’d have to kill you, so take that as one of the common requisites.”

He smirked at you, obviously more comfortable in this bar environment before your phone dinged and it was a message from Curtis.

Hey Y/N. So sorry, something came up at the shop. Rain check?

Yeah, no problem. Hope all is good, see you tomorrow?

Yep! Ty

“Well, looks like Curty boi isn’t joining us, so it’s just you and me, Bucko”

At that moment, the bartender set down the drinks in front of you and you and Bucky took a shot together, ordering an appetizer sampler platter to go with your drinks.

As the two of you nursed your beers, you joked more about Bucky’s farm mishaps and talked about all the men you had turned down from Bucky’s organization to get him out here.

“I’ve gotta be honest, I don’t know how you turned down both Sam and Steve. I’m hardly immune to their charms some days”

You laughed and threw your head back. “It’s not easy. They’ve both got these puppy dog eyes they make when I say ‘no’ to them, but they seemed pretty satisfied with the fact I wanted to see you in person.”

“And why exactly was that? You never quite said”

“Well, at first, it started as a way to delay the deal, but then I realized, if I’m going to be making some major changes to somewhere I consider a sanctuary, I wanna make sure it’s with the right partner” you nudged him with your elbow playfully and Bucky gave you a small grin. “But honestly, if I’m going to do something these days, I wanna do it at the source. I hate hearing important news from third parties, I mean, you’ve seen how I do business. It’s all me at the end of the day. Sure, Curtis helps out, but otherwise, it’s better to deal with things on my own and a few trusted people” you finished that statement breathless from your heated ramble. This didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky at all. Where did that come from? At first, to him, you were just another bug to be squashed in order to get more control over his industry, but did he care now? Did he truly care about what was upsetting you? What caused that hurt you were obviously tampering down? Does this have to do with Jakey?

Bucky hadn’t realized he said that last part out loud until you responded.

“No! Well, maybe? Like, sort of?”

“Can I ask? Can I ask what happened there? Only if you want to share”

“Um… yeah, sure, I guess. You’ve embarrassed yourself enough this week so I think you’ve earned this a little bit.”

You took a deep breath and began. “Jake and I grew up together. We met in kindergarten in school and were instantly close. We were the only two gifted kids in class, so the teacher sent us to the side for extra lessons while the rest of the class learned with her. From that point on, we were inseparable. Two smart little twerps who took on the world together, but our lives were so different. In middle school, I started to take on more responsibility on the farm and he started getting into computers, but we’d still see each other. In high school we started officially dating, and I was so happy to be with someone who I felt like intellectually got me. I think it was the same way for him, too. He’d crack such nerdy jokes, and no one got them but me”

You smiled nostalgically at the memory. “When our senior year came along and my uncle wasn’t doing that well, I applied to more local schools, but he didn’t. We had always talked about going off to college and living together, but he wanted that life to be far away from here, and I had obligations. I got into the local college on a full ride for agriculture and civil engineering, and he decided he’d rather go to MIT for computer science. I asked if he’d be willing to stay since he got into college around here, too, but he said he wanted to be around people who were ‘more like-minded to him.’ As if we hadn’t been the only ones who had understood each other for over a decade.”

Bucky gave you a sullen look as your head fell and you looked down at your hands. He signaled to the bartender for a water and two more rounds of shots.

“I just, I just didn’t understand how he could act like that after so long. So I asked him when he was leaving so I could see him off. We were still friends, after all, but he left without a word. When I saw him again over Christmas break that winter, I felt like he had turned into some overweening, highfalutin, jerkwad. I didn’t really know him anymore, and I had enough to focus on already, so I just kinda stopped talking to him. As you could see today, his mom still comes around, but it’s not really the same. I don’t think she ever really truly saw the way he changed, she’s too caught up in having a son who lives in Silicon Valley now, but apparently he still asks for stuff from the farmers markets.” You shrugged and thanked the bartender for the shots, pounding all four before you excused yourself to the restroom, leaving Bucky to sit there shocked.

He had known where you went to college and how smart you are, but things like what happened with Jake don’t show up on paper. However he clocked you before, you were even stronger than that, because despite how you were hurt, you still wore your heart in your sleeve and showed compassion to everyone around.

You washed your face and looked in the mirror. Sure, that experience with Jake sucked, but it’s been years and you were over it now. Didn’t mean it was fun to relive it all. You decided to go into one of the stalls, the alcohol already kicking in and making you have to pee. You sat down and that’s when you saw it: blood. So that’s the reason for the waterworks all day today. That’s why you felt so tired and couldn’t help tearing up at the slightest things. Luckily the girl in the stall next to you had some products. You cleaned up and washed your hands, forcing a smile in the mirror until it became real, honestly relieved at having a reason for your out-of-character behavior. You headed back out to Bucky in a much more chipper mood and he looked up at you with a quirked brow. He figured you’d taken the time you needed. He was appreciative of you being so open with him, and wasn’t going to question the switch-up since he was just so happy to see you being yourself again after a long day.

“Up for a game of pool, cowboy?”

“Oh, you’re signing up to lose, Honeybee”

“Ok, ok, best four out of seven” Bucky whined as you giggled, whiskey shots catching up to you as you held another beer bottle in your hand. Bucky was hardly affected, he essentially rocked this much alcohol in his system by noon on a daily basis. Just then, his phone rang, and he motioned to show you it was Steve. You gave him a thumbs up and started to rack the balls to set up for the next game.

You watched Bucky walk out the door as you felt a presence looming behind you. You turned around and stood up, eyes tracing up a body dressed in brown hues until you reached a set of blue eyes shaded by a cowboy hat brim.

“Oh, howdy, can I help you?”

“I sure hope so. Can I get you a drink? Two whiskey sours” the stranger yelled over to the bar.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“My name’s Cole, Cole Turner. What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?”

He was handsome, there was no denying that, but something seemed off. You plastered your best fake smile on your face. You didn’t need a confrontation tonight, not in your favorite dress. You didn’t want to taint the memory of it because of some rando. Wait. Was he a rando? Where have you heard the name ‘Turner’ before? Before you could continue your train of thought, a waiter came over with your drinks. They were very sweet compared to what you’d had all night, just like his demeanor, which seemed like a thin veil over the surface. You tried to channel your drink’s energy into your words to sweetly reply until you could properly remember who he was through your alcohol-fogged mind.

“Oh, I’m not here alone. I’m here with a friend”

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but I don’t see anyone around. You up for a game?”

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he grabbed a pool cue and made a move to break. After that, he was keeping a little too close to you constantly. You did your best to stay kind, but must’ve been sending the wrong signals as he asked you “You wanna get out of here? I’ve got a hotel room down the road.”

In an attempt to change the subject you asked “Oh, so you’re not from around here? What are you doing in town?” Looking towards the door hoping Bucky would be done with his update any minute now.

“Ah, I used to live around here. My family owns a string of dairy farms. I’m here to try and convince these small-town farmers to give up the land.”

Your eyes went wide. Luckily you were facing away from him. He was that Cole Turner. The one whose family ran a packaged beverage empire and prided themselves on squashing the little guy. You were lucky he didn’t seem to recognize you yet, as the last remaining competitor in town. The one he had probably come in to squash. Just then, lost in thought, you felt a hand snake around your waist and you flinched.

“Relax, Honeybee, it’s just me” Bucky whispered in your ear. Your shoulders visibly relaxed as you turned around and threw your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. You pulled away, but not enough for Bucky’s hand to leave your waist, and looked between the two men, grabbing Bucky’s hat and placing it on your head immediately.

“Uh, James, this is Cole. He’s visiting town.”

Bucky reached out his hand Cole shook it. Cole took a large step back after, respecting the hat on your head, and, was he intimidated by Bucky’s stature? Sensing your discomfort, Bucky spoke up. “Nice to meet you. Shame we’re heading out now.”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand, not looking back, and headed straight to the door as quickly as your numb, wobbly legs would take you. Once you were met by the cool, crisp night air, you sighed in relief and rested your forehead on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Thank you for helping me get out of there”

He shuddered at your proximity and the comfort you felt in this type of contact. It felt natural and he never wanted it to stop. With a soft smile and a glance at the top of the hat, he said, “No problem, Honeybee. Let’s get home.”

He helped you get up into the cab of the truck, sliding you across the bench seat before he got in and started it up.

“So what was the deal with the hat? And that guy?”

You yawned and stretched, settling in against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Uh, when a girl takes a guy’s hat and puts it on her head, it means she’s going home with him. And don’t worry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just wanted that guy to get off my back. We can talk more about that later.”

You wiggled to get more comfortable, your hand still in Bucky’s as he used the other to steer the truck down the old country roads. Your eyes fluttered shut as you fell asleep on him. His eyes flickered between you and the road in the headlights ahead. He luckily had a good sense of direction and was able to remember how to get home from your instructions earlier.

When he pulled into your gravel driveway, your were sound asleep, softly snoring, drool having dripped onto his Henley, but he didn’t mind at all. He lifted you out of the truck and carried you up the steps, taking off your boots before tucking you into bed for the night.

Next >

Bonus A/N: so where I’m from, “Turner’s” really is a beverage empire and they make really good products. I just figured I can’t make a farm AU without putting Cole in it, no matter how inaccurate to character.

Series taglist:

@scuzmunkie

@openup-yourmind

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