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mousepsychologist · 3 years

Text

With Aaron

Summary: Reader avoids Hotch after getting cleared for sex following a kidnapping incident because she is self-conscious about the scars left behind.

Pairing: soft!hotch X Female Reader

Content/warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI): Language, brief mentions of torture (similar to an episode of CM), brief mentions of knives and blood (as a means or result of aforementioned torture), mentions and descriptions of scars, insecurities, sexual content, oral sex: female receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, praise, use of pet names and some fluff.

If I am missing anything please let me know!

Word count: 3,956

A/N: Submission for the @hotchafterhours Smutty One Shot Challenge. Also, this is the first fanfic I have ever written, so if it is super rough to read...my sincerest of apologies, and feel free to pretend this does not exist😅😂

Sex…

Sex with Aaron…

That is all you ever think about. You are absolutely consumed with the idea of being with Aaron.

You love sex with Aaron. You’ve been having sex with Aaron almost everyday for two years now and holy shit...it is the best sex you’ve ever had. It is so good that even when you shouldn’t be thinking about it...you definitely are.

When you innocently watch him twirl a pen between his thumb, pointer and middle fingers while thinking, all you can think about is how those long, thick fingers feel inside of you. Or, when you watch him sip his coffee, all you can think about is how those soft lips feel sucking and nipping at your bare skin.

However, anything he does, innocent or not, it always gets you going. So, you can’t fully blame him. But, you know Aaron, and some days you are sure he intentionally tries to get you squirming...even at work.

Everyone knows he is Mr. Professional and you think just the same but you also know that you are his achilles heel. So, if and when he wants to play games, well...you can be his checkmate.

You will rock a deep v-neck blouse that gives him the perfect view of your cleavage or a tight pencil dress that accentuates your ass because you know it will cause his face to falter or his breathing patterns to become erratic.

The two of you are the King and Queen of the sexual chess board. He knows how to move in ways that make you scream out in pleasure while you know how to sacrifice your pawns so he can seize control of the bedroom.

And as much as you love thinking about sex with Aaron or actually having sex with Aaron, you are able to sometimes keep your sexual thoughts at bay.

However, when you aren’t thinking about sex with Aaron, you are thinking about cuddling with Aaron, watching TV with Aaron, going on dates with Aaron, cooking with Aaron, laughing until you’re crying with Aaron and everything else in-between. Anything and everything that the two of you could possibly do together is always what you’re thinking about.

Your relationship with Aaron has never been just about sex. However, sex with Aaron has always been a sacred thing between the two of you. He treats your body like a temple. Not just any temple though...rather a temple he seems to have built himself.

He knows your body better than you do and how to make you feel like putty.

He knows how to interpret your moans as well as assess your temperament and determine whether you want to have playful or rough sex or, just softer, lazier sex.

And up until now, sex with Aaron has never been something you were nervous or self-conscious about.

---

Everything changed following your kidnapping two months ago where an unsub managed to hold you hostage for a week.

It was the worst week of your life. It was a long week that consisted of beatings, cigarette burns and knives being dragged up and down your body.

***Two Months Ago***

When the team came bursting into the basement you were being held in, you looked like a bruised, bloodied, mangled mess. You are hunched over and tied to a chair with your clothes barely hanging on by a thread. Your body is littered with both long and short knife marks, small and large bruises, and multiple cigarette burns.

As your team stormed the area, you were so disoriented that you didn’t even comprehend what was happening around you.

A large, calloused hand gently touches your shoulder. You flinch and the hand immediately retracts itself.

“Y/N...” he pauses. “Y/N… it’s me. It's Aaron.” His voice is so quiet, calm, and soothing.

You immediately relax. You have never been more relieved in your life. You blink a few times and your vision unblurs to see an unfamiliar Aaron.

He is so panicked and scared. You are sure you’ve never seen him this scared. He is also tired. So so tired. You are positive he hasn’t slept since you’ve gone missing.

He slowly places his hand back on your shoulder once he realizes that you know it's him. You're slightly shaking and exceptionally weak.

“Sweetheart, I need to carry you to the ambulance. Is that okay?”

You nod and go to straighten up but immediately wince and whimper in pain.

“Y/N, no, don’t move. I’ve got you”.

To pick you up he gently places an arm under your knees and another behind your back. It hurts but you find solace in his touch and the faint smell of his cologne. You bury your face deep into his chest and feel your tears surface as you start to sniffle.

Aaron immediately notices and places a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Y/N, it's okay. I’ve got you.”

You press yourself further into him and grasp firmly at his shirt. Your tears start to come faster. “Please don’t leave me Aar. Please don’t go anywhere. I’m scared and I don’t want to be alone again.”

“Oh Love...it’s okay. You’re not alone. I am not going anywhere. I am right here. You have me. Always. I want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.”

You feel his grip on you tighten as you go unconscious.

That's the last thing you remember until you wake up in the hospital two days later.

---

***Present Day***

It has been 53 days since you have had sex with Aaron. But today is the day you are supposed to receive medical clearance from your doctor.

Up until this morning, all you wanted was to have sex with Aaron. Because of your doctor’s orders, Aaron wouldn’t give in to sex until you were cleared. You were totally okay with following the doctor’s orders but Aaron and you had decided that it was just best to not do anything remotely sexual until you were cleared.

So...for the last 53 days, the most the two of you have done is kissed and cuddled. No question about it, the two of you love to kiss and cuddle but...you also love to do SO...MUCH...MORE.

You understood where Aaron is coming from. He just wants you safe and healthy.

You, on the other hand, want so badly to be fucked by your boyfriend.

So, it’s safe to say that you are so excited to get cleared. You know Aaron is excited too... though he won’t admit it.

You have tried multiple times to get him off but it's never worked. You want to do it for him, but you selfishly need to have his large, veiny, cock deep in your throat. You want to taste him, to make him feel how he always makes you feel. You also miss the way his hips buck towards you causing you to choke on his pulsating dick.

But he never budged. And since he never did, this also meant that the two of you haven't seen each other naked in the last 53 days.

You miss his cock just as much as you miss his mouth sucking on your clit or having his hands pinch your nipples, but by waiting, you know that the first time back to having sex with Aaron will be worth the wait. As Aaron said it quite clearly one day, “Pretty girl, I’m going to make you cum so much that you won’t even be able to think straight. I may have to make you cum for every day you haven’t been able to.” He said this with a smirk and a wink, but you’re pretty sure he is not kidding.

...And damn it, you are so ready for it.

---

You wake up the morning of your appointment, and head to the bathroom to shower and get ready. This is what you’ve been waiting for. You are so excited to finally have sex with Aaron tonight. You take a little longer in the shower to prepare yourself. Using extra exfoliator, moisturizer and your more expensive shampoo and conditioner.

It isn’t until you step out of the shower and catch a glimpse of your naked body that your anxiety flares with a vengeance. Sure, a lot of the cuts and burns have healed and the bruises are long gone but there are still some scars that are still blatantly noticeable. They look so ugly, red and puffy.

The panic sets in at the thought of Aaron seeing you tonight. You feel the pressure of how tonight is supposed to go. You know Aaron loves you no matter what but that doesn’t silence the voices telling you otherwise.

A knock at the door pulls you from your self-deprecating thoughts. “Honey, are you almost ready?”

“Umm, ya. Just a sec.”

You quickly put your clothes on but your eyes never leave the mirror that is reflecting your damaged body. You exit your bathroom and head to the kitchen where Aaron is pouring two cups of coffee.

“Morning gorgeous.” You cringe at the name which you are sure he notices but he doesn’t acknowledge it and continues on. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you to your appointment?”

“No, it's okay. It shouldn’t take too long anyways.”

“Alright, my love. I will see you at work then.”

He walks up to you and kisses you gently. His hands lay on your hips and slowly take the ends of your sweater in them. You begin to feel his hands touch the skin just above your waistline and immediately grab both of them and pull away. He gives you a questioning look but before he can say anything you beat him to it.

“Babe, I really have to go. I don’t want to be late.” You place your hand on his cheek and give him a quick kiss on the lips. “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

You turn and walk out missing the clearly puzzled look on Aaron’s face.

---

You arrive at work a few hours later cleared to have sex again. And though you want to be excited, you aren't. You are so in your head that you don’t know what to do.

You know you can’t avoid Aaron so you walk into his office to tell him the “good” news.

Aaron hears you walk in and close the door. He quickly walks to you and kisses you before asking about the appointment. You inform him that you’re cleared and you panic more as you see the excitement spread across his face.

He cups one hand on your cheek while the other lays on your hip. He slowly starts to kiss you again. You love the taste of him. You can taste the coffee from this morning as his tongue makes its way into my mouth. Your hands go to his neck and begin tugging at his hair.

Aaron loves when you tug at his hair so you are not surprised when it elicits a few moans from him. And anytime a moan leaves those beautiful lips of his, it always runs straight to your core. You can feel your panties dampen as he sucks on your bottom lip and squeezes your hips.

You are so lost in this kiss and it’s the first time all day that you aren’t drowning in your thoughts.

You are in the moment and it's amazing.

The hand cupping your cheek moves to mimic his other hand squeezing your hip. You don’t even feel his thumbs rubbing the skin above your waistline and dipping under the top portion of your thong. You are so focused on rubbing your hands along his ribcage and chest. You love feeling his chest and tummy.

Aaron starts kissing down your jawline causing you to tilt your head back in pleasure. You can feel his soft lips dance their way down your neck. It's the stark contrast of his rough, calloused fingertips sliding up both sides of your ribcage that snaps you back to reality.

You quickly step away and readjust your blouse.

“Woah Y/N.” He gently grabs your wrists. “What is going on? What's wrong?” He asks with pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Nothing is wrong Aar. It’s just that we're at work with people around.”

“Okay, but that hasn’t stopped us in the past.” A slight smirk appears on his face.

“I know, but I would rather wait until we are home. Why don’t you come over to my place after work?” Hopefully being in the comfort of your own apartment will calm your nerves.

“I’d love to. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” He moves both hands to your cheeks and places a delicate kiss on your forehead.

“Sounds good. I just have a few more reports to finish before I head out.” You say as you head towards his office door.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’m looking forward to it!”

You can see the excitement on his face and hear the sweetness in his voice as you exit his office. The nerves fluttering in your stomach almost make you nauseous but you have to ignore your thoughts so you can focus on the remainder of the work day.

---

You are home for 30 minutes when Aaron finally enters your apartment. You're sitting on the bed, leaning up against the headboard with your knees tucked to your chest when you see Aaron’s broad shoulders lean against your door frame. You know you can’t keep up the facade any longer.

“Alright, Y/N. What's wrong? Something is clearly off with you. You’ve been distant all day today. If I did something wrong, please just tell me so I can fix it.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost too hard to handle. You can feel your eyes start to fill with tears but you don’t cry. You tilt your head down and stare at your fidgeting hands.

“It’s so bad, Aar.” As soon as those words left your mouth you knew that was the worst possible way to phrase the sentence.

Aaron immediately walks to the bed and sits cross-legged in front of you. The panic is evident in his eyes.

He grabs your wrists to move your arms up and begins touching along your stomach. His eyes are moving all over your body like a ball in a pinball machine.

He’s searching for an injury.

“What hurts Y/N? Let me see, please! I want to help fix it.” He’s so scared. You immediately feel guilty about how fast your words send him into panic mode but it's this caring nature that reassures you that Aaron loves you no matter what.

It's what finally gives you the strength to tell him how you feel.

“Nothing hurts, babe. I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to phrase it that way.” His face slowly begins to soften.

“Then what is it? I know something is wrong.”

“My scars, Aar. They are so bad. They are way redder and puffier than I thought they’d be at this point.” Your eyes are focused on your bedspread. Quite obviously avoiding the gorgeous ones you can feel piercing into you. “My entire torso is hideous...I just don’t want you to see it.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His hands come up to cup both of your cheeks.

You cut him off before he can continue. You need to tell him the whole truth.

“I know it’s dumb but I have this fucking voice in my head telling me that you are going to be bothered by them and less attracted to me. Which I wouldn’t blame you because I am already thinking the same thing about myself.”

“Please, Y/N. Please don’t ever think that I would ever find you unattractive for any reason. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I love everything there is about you and nothing could ever change that.” He says this reassuringly while placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You can feel your anxiety slowly dissipate. “I know you do. I have just been so nervous thinking about you seeing them for the first time tonight. Plus, we’ve been talking about having sex so much once I got cleared and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Y/N.” He says with such conviction that you force yourself to look into his eyes. “I need you to know that we do not need to have sex tonight, tomorrow night or anytime soon.” His hands are now gently rubbing up and down your arms from your shoulders to elbows. “We will go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with. And that will always be the case.” He pauses and lightly squeezes your arms. “Whether following an injury or not, okay.”

“I know, Aar. And you don’t know how appreciative I am of that and how happy I am to have someone as caring and supportive as you in my life.” You gently grab his face and place a tender kiss on his lips.

The love you feel for Aaron is all consuming. He has managed in a matter of minutes to dilute your anxiety to almost nothing. Now, all you feel is this intense rush of passion for the love of your life.

The kiss starts to develop into something much more needy. You both are fighting for dominance but you quickly relent and let his tongue invade your mouth. His large hands make their way to your hair where they lightly tug and pull.

Your hands are now on his shoulders pulling him on top of you while simultaneously working to unbutton his dress shirt.

You feel him hesitate and look down at you. “Y/N, are you sure?”. His eyes have never looked so intently at you.

“Yes, I am sure.”

That’s enough for him to abruptly continue kissing you. Your eyes are now closed as you lose yourself once again in an unforgettable kiss with Aaron Hotchner.

You are obsessed with how he tastes and you continue to feel yourself relax as you breathe in his pine scented cologne. The smell has and always will make you feel at home.

Aaron slowly removes your top and stops all of his movements which leads you to opening your own eyes.

You see him staring at your stomach which brings all of your insecurities to the forefront.

You feel yourself moving to cover your stomach when Aaron catches them and pushes each to the side.

“You are so beautiful Y/N. I can’t believe I get to have someone as beautiful, kind, intelligent, and courageous as you in my life. So please don’t ever try to hide yourself from me.”

The genuineness exuding from him is enough to melt all your anxieties. You know that you want him no matter what.

“Thank you, Aar. I love you so much and I don’t know what I did to deserve a man like you.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

His soft lips return to you. He slowly makes his way nipping and sucking at the skin from your neck to your breast. He begins to suck on your nipple while massaging the other with his large hand. His teeth graze over your nipple causing a ripple effect down your spine.

You love feeling his warm breath and wet tongue move across your already hard bud. Aaron tends to your other breast with his mouth before moving down your torso.

He begins to gently kiss each of your scars. You feel your stomach nervously tighten.

Aaron, as always, senses how your body briefly tenses.

“It’s okay, Love. I am right here with you. I want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.”

You feel your body relax. “I am okay, I promise. Please Aaron.” You beg with a quiet whimper. “I need you.”

His lips continue moving down to where you need him most as he removes your pants and thong. No matter your insecurities, you always seem to be needy for all things Aaron. So it's no surprise that you are already wet from only being kissed by him.

Aaron’s tongue moves further down so he can tease your clit. The action causes you to squirm beneath him. As much as you love his mouth on you and feeling him lick and suck on your clit, you need more.

“Aar, please…” you moan and arch your back off the bed.

“What do you want Y/N? Tell me and I will make it happen.” He responds while inserting two fingers into you.

He is curling his finger inside of you while continuing to suck on your clit. Your breathing has increased significantly along with your moans.

“Aaron…please. Please I need you inside of me.”

In an instant he grabs your legs and pulls you towards him. Once your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, he pulls his already hard cock out of his boxers and begins to line it up with your core. He teases your entrance with his tip before he finally thrusts into you.

He fills you so well as he thrusts in and out. You can feel yourself climb towards your release with every thrust.

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good.” His pace quickens and becomes a little harder but he holds you like you are the most precious thing to walk the earth.

“I’m so close, Aar.”

“I know, baby. Let go, I’ve got you.”

That’s all you need to fall apart. Your body tenses before spasming uncontrollably. Your back is arched as Aaron continues to thrust into you to help ride out your high. It doesn’t take much longer for him to find his release as well.

You both try to ride out your highs as long as possible. The two of you are breathing heavily and a slight layer of sweat is now covering your bodies.

You gently begin dragging your nails up and down Aaron’s back as he is still laying on top of you. While still trying to come back to earth, he pulls out of you and rolls over to your side.

You miss the feeling of having him inside of you when he rolls over but the emptiness is quickly replaced as his arm is draped across your waist and is used to pull you to him. You are now laying more on him than the bed with your head nestled on his chest.

Aaron presses gentle kisses to the top of your head. “You okay, Y/N?”

“I’m perfect.” You are so at peace laying on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

Aaron is rolling the ends of your hair between his fingers as you continue to cuddle into him. “Okay, good. Are you sure that wasn’t too much this time?”

“It was perfect. I promise I would tell you if I wasn’t okay.”

“Alright, I just want you to be happy and comfortable no matter what.”

“I know, Love and I love you so much for that. You always make me feel amazing, especially when it comes to sex.” You giggle as you sit up to place a gentle kiss on his nose.

“Well, I am glad you enjoy it because I owe you 52 more when you're ready.” A devilish smirk is now plastered on his face.

“52 what?” Your puzzled look causes him to laugh.

“Orgasms, pretty girl.”

“52 orgasms!” Your eyes damn near pop out of your skull.

“Oh yes, 52...and not one less.”

And in this moment, well...all you can think about is 52 perfect orgasms with Aaron.

#hotchafterhourschallenge #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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nasaty · 3 years

Text

Noctilucence

Student Aizawa x (she/her) student reader, so much angssssttt and grief and a bunch of fluff. (Do not bring any pedo shit into my presence or I will fucking destroy you)

This will be 9 chapters long. Ch. 2 here.

MANGA SPOILERS until episode 107 comes out. - also this requires context that I am not providing from MHA manga and the arc with Aizawa in Vigilantes. TW: death.

Lmk if you like it and I can post more!

Ch. 1 the Clouds

As someone who was uniquely talented and had a very useful quirk, the first few weeks of your first year at UA went by quickly. You were favorited by your new classmates because of your intelligence and your extremely powerful healing quirk, so everyone wanted you at their side. You decided to take the path of general studies, being that you wouldn’t be in combat much but more so in rescue services, you would be more well rounded that way. After the first few hectic weeks blew past, things seemed to settle and you realized you hadn’t made a lot of friends, just some colleagues and acquaintances, which was fine, networking is important, but didn’t make you feel like you fit in as much as you should. Everyone was friendly with you but usually just on the surface, so they can get you to you help them with something. You obliged, since the whole reason you went to UA was to learn to effectively help people in the first place. You drifted along in classes and were generally abject with your life, until you met Oboro.

You were asked to sit in on a few sparring matches by hero course 2-A’s home room teacher since recovery girl would be out for about a week. Since your quirk allowed you to heal from a distance, you stood with 2-A’s sensei and took in the abilities and personalities of your future colleagues. Being that they were in their second year and you in your first, you’d hardly seen them at all yet, but were mesmerized by their quick thinking and mastery they had obtained after such a short time. Though you meant to take notes, you were too distracted and hypnotized by each heros proficiency.

These sparring matches were essentially used as a practical midterm, so each pair had a designated time which meant you would probably be there all day, even though a few pairs went the day before. Each midterm took about a half an hour, sometimes more, and the heros seemed equally matched. Standing next to 2-A’s sensei, you felt small and cold because of the gyms air conditioning. One side of the gym was plain, almost like a basketball court. The other was a rocky, almost impossible looking terrain where the matches were taking place. You yawned as you looked at your watch, noticing it was well past lunch but neither of you had eaten yet.

The next pair came into the gym on opposite sides and shook hands, and the home room teacher blew the whistle signaling the start of the match. You instantly recognized their quirks; one had some sort of blast quirk that was very bright and dynamic, and the other had the ability of creating and manipulating clouds of some sort. It seemed clear to you soon after the whistle who would have the upper hand, but that flipped rapidly as the battle went on, immersing you in the adrenaline filled motions the boys made with precision. The larger boy with the sunglasses seemed to be somewhat irritated and yielded a bit, while the cloud boy with light blue hair was surprisingly agile and stealthy, even when his opponent’s blasts broke through his barrier. You hear him shout things a few times, almost teasingly at the larger kid, but it appeared to be light hearted.

Blast kid had connected one good hit on the cloud kid’s arm, and you heard it reverberate through the gym. You barely had the time to blink before thick clouds covered them both. Their home room teacher nudged you as if to signal to be prepared to heal either one of them since you had both lost sight. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, cloud kid bursts from the top of the mist and pulled out a quarter staff, (you could’ve swore it appeared out of thin air,) and in no time, disappears into the mist again.

The vapor slowly dissipated and you saw cloud kid with an adorably bright smile on his face, while his opponent was pinned to the ground, scowling.

“I wasn’t even trying that’s why you were able to beat me. I don’t even care about this midterm,” he barked.

“Sure man, either way it was a good match! Thanks!” The winner said as he held out his hand to help him up. The other scoffed at him, stood up on his own, and mumbled something to himself. He exited where he originally entered the gym.

The homeroom teacher called out to cloud kid, “Oboro! Come here, that hit sounded rough.”

He lightly jogged over to you both, having not even broken a sweat, and was entirely gleaming. Seemingly bursting with energy he proudly shook his sensei’s hand as a small congratulations on the victory, and turned to you.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he pulled out a granola bar from his pocket and started eating it sloppily. He spoke again before you had a second to respond. “Are you new here? A transfer student maybe? I’m Shirakumo Oboro, but you can just call me Oboro, or Cloud, or whatever you want. I don’t mind!”

For a second you were wary that he was being friendly to get you to do something for him, but then realized he had no idea who you were, so he was actually just that nice naturally. He surprisingly just met you and allowed you to call him by a nickname.

2-A’s Sensei leaned in, “Hey you’re on lunch now by the way, sorry it’s late, you’ve got an hour and a half till you need to be back here for the rest of it.” You thanked him silently with a head nod and he sauntered away. You made eye contact with Oboro.

“Hi Oboro,” you grinned, “I’m Y/n, I’m a first year so that’s probably why we haven’t met, but I am subbing for recovery girl today.”

“SUBBING AS A FIRST YEAR you must be pretty freakin cool then” he downed some water and some of it got on his shirt. “What is your quirk then?”

“I can heal people from a distance if I know what the issue is. So like if someone has kidney failure I can’t see that, so I might not be able to figure that one out, but if someone has a broken bone or something I can see that and fix it. So I’m learning a little internal medicine on the side so I can diagnose properly to heal.”

“Dang dude that’s sweet I just make clouds,” he bursted out laughing, and then heard your stomach growl, it has been a few hours since you’ve had anything to eat.

“Hey Y/n I have lunch right now too, do you wanna come down to the LRC with me? (what some kids called the Lunch Rush Cafe,) I can introduce you to some of our classmates.” You liked how he said our classmates, he’s genuinely very sweet and made you feel warm and welcome.

You started walking towards the cafeteria and filed into the hallway, following the crowd.

“I’ll still go down there even though I’ve eaten half my lunch already” he said pulling a sandwich out of his other pocket.

You giggled, “You have your whole lunch in your pockets?”

“Yeah?!” he stated with a mouthful, “you never know when you’re gonna need more energy, like after that match! At least I don’t eat those weird energy pouches like Shouta!” He laughed boisterously. You wondered who the heck ‘Shouta’ was.

You each went through the line in the busy cafeteria, Lunch Rush quickly handed you your meal and Oboro stuffed too many energy bars in his pockets.

“My friends eat on the roof if you wanna come up there! It’s….not exactly allowed but it’s not *NOT* allowed”

You pondered the thought of doing something that risky as a first year, but shook it off, knowing that Oboro wouldn’t lead you astray. Even though you had just met him, you were as comfortable as if you had known him for years. You nodded and hummed, signaling for him to lead the way, (you didn’t know how to get to the roof anyway,) and followed close behind.

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givemetherapyimawritingtravesty · 3 years

Note

Hey! I love your fics and I was wondering if you’d consider writing something where Sirius is drinking heavily at night bc he’s kinda depressed after his ankle injury and then he gets a text the next morning asking him where he is and he forgot that he had his first pt session and he’s hungover af lowkey still drunk lol and the Remus notices this

So this ask is from forever ago and it's kinda short but *shrugs* I did the writing thing at least lol

Credit for the SW universe to the amazing @lumosinlove.

CW for mention of alcohol, depression

Sirius wakes up to a ping from his phone on the floor beside him. He doesn’t remember falling asleep on the couch. He feels groggy, limbs too heavy, and his ankle sore from sleeping cramped on the couch. He reaches down blindly for his phone.

9:07 Stuck in traffic or just running late? Cap? Late? That’d be new LOL

9:16 Forget about me Cap? haha

9:26 Starting to think you actually DID forget about your PT sesh this morning, everything okay Sirius?

“Merde.” Sirius groaned, seeing the messages from Remus. He was supposed to be at the rink by 9 to get his ankle checked out and start some rehab.

9:28 I’m so sorry, overslept. Rough night. I’ll hit the shower and hop in a cab and be right there. I’m sorry.

9:29 No worries, take your time, I’ll be here

Sirius slowly sat up, taking in the pounding in his head, and how the room was spinning just a little. His crutch was nowhere in sight, so he hobbled to the bathroom down the hall so he wouldn’t have to try and get up the stairs on a stiff ankle. As he turned on the shower and stripped, he realized how much he must have had to drink last night since he could tell he was still fairly tipsy from it.

The shower was definitely a good call, he thought. He slung a towel over his hips and slowly made his way back out to the living room where a laundry basket of clean laundry sat next to the couch. Thankfully, Lily and James had paid him a visit yesterday and insisted on helping him do some chores since he had clearly been neglecting them.

He pulled on some clean sweats and a hoodie, and limped his was to the kitchen, where he was fairly certain he had abandoned his crutch after the fifth or sixth shot last night after his friends had left.

After leaning heavily on his crutch, he pulled out his phone and ordered a cab to head to the rink. It was half past 10 when he finally got there and ten to 11 when he finally made his way, very slowly, into the PT room.

“Hey Cap, how we feeling today?” Remus asked, turning around from where he was organizing the cabinet above the sink.

“Like hell.”

“That bad? That the ankle or just in general?”

“Both? Probably both.” Sirius slowly got on the exam table.

“I see. Is everything alright? Not like you to sleep in so late you miss a session.”

“I… just had a rough night, is all.”

“Also not like you to show up drunk. Care to explain that? More than just saying it was a rough night?”

Sirius sighed and put his head in his hands. “That obvious?”

“I can smell it from across the room. Come on, what’s going on? Doctor’s confidentiality.” Remus said, putting his hands us in a surrendering gesture and sitting down in the chair across the small room.

“It’s been more than just a rough night. More like… A rough few weeks? Months? I don’t even know anymore. It’s just been… a lot lately? I… I’ve been having nightmares again and I… For the record, the last time I drank this much to get rid of them, Dumo gave me quite the scolding when I sobered up. And that was when I was still living with him, so it’s been a while. It’s not like this is a regular thing I do, I just… I needed a break. Last night was… After James and Lily left, I just felt so, alone and worthless and I…” Silent tears rolled down Sirius’ face.

“Oh, Sirius. Hey, it’s alright.” Remus tried to comfort him, getting up and making his way next to the other man and placing a hand on his back. “You’ve been through a lot lately. It’s okay to feel… depressed. Overwhelmed. But you’re healing great. You’ll be back out on the ice in no time.”

“I… yeah.” Sirius leaned into Remus’ side. “It was just…”

“A rough night, yeah. You’re entitled to those now and again. But maybe don’t hit the booze so hard?” He tried for a joke. It seemed to work a Sirius let out a watery chuckle. “Now, how about I drive you home and you sleep this off? Sound good?”

“But my PT ses-”

“It can wait until tomorrow. One day won’t be the end of the world. Unless it’s been bothering you?”

“Been stiff, actually. Slept cramped on the couch and…”

“Alright, lay back. I’ll stretch it out while we’re here then. Hopefully that’ll make you more comfortable until we start working on it. Sound good?”

“Oui. Thanks, loops.”

“Of course. And if you need anything, I’m around, okay? Just shoot me a message, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

#pre coops #sweater weather lumosinlove #wolfstar #coops #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans #depression #drinking to cope #asks

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naughtyneganjdm · 3 years

Text

Panicked

Summary: After losing Lucille, Negan is full of anxiety when Y/N falls sick with a cold. It brings back old memories for him and Y/N does her best to assure him everything is going to be okay.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31540796

Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, etc.

Notes: This was another request for a fluffy one shot with Negan. Hopefully it's okay. Thanks for reading.

This time of the year was the worst. Every single year it seemed like whenever the beginning of summer hit, Y/N was struck with a really bad cold. It had been that way most of her life. For some reason, the change in temperature always seemed to affect her body and not always in the best of ways. Thankfully Alexandria had given her the time off to rest and get better. She had been working so hard lately that she was sure the exhaustion didn’t help her immune system in fighting this thing off either.

Right now she had herself buried beneath the blankets in her bed. Sleep was the best thing for her. There wasn’t much she could do for herself, so getting some sleep that she hadn’t be able to get and let her body heal itself was the best idea. She knew that, but hell it frustrated her being bed ridden. Most of the time she was always on her feet doing things. Being knocked off her feet and feeling like shit was so hard for her. There was a lot she could and should have been doing right now, but she just didn’t have the energy to do it.

Adjusting in bed, she pulled the covers with her and let out a surprised sound when the door to her bedroom opened. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Negan standing in the doorway with a tray in his hands.

“Negan?” she muttered her boyfriend’s name knowing that he should have been helping the town rebuild. Since they were known for giving him a hard time, she didn’t think she would be seeing him anytime soon or even close to now. At the end of the night he was always walking in and he was always exhausted. Looking over at the clock she had, she saw what time it was and let out a long sigh. “What are you doing here?”

“I convinced Gabriel to let me come and be with you,” Negan informed her moving into the room and setting the tray that he had on her desk. Moving across the room, he pulled open the blinds and the dark room was suddenly bright making her wince. Reaching up, she covered her eyes and let out a tight groan. It gave her an immediate headache. She had been in the dark for so long, that her body and her eyes just got used to it. “I’m sorry baby.”

“It’s okay,” she waved her hand in the air dismissively while he attempted to adjust the blinds so there wasn’t as much light flooding in. He made it where it was just enough for them to be able to see around the room. When she finally lowered her hand from her eyes, she lifted her gaze and saw that Negan was staring out at her. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed to have an exceedingly nervous expression. “I’m surprised that the rest of the town was okay with you coming here.”

“Let’s be honest, I’m the person who does the most work. They can live without me being their slave for a fucking day,” Negan scoffed in regards to the rest of Alexandria. Negan had been working so hard to be the best version of himself for everyone and they didn’t appreciate his work at all. There was no doubt that the people of Alexandria had been hard on Negan. No matter what he did, they were always giving him shit. Even if he did something right, they were always being hard on him. No one worked as hard as he did and Alexandria would be in a much worse place right now if it wasn’t for him. “Nothing I ever do will be good enough for those people. So, I’m just going to take care of the person I love because no matter what they would be pissed at me. I’m screwed if I do and I’m screwed if I don’t.”

“Baby,” she frowned, reaching out for his hand and she hooked her fingers loosely with his. “I don’t think everyone here hates you. Some people see the changes you have made.”

“Well if they do, they really are fooling me,” Negan sighed, stepping in closer to the bed so he could hold her hand in his tighter. There was a silence and he simply shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter what they think because at the end of the day there is really only one person that I care about and that’s you. You’re the only person I have to worry about.”

“And I think you are perfect,” she assured him, tugging softly at his hand to get him to lower down on the bed beside her. Obeying her request, he sat on the edge of her bed and she lifted herself up enough to be able to stare him in the eyes. “If I wasn’t worried about you getting sick, I would totally kiss you right now. I think you are the best person I know. Anybody who doesn’t see how much you’ve changed and how eager you are to help, well I just think they are ignorant, blind assholes. Because I see everything right in the world when I look at you.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that I think you are worth it and I totally am going to kiss you now after that,” Negan winked, moving in closer to her when his fingers loosely hooked around the back of her neck. Delicately pulling her toward him, Negan’s lips pressed in over hers. Cherishing the warmth of him, Y/N reached up to brush her fingers through Negan’s hair and found herself in awe of Negan. Every…single…time he kissed her, he took her breath away. When he pulled away, his eyes were hooked on hers and he cupped her face in his hands. With the gentle strokes of his rough thumbs over the side of her face, it made her feel comfortable and at ease. It was the first time today that she had actually felt that way. Hell, who was she kidding? In general Negan was the only one in Alexandria that made her feel relaxed and comfortable. At night when he held her in his arms was when she felt the best. She felt safe and loved. Nothing could make her feel better than Negan did. “Kissing you will always be worth it. I love you, so much.”

“I love you too,” she reached up to place her hands over his and caressed over his flesh. After a moment of staring at her, Negan’s Adam’s apple bounced in his throat and he forced himself to look away from her. There was definitely something wrong with him. It was obvious in the way that he was acting. This wasn’t normal of Negan. “Negan? What’s wrong?”

“I’m just…I’m worried about you,” Negan explained, forcing himself to look up and his right hand brushed up over her head to check her temperature. He almost went pale when he felt her warm to the touch. “You’re still running a fever.”

“I’ll be fine,” she tried to assure him, but he stood from the bed and folded his arms out in front of his chest. He seemed to think about things for a moment before starting to pace. Watching him, she wasn’t sure what to say. He was so tense and she didn’t know what would comfort him. “Baby? What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get you a wet cloth to help you try to bring that fever down,” Negan informed her, nodding toward the bathroom. While she appreciated the gesture, she really didn’t feel like she needed it. Before she could say anything, Negan had already headed off to the bathroom without allowing her to speak up and she sighed heavily. Since she had gotten sick, Negan had been doting on her so much that she even questioned if he had been sleeping himself. Lowering back down to the bed, she tried to get comfortable again, still leaving enough space for Negan beside her. Negan came out of the bathroom a few second later holding a dripping cloth in his hand. “I also have some tea with the soup over there on the tray. We want to make sure that you get as much fluids as possible.”

“That was very nice of you Negan,” she felt the bed dip beside her when he sat on the edge of it. A whimper fell from her throat when the freezing cold, damp cloth covered her forehead. Immediately it made her arch up from the bed with how cold it was and Negan’s nervous eyes narrowed while he looked down at her. Not only was it freezing, it was also dripping still. “That’s…very cold.”

“I’m sorry, I just want to make sure that we don’t have you burning up,” Negan reached up to stroke over the side of her face and she attempted to keep the cloth over her head. It helped, but at the same time it gave her more of a headache with the sharp ache the coolness had over her forehead. “Are you sure this is normal for you?”

“Having a sweet, caring boyfriend? No, I’ve never had one quite like you,” she joked and Negan seemed to get frustrated with her comment.

“I wish you would take this serious. You are super fucking sick and you have been for days. This isn’t something to joke about,” Negan grunted with a wrinkle of his nose and he went to move from where he was sitting, but she reached out to grab a hold of his hand. It was obvious that she had upset him because he wasn’t looking at her and she frowned.

“Why are you so upset about this Negan?” she questioned, feeling bad that she had made him upset with just her teasing comment. Caressing her thumb over the pulse point on his wrist, she offered up a weak smile and could see that he wasn’t even willing to smile back.

“I’m scared something is wrong with you…something more,” he confessed, letting out an anxious breath when she lifted herself up from the bed to press her back against the headboard. When the cloth fell from her head and into her lap, she winced and reached for it. Negan gave her a sideways glance before grabbing the cloth to set it aside. Reaching for Negan’s hands, she clasped her fingers around his and he dramatically shrugged his shoulders. “You’re really pale, you have a fever, you can barely eat, you shake when you sleep…”

“It’s a cold Negan. I have these all the time around this time of the year,” she insisted, doing her best to let him know that everything was going to be okay. “I get hit really hard with it for a few days and then in no time I’m feeling better. You don’t have to worry about me Negan.”

“Yes, yes I do,” Negan denied her comment while shaking his head repeatedly. There was a muscle in his jaw that flexed. With each second, he seemed to get more and more upset. “You have no idea how hard it is for me going through seeing someone I love being sick like this.”

“Hey, I had it last year too,” she reminded him and Negan gave her a frown.

“Yeah, but last year we just started dating each other and it was like two days you were sick. That’s what you told me. I wasn’t around to see you like this and it’s been more than two days Y/N,” Negan corrected her making her sigh when he said it. Well, he wasn’t wrong. They had only just started officially dating this year. For so long they had relentlessly flirted with each other when she would bring him things to his cell or when they worked on chores together, but things weren’t actually official until this year. She was also pretty certain that it was lasting longer because of the exhaustion her body had gone through. “I’ve had this happen before where someone thought it was nothing, but the flu or a cold and it ended up being…”

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a hitch in his voice and he lowered his head. Noting that something was wrong, she sat up straight and slid in beside him. Reaching out, she urged his jaw up to get him to look at her with her index finger. There were tears in his eyes and his bottom lip was trembling making her heart break when she saw it.

“It ended up being something else,” Negan’s voice was raspier than usual and without even asking she reached out to wrap her arms around him. Holding him tightly, she could feel that he was shaking in her arms and she felt awful for finding him so over the top originally. “I’m sorry.”

“Baby, no. It’s okay,” she hushed him, swiping at one of the tears over his face with her thumb. “What is it Negan?”

“I told you that I lost my wife, but I never really explained,” Negan swallowed down hard and his eyes narrowed while she brushed her fingers through his hair to try and soothe him. “Before this world fell to shit, I wasn’t a good man. I lost my job after getting into a bar fight over something…honestly, something kind of stupid. I felt like a piece of shit for being unemployed and I went in a downward spiral. I was cheating on my wife and I was so focused on myself that when she would tell me that she was aching or not feeling good I just ignored it. I thought that it was just her overworking and being overwhelmed. Maybe a cold…”

Instead of saying anything, she let him continue and she saw his lip quivering harder and more than anything she wanted to wrap him up in her arms. While she wanted to hold him, she knew in the end he needed to get this off his chest. But damn, seeing him cry like this was breaking her heart.

“She was having an MRI and I blew her off to cheat. God, when I came home I found out she had cancer and I just…you have some of the symptoms that she had,” Negan whimpered, reaching out to stroke his fingers through her hair. “It’s been scaring the hell out of me because I can’t lose someone else I love. I never thought I would be able to love someone again after I lost Lucille. I closed myself off from the potential of love. I didn’t think it would happen, but then you came into my life. God, I felt like the luckiest fucking guy ever when you actually agreed to being with me.”

“There’s a whole lot to like about you Negan,” she hushed him knowing that he was having somewhat of a meltdown over her being sick and that was the last thing she wanted. While she wanted him to be open with her about what happened to Lucille, she didn’t want him to make himself sick worrying about her. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“No, you’re not. I’m the one that is lucky because you deserve so much better than me. I’m just greedy and I love you so much. I just…I can’t lose you Y/N,” Negan repeated and she brushed her fingers over his face to sweep away the tears. Pulling him to her, she hugged him tightly. Immediately, Negan seemed to bury his head against her shoulder while he cried and she did her best to comfort him. “I have nothing in this world and I got used to that, but then you came along and I just can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

“I’m not going anywhere Negan. At least not now. I promise you this is a cold,” she continued to stroke her fingers through his dark hair. With the way he was shaking, she knew that he wouldn’t believe her and she pressed a loving kiss over his head. “Negan, trust me…life has only just begun for me with you. I’m not ready to leave it yet. I’m just getting my ass kicked by this cold, but I promise you…there is so much in store for life with us.”

“If you start feeling worse or abnormal, do you promise me that you will let me know?” Negan begged, pulling back enough for her to see that his face was red. Caressing over his tear stained face, she did her best to try and calm him, but she knew that he was emotional over this and she didn’t blame him.

“Of course Negan. I swear,” she promised, nodding her head when she spoke before leaning in to collect his lips in a loving kiss. Stroking over the side of his face, she felt awful for him worrying like he was. After all he went through it made sense that he would get upset over her being sick. She would be the same way if she was in his position. Now all the extra over the top stuff he was doing was beginning to make sense. This of course made her feel very guilty. “I’ll drink that tea and eat that soup. Whatever I have to do to make sure that I get better soon. Okay? And then you will see there was nothing to worry about.”

“I love you Y/N. Of course I’m going to worry about you,” Negan frowned and leaned into her touch. To love and be loved in return was something Negan never thought he would have again, but he found it with Y/N. It was both the more exhilarating feeling in the world, but also the most nerve wrecking. Now, not only did he have to worry about himself, but he was worried about her too. She was everything to him and the thought of losing her just destroyed him. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“And I don’t know what I would do without you either,” she assured him with a wink and she leaned in to press her forehead against his, “let’s just hope neither one of us has to find out for a very, very long time.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @nubbinrobin @oreostars @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @felicity291 @de-gabyconamor @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @iluvneganandjamie @ninamarietwd @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @ritajammer21 @insertneganhere @haleygreen23

#Negan #negan x reader #The Walking Dead #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #twd fanfiction #negan fanfic

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fatui-gf · 4 years

Text

Childe x Dom!Reader

this work will contain femdom, slight bdsm, bondage, light degradation and overstimulation, so if you're uncomfortable with any of these, don't read!

the reader IS NOT Lumine or Aether, they are an adventurer from the guild but have no relation to the protagonists of the game, they are over the age of 18

Everyone knew Childe as somewhat of an unpredictable and dangerous man. He was quite the problem childe, easily ending up in fights, getting a kick from danger. That's what really got him excited, the uncertainty if he'll even make it alive. Always ignoring all of this pain, sometimes even enjoying it which he wouldn't like to admit.

But he felt something special, something more while fighting with you. There was something so alluring about the way you would move and gracefully use your weapon of choice while still remaining gentle about it. He could see that you never wanted to hurt him, even though you knew he was trouble and a fatui, not the guy to be trusted.

As the days went by, you've developed an interesting relationship. Childe would surprise you when he got the time, taking you out to eat or just have fun in the city, always being the one to pay for everything, of course. Gods, this man loves spoiling you.

Slowly, this turned into a friendship but you wondered if this could turn into something more. He would sometimes make dirty jokes or some suggestive remarks but never something that would make you sure that he's into you. He looked like a player after all, he was quite hard to decypher.

This day, you were in your apartment in Liyue, you've just finished cleaning yourself up after getting done with the commissions for the day when you saw a familiar man's face looking at you through the window, standing on your balcony as if this was normal behavior.

As soon as he saw you, he started tapping on the glass, wanting to be let in. You sighed and opened the balcony door. He just laughed nonchalantly

"Hey girlie, long time no see" he said with a smile on his face.

You wanted to ask how he got up there but then realized that it might be better not to. You shot him a small warm smile.

"Are you bored again or injured from. a battle?" you asked.

He laughed "Not this time, I wanted to be better and was more careful this time, for you. But I can see that you like acting as my little nurse though, huh? Do you really love me this much?" he giggled softly, teasing you.

You felt warmth on your cheeks. Again not being obvious, this man... Trying to hide your initial response, you just rolled your eyes and sat on the bed. He followed, still not taking his gaze off of you. He rested his hand against his cheek with a grin. He looked so adorable, it was hard to believe that he was a fatui harbinger.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about you lately. You have no idea how much I've dreamed about those hands of yours around my... I meant to say, your hands intertwined with mine"

Wow, was he bold. You didn't know how to interpret this but you've had enough, all of this teasing and remarks, it drove you insane at this point. You firly grabbed his chin, positioning it so that he would look directly at you. There was no turing back from this point. You could see his eyes widening from surprise and a pink flush appeared on his face.

This boy was so caught off guard and damn, did he look absolutely adorable like this.

"Playing rough with me, girlie? Just don't be surprised if I bite back" he teased you again.

He truly was a one hell of a brat. It filled you with excitement, how endearing it would be to tame him.

"As I expected from a dog like you, all you ever do is bark and threaten to bite but as soon as I'd raise my voice, you'd turn into a puppy".

Childe felt his length harden in his pants. You could notice it too but focused on his embarrassed expression.

"I'd like to see you try, make me" and so he provoked you.

You gently pushed his shoulders so that he fell on his back on the bed. You started to kiss him deeply while undoing his shirt and tossing it aside.

You could see all the healed scars on his stomach as well as two pink nipples. You gradually made your way to them, sucked and bit on them resulting in a few moans escaping Chile's mouth.

You then unblucked his pants, paying attention to his glowing vision. It looked so pretty glistening in the rays of setting sun. You gently put it away, trying not to damage it and just wondered if using it in some form to play would be too much. You then used his belt to tie him to your bed.

"Confident, are we?" he laughed, his blue eyes staring at you from underneath his long eyelashes.

"I'm just doing what had to be done since long ago, you're always talking, always looking like the cocky guy but truth be told, you're just a little bitch when someone finally knows how to handle you properly".

You could see him gasp, probably never been told something like this before. But saying that it didn't arouse him would be a lie.

"Then turn that little bitch into your bitch" he winked at you.

You removed his pants and looked down at his bulge. You slightly poked it with your foot, slowly stroking it which made him breathe more heavily, a few moans escaped his lips. You kept going as you took off your top and later your bottom, keeping only a beautiful new lacy lingerie. You wanted to just feel fancy today, chilling at home feeling confident in yourself with this new set on but it turned out to be so convinient.

He practically could eat you with his gaze, he loved how it looked on you, you looked like a goddess. You then pulled down his underwear, allowing his dick out, it was pink and very erect, leaning towards his stomach. You placed your hand on it, caressing it with your fingers and you could feel the precum on them. You looked at them and then at Childe and put your finger in his mouth, making him taste his own precum. Due to the humiliating nature to what you've just done, he would like to admit that he got off to the taste of himself but he did. He closed his eyes and sucked on it. He looked so desperate.

You went back to touching his member, picking up on the pace and put a few fingers inside his ass. This made him moan the loudest and you could see his eyes get a little bit teary.

"Y/N please-" he somehow muttered between the moans.

You were practically milking him at this point, going rough with no mercy.

"Please what? Use your words."

He felt so embarrassed but managed

"Please make me cum, please- I feel like I'm so close, I will do everything to you, I'm your personal slut".

It was hard to believe that Tartaglia would say such explicit things in this manner. You then stopped which was met with a displeased groan from Childe.

"You have to earn it".

His eyes sparkled as you unblocked his hands.

"On your knees".

He complied and stepped from. the bed to then kneel right in front of you, his cock painfully twitching. He moved his hand to your thighs getting high of the smell of your skin. He wanted you. So bad. At this point he felt like a bitch in heat, lost all of his self control as he spread your legs open, his tongue basically automatic, going on your clit. It took you by surprise that the harbinger knew what he was supposed to do right away.

He was skilled or maybe just the heat got to his head so much that he tried his best. This didn't really matter though because anyway it felt so good. Not only did you make such a dangerous man get on his knees but also serve you. You were truly special and he had masochistic desires but let's just focus on you being special.

He kept going with all his might while also caressing your thighs. You felt the pit in your stomach growing as you grappled his hair and pulled on it. You came right on his face.

"Such a good boy..." you whispered.

You then tugged on his hair again and placed him below you. You then took your panties and placed them on top of his dick. Childe gasped. You then proceeded to stroke him with the lacey panties right on top of his length.

"I wonder what the other fatui would think of this pathetic image. Tartaglia, the great harbinger getting jerked off with panties as he pants and moans like a slut. You're so embarrassing" you teased him which finally brought him to his climax.

Sharp breaths accompanied his moans. You tossed the cum stained pa tied away, will probably make him wash them later. You then placed yourself right on his cock and started moving.

"No! Wait, you can't do that i-it's- fuck.... It's too sensitive!" he exclaimed breathily.

You kept on going as he basically screamed underneath you.

"Fuck, this hurts so much that it's good" Chile's eyes practically rolled back, he was such a mess, teary eyes, drool rolling down his chin.

But he was your mess, your adorable boy. You kept going as you felt him cum again, feeling his warm semen filling you as he gasped and moaned and groaned. You touched his cheek lovingly, wiping the tears with your thumb. You got closer to him and placed a lot of kisses on his face. He was wrecked, in a good way.

"Soooo... does that make us, like, a thing?" you asked while looking away. You really did fall for him and didn't want it to be just purely sex. You wanted more of him.

He pulled you closer, putting his shaky hands in your hair as he gave you a peck. "Does that answer your question?"

You cuddled him, holding him very tightly and close, making sure he stays with you. You both fell asleep like that, curled up together. In the morning when you woke up earlier than him, you made sure to make breakfast for the both of you. It felt so warm and domestic. Childe felt like home to you.

Author's note I had to move blogs because I wasn’t satisfied with it being a side blog, I wanted to keep it as a main so if you’ve seen this ff before, that’s why! Also, this is my first fic so please don't be too harsh on me dhdhjdnd. I'm posting it at 5am for me because I couldn't sleep so I'm sorry if I missed any typos, feel free to correct me! And I hope you liked this little scenario, pls share your thoughts about it with me 💗

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #fanfiction #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #scenario #imagine #smut #dom!reader #headcanon #fem!reader #genshin impact x reader

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plant-flwrs · 4 years

Text

house unity // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: this story has taken me so long and i feel like i’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it. i love it a lot and you can really tell what i was watching/ doing in each sections lol. for example, the dramatic ending is courtesy of the heart wrenching sylvia plath poems i was reading earlier today lol :’) also i made the reader a ravenclaw because im a ravenclaw and i felt like it hehe. n e way! hope you all like it and pls leave feedback if you have any! like, rb, follow <3

summary: Fred Weasley and you have a bit of a love hate relationship, however, on Fred’s behalf its more love than hate. Dating a Ravenclaw would be a great stride in house unity, wouldn’t it?

(disclaimer: when i describe the differences in the twins i mean the actors! especially since she who shall not be named did not give us much about their physical differences >:/ i found the info from fandom.com so it may be wrong, but i went with it. also, i made up a few things for this story, like the annual Christmas ball)

(8.7k)

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You wished you could enjoy some things as easily as your peers could.

You didn’t like most sweets from Honeydukes, you didn’t care for Quidditch, but you especially hated the Weasley twin’s pranks.

In your first year, just weeks after arriving at Hogwarts, you had met Fred and George. You had been unable to answer the riddle to enter the Ravenclaw common room, so you decided to take a walk around the grounds.

You just turned the corner to the courtyard, when a hard snowball hit you square in the face. The sheer force of it made you stumble backyards, and you barely had time to wipe the snow off your face before another one hit you hard in the back. You were unable to keep your balance and tumbled forwards. Your hands braced your fall and scraped against the rough stone harshly. Your palms stained the snow red as they began to bleed. You barely had time to nurse them before another snowball, this time the size of a Quaffle, plummeted onto your head. It pushed you face-first into the snow, and you recovered quicker, not wanting to stay there for any longer. You whirled around, looking for anyone who could have seen who did that. You saw two boys with flaming red hair running away, and you followed them.

You caught them just before they entered the castle, all three of you winded. They were twins.

“Did you see who did that? Was it you?” you had pried, and both of them looked giddy.

“What’d you mean?” the shorter of the two answered immaturely.

The other looked down at your hands and robes, seeing blood still flowing from your palms, and your stained tights. He glanced at his brother, who was still laughing about it all and shoved his shoulder.

“You git,” he mumbled to his brother, “she’s bleeding,” he took your hands in his and tried to wipe some of the blood off, only for it to stain the sleeves of his sweater.

“Oh, gross!” the shorter one exclaimed, backing away from the two of you.

“How did you two do that?” you asked, pulling your hands away from the kinder one.

“Bewitched ‘em,” the short one said arrogantly before his brother could stop him.

“You bewitched them to attack me?” you felt tears stinging your eyes and hoped the taller one wouldn’t notice that too.

“Well, we didn’t mean ‘em to go after you,” the kind one said quickly, trying to rub the blood out of his shirt.

“Yeah, but it was still a laugh,” the shorter one said, nudging his brother’s shoulder good spiritedly.

“Shut up, Fred,” he mumbled, obviously annoyed, “we’re sorry about your hands, we didn’t mean for it to happen, honest.”

Fred watched you silently as you swallowed hard, only able to nod at them, accepting the boys’ apology. You turned on your heal and went to the infirmary, hoping Madam Pomfrey could mend your cuts. You had wiped your tears all the way there.

In your third year, you had been told there would be a Christmas ball. You had been stuffed in a large room with the Gryffindors, and you bumped shoulder to shoulder with a boy who had long dreadlocks.

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick stood in the center of the room, a large record player was next to them.

“As some of you may know, there is an annual Christmas Ball here at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall explained, looking sharply at the Gryffindors.

“Professor McGonagall and I have a tradition,” Flitwick said, casting a glance at the Ravenclaws, “of holding a class on how to dance properly at these events.”

“Think of it as charity,” McGonagall said devilishly, “we wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourselves.”

Flitwick stifled a laugh and moved his wand to turn on the music. Loud, old-sounding music blared from the ancient device and you looked confused at your teachers.

“Everyone, pair up!”

An awkward haze fell over the room of third years. None of you knew how to talk to the opposite sex, let alone dance with them. You turned to look around you, accidentally making eye contact with the Gryffindor boy with dreads. His eyes widened when they saw yours, and his friends behind you noticed. You looked at his friends, only to see Fred and George Weasley. You rolled your eyes at the two, but their friend was jolted forwards.

He bumped into you, Fred having pushed him lightly on the back.

“Go on Lee!” Fred shouted, laughing loudly.

People were moving to the center of the room in pairs, and Lee looked at you nervously. He held his hand out to you.

“Want to dance?” He asked you shyly.

You took his hand with worry, nervous about the wicked grin the twins had. That grin always worried you.

You let Lee lead you out to the floor, falling in line with everyone else. You both watched McGonagall looking around for a partner for her to demonstrate with.

Fred’s obnoxious laugh cut through the room, and her eyes landed on him.

“Perfect! Mr. Weasley, come be my partner.”

He groaned and moved forwards, his brother laughing loudly. Beside you, Lee had a wide smile.

“Place your hand on my waist,” she said flatly.

“Your what?” he repeated, his eyes going wide.

“My waist, don’t be daft,” she replied, moving his hand to the right place.

It seemed everyone’s cheeks had gone red due to stifled laughter. Lee bumped into you as he doubled over, not trying to contain himself.

In your fifth year, you were made a prefect.

You were hesitant to accept the position, feeling a bit tied down by the prat status that came with the responsibility.

Wearing your slightly dusted badge, you had never polished it like you saw Percy doing every second of his life, you led a group of Ravenclaw first years up the stairs.

“Right this way,” you shouted over their heads, making sure no one got lost.

“Who had the sense to make you a prefect?” Fred taunted, coming up from behind you and flicking your ear.

You moved to swat his hand away, but he had already jumped back.

“Shove off, Fred,” you shot him a glare and turned back to the children, “the stairs can get a bit confusing, so watch your step!”

Fred watched you admirably, noticing the way your voice changed to a sweet sound when you spoke to anyone but him.

“Yeah, watch the stairs!” Fred shouted, pulling you by your elbow onto a new staircase.

The steps moved away from the first years, taking you and Fred to the opposite corridor you wanted to go down. You looked down and realized how close you were to the edge. Without thinking, you grabbed onto Fred’s robes, pulling him closer to you. He tilted forward and nearly lost his balance, which would have sent you both down. He flung his hand out and firmly held onto the railing, suspending the both of you over the edge for a moment before he pulled you back up. You were close to his chest, still holding onto him until the stairs stopped moving. You hadn’t meant to close your eyes, but when you finally opened them you saw your group of first-years looking at you from the other staircase, seeming absolutely terrified.

You leaped from Fred’s embrace, sending him stumbling back a bit. You marched up the stairs to loop back to the first years and heard Fred calling after you.

“Going so soon?” you heard his laugh echoing off the walls of the room.

For most of your life, your interactions with Fred Weasley were that simple. Maybe once a year you two would spit some insults at the other, and be on your way, not to speak to each other until next year.

However, when you walked into your Transfiguration class, late by a few minutes due to your prefect duties, you felt a punch in the gut when you saw flaming red hair.

The punch in the gut was increased tenfold when you saw that the only empty seat was next to the flaming red hair.

Breathing deeply and sending a fake smile his way, you sat uncomfortably next to Fred.

It would have been difficult to tell them apart, but your observant eye had always been able to. Besides a few odd growth spurts they were prone to, George usually came out the taller of the two. Fred also had a small scar on his left eyebrow.

“Oh hello, prefect,” Fred said lazily, drawing back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head.

The bottom of his shirt rose a little and you willed your eyes to not look at the toned bit of stomach that peeked through.

“Weasley,” you said, pulling your textbook out of your bag.

“Looking forward to your new prat duties?”

“More than I’m looking forward to sitting with you,” you pushed your hair behind your ear and out of your eyes, Fred stared at the side of your face.

“Always so charming,” he finally drawled, leaning forwards and tugging his sweater down.

Something about Fred always made you want the last word, the last laugh.

“Only for you, Fred.”

In professor McGonagall’s opinion, Fred Weasley had the littlest appreciation for time of all the students she had taught.

He wasted his time in the common room, in the Great Hall, and in the hallways.

Even during her Transfiguration class.

He was happy to spend his time with what he thought was shamelessly flirting with you, and McGonagall was happy to embarrass him while he did it.

“Mister Weasley?”

Fred turned to look at McGonagall’s severe face. Before he could say any excuse, insisting that you were talking too, she waved her wand at his desk. His book flew open to the right page, and a force that was not his own was pushing his head into the book. His hair fell in front of his face, and you could tell he was fighting against the spell McGonagall was using.

Fred seemed to be tamed by McGonagall after that and didn’t bother you for the rest of the class. On the way out, he held the door open for you. He called out to you in the hallway.

“Good luck with that weird rash, Y/n!” you felt your cheeks burn furiously as laughs sounded off in the hallway. You turned to see Fred watching you walk away, and lifted both of your middle fingers in the air to him.

“So classy!” he called back.

“Shove! OFF!” you yelled, shouting over the now deafening laughter in the hallway.

You were already dreading the upcoming months.

You were right to, for class with Fred did not get any easier.

You traded your thin tights for thicker ones and your light dress shirt for a heavy sweater. Your blue scarf was wrapped tightly around your neck, and you didn’t bother to pin your prefect badge on it these days.

“Miss, y/l/n, you must remember your badge,” McGonagall said as you came into class.

You looked down at your scarf, patting your robes until you felt the metal. Lifting up your scarf and showing the professor the badge underneath it, you gave her a reassuring smile.

She nodded approvingly and waved her hand, you moved to your seat.

Before you could put your things down, Fred was looking at you. You could hear the gears turning in his head, thinking of something presumably rude to say to you.

“Weasley,” you said first, hoping this would inspire him to stop looking at you.

He blinked at you, before smiling and turning back to his textbook.

“Today, we’re going to be learning a vanishing spell,” McGonagall started.

You had already turned to the page before she told it to you, you had read through the entire textbook over the summer.

You heard Fred scoff next to you, but ignored him.

Looking down at the directions in the book, you had remembered your successful attempt at making one of your father’s shoes disappear. He had been so proud of you, he didn’t care that he only had one brown Oxford instead of two.

“How did you do that?” Fred asked, watching as you easily made the rat in front of you vanish.

“Practice,” you said absently, turning your head to look back into the textbook.

Fred began to try the spell himself, his focus on the goblet he had taken from the great hall. He did the right wand movements, but his pronunciation was all wrong. You watched as the spell rebounded off the goblet and hit his tie, making the bottom half of it vanish. His hand flew to his chest, his mouth curved in a disbelieving grin when he didn’t feel the point of his tie.

“Well, bloody hell, that could have been much worse,” he gasped out, pushing his hair off his face and leaning back in his chair.

You couldn’t help the small nervous laugh that escaped your lips, but you were able to stifle it quickly. Fred had noticed your smile and glanced at you, happy to amuse you.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, Fred regaining his composure after nearly vanishing himself. You pretended to read your book, but you had already read the page dozens of times. You wanted an excuse to not talk to Fred.

“Ever going to turn the page?” Fred asked from beside you, and you became very aware of his eyes on the side of your face.

“I’m absorbing the information,” you replied flatly, keeping your head in the book to hide your blush.

He laughed, sitting straight in his seat. He seemed to be attempting the spell again. You bit your lip as you watched him practice, wondering if you should correct him so he doesn’t hurt himself.

He had just begun to say the spell when you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait!” he glanced at you and your hand on his shoulder, smirking at you.

“Yes, darling?”

You rolled your eyes and felt the urge to gag. Your face crinkled in disgust and Fred smiled.

“Your pronunciation is wrong.”

“Well go on then,” he said, urging you to continue.

“Evanesco,” you said simply, but Fred’s eyes wrinkled in confusion.

“That’s what I’m saying,” he said, turning back to the goblet but lowering his wand, “Evenesco.”

He had replaced the ‘a’ with an ‘e’ sound, but he hadn’t heard it, you supposed.

“It’s ev-an-es-co,” you said slowly, placing your pronunciation on the ‘an’, “you’re saying ev-en-es-co.”

His eyebrows raised, finally understanding. He repeated it to you slowly, and you nodded your head when he said it right.

He smiled confidently, casting the spell on his goblet. The goblet turned foggy, and Fred could wave his hand through it like it was a ghost.

He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“This is miserable,” he groaned.

You waved your wand and said the verbal part of the spell, finishing off the goblet. It completely disappeared and Fred let out another groan, rolling his head back in annoyance.

“You’re miserable,” he said to you teasingly.

You looked at him through your lashes, your brows furrowed, “Whatever, Fred,” your face grimaced in annoyance, “I’m just trying to help, your welcome, by the way.”

You pulled your bag onto your lap and began to pack up your books.

Fred let out a sigh like he was going to say something. You turned to him, but he merely shook his head.

“Forget it,” he said, seeming to be at a loss of words.

You stood from your seat the second McGonagall dismissed class, leaving Fred at your shared desk.

“She’s totally into me!”

“She hates your guts, mate,” George said, pulling his lips into a thin-lined sympathy smile.

Fred scoffed and shook his head, his long hair falling over his forehead.

“You don’t get it,” he pressed, determined to make George see.

“She looks like she wants to throw herself into the Forbidden Forest every time she sees you,” George replied, determined to stop his brother from future heartbreak.

“Whatever, just you watch,” Fred said, tossing his Quidditch broom from hand to hand and looking at the massive stands above them, empty for the practice, “in a few weeks she’ll be in one of those seats, cheering me on.”

“He’s lost it,” Harry mumbled to George as he walked past, baffled by Fred’s dazed look.

George nodded hastily, following Harry away from his lovesick brother.

Fred was not often detoured by anyone’s cautionary guidance, so the endless warnings from George slid off his ego like melted butter.

Fred had spent so much time in the last Quidditch match with his eyes glued to the Ravenclaw student section, looking for you, that he had barely hit any bludgers the entire game. Oliver had some tasteful words for him in the changing rooms, but it was no worse than his mother’s screaming.

You were not at the Quidditch match, you never were. You had always used the advantage of the empty castle to go to the kitchens. The elves were the only ones left there, and you liked talking with them. Some times Luna would join you.

It seemed you and Fred were going opposite directions while searching for each other at the same time.

No matter how many cookies Dobby shoved towards you and Luna, you could not get Fred out of your head.

You thought about his arms wrapped around you on the stairs, you thought about the way he could always make your cheeks burn, and you thought of the way his eyes poured into your face like it was the only thing he’d ever seen. You hated him. He was rude, arrogant, and annoying. He ran around your head constantly.

McGonagall had some choice words for Fred that night after the match. The sulking from the loss had been toned down, but the hushed sounds of Oliver’s feet pounding against the floor in his bedroom could be heard all the way from the common room.

“Where is Wood?” she burst through the portrait hole, still in her robes she wore to the match.

“He’s upstairs, why?” Harry replied, looking nervous.

“I need to have a word with him,” she cast a glance at Fred, “and his methods of training his beaters.”

Fred and George both shot from where they sat on the couch.

“What?” George yelled.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Mister Weasley,” she squinted at them, “whichever one of you was looking around at the Rave-” she stopped before she could finish her sentence as if she had an epiphany.

Her pursed lips twisted into an evil looking smile.

“You know, Mister Weasley,” she took a step towards the boys and spoke to them only, “dating a Ravenclaw would show great strides in house unity,” Fred’s eyes bulged out of his head and George was already turning pink with laughter, “perhaps then you could focus on Quidditch again.”

George was nearly purple due to lack of air, and Harry’s mouth was agape in shock as McGonagall whisked her robes and swiftly climbed back out of the portrait hole.

“What is she on about?” Harry asked George.

Fred flopped onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. His life was over. If McGonagall could catch onto something like that, couldn’t you? You hadn’t started to flirt back, and Fred was beginning to wonder if George was right about your feelings towards him.

Soon enough, George was spouting everything McGonagall had said before he could catch his breath. He told anyone in the common room how much you hated Fred, and how much he desperately fancied you. Fred figured there was no use to stop him, because once again, if McGonagall could catch on, couldn’t everyone else?

Sunday morning was always rough for you. You pulled your heavy quilt closer to your cold cheeks, hoping for the sun to go back down and the weekend to restart. It never did.

You slipped on a pair of jeans and a tight turtle neck. Still feeling the cold air of the castle seeping through, you pulled on a sweater over the turtle neck. You tugged on some wool socks and pulled the fabric of the shirt as high up your neck as it would go.

You and Luna had plans to go to Hagrid’s hut today, he had promised her some magical flower seeds he had found in his garden. You liked to spend time with Luna, she was an easing presence and you always knew how to talk to her, even if most people didn’t.

You clutched an old muggle novel to your chest, hoping to trap some of your body heat. The hallways were surprisingly crowded for a Sunday morning, and you glanced at your watch, seeing breakfast had just ended.

You noticed that a lot of students with red ties were looking at you oddly. They would see you and smile widely, as if you were a new friend to them. You kept your head down until you met Luna in front of the great hall.

“Did you hear the news?” she asked before she even greeted you.

“What?”

“I just saw Harry, he said McGonagall told Fred to ask you out.”

You laughed, expecting her to do so as well. She didn’t and her face stayed stoic. She began to walk outside.

You were locked into place for a second before you jumped into line with her.

“What?” you repeated.

“Harry told me-” she began, but you waved your hands, cutting her off.

“No, I heard you, but what do you mean? What did McGonagall say?”

Luna had to have finally gone loony.

“He told me that after they lost Quidditch yesterday, she came in looking for Fred, she said he was quite distracted during the match,” she said, looking dreamily at you, “and she said something about how dating a Ravenclaw would be great for house unity,” Luna finished, toying with the tote bag at her side.

“Why did Harry think the Ravenclaw had to be me?” you asked, thinking there was a huge misunderstanding.

“Oh, well,” she said like she had forgotten a large part of the story, “after George heard what McGonagall said, he lost it. Harry said he laughed so hard he cried,” Luna giggled to herself while imagining the sight, “and he told everyone in the common room that Fred fancied you.”

Your face turned bright red with anger and embarrassment. The entire Gryffindor house had been laughing all night because George said Fred fancied you.

You were about to burst into protests, insist that it’s not true, but a gaggle of second years wearing red ties all pointed at you, talking among themselves.

You stepped towards them, making sure your prefect badge was visible. You watched their eyes flash down to the blue pin, and back up at your face, eyes wide. They scurried off and you fell back into place with Luna.

“That was rude of them,” Luna said, looping her arm with yours.

“Yeah,” you said quietly under your breath, your mind cloudy with thoughts.

You and Luna walked quietly out to Hagrid’s. You glanced up and saw the last person you had wanted to see.

Fred and George stood at the point where the path diverged to the Quidditch pitch and Hagrid’s hut, throwing a little flame-like ball to each other, bouncing it off their arms, feet, and chests. A small group of some younger kids had huddled around them, ‘ooing’ and ‘awing’ at each pass.

Fred had a large smile on his face, and the sight of it made your stomach churn with nerves.

You ducked your head down, hoping you and Luna would pass without a problem. You would not.

“Hi Fred,” Luna lifted a hand to wave at him, and the small light fell onto the ground as Fred saw you, “hi George.”

George smiled evilly at the sight of his brother nervously looking anywhere but you.

“Fun looking game your playing,” Luna said, trying to stop to talk, but you dragged her along.

“See you later Luna, Y/n!” George called out to the two of you, the laughter obvious in his voice.

“Why didn’t you want to talk to them? You could have asked Fred about what Harry said,” Luna asked you soothingly, looking at you curiously.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, feeling very overwhelmed, “it’s weird. I don’t even know what happened but the thought of it is so weird,” you paused, trying to grasp the words, “I mean, Fred can’t like me. We detest each other, its fun.”

“Well, do you like him?” she had asked the one question you were avoiding.

Fred had always been a thorn in your side. Ever since you met him he was rude. He never apologized for anything, he laughed, poked, and prodded at you for his own amusement. Yet, whenever you saw his soft-looking hair, you swallowed hard. When he inched closer to you, even just to whisper something rude, you felt your chest tighten. He looked at you, and you could swear he actually cared about what you were saying. Maybe detest was a little strong, perhaps just annoyed.

Granted, he was a teenage boy, and you are a teenage girl, mixed messages are bound to be sent. You thought you had been clear with your messages to Fred, though. “Leave me alone,” nothing bitter, nothing kind, just the wish to be left alone. Of course, Fred did not read your message that way. The enticing message he got was more along the lines of: “I’m going to pretend I want you to leave me alone, but please, don’t. Chase me through the hallways, confess undying love for me, kiss me passionately”. Now, it is entirely possible that Fred’s interpretation was a little clouded by his own wants and wishes, but this did not stop him.

The talk of the castle, for at least the following school week, was you and Fred.

You had never been whispered about, pointed at, or thought of like this. Fred seemed to be enjoying it.

In class Monday, Fred pretended nothing had happened. He swung his arm over the back of your chair and waited for the look of disgust to flash across your face, which it did, and he chuckled to himself.

Soon enough, the whispers and pointing had subsided, and they were replaced by odd looks as if they were disbelieving of something.

Luna found you in the courtyard sitting under a tree and skipped over to you.

“You hadn’t told me Fred asked you out,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “officially.”

Once again, you laughed, but she did not. She sat in front of you, crossing her legs.

“Oh my-” you trailed off, lifting your head to look at Luna, “what’s happened now?”

“Hermione told me that Fred has been raving to everyone about how you’re dating.”

Your eyes were wild with disbelief. You couldn’t have even comprehended what was going on at this school these days.

“Well, no one’s told me that we’re dating,” you said, your voice riddled with annoyance.

In perfect timing, Fred, George, and Lee bounded from the school and out to the courtyard. They were laughing and shoving each other, looking to be having a great time.

You stood from the ground, dusting off your pants and walking over to the three with fury.

“Fred!” you called out to him, and he stopped and turned to you.

A look of fear flashed on his face, but he covered it with something else, was it admiration? Love?

You clenched your jaw and narrowed your eyes, stepping close to him. He tilted his head down to look at you, a small smile on his lips.

Around you, George, Lee, and Luna stood with their arms crossed, watching intently.

Your bodies were almost touching, and your finger stabbed into his chest.

“Who do you think you are?” you said in a hushed tone through gritted teeth.

Once again, Fred’s face fell for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around your waist in some sort of embrace. You squirmed from his touch and backed away from him.

“Who do you think you are?” you repeated, this time louder. George and Lee flinched from behind you.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” he asked sweetly.

Your face twisted with confusion, what is he on about?

“What?”

He continued, stepping closer to you.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked earnestly, moving to rub his hand on your arm.

He was trying to flip the script, make you feel crazy.

“Fred, you’ve lost it, really,” you replied, walking back to the tree to gather your books.

“Maybe when you’ve regained consciousness,” you walked back up to him, keeping your distance, “or the effects of whatever potion you took start to wear off, please try to explain what is going on.”

You walked away from them, leaving Fred with a wicked smile.

“Alright, see you later!” he called out to you.

You turned your head to look at him, your hair blew in front of your face but Fred could see your puzzled expression. His smirk grew wider and he turned to George, Lee, and Luna. They looked awfully concerned.

“Oh,” he placed his hands on his hips, “isn’t she great?”

You had gotten to Transfiguration early, your prefect duties switched for the week. You crossed your legs and placed a book on them, reading discretely while McGonagall was still in her office.

Just as she began to address the class, Fred strolled in, hands in his pockets. He slipped into the seat next to you and you bookmarked your page. You scooted your chair in and slipped the worn book into your bag, listening to McGonagall begin her lecture. Monday’s were often boring lecture days in Transfiguration.

You heard the screech of Fred’s chair on the floor, and in the corner of your eye saw him moving closer to you. He rested his elbow on the desk and placed his chin in his palm. He leaned close to you.

“Hello,” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You ignored him, dipping your quill into your ink in case McGonagall said something note-worthy.

“What’s ‘a matter,” he paused as if he was thinking of the most annoying thing to say to you, “darling?”

You audibly gagged, and his smile widened.

“What do you want?” you caved, asking him.

“Oh nothing,” he leaned back in his chair, still whispering to you, “just for you to be my girlfriend.”

You went rigid. Your face suddenly got very warm. You lost grip of your quill and it toppled over your ink, sending dark liquid across the desk and onto your white sleeve. You cursed loudly out of reflex and it caught McGonagall’s attention.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/l/n?”

Everyone turned to look at you and Fred in the back of the room, some people smirking. Fred stayed leaned back in his chair, watching you.

“I’m sorry Professor,” you stumbled out, wiping both the ink and your sleeve at the same time, making both things worse, “I just-”

Fred pulled his wand out from beside you and did a simple cleaning spell, you supposed. The ink receded back into its bottle and the stain on your sleeve disappeared. McGonagall watched him intently.

“Very resourceful Weasley, Miss Y/l/n, please don’t disrupt my class again,” she said curtly, returning to the lesson.

You heard a few snickers from your classmates, your face still a deep shade of red. You swallowed hard as you felt your heart beating in your ears.

Fred leaned forward again so his mouth was aligned with your ear.

“What do you say?” he whispered.

“What are you talking about Fred? Why are you doing all this?” you asked, straining to keep your desperate voice in a whisper.

“I’m only having some fun,” he replied as if he hadn’t been making your life a living hell for the past weeks.

You shot him a pleading look, and when he saw your flushed cheeks and watery eyes, his face softened.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on your knee, a knot formed in your throat and shivers went down your arms, “I didn’t mean to-” he trailed off and your jaw clenched. You returned your gaze to the front of the class.

“Listen, I’ve just been,” he paused, searching for the words, “I’ve been playing a sort of prank. On everyone but us.”

His tone was soft and playful as if he were letting you in on a secret. You supposed he was.

You raised your eyebrows, pressing him to continue.

“Well, George basically told everyone in our house that I fancy you, so I wanted to have some fun with it, switch it on them.”

You pressed your eyebrows together, still looking to the front of the room while Fred was inches away from your ear.

“I’ve told everyone we’re dating,” he said plainly, “house unity and all, as McGonagall said.”

“So that was true? What Harry told Luna?” you said before you could stop yourself, happy to finally get answers.

“Well, I don’t know exactly what Harry said, but I’m sure he didn’t leave anything out.”

“Why did George tell everyone that? That you,” you trailed off, feeling the words choking in your mouth, “that you fancy me?”

“Because I do,” he said quickly, and just as quickly moved on, “so what do you say? Want to be my girlfriend-” he paused, realizing what he had just said, “well, my girlfriend of sorts, not like my real girlfriend, because I’m sure you wouldn’t want to, and-” he stopped himself.

This time it was his turn for his cheeks to burn and his eyes to awkwardly avoid yours.

“Why do all this? Seems a lot for a joke that no one but us will laugh at,” you said, trying to ignore his confession.

“I’m willing to go to the ends of the Earth for a joke, my dear.”

Fred was dreadfully serious when saying that, and this became clear within hours.

Walking past the Dungeons and up the many stairs to your common room, you heard Fred call out to you.

“Wait up!” he was breaking away from a large group of Gryffindors, and all of them watched him with a keen eye,

“What, Fred?”

“Hey, that's not a very girlfriend-y tone,” he wrapped his arm easily around you.

You were sure it was meant to be sweet, but it felt a bit imprisoning.

“I never agreed to this,” you didn’t shake off his arm, but you felt inclined to. You were aware of the many eyes pouring into your back.

“I thought we had? Oh,” his arm left your shoulder, and you felt a little colder, “well then I suppose I could leave it all be, go back on my word, humiliate myself.”

His tone was a playful one, and you couldn’t help the bashful smile that reached your cheeks. You knew you had no obligation to Fred, but the whispers and gossip had seemed to subside during this new joke of his. You stopped at the landing, and the group of Gryffindors walked past you, staring at you both. Fred waved them off and nodded his head towards you, smiling.

“Why should I?” you clutched some textbooks to your chest, feeling grateful for the wall it put between you and Fred. He looked down at you, his hair falling into his forehead.

“Well,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, inching closer to you, “as I said, I just think it could be a bit of fun.”

“Fun for you. What’s in it for me?”

“What? Besides utter fame and popularity from being associated with me?”

“Oh shove off, Fred,” you rolled your eyes at him, but once again could not help the smile that spread across your face.

“See? I’m growing on you already.”

“I’m still seeing no benefit for me.”

“Well, I do see where your coming from, but I’d like to raise another point,” he slipped a hand from his pants and waved it casually while talking, “I will indeed pretend like we are dating even if you don’t.”

“So essentially, you would just be flirting with me while I hurl insults at you?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“Is that the image you want, Fred?” you teased.

You moved to lean against the wall behind you, and Fred trailed after you.

“Any image is a good one,” he winked dramatically at you.

You shrunk away from him and gagged, sending him into a fit of laughter.

“I hate it already.”

“So you’ll do it?” he asked.

You breathed in, looking at him seriously. His hazel eyes were dark in this light, his hair had gone a deeper red in the lack of warm weather and sunshine. He towered over you slightly, and you looked at him through your lashes.

Shrugging your shoulders, you agreed weakly.

Fred saw the error of his thinking almost immediately. Walking through the hallways with you, he felt his heart soar higher and higher each time you laughed. When you would loosen up, or walk a little closer to him. He was being awfully unfair to himself, making himself think that you had something, some sort of relationship. It was like dangling a treat in front of a dog and wanking it away right when the dog drooled.

He saw the flaming house, and still walked in, looking for a place to sleep.

“Why, hello,” Fred drawled, coming up from behind you in the hall.

You felt his hand snake around your waist, and he pulled you. Your feet twisted from under you and you twirled, turning to face him. Your hair had skewed into your face, and he watched your delicate hand reach up to brush it away.

You looked dazed as if you had a lot on your mind. He smiled down at you and you did your best to reciprocate it.

“Are you alright?” he asked, dropping his hand from your hip.

“Yeah, just-” you took a deep breath in, “just got a lot of homework, been a bit busy with my prefect stuff.”

This was not what was bothering you. You felt a lot of inner conflicts these days, an endless moody and angsty monologue sounding off in your head day and night. You felt odd. You felt odd for agreeing to Fred’s stupid plan. You felt odd for toying with him and yourself. You had disliked him just last month, and now you let him wrap his arm around your shoulder, let him hold your waist. You felt like a traitor to yourself, letting him win you over with a few charming looks. You felt even worse when you thought of Fred’s confession. He had said he fancied you, and the idea of pretending to date him didn’t alarm you for some reason. You hated the feeling of toying with his emotions or allowing him to live out some sort of fantasy. Everything about it made you feel awful.

You didn’t feel as awful, though, when Fred would call out a comment from across the dining hall that would make your cheeks burn and all the other girls swoon. You didn’t feel as awful when he would sit in silence with you by the black lake, keeping you company among the chilling wind. You didn’t feel as awful when he slipped little notes into your bag when you left Transfiguration.

You had enough, one too many genuine looks of admiration. You needed to tell Fred how you felt.

You caught him on his way back from Quidditch practice. He was trailing near the end of the group, huddled with George and Harry. He had some dirt on his forehead, and his cheeks were tinted pink. He smelled of grass and sweat.

You pulled your cardigan tighter around you, wishing you had brought your scarf. Your hair whipped in the wind around you, and you rocked on your feet.

You began walking to him, and when he saw you he smiled widely.

“Hey!” he called out, walking faster to meet you.

“Hi,” you said nervously.

“I’ll meet you guys back in the common room,” he told George and Harry, who glanced over their shoulders at the two of you.

It was dusk and he looked strikingly handsome. You felt like you were seeing him as a different person. He wasn’t the boy who bewitched snowballs to attack you, he wasn’t the boy who laughed at your scraped hands. He wasn’t the boy who shoved Lee at you, and he wasn’t the boy who awkwardly danced with McGonagall. He was the boy who held you in his arms, stopping you from falling over the stairs. He was the boy who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, he was the boy who held you above anything else.

Your mouth was agape as you looked at him, he stood awkwardly waiting for you to say something. You looked at the ground, licking your lips and feeling them dry as soon as the cold air grazed them again.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you said quietly, hoping your voice would fade into the wind and carry you away.

“What’s up?” he looked down at you nervously.

“Fred, I-” he cut you off, placing a hand on your arm.

“You can’t do this anymore?” he looked deeply at you but you couldn’t meet his eyes.

You didn’t want to have this talk anymore, you felt content, suddenly, in pretending. You could both pretend to love each other until it wasn’t pretending. The lines would blur and soon, his kisses would come easily and his hands would have their place on you. You would touch his soft hair and know his eyes only looked at you. But you had already said the words, or rather, he did.

“I just,” you kicked the dirt beneath you, hoping he would finish your sentence again, he didn’t.

“I don’t think its fair,” you looked up at him finally and felt surprised to feel tears in your eyes, you blinked, forcing them to subside, “to either of us.”

You heard him gulp, and his eyes moved to look at the castle behind you. The candles had been lit and the stone glowed from the inside.

“I get it,” he said, removing his hand from your arm.

You looked down at where his hand had been and felt a tear drip down your cheek.

“Fred-”

He shook his head, pulling his mouth into a line. You stopped talking, feeling the words stuck in your heart.

You really wished you hadn’t said anything. You wished you could pretend again.

He walked past you, leaving you in the dusk. You hadn’t meant to, but a sob escaped your mouth. You heard his feet shuffle for a moment, and stop. He walked back to you.

He had finally been able to fall asleep among the fire, and it seemed you had come to join him at some point. He didn’t know when, but looking at you now, it seemed you had been burning for a while.

“What’s got you so torn up about this?” he said gently, stopping a few paces away from you, “Didn’t fall in love with me, did ya?”

A laugh fell from your lips at the same time another sob did. Your shoulders hunched over more, and Fred’s heart hurt him. He walked to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned to face him, and you both moved at the same time. He pulled you close into his chest and your cheek pressed against him. He smelled, he was dirty, and he was tired, but he still held you tighter than you had ever been held before.

You pulled away from him after a while, coming to terms with yourself in the moment of affection. You wiped your tears from your face with your sleeve, taking a few deep breaths.

“I think,” you hiccuped, feeling it hard to speak, “I think that the pretending was too hard.”

Fred felt guilt wash over him. He felt guilty for himself, because you had said exactly what he was feeling. He couldn’t stand to pretend, to keep himself from gripping your hand, or from kissing you any chance he got. He wanted it all to be real, he wanted this wall between you to crumble into a genuine relationship. He felt guilty for making you feel this way. He felt guilty for pressuring you into this allusion of intimacy. He hadn’t stopped to consider if this would be negative for you, only insisting it would all work out for the best.

As he watched your uneven breathing and swollen nose and eyes, he knew this was not the best.

He breathed hard, forcing himself not to cry as he looked at you. George was supposed to be the sensitive one, but Fred had always been a sympathetic crier.

“Me too,” he replied, his voice sounding far, far away.

You looked at him, feeling terrified. The cold air was moving through you liked you were transparent. Tears kept flowing down your face, and no matter how fast you dried them, you only cried more. Your head felt miles away from your body, so you stepped closer to him, hoping to step closer to yourself too.

“I don’t think I want to pretend,” you croaked out.

He blinked at you, and you saw a single tear fall down his cheek. He didn’t move to brush it away, and it moved slowly. It left a clean mark on his dirt-stained face.

You took a step towards him, covering your hand with your sleeve. You cupped the back of his neck with one hand and brought your sleeved hand to his cheek. You wiped the tear and the dirt away, but your hand didn’t move. You peaked your fingers from your sleeve and they grazed his face. His eyes fluttered closed and your throat tightened as more tears poured from your eyes. Your vision was blurry as you traced his face, moving over his nose, eyebrows, and lips. You stopped to cup his cheek, and he leaned into your palm. You felt the wetness of more tears fall onto your hand, and you bit your lips, holding in a wretched noise.

“Fred?”

His eyes fluttered open, and you realized his hands had found their way onto your waist, he held you tightly.

“Do you want to pretend?” you asked him.

He moved his head from your cheek and kept his wet eyes locked with yours.

“I want you,” his voice was hoarse and sad, but that was all you needed to hear.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck and he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

The dusk had turned into the night, and you pulled away from Fred. You looked up at him and swallowed away the tears that remained. You began to walk past him and up to the castle. He followed you quickly.

You were scared. You had safety in pretending, knowing this was all something for fun. But as you looked at Fred now, you saw something deeper. You saw the threat of genuine love and connection, the threat of heartbreak.

Neither of you wanted to go without the other tonight, you had decided. You wordlessly followed him to his common room, and he slipped his hand into yours. You had both ducked into a prefect bathroom on the way there, looking at yourselves and covering your swollen eyes.

He said the password to a portrait of a large lady, and she looked suspiciously at you both.

“Are you two alright? You’ve just about missed curfew,” she said, her voice booming through the staircase.

“Yeah, we’re alright, just tired from practice, is all,” Fred reassured her, and the door swung open. He walked in first, and you followed.

You relished in the warmth of the spacious room, feeling drawn to the fireplace. You walked over to it and sat on a large couch. The room was relatively empty, a few kids hunched over books.

Fred sat next to you, still in his Quidditch robes. He grabbed your legs with his hand and guided them to rest on one of his legs, hanging over it. This angled your body to him, and he moved his arm to wrap around you.

“When did you realize?” he asked, his face lit by the fire.

“Just then, when you walked up to me after your practice.”

His chest moved with a chuckle and you moved your head to looked up at him.

“Well that's a little embarrassing for me,” he said, pushing a piece of your hair out of your face while you gazed up at him, “I've known since I met you.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you said lightly, assuming he was trying to be some sort of romantic and inflating the truth.

“I did,” he said seriously, “I teased you for so long for a reason.”

“Because you’re an idiot?”

“Yes.”

You both laughed, pulling each other closer.

“And because I liked you.”

You rolled your eyes, sinking deeper into him. You felt yourself getting tired and you peered up at him. His eyes were half-closed and his face was drooping.

“Fred, you’re tired, why don’t you go to bed,” you began to move off of him, but he pulled you back.

“Only if you make me a deal,” he said mischievously.

“What?”

“I’ll go upstairs and take a quick shower, but only if you come with me,” he replied.

“I am not showering with you, pervert,” you smacked his arm and stood from the couch, blushing furiously.

He smiled and grabbed your hand, turning it to kiss your palm. You shivered at his touch.

“No, just come lay with me,” he looked up at you, suddenly serious, “I want to be with you tonight.”

Your heart sank to your stomach and you bit your lip. You couldn’t speak, so you nodded your head slowly.

Fred fished his wand from his robes and waved it towards the stairs, performing the counterspell for the stairs. You followed him up to his room, where he put his finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet. When he cracked open the door, it was dark and the curtains for the beds had been drawn. He crept over to a chest at the foot of his bed and looked at you before turning to its contents. He pulled out two large pajama pants, both plaid, and two heavy sweaters. He tossed one of each on his bed and took the others with him.

“Here, you can sleep in these,” he whispered to you, and it felt like you would blush forever.

He smiled softly at you before closing the curtains for you, leaving you to change.

“Oi, mate,” you heard someone’s annoyed and hoarse voice, “what took you so long? Practice ended an hour ago.”

“I was talking with Y/n,” you heard the bathroom door open, “I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow, I’m gonna shower. And don’t wake me up for breakfast tomorrow, I want to sleep in.”

You smiled to yourself, holding the soft sweater in your hands. It had a large ‘F’ on it, and you traced your fingers over it. You slid out of your jeans and folded them, placing them on the floor by the trunk. You slid on the pants he gave you and silently laughed as they easily ran past your feet and dragged on the floor. You folded them at the waist, and they were still too long. You had just slipped on the sweater when Fred slid open the curtain. He watched you fold your shirt and place it with your jeans. His eyes trailed from his sweater to the way his pants covered your feet. He smiled widely and drew you closer to him by grabbing your hips.

You looked up at him, your chests pressed together. He brought one hand up to your jaw, tilting it up to align with his face. His lips parted and so did yours, the air between you becoming a mixture of your breaths. His was minty, he must have just brushed his teeth.

His thumb grazed your bottom lip, and he finally closed the space between you. His neck craned down to you, but when you stood on your toes he was able to stand straight. You pressed as close to him as you could, and so did he. His lips were warm against your cold ones. He felt the many places that had been chapped and bitten, running his tongue over them slowly. You sighed and ran your chilled hands up his sweater, feeling him shiver beneath you. Your fingertips grazed the muscles on his back, tracing every line you could feel.

You pulled away first, sinking down to stand flat on your feet and rest your forehead on his chest.

“I’m so glad we didn’t pretend to do that,” Fred laughed out, pulling you close to him.

You smiled and hugged him, before moving to the other side of the small bed. You both slid under the covers silently, thinking that if either of you said something, things would suddenly be awkward.

The lack of bed only made him hold you tighter, and the two of you fell asleep relatively soon.

You were awoken by the sounds of laughter. The curtains were still drawn, and Fred’s arm was still wrapped around you. Your leg was resting on him as he laid on his back, hugging you close to him. Your head lifted from his chest as you squinted your eyes.

“No, he said he wanted to sleep in, mate,” you heard George say. The door opened and you heard footsteps walking towards it.

“You think they finally told each other?” Lee asked George, pulling on a wool hat.

“I hope so, bloody awful letting Fred think he tricked us,” George said before closing the door behind them.

You smiled and let your head sink back onto Fred. He stirred and pulled you closer to him. Through the fabric of his sweater, you swore you could hear the steady rhythm of his heart.

#fred weasley #fred #weasley #weasely family #fred weasley fanfiction #weasley twins #fred weasely fic #weasley fic #fred fic #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred x y/n #fred x ravenclaw #harry potter #hogwarts #ravenclaw #fred weasley x reader

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a-n-conrad · 3 years

Text

Sparring Partners (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[Summary: Being the newest Avenger was a little rough. You appreciated how helpful most of the other Avengers were with getting you adjusted to life in the tower. However, you got a little too friendly with your new sparring partner. (She/Her Pronouns)

Warnings: SMUT (dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), biting, slight hair pulling), not canon compliant (I’m too stressed for real angst), “Avengers Tower” AU, swearing, fairly long

Request: From my Request Form (https://forms.gle/GRTQ1eQt8rk7jJgf6)]

It was an odd adjustment, being the newest member of the Avengers. You really couldn’t complain about living in Avengers Tower. It was a nice facility, with everything you could ever need. The training center was high-tech, the kitchen was always fully stocked, and the infirmary was nice enough that you didn’t mind having to be the group’s healer. But the other Avengers were interesting roommates to adjust to.

Everyone had their own schedule, and it took you a little while to adjust to it. It took you a couple weeks before you stopped bumping into people on their way out of the kitchen. And you eventually realized that unless you wanted to accidentally be caught up in one of Nat’s sparring matches, training in the middle of the day was basically a no go. But eventually you started to get used to it.

You had figured out that if you got up early, the only people you’d run into in the kitchen were Steve and Tony. And you could avoid having to actually talk to them right away if you made them breakfast. Steve usually appreciated something lean and healthy, though you usually added a bit of shredded cheese to the top of his scrambled eggs anyway, because he really needed to stop worrying so much. And Tony would usually be happy with some bacon and coffee. Honestly, it was just good to get him to eat something.

And then, for most of the day, you would work in the lab or the infirmary, occasionally running through a few tests with Bruce. He was one of the few Avengers who didn’t stress you out. You really couldn’t help it. You may get most of your healing ability from your powers, but you still had some medical training. And that meant that you knew full well that every member of this team was a different brand of self-destruction. So you and Bruce were working on a few projects to help the team take at least slightly better care of themselves.

And then you’d train at night. Not many people trained at night. Usually just you, though occasionally someone would wake up in the middle of the night, and need something to do. Nightmares weren’t exactly uncommon among the team. Tony would occasionally be up late, testing out some new gadget of his. Sometimes Nat would go running late at night. However, the most common late-night visitor to the training facility was Bucky Barnes.

You knew that he had some fairly bad nightmares, though he refused to talk to you about it. And you could tell that they had been getting worse lately. He was visiting a lot more often, and getting a lot more aggressive with his training. You could tell that something was wrong, but you knew that Bucky hated when you tried to counsel him. So instead, you had just been monitoring him, watching out for anything more concerning than usual.

- - - - -

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Steve asked you one morning, as he leaned against the counter, waiting for you to finish making breakfast, “Have you noticed something weird with Bucky lately?”

You raised an eyebrow at the question. You were still fairly new to the team, so it was odd for anyone to consider you an expert on any of the team members, let alone someone’s close friend, “Why do you ask? You’re his best friend, you should know if there was something odd going on.”

“Oh, well,” Steve seemed a bit sheepish, “It’s just that you’re like the resident doctor, so I was wondering if he told you anything. He’s just seemed a bit upset lately.”

“Well, first of all, Steve, you know that Bucky refuses to talk to me,” You start, beginning to move the completed food to the plates that you had set out, “And second, even if he did tell me something, you know that I couldn’t tell you about it, in good conscience.”

“So you haven’t noticed anything?” He gave you that stupid golden retriever pout as you handed him his food. You wondered if that was part of why Bucky kept him around when he was just a scrappy kid getting into fights that he couldn’t win. It was just so hard to say no to him when he made that sad, puppy-dog look.

“I mean,” You sighed, “He’s been up a lot, training in the middle of the night recently. So, I wouldn’t say I haven’t noticed anything. I’ve just been minding my own business.”

“And you should keep minding your own business,” Tony spoke up for the first time through a mouthful of bacon, “If he wanted to talk to someone about it, I’m sure he would. You don’t need to pick up on any of Capsicle’s nosiness.”

“Oh, please,” Steve scoffed, “Like you’re one to talk about getting up in everyone’s business, Tony.”

Tony flipped him off, grabbing his coffee and slinking away back to his lab. You weren’t sure if he had slept at all the night prior, but that was decaf coffee, so you were hoping that at the very least he’d sleep during the day. It was the little things that kept these heroes alive.

“Ok, anyway,” Steve drew your attention back, “What has he been doing?”

“Just training, Steve. He’s just been going off on the training dummies. It’s clear that he’s just taking something out on the dummies. He’s got it handled, Steve. He doesn’t need anyone up his ass to try and ‘fix’ him. It’s just gonna piss him off.”

Steve nodded as though he understood, though you could tell by the look in his eyes that the conversation wasn’t really over.

- - - - -

You knew something bad was about to happen when Steve walked into the infirmary, Bucky being dragged along behind him. They didn’t get hurt. And they rarely needed to stop in for check-ups. So you had a feeling that this wasn't going to end well for you.

“What can I help you two gentlemen with today?” You asked, pausing the task that you were originally working on.

“Well, I was just thinking,” Steve started, already giving you his stupid puppy-dog eyes, “You really haven’t gotten a lot of combat training...”

“No, I suppose I haven’t,” you set your face into a neutral expression, getting ready to try and turn down whatever scheme he was trying to pitch to you. You didn’t know Steve that well, but you knew that he had a bad habit of getting into everyone else’s business to try to fix everything.

“Well, I would offer to help, but I know that you prefer to train at night, and I usually train early in the morning,” he was starting to ramble like a nervous teenager, trying to get all of his reasoning before you could say no, “So I thought Bucky could help you.”

You should’ve known. He was trying to get you to help Bucky work through whatever was going on. And he was hoping that you would just go along with it. And you hated that the puppy-dog eyes were working on you again.

“Steve, I’m not going to force Bucky to train me. What do you think about that plan, Bucky?” You asked him, hoping that he would give you the excuse that you needed to say no. He just needed to say no for you, and you would both get out of this.

You saw Steve turn to face him, that look still on his face, and you knew that you were done for. You really should’ve known that Bucky couldn’t say no to Steve either, “Whatever, I suppose our healer shouldn’t get herself killed on missions. Just try to keep up.”

And with that, he turned and left. And you were left behind, not quite knowing how to react.

- - - - -

It was that night that your training started. Bucky walked into the training room about half an hour into your regular training session, giving you just enough time to warm up. The look on his face told you that he wasn’t thrilled about the idea, though you had a feeling that it was for a much different reason that you had.

“Alright, training mat. Now.” He demanded, his tone sharp and gruff. It reminded you a bit of your gym teacher in school. He had never been your biggest fan, for one reason or another.

“Don’t you need to warm up?” You asked a bit timidly, not wanting to upset him any more than he already was.

“No.”

You nodded, following him as he walked over to the area that was designed for sparring. It was padded enough that no one should get hurt in a reasonable fight. The sparring matches around here were rarely reasonable.

You situated yourself in the center of the ring, facing Bucky as he set his stance. He looked so focused, his brow set as he got himself ready. You realized that it had probably been a very long time since he had actually done any formal sparring. At least, without the intention to kill. But something about his face, set into a look that you couldn’t quite read and covered slightly by a bit of hair that was hanging in his face, made your heart skip a beat.

He was an attractive man. You knew that. You had heard from Steve almost constantly about how much of a ladies man Bucky was back in the day. But you hadn’t really gotten a good look at him. He was always looking down. And he had definitely never looked at you with this much focus in his eyes before.

“Hit me,” he commanded, though there was a hint of friendly coaching in his tone. Like he was actually looking forward to training you.

“What?”

“Throw a punch. Hit me. I need to see where you’re at before I can teach you anything.”

You throw a sloppy punch with your right hand. He blocked it without even thinking. You tried again. And then tried a kick. Tried to get a new angle. Tried to sweep his legs out. You had tried everything you could think of, everything you tried being easily blocked or dodged. You were starting to get tired out, and Bucky hadn’t even thrown a punch. You threw another punch, aiming straight for his face, only for him to grab your fist.

Before you knew it, he had pulled you into a chokehold, your back pressed firmly against his chest, and his metal arm wrapped around your neck as his other hand twisted your arm behind you. You could feel him breathing, just as steady as usually, and you had to wonder if he could feel how flustered you were as your body pressed against his. You could tell your heart was picking up, but you hoped that if he could feel it, he’d just attribute it to the training.

“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” He muttered, his mouth so much closer to your ear than you had expected. You could feel your cheeks heating up as his breath made your hair move just a little.

“Y-yeah,” you managed to choke out.

- - - - -

You two had been training like that for weeks, and it was starting to get to you. The close quarters, the skin to skin contact, it was going to kill you. If you wanted to know what a siren would look like to you if they existed, it would be Bucky Barnes, coated in sweat and getting ready to pin you to the training mat. And you were definitely having a hard time staying focused during your training.

It was especially late one night, you were guessing somewhere around 1:30 AM. Your training usually stopped around 12:30-1, but you were running a bit long. You had been especially distracted that night. Bucky had gotten a haircut for the first time in a long time, revealing his bright blue eyes. You could feel them on you as you trained even more than usual. You hadn’t minded his long hair, but when it was out of his face, you could see him much clearer. And that wasn’t always helpful.

There was a predatory glint to them as he got into position to spar, like a wolf stalking its prey. And as he loomed over you, pinning you to the ground after another failed attempt, you couldn’t say you minded feeling like prey.

“Alright,” Bucky groaned, his metal hand still pinning you to the floor, “What the hell is your deal tonight?”

You tried your best to hold your voice steady as he straddled your waist, his legs brushing against your own, “What do you mean?”

“Come on, (Y/n). You’ve been improving a ton lately, I know you can do better than this. So what’s got you all distracted?”

His face was so close to yours. His metal hand was holding both of your arms above your head, and his other was positioned right next to your chest. You could feel his body heat against you, and you were sure that he could feel your face heating up. There was no way he couldn’t figure it out by looking at you at this point. You were trembling, your eyes dilated as they locked onto his eyes. You looked like an absolute mess.

You could tell that he saw it too as his eyes scanned your body. You felt as though time slowed down as you watched his expression change. He raised an eyebrow, making you squirm a bit. Soon enough, though, a smirk spread across his face that reminded you of the stories that Steve told of Bucky from before the war, though the wolf-like glint never left his eyes.

“I see…” He drew out. You didn’t know if it was on purpose, but you saw his tongue dart out and flicker across his lips for just a moment. He leaned down a bit more until his face was next to your own, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “You know, Doll, if you wanted to do something else, you could’ve just asked.”

You swallowed deeply as you felt his warm breath brush against your ear. It sent a shock down your spine. You went to say something, only for the words to get jumbled in your mouth. You felt like a babbling idiot as your breathing refused to steady enough to let you get a single word out. And you felt a cold, empty feeling creep into your chest as he pulled back, leaving you without the extra body heat.

The tension between you was palpable, and you had been awake for long enough that you were starting to lose your impulse control. As Bucky leaned back, letting your arms go and smirking in a way that told you that he was proud of himself for people able to get under your skin so effectively, you couldn’t stop yourself. Before you knew it, you had flipped him onto his back, taking his spot on top.

You had caught him off guard, and the surprised look on his face told you that. But you had to admit he looked just as good down there as he did when he was pinning you down.

“Oh, you’re feisty,” He said, shifting to make himself comfortable, “But what’s your plan, Doll? Go on?”

You knew that he was egging you on, just trying to get you to do something. And it was working. You had been holding back the entire time. And your will was wearing thin.

You pulled him up a bit by the collar of his shirt, meeting him halfway in a passionate kiss. It was sloppy, but you really weren’t going to complain. You didn’t mind the clumsiness to it, especially once he sat up the rest of the way, pulling you even closer to him. Without even realizing it, you had started to grind against him, rolling your hips without meaning to. He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he pulled away.

It was then that you realized exactly what you had been doing. Your face was flushed, your hair was a mess from him running his hand through it, and you could feel the thumb of his metal hand press into the skin of your stomach since your shirt had started to slide up. You looked utterly desperate.

“Doll, are you sure you wanna do this?” You could hear the insecurity seeping into his voice, and you felt the grip of his metal hand loosen as he went to move it away. You knew Bucky was insecure about his past, and that his metal hand was a symbol of that. But at that moment, as you felt his hard-on press against you through your pants, there was absolutely no way you could possibly understand that.

“James Buchanan Barnes, shut the hell up and fuck me,” you demanded, though you left him space to back up if he wanted to. You didn't really want to pressure him into anything, but your brain was foggy.

Luckily for you, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he flipped the two of you over again, pinning you to the mat again. He had the wolf’s glint in his eyes again, and it made you weak. And as he bit into the crook of your neck, soft enough to make sure that he didn’t hurt you, but hard enough to leave a mark, you couldn’t help but let out a moan.

“Shh, (Y/n),” He whispered in your ear, making you rub your thighs together as the frustration and desperation built up between your legs, “We don’t want to wake anyone up.”

You nodded, biting your tongue to stop yourself from making too much noise as Bucky started to slide one of his hands down your body. You could see him admiring you as he pulled your clothing away. He held so much want in his eyes that you couldn’t even imagine feeling insecure under his gaze.

“God, doll, you really are just perfect,” He muttered as he lowered himself, his face nearing your cunt as he pulled your pants and underwear away. He was looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive. And you wanted him to.

You could feel the cool air against your soaking wet pussy as he pulled you into the position he wanted. You could feel his breath and against your pussy, and that in itself was enough to make you hold back a moan. You needed him so desperately. And even as he moved to bury his face in your cunt, you could feel his eyes on you.

One of your hands moved to grip his hair as he started with a broad lick up the length of your core. The other moved to your mouth, hoping to, at the very least, suppress your whimpers. You weren’t even entirely sure what he was doing with his tongue as he went down on you. Your vision started getting soft around the edges as he swirled your clit around with his tongue. You were sure that if you weren’t covering your mouth and biting your tongue, you’d be screaming. You were surprised at how good he was at this, but you definitely weren’t going to complain.

The feeling in your lower gut began to tighten after about ten minutes, and you knew that you were getting close. Bucky could tell too, as your grip on his hair tightened, pushing his face in even more. He was enjoying watching you be so desperate for him. And as he slid his tongue into you and then across your clit one more time, he enjoyed watching you come undone even more.

It took you a few moments to recover from your high. Your chest was heaving, and your skin was glimmering with a thin layer of sweat. You looked like the most perfect mess that Bucky had even seen. He couldn’t help but sit up and admire you. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about you in the same way that you were thinking about him. And seeing you there, spread out completely in front of him, was what he was sure heaven would look like if he ever got to go.

After a few minutes, you had finally recovered, and you had decided that Bucky deserved a little bit of care in return. You flipped him back over, again surprising Bucky. He really did look pretty as he laid under you, and as you pulled his shirt off, you had even more to admire.

You could tell that he was a bit insecure, reaching to cover a few of the scars on his chest. But you brushed his hand away, choosing instead to distract him. You kissed slowly down his chest, choosing a few spots to nibble slightly, hoping to leave a few marks for him. As you reached the waistband of his shorts, you felt a hand on your shoulder, signaling for you to pause.

“You really don’t have to do this, (Y/n). I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything,” he said, his blue eyes soft as they looked down at you. Soft, and insecure, and sweet.

“There is nothing that I want to do more right now, but I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

He contemplated for a moment, and you waited, despite wanting so badly to keep going. Before long though, he nodded, giving you the sign to go ahead.

You freed his cock in second, moving quickly out of need. It was nice for both of you to finally have all of your clothes discarded, and he was a sight to see. Bucky Barnes was modeled like a Greek god, and you couldn’t keep your hands off of him.

You tried your best not to rush things, giving his cock a few soft pumps and kitten licks before taking it into your mouth. He was trying not to groan just as hard as you had been as you bobbed your head, sucking desperately. He was big enough that you had a hard time fitting him all the way into your mouth, so you added a hand at the bottom to pump as well.

He started to buck into your mouth as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. It was like a work of art to watch him writhe in pleasure as you sucked him deeper and deeper into your mouth, until you were gagging on his cock. His abs were starting to flex a bit on their own, and you could tell that he was getting close. And you pulled away.

“Fuck, that isn’t fair,” he groaned, trying his best to quiet his voice. But he couldn’t complain about the view as you pulled away, a string of saliva running from the tip of his cock to your perfect lips.

“Do something about it then,” you said, feeling bolder than you had expected yourself to be. And he took your invitation to heart.

You had been expecting it, but the feeling of his naked body looming over you, his eyes trained on you as his cock began rubbing against your entrance, was a kind of euphoria that you had never imagined. His lips were on yours in an instant, muffling your moans as he slowly pushed into you, filling you up completely. You couldn’t help yourself as you scratched down his perfect back, leaving large claw marks down the muscles of his back.

You threw your head back as he bottomed out, the tip of his cock already found the spot that made your eyes roll back into your head. It felt as though he was made for you, the way he felt so perfect inside of you.

He started to move slowly, thrusting softly as though he was scared to break you. Even then, he hit all of the right spots, but you needed more. You needed him to take you completely. And so you started to move with him, thrusting your own hips up in time with him, pulling him even deeper into you.

He buried his head in the crook of your neck, “Goddamn, doll, you feel amazing. It’s taking everything in me not to fuck you with everything I’ve got.”

“Do it. Please.”

He looked at you surprised, still not fully believing that this was real, let alone that you were here, begging him to let go and ravish you. He searched your face for any sign of doubt, and found none. You wanted him, and that made him feel more worthy of your attention than he had before.

“Bucky, please, I need you,” you whined, and he felt the walls of your cunt tighten around him. And he couldn’t control himself anymore.

His thrusts were hard enough to actually slide you forward on the mat, causing you to wrap your leg around his waist. You were starting to see stars as he continuously pounded into you, hitting the right spots every single time. You couldn’t keep quiet, fucking him was better than anything you had imagined. And so he moved a hand over your mouth to help keep you quiet.

The two of you were a sweaty mess, completely focused on each other’s bodies. You couldn’t think of a single thing besides Bucky. Bucky and his perfect body, and his cock so deep inside of you that you forgot what it felt like to not have him pounding into you. The rest of the world was more than irrelevant, it was forgotten entirely.

“Fuck, babe, I’m so close,” He groaned into your ear, making your eyes roll back into your head again. You were close too. And as his cock hit deep inside of you again, you felt the coil in your stomach snap.

The walls of your pussy fluttered and flexed around his cock as you came undone again. Velvety, warm, and wet, massaging his cock as you screamed into his hand. He couldn’t hold it back. He buried himself in you one last time, rougher than before even, and sprayed hot ropes of cum inside of you, filling you up even more.

You couldn’t remember your own name when he was done. The world around you felt as though it wasn’t real. Everything felt warm and fuzzy, the only cold coming in as Bucky pulled out of you, leaving you empty and exposed to the air. He collapsed onto the ground next to you, pulling you to his chest. You felt his breath heave in time with your own. It was the first time in a long time that either of you felt at peace.

“Well, doll, we really should get cleaned up and get to bed before anyone else wakes up,” Bucky sighed, his voice a bit gruff and unsteady.

You groaned softly and buried yourself into his chest.

“You can stay the rest of the night in my room if you want. But you definitely need to shower,” He added. And you reluctantly agreed.

(A/N: So, this is my first time writing smut... I honestly... got a little too into the sparring idea. Oops.)

#marvel x reader #marvel #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader

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darklove9314-blog · 3 years

Text

Underneath My Skin:A Nessian fanfiction

Author’s note: Hey guys!!! Welcome to day 7 of Nessian month, ( This one is late) today’s prompt is Tattoo Artist AU. If you want to participate in Nessian Month, all prompts are on @illyrianet page

“Are you nervous?” Gwyn asked as Nesta looked over to her, Emerie sitting in the next chair, scrolling through her feed on her phone.

“Why would I be nervous?” Nesta asked leading through the book she had brought with her.

Today had been the day that Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie had made the spontaneous decision to each get a tattoo. It was all their first and each of them had an appointment with a different tattoo artist who they had talked with over the phone and sent the rough idea of what they wanted done.

“Well it is your first tattoo and I know most people are nervous for theirs.” Nesta shrugged.

“Nesta?” A voice asked as her eyes flickered up to see one of the hottest males she had ever seen. She put her book away looking up at him with a smile. His hazel eyes looking down at her.

“That’s me.” She answered with a grin as Emerie gave her a knowing smirk. “I’m all set up whenever you’re ready.” He told her as Nesta stood up, Cassian was going back towards the booth in the corner Gwyn whispered

“Of course Nesta would get the hot one.“ She sighed as her name was called from the other side her eyes widened.

“I stand corrected.” Gwyn grinned standing up and calmly making her way to the other side of the parlor shaking another attractive mans hand. Introducing himself as Azriel. Nesta gave her a subtle wink. Emerie sighed,

“Of course you and Gwyn got the hot ones knowing my luck I’ll probably get-“

A blonde woman emerged calling Emerie’s name as Emerie’s eyes swept up and down, a shy smile crossing her face as she commented,

“I love this place.” She sprang up almost tripping over her chair as she quickly recovered following the blonde woman into her section as Nesta headed towards where Cassian was stationed.

Nesta looked at the stencil in his hand with the design she had emailed him about, a small book that had one of her favorite quotes written on the front of it. A quote that meant a lot to her and her friends. Nesta smiled at the design as she looked into Cassian‘s hazel brown eyes. Gosh, he really was handsome. If she had been at a bar instead of a tattoo parlor, she would have offered to buy him a drink, but she guessed talking to him while getting her tattoo done would do.

“Did you decide where you wanted your tattoo?” He asked as Nesta pointed to a specific placement on her forearm.

“Right here will do.” she told him as he placed the stencil on her to test out whether or not she liked it. the gentle brushing of his fingers sending shivers up her spine. She shouldn’t be thinking all the thoughts she was thinking with a total stranger. It wasn’t like her.

“Does that look good?” He asked his voice seeming an octave lower, she ignored it dutifully and stared at the tattoo that would be inked permanently to her skin in an hour or so.

She nodded eager to get started.

“Alright, go ahead and sit on the chair facing me.” He instructed as she sat in the chair.

Cassian grabbed his stool pulling it closer to her as he looked at his inks. she had chosen to do a tattoo with colors, so she knew he was setting up his black, gray, blue, and silver ink. She had seen his work online, knew that he was good at it. she was fully prepared.

“Just remember we can stop whenever you want to. We don’t have to get this all done today just in case you’re not feeling up to it.” He smiled.

She smiled at him at the challenge. “Oh I’m more than prepared for this.” Nesta answered him. His smile grew.

“In that case, let’s get started.” He replied as she felt the first prickle to her skin. It felt similar to a cat scratch. with barely any pain there, but she knew that there could potentially be a difference between how she felt while he was outlining vs how she’d feel when he was shading, some claimed the outline hurt some the opposite, but she knew that it would be worth it in the end,

“So how long have you been a tattoo artist?” She asked

“Going on six years.” He answered.

“Impressive.”

He gave her a slight smile illuminating his face. She notice the tattoos that inked his light brown skin and the scars that marred them.

“Do you have a favorite piece?” She asked after a few silent moments had passed.

“Of my work or the tattoos I’ve received?”

“Both.” She asked intrigued to hear his answers.

“I’ve done a lot of tattoos, as for a favorite-“ He shrugged, “I like hearing the meaning behind the tattoo, I like people sharing their stories, Don’t get me wrong, I love my craft, but the people are what makes this job worth it.“

She tilted her head at that wincing slightly as the needle went over where the bone was, she was told that would hurt the worst, so she distracted herself.

“So what’s the story on your favorite tattoo?” She asked watching his hands as he worked.

“Me and foster brothers have wings on our backs to symbolize our relationship that way no matter how far we go or what city we may end up in, we’ll always have something to remember each other by.“ He answered as Nesta felt a pang in her chest. She had heard stories about the foster care system. knew how tough it could be for the children who were in them, but she knew it wasn’t her place to ask and that it was his story to tell so she simply asked.

“Do you all still talk to each other?”

He had finished the outline and now had started on the shading. It stung slightly but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

“We’re roommates actually. One of them is actually working on your friend now.” He told her.

“The one by the name of Azriel?” She asked him. He nodded.

“That’s the one. He and I have always worked together. Rhys however, he works for the courthouse.”

“Didn’t want to be a tattoo artist like the rest of you?” She teased as a small smirk crossed his lips.

“He lacks the skills to do so.” He answered as Nesta felt another pang in her chest, One of a different sort.

“I can relate. I was more of the studious one in my family. My sister Feyre was the artist.” She answered.

“Does your sister live in the city?” He asked.

“Yes, but ugh, we’re not that close, it’s complicated.“ she answered not willing to elaborat. it wasn’t that her and Feyre didn’t love each other, it was just that having two neglectful parents made them seek comfort elsewhere. Anywhere else besides each other. Had made their fight horrid, both slewing out venomous words that they weren’t sure if they meant or not. It had been the worst when they both were teens, Feyre had been three years younger, but still accomplishing her goals had always been easier for Feyre, for Nesta, not so much.

Her and Elain were closer, but not by much. To Elain, Nesta had been overbearing. and she didn’t blame her for the thought. It was either she suffocated the people that she loved, becoming a burden or she hadn’t loved them enough. Both of which she had worked on in therapy or rather what she was still working on.

“I get complicated families.“ He said, a sad look in his eyes.

“I was always the complicated one.“ She told him. Not sure why she had done it. He was a complete stranger. but for whatever reason she felt as if she could talk to him about anything.

“So was I.” He confided in her. Making her eyes meet his. “Out of me, Rhys, and Azriel, I took things the hardest and I didn’t always handle them in the best ways. I always got into trouble. Said some awful things to them and the others, it took me time. And it wasn’t until I had a foster mom who gave a shit about why I was hurting that I truly started to heal. So I get being the complicated one, The way you feel like a burden even when you’re not.“

His thumb smoothed over the skin, checking on the ink there as she felt a calming reassurance in her chest. knowing that this would end soon. that this was probably the last time they would see each other.

“It looks like we’re almost done.” He told her changing to a lighter topic. Not knowing how they had gotten onto a heavier one,

“Looks like it.” She had told him. Looking at the book on her forearm.

“So I take it you’re a reader?” He asked, working on the last of her touchups.

“Have been since I was old enough to read.” She confirmed.

“Is this a quote from a book?” He asked gesturing to the quote there.

“Ugh no. It’s just the motto for us that my friend Gwyn came up with.” she told him as he read it.

“We are the rock against which the surf crashes and nothing can break us.” He smiled admiring the tattoo. “I like it.”

She wasn’t sure why the blush had crept on her cheeks at his words but it had.

“Thank you.” She told him hiding her blush from him. Normally she didn’t blush when a man gave her a compliment, but Cassian somehow was different.

“Well it looks like you’re done.” He answered. as she got up and went over to the full length mirror observing her tattoo, a book with her and her friends motto on it. They had all chosen the design together because as Gwyn had said herself, all their stories deserved to be told and all of them had a love for books.

“I love it. Thank you.“ She smiled as she glanced up at him.

“It was my pleasure.” He stated wrapping up her tattoo.

“Now you’re going to want to keep this wrapped for a couple of hours and then follow the instructions I give you on the paper you’ll leave with for tattoo after care, but besides that, you are free to go.”

After Nesta had paid and Gwyn and Emerie had finished with theirs. Gwyn and Emerie chatted happily about their tattoos looking at the colors they had chosen them in. the same colors as their friendship bracelets, Nesta smiled turning towards Cassian as she extended her hand to him.

“It was a pleasure meeting you.” Nesta told him as his hand slipped into hers, giving it a slight shake,

“The pleasure was all mine- Nesta-“

“Archeron.” She finished. A little more quickly then she would have liked.

“Nesta Archeron, the name does have a ring to it,” He answered giving her a wicked grin, Was he-Was he flirting with her? “Well Nesta Archeron, I hope we see each other again.” He stated and before she could answer his other client arrived as he went to tend to them and Gwyn and Emerie flocked her while they were outside,

“Do you ever think you’ll see him again?” Gwyn asked as Nesta looked back at the tattoo parlor with a smile on her face,

“I’m not sure, but I hope so,“

#nesta archeron #nesta #cassain #nessianmonth #nessian

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eveningstar477 · 3 years

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Merry Christmas in advance. If you would want to write for Christmas, then, I have prompt. - Jack is lonely and he is working on a case even on Christmas eve. Peggy and Sousa who are searching for him luckily find him. They try to convince his to come to Howard's party. He accepts to come to the party after a long negotiation...but the party turns too chaotic. (I know this promt is too detatiled so you can delete/add a detail if you want to)

Intended to get this posted yesterday, but ya know, family, so….little belated Christmas gift to you all :)

This is such a great prompt, anon, thank you! I’m not sure I quite managed to hit all the little details in the admittedly longer than planned blurb I came up with, and it might be a little more angsty than you intended, but I hope you enjoy!

Once again, I have decided on an East Coast setting, with a vauge nod to Daniel’s origin story from “Quo Vadis?” Also, I’m going with S2 of Agent Carter is set in the summer, considering that in the first episode the detective complains about being sick even though it’s not winter, and says something about it being “the hottest day of the year.” So presume that Jack got shot sometime in late July/August, so December is roughly 5 months post-injury.

Have a little angsty Jack Christmas fic - a little long, so you can read on ao3 or under the cut.

“Good heavens, Jack, do put that file away. It’s Christmas Eve,” Peggy frowned, leaning on the door to Jack’s New York office.

“Carter, I’ve got a suspect sitting in interrogation. I can’t just walk away for a couple of days and ignore him.”

“Why not?” Peggy asked, eyebrow arching. “You’ve got a couple of green agents here working, they can keep him alive. There’s no need to rush the interrogation - this case isn’t exactly life or death. Let him stew for a bit.”

“Peggy, is this supposed to be some sort of health intervention? Because I told you, I’m fine.”

“Of course you are, Jack. But you’re not supposed to spend a civilian Christmas sitting in some office working. Howard is throwing a party, and Angie and Daniel will both be there. You ought to come, rather than sitting here all by your lonesome.”

In reality, though, it was as much of a health intervention as it was a festive invitation. Jack had stayed at Howard’s in LA for the first three months of his recovery, but then, cleared to fly by the doctors, had stubbornly decided to return to New York. Despite this, he still hadn’t been cleared for field work, and Peggy didn’t like the way his suits seemed to hang off his frame, gaps in places where there wouldn’t have been half a year ago. Daniel had once confided to her that New York had been tough after the Midnight Oil incident, and mentioned to Peggy that winter in the city might be rough on Thompson’s healing lungs. Jack seemed especially peaky today, and Peggy was quite sure it had something to do with the fact that Jack was wearing the same tie as yesterday and didn’t appear to have gone home or slept at all.

“Well, fine, then, Peggy,” Jack said, tossing his hands in the air and reaching for his coat. “Guess I should’ve learned by now there’s no point arguing with you.”

Peggy and Jack headed out to the parking lot, where Peggy insisted that Jack ride with her rather than take his own car. Howard and the Jarvises had returned to New York for the holidays, as the Stark holiday party was quite the annual event. Peggy and Daniel had agreed to come meet them for a week, leaving Rose in charge of the LA SSR. Peggy was happy to spend time with Angie, and they were due to visit Daniel’s family for the New Year. It was also a convenient excuse to check in on Jack, who tended to over-exaggerate his healing on the phone. Peggy preferred it where she could see if he was lying to her, and promptly call him on it if necessary.

They arrived at Howard’s and were met by a very enthusiastic Ana Jarvis (who Peggy believed might actually be a bit tipsy) and a disgruntled looking Mr. Jarvis. Jack brightened a bit at Ana’s suggestion that she show him the bar, and Peggy shook her head and chuckled. She herself headed inside.

“Angie!” she hurried over to her friend, who was standing next to Daniel.

“Oh, hey, English, I was just catching up with your man here!” Daniel smiled sheepishly from next to Angie, then leaned over to give Peggy a brief kiss.

“Oh dear, I hope you haven’t been telling him too many embarrassing stories, Angie,” Peggy laughed.

“Ah, only a few,” she giggled. “How ‘bout I go find us something to eat, huh? Let you two have a couple minutes,” Angie wiggled her eyebrows at Peggy, who rolled her eyes and laughed.

Now that they were alone, Daniel tipped his head at her and asked, “Jack?”

“Off with Ana somewhere, probably breaking into Howard’s liquor cabinet. He seems alright, if a little overworked. I think a night off will do him some good.”

“I think it’ll do us some good too,” Daniel smiled. Angie returned with a couple glasses of champagne and a tray of small sandwiches.

“Alright, English, now the party can really start!”

…………………….

A couple of hours later, a thoroughly distressed-looking Mr. Jarvis escorted a thoroughly drunk-looking Mrs. Jarvis through the room where Peggy, Daniel, and Angie were sitting.

“Mr. Jarvis, is everything all right?” Peggy asked, both concerned and amused.

“Oh yes, Miss Carter, everything is fine. I do believe my wife needs to sleep off the events of this evening, however, so I am afraid we must retire.”

“Yes, of course. But before you go, did you see Chief Thompson?” Peggy inquired.

Mr. Jarvis frowned, “No, Miss Carter, he wasn’t with Ana just now. I can help you look for him once I get Mrs. Jarvis settled, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Jarvis, that’s quite all right,” Peggy said with a glance at Daniel. “We can find him, I’m sure.”

“Nah, Peg, you stay here, catch up,” Daniel says with a smile and a nod towards Angie. “I’ll go track down Thompson.”

Daniel did find him, secluded in Howard’s study with a half empty glass of whiskey in his hand. He sat down on the armchair in the corner, while Jack reclined in the desk chair.

“Ya know, Jack, the whole point of holiday parties is to spend it with other people,” Daniel half-joked.

Jack scoffed. “As if anyone actually wants to enjoy my company.”

Gosh, he really was self deprecating when he drank, Daniel thought as he rolled his eyes with a mix of irritation and fondness. “Jack. Peggy and I clearly want you here, or else we wouldn’t have extended the invitation.”

Jack just tipped further back in his chair, as if trying to escape the conversation.

“I get it, you know.”

Jack looked up, noting the change in Daniel’s tone from half-playful to soft and serious.

“Holidays can be tough, especially after the kinda year you’ve had. I think, actually, this is the first truly civilian Christmas experience I’ve had since before the war. So I get it, if the party is a little overwhelming.”

Jack huffed, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a drink. He set it down with a clank. “God, you’re just like Peggy, aren’t you. Always snooping in everyone else’s feelings.”

Hurt flashed across Daniel’s face for just a moment before he schooled his expression and stood.

“Well, fine, Thompson. Enjoy your pity party, I guess.”

“Wait, Sousa. I’m sorry,” Jack called. Daniel crutched back over to the armchair, but didn’t sit.

“You’re right, is all,” Jack admitted. “I keep wishing things would go back to the way they used to be. But I don’t even know when that would be. I guess this just is ‘normal’ now, isn’t it.”

Daniel hummed in agreement, eyes drifting briefly towards the crutch in his left hand. Jack didn’t seem to notice, staring vacantly toward the door of the study, where light and sound from the party down the hall leaked in.

“I’m just so goddamn tired of all this, Sousa. Trying to keep the SSR alive, dealing with Congressional red tape, finding decent agents - and this stupid bullet wound isn’t helping anything. And I shouldn��t even be complaining to you, cause God knows you deal with all of it, too.”

“Just cause I deal with it too doesn’t mean it’s less exhausting, Jack. And you’re still convalescing, even if it feels like you shouldn’t be.”

Jack was silent, so Daniel continued. “Now, the way I see it, you’ve got three choices. You can stay here getting more drunk, you could go to bed, or you could come join Peggy and Angie and I and try to enjoy the holiday,” he said, stretching out a hand towards Jack’s good arm.

“Well, when you put it that way…” Jack took Daniel’s proffered hand and stood, swaying slightly before he steadied himself. Daniel clapped a hand on his back and then led the way out of the dark study and back towards the music of the main room.

Maybe it would be an okay Christmas after all.

#agent carter #my writing #daniel sousa #peggy carter #jack thompson #edwin jarvis #ana jarvis #Angie martinelli

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

Note

So I read Elixir and I love how you write sex pollen and I was wondering if you could do one for our other federal agent, Marcus?

Jump Start

Warnings: smut. A lot of smut. Unbeta’d writing; soft Marcus.

Words: 3,500

Summary: What if Marcus only went to DC for a while? And what if he came back for you?

Marcus: Still game for tonight?

You: Are you kidding? Cho and Lisbon have bigged up that Aladdin’s Cave for months. I’ll be there.

Marcus: You sure this is what you want for your birthday?

You: Yes.

Marcus: Okay then… Bring a pillow because I’ll probably bore you to sleep with all the art stories.

When the elevator doors part to reveal Agent Marcus Pike, you’re standing by the door to the lock-up. A smile lights up his face when he sees you, and your heart bumps hard in your chest. He slides his hands in his pocket, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Marcus.”

He ducks his head, a little shy. You know he isn’t always. You’d seen him in the interview room a few times last year, when your team and his had co-run a case. Watched his eyes go hard, his face stern. He’d slammed a file down on the desk inches from a suspect’s face and the surprisingly rough side to him had made you shiver.

Lisbon had sent you a knowing look and you’d ignored her.

She’d had her chance and she’d blown it, and frankly you didn’t want to know what she and Marcus had shared; how close they’d been.

Marcus had gone to DC after that. A year’s undercover work has helped him heal, you think. Get his head back in the game.

He came back for another co-op case, and thankfully, Lisbon and Jane had been away on honeymoon then.

You and Marcus had worked this one together, sometimes late into the night, sharing take-out and anecdotes from other old cases, and then, you’d started hanging out, a little.

He’s interesting. Funny. Friendly. Panty-melting gorgeous.

Heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

Cho dropped that it was your birthday at last week’s after-work drinks, and then Marcus had texted offering you a tour of the art lock up. You’d been rota’d off the day Cho and Lisbon got to see it, last year.

Patrick Jane hadn’t been allowed in. Marcus had muttered something about sticky fingers when you’d asked him about it.

“You ready?” He ducks his head to buss your cheek and you meet him halfway, breathing him in, minty gum, sandalwood, and the gourmet coffee he hides in his office. He shared it with you once and it’s like him, memorable, decadent, addictive.

“Ready.” You pull away, reluctantly, wanting him, but he’s never given you any overt hints that he sees you as anything more than a colleague.

He and Lisbon are cordial to each other when they meet, but for all you know, he’s still pining over her.

You daren’t ask; you don’t want to know the answer.

Marcus punches in a code to the first gate, then plucks the rings of keys from his pocket and opens the dinner door of the lock-up, a smile playing on his scruffy face. He grew the patchy beard during his time in DC and it really suits him, highlights his beautiful jaw and makes his soulful eyes a deeper brown.

This time on a Saturday, no one else is around.

“A private museum,” you breathe as you see all the paintings, sculptures and other art set carefully in frames or on desks or custom made plinths.

“Yeah, I always feel like Aladdin.” He scoffs at himself. “I say that every time. What a dork.”

You turn and grin at him. “I like it. You’re an art geek. It’s sexy.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Marcus’ brow wings up. “That so?”

“Um, sure.” You duck your head, embarrassed. “So. Tell me some art stories, Special Agent Pike. What’s new here?”

He brightens, soulful chocolate eyes going wide for just a moment. “Well. There’s this equine sculpture. Maker’s mark is Italian but we seized it during a raid for paintings. Wasn’t expecting it.” He snaps on white gloves and offers you a pair, then gently turns over the statue to show you the swirling signature on the bottom. “We’re still not sure where the other two are.”

You trace a gloved finger over the horse’s detailed mane, wrought perfectly in cherrywood. “Other two?

“Sure. This is part of a set. You can tell here-” he points out a divot in the base that you wouldn’t even have noticed, and another on the opposite end. “And here. The two connecting statues are missing - other horses, I’d guess.”

“Wow.”

Marcus sets the horse down and meets your gaze. “You bored yet?”

“Nope! More!”

He chuckles indulgently. “Okay. Why don’t you choose.”

You wander around the various lock-up cages for a while, examining instruments, more statues, even a huge quilt that looks woven with gold.

After a few moments, a painting about your height catches your eye. It’s an orgy, but tastefully done, painted in shades of amber and gold, the bodies fluid, enchanting.

“I’ve never seen such a… soft depiction of a group bang,” you smile.

Marcus’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “That came in last week. Rumour has it, the artist was quite the lothario back in the 1800s. A steady stream of, ah, callers to his penthouse in Florence. The accounts of his sexual prowess are something else.”

“I bet.” You eye the curves of the women in the painting; she looks soft, welcoming, her eyes closed in ethereal bliss. “So, how’d you get this?”

“Allegedly, found in an attic. We went to the house to pick it up. The man who gave it to me - said they just moved in - seemed kinda high.” Marcus’ brow furrows. “Very mellow. Pretty sure he’d been smoking something. He was half-dressed.”

You crouch, examine the painting more closely. “And you didn’t… arrest him?”

Marcus shrugs. “Art’s our deal. I did note the address with a colleague in the DEA, so if it gets flagged again, they’ll investigate.”

Something about the painting keeps you enraptured. You spy a little notch in the frame. “Do you think something’s hidden in here?”

Marcus bends next to you to examine the area you point to. He’s been working today, so he still wears his suit, the red tie the little bit of flash he allows himself on the job. His scent weaves around you, the lick of coffee, the gasp of mint, and something uniquely Marcus.

“It looks like something…. Comes undone?”

You both lean in together, and you edge your gloved finger along the groove in the ornate gold-effect frame.

Marcus does the same from the other end. “Wow,” he breathes. “A hidden compartment?” Then his eyebrows shoot up as part of the frame depresses under his finger, clicking. He grins hugely. “Well, now I really do feel like Aladdin.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a little monkey wearing a fez around here, do you?” You tease.

“Maybe a magic carpet. I-”

He’s cut off when a hissing noise pops from the painting. You and Marcus both lean in to try and hear it more closely, and just when you get close, powder sprays from the frame, light gold in colour and smelling faintly musty.

You cough, reeling back, your hands over your face. “Gross.”

Marcus steps back too, wiping a gloved hand over his face and examining the golden-hued powder on the cotton fabric. “What the hell-”

You slowly sit down on the floor. “I feel… sort of dizzy. Hot.”

Marcus crosses to you, crouching in front of you, and if you didn’t feel so discombobulated, you would appreciate the closeness of him, the amber shot through his irises, the slight curl of his cowlick. “I’ll go get help. Maybe some water?”

You’re burning up. A slow dance starts in the pit of your belly, something that you think was always there, maybe, but intensified now Marcus is so close. “Please don’t go.”

His brow furrows in concern. “Of course.” He smoothes a gloved hand over your hair, and then you see it; the change in his eyes, the way they go dark and hot. “I… what the fuck is this stuff? I feel…”

You clutch at his forearms, feeling the play of lean muscle under his suit. “What if…. What if this was the reason that painter was such a, um, lothario?”

Marcus’ gaze has dropped to your mouth and at your words, he blinks. “What? Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “Marcus, I…”

He stands up, backing away. “I can’t be near you. Not when I want… I can’t.”

You reach out to him. “What if you stayed?”

He gazes down at you, longing in those bottomless eyes, and now you can clearly see the outline of the powder’s effect on him. “I can’t. Can’t do that to you.”

A flash of hope pierces the haze descending on you. “You want to? Because of the.. Stuff,” you finish lamely.

An expression of half desire, half pain, sketches itself over Marcus’ features. “I’ve wanted to for a while. That night we worked late.” He’s half-panting now, the fingers of one hand curled around the wall of his side of the lock-up. “Wanted to take you over the desk. I - fuck- can’t do it.”

You make to move. “Marcus-”

“Not like this,” he groans, that voice of sin and sex dropping half an octave, California with a lick of the drawl of Texas. “Not… like this.”

“Don’t go!” You beg. Your insides are burning up for him. If he’d just touch you. Just for a moment.

Marcus is shaking his head, fumbling with the door on this section of the lock-up. You lunge for him but he pulls the door closed, locking you in and him out.

He turns the key, then tosses the ring across the room.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Not like this. Goes against everything.”

“But I want you,” you say. You crawl over to the fencing separating you. “At least… touch my hand.”

You pull your gloves off, slide your fingers through the holes in the mesh.

Marcus takes his gloves off too, tangles his fingers with your the best he can. He sighs deeply. “I had this whole date thing planned. Dinner at an Italian that reminds me of a place I ate at in my gap year.”

“Marcus,” you whisper. “So you do really like me.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, I haven’t been able to think about anything but you since I got back from DC, and there you were, pretty as a picture, working late with me, sharing Chinese food. Making me laugh.”

You swallow, wanting him so badly it hurts. Every inch of you burns for him.

“I wanted to go slow,” he rasps out. “I know I jump in. Get overexcited. But with you.. I wanted to do it right. Fuck.” With his free hand he, almost unconsciously, palms himself through his suit pants, his eyes rolling back. “What the hell is this drug?”

You hungrily follow the path of his hand with your gaze. “Lothario, remember?”

“I remember.” Marcus groans, pressing the heel of his hand against his erection. He’s sitting awkwardly. “Bastard.”

“Marcus.” You squeeze his hand. “I want this. I want you. It’s lonely up on that white horse.”

He shakes his head, vehement. “It’s….not… not right.”

You press against the caging and just the pressure of the mesh on your breasts makes you moan. “So I can’t touch you, and you won’t touch me, but you also won’t leave me.” You watch him squeeze his eyes shut, look at the tent in his suit pants. “Touch yourself.”

His eyes pop open. “What?”

“If you won’t leave and you won’t… give in to whatever this is, although I want you more than I’ve wanted any man, ever…. Let me see you.”

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he looks at you, big brown eyes considering. He’s weighing every option. Marcus is thoughtful, considered. Considerate. He always thinks two steps ahead, encompasses everyone in plans and strategies.

But he’s blindsided by this, and you can’t say it isn’t sexy as hell to see him unravel this way.

“Please,” you add, holding his gaze.

He squeezes your fingers and the air changes between you, and then he leans heavily against the mesh and you take the opportunity to stroke his hair, a little, and it’s so soft. Feels like silk, and you have to touch more of him, but maybe you’ll get to at least see more, so you will your breathing to calm, just a bit, as he fumbles one-handedly with his belt buckle and then slides the zipper of his suit pants down to reveal plain grey boxers, darkened in the centre by a damp patch, and your throat is so dry.

“Have you…” your heart bumps hard, the rush of seeing new parts of Marcus making you even dizzier. “Ever gotten off in this evidence locker before?”

“Can’t say I have.” Marcus’ gaze stays on your face, earnest. “I can go. I can just go.”

“Please. Please don’t go. Come in.”

“Can’t do that.” He closes his eyes; looks like he is silently praying for the power to resist you. His fingers curl into the parted edge of his suit pants.

“Let me see you?”

He sucks in a deep breath, then exhales shakily. “This is not how I planned to seduce you. Just so you know.”

Your pulse rabbits. “You seduce me every moment, Marcus. With every sweet text. Every time you smile at me. All your art stories. When you say my name. Your voice, oh God.”

Marcus’ hand trembles as he holds your gaze through the wire mesh of the lock-up, and he finally, finally parts the opening of the plain grey boxers and draws himself out, and you just drink him in with your eyes, the shape of him, the swollen tip, his length and girth, the curling hair at his base. It looks as silky as the hair on his head and you hear yourself groan needily.

“Marcus.”

He fists himself, his gaze hot on yours. “Not how I planned this date,” he repeats. “I feel like I’m on fire for you.” He rasps out your name and you watch his hand move, and suddenly it’s too much, the heat between your legs cannot be ignored, and you shove your skirt up and mirror Marcus on the floor.

His head jerks around. “Fuck,” he hisses.

“Never knew you had such a potty mouth,” you half-gasp, half-tease.

“For you, I’ll do whatever you want with my mouth.”

You groan at that as you circle your clit with a finger.

Marcus almost growls “Underwear off, I want to see.” His voice, that voice, is gentle-rough, and you think of the day you watched him in the interview room.

“Whatever you say, Agent Pike.”

“Christ.” He’s jacking off in earnest now, his gaze riveted to you as you pull off your underwear with one hand, letting it fall wherever. Your skirt is rucked up around your hips and the fact it’s Marcus watching you is a huge turn on, but honestly you’re not sure if you could have stopped, for anything.

Your combined pants fill the space. You’ve never been so wet. When you slide two fingers inside yourself the sound is obscene.

“It’s.. a wonder.. He ever got… any painting done,” Marcus grits out.

You laugh. “Now? You wanna talk about art now?”

He huffs. “Art is the reason we’re here. Like this.” Then he sucks in a breath and you look down at him, his balls drawn up tight, his cock wet with his own pre-come.

“Marcus Matthew Pike, I swear to God, if you don’t get in here right now, I will never ever speak to you again.”

He hesitates.

“I swear on Van Gogh’s ear,” you add, your internal muscles fluttering.

Marcus half-yanks up his pants, scrabbles for the key. The seconds feel like hours until he appears again, boxers and pants around his knees, shirt tails hanging, and he opens the mesh door and you yank him in and kiss him and you tumble to the floor together, and Marcus grabs both your wrists and pins them above you with one hand, his face dark and determined, and it makes your heart pound.

“Please,” you grate out. “Marcus. I need you.” You spread your legs and try to hook your feet over his calves, but he shakes his head.

“Not yet. Sweetheart, not yet.” He curls your fingers into the wire of the mesh. “Hold on. Don’t… don’t touch me. I wanna make it good for you, first.”

You hear yourself keen his name as he shucks off his clothes from the waist down, then slides down your body and puts that gorgeous mouth to work. Your favourite thing he did with his mouth until now was talking, but this-

Maybe he’s writing his name, maybe he’s writing a sonnet, but whatever it is, the way he curls his tongue is obscene, and you don’t know if it’s partly the drug, but when he puts two fingers inside you, you come so hard you almost black out. And then lust rears its head again and you grab for him, carding one hand through his hair and cupping him with the other, and he’s slick in your palm and the ridges and heat of his cock feel so good.

“Marcus.” You fist a hand in his hair, pull a little, and he groans and pants, and you take the opportunity to pump him in your fist until he swears under his breath.

"Condom. Oh fuck. Condom."

He hesitates, then drops a soft kiss on your lips - your first, you think, a bit giddy - and you taste yourself, and he licks into your mouth and whispers your name and it's pure, unadulterated bliss.

Then he extricates himself, rummages in his suit pants, and as soon as he has the foil square in his hand you grab for him, pulling him down on top of you.

"After this," you murmur, "you're gonna bend me over the desk." And you roll the condom down his dick and he lets out a long, slow breath and pushes inside you and it's everything.

Everything inside you quiets for a moment that stretches as he starts to move, caging you in with his braced forearms, and you look into his dark chocolate eyes and his heart is on his face, with Marcus it always is. It's your favourite thing about him.

He nibbles at your lips as you make love to eachother, and you hook your legs around his hips to stop him pulling out too much. You want him close, want to feel his skin under your hands. The buttons of his shirt rasp against your dress, and if you were more aware you might think it's ridiculous, him bringing you to orgasm with you both half dressed in the floor of the art squad lock-up, but you can't care. Not when his cock hits you right there, and then you're keening his name and he tumbles over the cliff edge with you, pressing hard in those final thrusts as your muscles milk him.

You curl around him. "Marcus."

He sighs, presses his forehead to yours. "Was that… are you okay?"

You chuckle lazily. "I've never been more okay."

He cuddles you close, nosing at your cheek, murmuring sweet nothings. "Christ, what is this stuff? I could go again."

At his words desire rears its head. "There must be a desk in here somewhere, right?"

And his eyes go hot.

And that's how you find yourself bent over a desk recovered from an abandoned shipping off, the edges intricately gilded. You cling to them as Marcus fucks you hard and fast, just the way he'd fantasised about, and it's so good that you sob his name over and over.

Afterwards he cuddles you so gently, stroking your hair as he whispers praises about how good you felt around him, how next time he's gonna give you a bed covered in rose petals.

You shake your head, kissing him deeply, helping him into his jacket. "You're all I want, Marcus. Any way I can have you."

A flush colours his cheeks as he cups your cheeks. "Dinner? Let me take you out to dinner."

"I'd rather have it in bed. Have you in bed."

His eyes go wide for a second. "The drug.."

"This isn't the drug and you know it." You loop your arms around his neck. "It just jump-started us. Never been so grateful to a horny nineteenth century painter."

Marcus laughs out loud, hugs you, then releases you to hold your hand, tug you towards the elevator. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that, right?"

Happiness unfurls slowly inside you. "I could stand to hear it again."

Tagging the Pedro pals! @soldade @beccaplaying @heatherbel @mourningbirds1 @alldatalost @songsformonkeys @agirllovespasta @nelba @chews-erotically @mrschiltoncat @gamingaquarius @alienprincesspoop @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @agentpike @jaime1110 @thegreenkid @pedropascallion @mrsparknuts @buckstaposition @winters-buck @oloreaa @mstgsmy @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @holographic-carmen @cryptkeepersoul @alwaysbethewest @poenariuniverse @starlight-starwrites @keeper0fthestars @alwaysbethewest @kindablackenedsuperhero @abuttoncalledsmalls @f0rever15elf

And @arch-venus25 did you wanna be tagged in Pedro stuff?

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