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twistedmusings · 3 years

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Wake Up From Your Dream

A/N: I don't even know what I can SAY to this one except...I think I was so angry at not writing that I wrote smut outta SPITE? Can I be so angry with myself that I write Malleus smut to just get something out there? I guess I can. Anyways this ask certainly let my imagination fly q wq

Warnings: Non-con making its way into dub-con, manipulation, impregnating sex and Malleus realizing that family is really important.

You needed to find your way back to Night Raven College.

It has been so long since you’ve been back there, laughing and walking around as if there was no trouble in the world. Nevermind that you weren’t anywhere close to home and nevermind that your family was seeking you out.

As long as there was a possibility of you finding your way home, you had pretended that everything was going to be alright.

You were still a stranger to this world, you had no ties to this world and there would be no reason for you to stay once Crowley found your way back home. It was wonderful making friends with such a variety of people and watching them all grow in their own way. The way you knew you would grow from this experience as well.

Watching Ace and Deuce really come into themselves and their Unique Magic, watching the dorm leaders step into their positions of power and truly start to make a name for themselves that would help them out in their own version of the ‘real’ world. Riddle had gotten a wonderful position befitting of his family name, Leona was actually graduating, Azul was said to open a Monstro Lounge in the Coral Sea while Kalim had started investing time in his father’s trade without having Jamil help him. Even Idia was starting to take strides in his own field!

And you were proudest of Malleus. One simple conversation outside of Ramshackle had turned into a friendship you thought you would never forget. It was so wonderful to see him interact more with students, shyly following after you as you pushed him to talk more to others despite his position. That was what college was for, right? To experience new things and find your future--

You just didn’t think that Malleus would take it that far.

Was it because he was spoiled? No, even though he was born in a monarchy he still did his best to remain kind to others, especially his subjects. You were sure he was going to make a kind king in the future, even if you never got to see with your own two eyes.

You pull the hood over your head as you enter a bath house, the fae receiving you with a curious look and a smile as you hand her 2000 madols.

��Will you be booking a room tonight as well?”

“Just a simple shower and bath, that is all.”

If you were to make a guess, you were in the borders of the Valley of Thorns, a more rural area compared to the now rather modernized capital. You had stolen enough money to get you by for a few trips and you knew that places like these were the best at getting you directions. It had been a bit of a grueling trip, testing your knowledge of the fae language as well as avoiding questions about who you were and why you so desperately needed to make your way back to such a prestigious college. In a sense, you kept it minimal.

You needed to get back home.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

The mantra you kept repeating to yourself was whispered under your breath as you removed your articles of clothing slowly, still looking around to see if anybody had followed you in. But this is what was raising all of the hairs on your body, wasn’t it? This constant vigilance that didn’t let you sleep at night. You needed to relax, no one else would come this far.

You feel the fatigue melt as several days of walking are washed right off your body, a smile slowly creeping up on your face as you wash the dirt and oil from your hair.

It would be fine.

You would make it to Night Raven College and sneak into the Hall of Mirrors before wishing yourself back home. Crowley had said that they had pinned down the world you lived in and only after you make your wish would the connection be broken. This most likely meant that the connection was still intact since you didn’t even get a chance to to look at the mirror before you were whisked away.

Everything was going to work itself out, that’s the most you could promise yourself.

The bath is heavenly, the temperate water cooling you down from the hot shower as you look around.

There were no other patrons.

“Good.”

You lean back and press your head against a soft pillow of towels, enjoying the silence as you feel your worries soften while thinking back to what you would do when you were back home. It had been so long since you’ve seen some of your friends, your family was probably worried sick and you still had your own plans you wanted to get through.

If you had time, you could maybe drop by to see how your first year friends were doing?

Or were they in their third year now?

Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?

Your eyes close as you let yourself relax entirely, almost succumbing to sleep.

Only for a hand to grab your throat, the other covering your eyes as you hear a familiar chuckle that tenses your body up and breaks your heart.

“I am afraid we will have to postpone this shower.”

Tears well up in the corner of your eyes as you hear the sound of footsteps into the area, most likely the royal guard.

“Lilia--”

“You’d do well to stay put lest they chase after you.”

The hands covering your eyes pull back as you see a teasing smile looking down pitifully at your fresh set of tears.

“It has taken far too long to find you, Your Majesty.”

-----

“HUMAN!”

“[Y/N]-san!”

Lilia smiles as he leads you by the hand, the royal guard following close behind as Sebek and Silver join him.

“He might have already woken up, Father.”

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? DO YOU KNOW WHAT MY YOUNG MASTER HAS GONE THROUGH?”

“Sebek.” Lilia looks at his charge, “Quiet. Malleus might still be sleeping.”

Silver takes one peek at you, trying to meet your gaze but pulling away when he sees that the veil Lilia had put on you is blocking anybody’s stares from seeing your face. In fact, the second in command had put you in one of the traditional outfits for fae royalty, complete with a light veil that flowed down from the silver circlet placed on your head.

“Excellent.”

Lilia turns his attention to you and laughs.

“He has been absolutely miserable since you left. It was quite a surprise to all of us when you managed to leave the palace walls. None of us thought that you had really done it, especially him, and it really was a hassle to search the palace up and down to see just where our little human had run off to.”

His voice drops to a whisper as he brings your hand up to his lips.

“I’ll make sure to punish you for that later.”

The older fae leads you along as you finally reach your destination, smiling as he knocks on large wooden doors while pushing you slightly to stand in front of everybody.

An answer he was going to get by the end of the night.

“Malleus.”

No answer. He tests the doors and nods when he sees they are unlocked, opening them as he leads you to step inside so that you both could see the figure drenched in moonlight, looking out the window as if awaiting for an answer.

Lilia waits for his other charge to say anything but shrugs as he looks at you with a smile and a bow.

“We are glad to have you back, Your Majesty.”

The door closes with a loud click as you turn your eyes to look up at the imposing figure, your nails digging into your fingertips enough to draw blood as you try to hold back from screaming and shouting at him to stop acting like such a child. Yet you do not wish to anger him, at least to save yourself from any sort of harsher punishment.

So instead you make your way over to the bed--

Only for the fae to turn around, grab your wrist and slam your back into the rough stone wall. Bright green eyes glare down at you as you wince in pain, still looking away from him but letting out a yelp when Malleus’s fingers grab your chin and force you to look at him in the eye.

“Why did you run?”

He really had no idea, did he?

“Because I don’t belong here--”

Malleus tightens his hold on your wrist.

“We’ve discussed this before, child of man, you belong here just like anybody else, you are my Queen--”

“Malleus wake UP!”

You push against his hold but the fae’s hold gets tighter, most likely leaving a mark. But that wouldn’t deter you, not anymore, you were going to tell him.

“I’m not from this world! Coming to Twisted Wonderland was just an accident! A stupid, stupid accident that no one bothered to fix! And just when we were close to making it right you---you--!”

Shit, you’re crying again.

“I have people waiting for me. Just like you had a family waiting for you. I came to the Valley of Thorns thinking that I was supporting you during your coronation but you just--made a decision entirely by yourself and announced me as yours! Why did you lie to me? To them?!”

Malleus’s hold softens as you finally let your tears flow freely, wishing to wipe them away only due to how weak they were making you look.

“...did you not say you loved me?”

“I did! I did but--Malleus after what you did I can’t--”

He lets go of your wrist only to cup your face as he leans down to press his lips on your cheek, his tongue licking up the warm tears as you grab hold of his wrists to try and push him away.

“Do you miss your family?”

You nod as he moves to kiss the corner of your eyes.

“More than anything…”

The dragon fae hums, letting his lips stay where they were a few seconds longer before chuckling as he pulls you close.

“I see--I really have been cruel to you, haven’t I?”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat at his words, hands clutching at his robes as you quickly nod. Maybe this was it, maybe it had taken you breaking down to let him see reason?

Please. Please!

“...A family.”

Malleus’s words are like dripped honey as a thought formed in his head, the thought taking shape and form as his hands clutched you tighter.

“Then we’ll just need to make a family of our own…”

-----

Hands clutch at his sheets as Malleus takes in the shape under him.

How beautiful could you be? How complex? To him it was as if not a day had passed since you first met. What had been mere curiosity had delved into deep affection and blossomed into a love that Malleus would only read about in fairytales. The sort of books that led him to believe in soulmates, in happily ever after’s and the possibility of spending the rest of your life with the one you loved.

And yes, you weren’t a fae, but the power of his magic was grand enough to keep you tied to him for the rest of eternity.

His lips can’t help but seek out yours as he thinks about how he is the one who will decide when you die.

This love hadn’t started out like this. What he felt for you had been a bit more relaxed, a lot softer and dreamier. You had confessed to him after his Overblot incident and he had gladly accepted your feelings. He was still keen on finding you a way home and promised himself to not let any moment be wasted in thinking how you soon would be far away from him.

Every day was spent happily with you, the rest of the school year flying by as you both enjoyed the time you still had together.

But Malleus was still a dragon at heart, a fae that yearned and longed to take and take.

So when thoughts about you leaving started to make their way to the forefront of his mind, not even your constant love and affection could keep him from his instincts.

You would leave him to go back to your world. Go back to the normal and the familiar. As you walked your path, you would eventually find someone that enchanted you the way he had, all ending with you walking down a beautiful aisle to your now beloved.

A person that wasn’t...him.

As the days of his third year started to run to a close, his hold on you had become a lot tighter, his kisses a lot more possessive and in the end he had invited you to watch his coronation as he entered his fourth and final year.

With his announcement of making you his Queen.

“Malleus! Please I can’t--I’m not ready--!”

He let Lilia make up some story about you not returning to Night Raven, fooling Crowley into believing that you had found your future in the Valley of Thorns with him. The announcement of you taking up the role of Queen had been surprising but Malleus had woven the story in such a way that there had been talks of having it printed for others to read.

It was a wonderful ending to your love story, you ending up in his arms. But something was missing…

Malleus was glad that you had given him the answer.

Both of your knees were on either side of his waist, your hands clutching at whatever they could as his cock buried itself deep into your cunt. The veil was long forgotten as his robes and your own are thrown carelessly around the room while you wail and scream at being broken into by such a thick length. The small sight of blood on his cock made Malleus smile as he pushed in further, the tightness that was pushing him back slowly opening up for him as he watched you do your best to fit him inside.

It would be fine, you would be fine.

With a growl he finally bottoms out, two hands holding your hips and forcing you down to take all of him as the tip of his cock pressed right under your womb--

He shivers as you tighten up again, leaning down to lick up the trail of tears on your cheek before eating up your tiny whimpers with a hungry kiss.

“Here...right here is where our family will start.”

A large hand takes yours as Malleus puts it right over the small bulge on your stomach, your eyes growing wide as you realize just how deep inside he is. He kisses you again, not daring to break away as he lets a trail of saliva dangle from his lips to yours, the clear liquid disappearing into your mouth as your body relaxed and your eyes grew hazy.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

It was a simple question, but your brain seemed muddled from his kiss. Dragons tended to excrete a certain liquid as they got ready to mate, the experience painful even within his own species but being eased with the help of saliva, sweat or cum.

And with the way he was pressed against you, his sweat matted on your skin as he let more of his spit drip down his tongue and onto yours...surely the answer would come the more you two worked to start your family.

Malleus hardly gave you any time to recover as he started to move, his eyes entranced with the way he disappeared into you with each thrust. Your mind was still muddled but your body was already eagerly accepting him, your legs wrapping around him slowly before locking him in place as he repeated the question.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

You open your mouth but the only word that comes out is a plea for him to go faster.

Which Malleus gladly listens to.

It didn’t take long for him to start pounding into you at a brutal pace, every thrust having the tip of his cock slamming against your womb as your toes curled from the pleasure of taking him so deep. His cock disappeared inside your tiny cunt, shaft now coated not just with blood but with your arousal as well. The bed creaked in protest while the sounds of the bed frame hitting the wall helped him keep time, Malleus leaning back down to kiss you again as your lips this time part eagerly and sucked on his tongue while your hands clutched his shoulders and horns.

Cries turned into happy moans, your sad and abandoned look now one of pure ecstasy as your pussy flutters and tightens around him, pushing him to go harder and harder so he could---!

“[Y/N]--!”

Your legs close tighter around him as you bury your face on the crook of his neck, your orgasm being ripped from you unexpectedly as Malleus halted his movements with a stiff body. He drops his head on your shoulder as your legs keep him in place.

“Malleus...ah--!”

He groans as he paints the inside of your walls white, the warmth of his cum filling your womb to the point that what you hadn’t taken merely dripped out onto the now stained sheets. Malleus lifts his head to look down at you, smiling as he sees your eyes staring up at him eagerly despite how much you had protested before.

“A family…”

You smile as Malleus nods, your hands going all the way to your stomach as you feel the warmth start to twist your brain even more.

“A family with you…how wonderful…”

Arms wrap around him as Malleus kisses a trail from your shoulder to your lips. He just needed to ask you one last time.

“Do you love me, child of man?”

With a hum, your answer is whispered into his ear as Malleus closes his eyes as he realizes that this is where his happily ever after would finally start.

“I love you Malleus, more than anything else.”

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst mc #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst smut #twst imagines #fem reader #twst x reader #adult section #requests #//and to those who have been sending me nice messages #//thank you q wq

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

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Aversion Therapy

Summary: Y/N has been institutionalised for sex addiction at an experimental facility, run by Dr. Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Doctor!Sam x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Sex addiction, addiction therapies, abuse of therapist/patient relationship, noncon roleplay Tags: hair pulling, crotchless panties, degradation (like, a lot), blow job, spitting, pussy spanking, sex on a desk, body writing, p in v, pulling out Word Count: 4.5 k Created for: @samwinchesterbingo - Doctor!Sam | @spnkinkbingo - Crotchless Panties | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Hair Pulling | @j3bingo - Diary

A/N: So I this may or may not be one of the dirtiest things I've ever written. It's definitely up there in the list 😅I hope you enjoy, fellow sinners!

October 24th

Last night was awesome. He took me out to dinner and everything, real gentleman, even though we both knew that’s not what the night was about. It was sunset when we got up to the lookout, all romantic. I felt silly that he was making such a big deal about it. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be so much pressure. Now it’s over I don’t feel any different except that I want more. We went twice last night but that still wasn’t enough. I touched myself this morning and it was almost like I could still feel him inside of me. I think tonight I’m gonna let him do it without the condom, so he will still be inside me tomorrow morning.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shout, outraged. It wasn’t enough that your parents had locked you in this place, humiliating you, betraying you, handing you over to Doctor Judgy, but they’d handed over your diaries too. Fucking great. Dr. Winchester ignores you and keeps reading, skipping ahead a few weeks.

November 15th

Fuck I love sex. Even with guys that aren’t great at it it’s still worth it just to have a cock inside me. I wish I could stay the night somewhere without my parents freaking out. I want to fall asleep with a cock inside me the whole time, wake up to it fucking me, keeping me open. College is gonna be the best. Then I can finally do what I want, fuck who I want. Can finally order a freaking vibrator without mom asking what’s in the package. Ugh, I can’t wait.

Sam’s voice sounds unnatural reading out your words. He’s not putting the right emotion or inflection in them. It’s like he’s taunting you with them. There’s a trace of humour underlying everything he says.

“Why are you doing this?” you shout again, and Sam looks up at you from your diary, a smug smile on his lips.

“Because you’re sick, Y/N,” he states it like an obvious fact, shutting the diary with a loud clunk and waving it back and forth. “These are the words of an addict.”

“I’m not an addict,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. Sam raises his eyebrows at you and flicks open your diary again, thumbing through to a page he has marked with a turned down corner.

February 3rd

That’s it, I’m addicted to cock. I need it more than coffee or air or food. I just want to be on my knees all day and let men use me. I want them in my mouth, in my pussy, even in my ass, I don’t care. I just want them. One day I’ll figure out how to make that happen.

Sam gives you an accusatory look as he closes the diary again, and you do have the good sense to look a little sheepish. Having your thirsty words read back to you is embarrassing. Especially considering the man reading them out is extremely attractive. If you’d met him when you were out you would have been on him in a heartbeat.

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his crotch, which is just below your eye level where he’s leaning against the front edge of his desk. Dr. Winchester notices your gaze and smirks down at you knowingly. The expression makes him even hotter – domineering and sexy.

“You really are a little slut. Get carted off to rehab and the first thing you do is eye up your therapist,” he clicks his tongue disappointedly, and you blush for a moment before you decide that you don’t want to take this shit from him.

“So what,” you shrug, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. Dr. Winchester raises a brow again, surprised by your boldness.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate to think about your therapist in a sexual manner?” He pushes himself off his desk and settles his hands in his pockets, considering you carefully.

“I like cock, so what?” you say again defiantly. The doctor keeps his expression neutral, walking around his desk and sitting down, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down a few things. You watch him suspiciously, wanting to know what he was writing down. “I’m not crazy, I just really like sex.” Dr. Winchester nods and keeps writing, not looking up at you.

“Come on, are you saying you don’t like sex?” you try to rile him up, and you see a small laugh bleed through his careful exterior, but not the kind of reaction you were hoping for. “What, your manhood not measure up or something?” That gets the doctor’s attention. He shoots you a glare over his desk and puts aside his pen, folding his hands in front of him and staring you down. His eyes drag across you from top to bottom, lingering on your lips, your neck, your cleavage, your legs. You like him looking at you like this, it sends a thrill through your chest, settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I can see that your attitude is going to make traditional therapies somewhat difficult.” You roll your eyes, but let him keep talking. “Have you heard of aversion therapy?” You shake your head shortly. “Aversion therapy is a psychological treatment in which the patient,” Dr. Winchester gestures to you, “is exposed to a stimulus while simultaneously being subjected to some form of discomfort, in an attempt to discourage said behaviour.”

“Um, English, please?” you stare at the doctor blankly, not putting together how this is going to apply to you.

“Well,” Dr. Winchester leans back in his chair, and swings his legs up onto his desk and brings his hands to fold in his lap. It makes him look surprisingly casual - not at all the image you had of doctors and therapists in your mind. “In this case, the stimulus is an unwanted behaviour, your over zealous sexual cravings and actions. We need to introduce an element of discomfort or unpleasantness into your experience of that behaviour, to discourage future indulgences,” he explains.

“What are you gonna do, Doctor?” you sneer at his title. “Put me in an electroshock chair and make me watch porn? Newsflash - that sounds amazing,” you scoff. Honestly, if that’s going to be your therapy, you’ll drop the attitude and sign the fuck up right now.

Dr. Winchester shakes his head, a small smirk on his lips. He stands, removing his jacket and tossing it on the back of the chair, then proceeds to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves and roll them back, one at a time. You watch him suspiciously. The moment his jacket came off your head went straight to one conclusion, but that couldn’t be right. You find your eyes lingering on his forearms, the veins in them pulsing visibly just below the surface of his skin. You want to lick them.

“No you’re right, you’d enjoy that far too much.” The doctor’s voice brings you back to yourself and you look up, watching him slowly approaching your chair. “We won’t be associating a physical discomfort with the addiction, what we want is to alter your mental associations towards the behaviour. We’ll use a series of mantras, and repetition and after a period of good, focused work, we can start to transition you back to a home environment.” His hand comes up to grip the back of your wooden chair, right beside your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body against your skin despite the several inches still separating you.

Between your legs, you can feel how much Dr. Winchester’s proximity is beginning to affect you. For some reason the way he’s speaking to you, so formal and condescending, is really turning you on. You bet if he knew, he’d just say it was another sign of your “addiction”. You can feel your panties starting to get a little slippery when you shift in your seat to look up at him, and you don’t manage to stifle your small intake of breath when the open crotch of the underwear accidentally catches on one of your pussy lips, sending a delicious tug of pain into your core.

Dr. Winchester smirks down at you, entirely unsubtle, probably assuming that gasp was your reaction to him being so near.

Finally, after far too long staring at him, you manage to take a breath and ask- “what exactly is my therapy going to be, then?” Your voice comes out much higher than you’d anticipated, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Dr. Winchester’s hand drags along the top of the chair and lands on the back of your neck. You shiver when his skin touches yours, despite its warmth. His fingers wind themselves into your hair a second later and yank hard, pulling your head over the back of the chair so you’re forced to look straight up at him.

“Ow! What the hell?!” You reach behind you to try to break his grip but he just pulls again. The pain sends a new tendril of desire twisting down your spine to between your legs, and you feel your panties getting even wetter. You whimper, your arousal clearly evident to the doctor, who laughs.

“Yeah, I knew you’d be too into pain for that kind of thing to work,” he chuckles darkly. He bends down, face so close to yours you can feel his breath ghost against your cheek. “So here’s what we’re going to do instead. I’m gonna fuck you, but you’re going to make sure you don’t enjoy it. You’re going to cry and yell and beg me to stop.” He practically growls, nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.

Your pussy clenches at his words, aroused beyond belief at the disdain he’s treating you with. You struggle against his grip deliberately, relishing in the renewed sting as his hand pulls your hair even tighter to keep you still.

“You really don’t get it, do you Dr. Winchester,” you try to laugh but your throat is taut and your air isn’t quite flowing easily enough to let you. “I like cock. I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me want you to stop.”

“I think we can drop the formalities now,” he releases you, standing up and reaching for his belt. “It’s Sam, not ‘Doctor Winchester’.”

Your eyes drop to his hands immediately, watching his fingers deftly push his button through its hole and pull down his zip. He’s already hard, you can tell by the tent in his boxers, but you’re astonished to see when he pulls himself out that he’s actually only semi hard – his cock is just huge. You feel your mouth and your pussy water in equal measure.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he starts to stroke himself, eyes tracing up and down your body hungrily as he does so.

“You want this cock, Y/N?” he asks pointedly, and you nod mutely. “Use your words then.”

“Yes,” you breathe instantly, dropping to your knees on the hard, grey carpet in front of him.

“Then you don’t get it,” Sam smirked, contradictorily walking himself closer to you as he speaks, hand still pumping his cock.

“Please?” you beg, hoping that’s the game he’s trying to play. Maybe he thinks he can humiliate you enough that you won’t want to repeat the experience – he’s going to be wrong.

“Nope.” Sam pops the ‘p’ on the word teasingly. “Your mantra for today is ‘no’.”

“What?” you look up to him, confused.

“Anytime I ask you if this is what you want – if you want my cock in your mouth, in your pussy, anywhere I want to put it – anytime I ask you if you want it, you have to say ‘no’,” he smiles down at you like some kind of evil genius, and you’re getting annoyed now that you find this so fucking hot.

“You want me to pretend you’re raping me? Sounds like you need therapy.” Sam laughs, not at all offended by your jab.

“We’re trying to condition a new response, Y/N,” he explains lightly, still jacking himself off maddeningly close to your lips. It takes every ounce of self control you have not to lean forward and suck him down on the spot. “If you want my cock inside you, then you have to tell me you don’t. And hopefully, with time, you’ll start to believe what you’re saying out loud. You’ll believe that you don’t need this, don’t want this.” He taps his cock against your lips and your tongue chases him immediately, reaching for a taste of the liquid you felt pooling on his tip.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he pulls himself away, tutting. “What do you say, Y/N?”

You swallow your pride and give him what he’s asking, though begrudgingly.

“No, please, don’t.” Your voice is monotone, lifeless – like how you used to read out loud in English class when the teacher called on you.

“C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. How are you going to believe yourself if I don’t believe you?” Sam walks closer again and sets his cock against your mouth lightly. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

“No,” you manage to choke out, and your hesitance to say the word must sound like hesitance to give him a blow job because Sam buys it, and the next moment he’s pushing the shiny, pink head past your lips, against your tongue; not stopping until he hits the top of your throat. He pulls back again, taking himself completely out of your mouth.

“You want it?” he asks again, grinning down at you.

“No,” you whimper, while inside every fibre of your body is screaming – yes!

“Good girl,” he groans as he pushes himself back inside, and you moan along with him. This time he doesn’t stop himself, fucking all the way into your throat until your nose is pressed against the skin of his stomach. “Fuck, you really are a cockslut,” Sam grunts above you, pulling back a little and starting to fuck your mouth in earnest. “You haven’t gagged once. Not many girls manage that with me.”

You believe him. Your jaw is already aching from the stretch of your lips around his girth but you savour the hurt. You love this; being on your knees for some guy you barely know with his cock shoved as far in as he can fit it. This is what you were made for, you know it, no matter how hard Sam’s going to try to talk you out of it.

He fucks your throat for a few more minutes, lulling you into a false sense of security. You’ve relaxed into it now, and you aren’t thinking about the therapy or the role play or any of it, you’re only thinking about his cock against your tongue, heavy and velvety and perfect. You cry out when he pulls away, taking in a shocked breath at the sudden emptiness.

“You want it back baby girl?” Sam asks breathlessly, and you allow yourself a moment to feel smug at how clearly affected he is by your ministrations.

“Please,” you beg, crawling towards him, forgetting your lines. Sam pulls away, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wrong answer, Y/N.”

“No!” you shout hoarsely, trying to correct yourself. “I mean no, please, no.”

“No,” Sam sucks in a breath, reaching to pull up his trousers like he’s going to put himself away. “No, I don’t think I believe you.”

“No, Sam, please!” you beg, reaching out for him. “I can do this,” you whisper, and Sam lets you take his cock in your hand, wrapping his fingers over yours and guiding your strokes. “Ask me again?”

“Do you want my cock, Y/N?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say firmly. “No, don’t make me do this.”

“Good girl,” he says again, his hand tightening over yours and using you to jerk himself off. “Do you want my cock, Y/N?”

“No,” you whine, trying to play into it even though your fingers start trying to jack him off faster of their own accord, your hands slipping together over the saliva you’d left behind.

“Do you want my cock in your pussy?” Sam growls, reaching his free hand out to snag your hair and pulling hard, causing you to shout out in delicious pain.

“No!” you squeal, trying to pull out of his hold, hoping you can act your way through this convincingly enough to get what you really want.

“No, whore?” Sam spits on you harshly, the wet striking you on the cheek and dripping down your chin.

“No,” you scream again as he pulls you off of the ground by your hair, throwing you forwards over his desk. Books and pads of paper go crashing to the ground. Pens scatter around you when your elbow hits the mug that was holding dozens of them.

“No?” you hear Sam scoff as he flips up the hem of your patient-issued uniform skirt, spotting the pair of crotchless panties you’re wearing beneath. “You’re telling me a slut like you, who gets put in an insititution for sex addiction, and decides to pack crotchless fucking panties, doesn’t want my cock stuffing her cunt full?”

“No, I don’t want it,” you moan, his words positively setting you on fire. Fuck, you want everything he’s saying and more.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Sam spits between your legs, adding to the slick that must be visibly gathered there by now.

“No!” you cry out when he delivers a stinging blow to your pussy, palm landing right over the open slit of your panties. “No,” you sob out again as he continues to spank you, each hit making a sickly wet echo and sending a jolt of heat through your clit every time his fingers happen to catch it. “No, no, no,” you’re begging, even as you spread your legs wider and push your hips back into his hand, trying to angle yourself so he hits your small bundle of nerves more frequently.

“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you,” Sam is seething behind you. “I can feel how wet you are, you fucking whore. You want my cock now, huh? Want me to put all this slick to good use?” He dips his fingers into the crotch of your panties and comes away with his fingers drenched in your juices, which you see a moment later when he shoves them in your face, yanking you back by your hair again.

“See this slut? See how I can tell you’re lying to me? What’s all this for if it’s not to get you ready for my cock?”

“N–” you try to protest, needing him to believe you if you want to actually feel his cock inside you, but your words are cut off as he shoves his fingers into your mouth, making you lick yourself off his hand.

“That’s right, taste what a fucking embarrassment you are.” Sam lets go of your hair and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers reaching for one of the pens that you knocked onto the desk earlier. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he uncaps the pen and crouches down behind you, putting your pussy at eye level for him.

“I think we should let the world know just how much of a slut you really are.” You wonder what he means, feeling him draw a single line down your right buttock, then switching to your left and writing some words. “Now anyone who fucks you is gonna see my instructions, and know they have to leave a tally mark right here.” He slaps your ass hard where he had just drawn his own. “And every time you come back to me for a session with more tallies than you left with the last time I saw you, that’s just one more time you’re gonna have to go through this with me. To make sure we really break you out of this habit.”

You silently wonder how many guys there are in this hospital that you might want to fuck. He spanks you again and you clench, pussy convulsing at the threat and the thought of men keeping count of the cocks you’ve taken by literally writing it on your body. You feel a trickle of slick start to make its way down your thigh, and you know Sam must have noticed because he laughs darkly.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Are you already planning how to rack up your score as soon as I let you out of this office?” he sneers vehemently.

“No,” you shake your head, even though it’s entirely true. “No, I don’t want that, I promise, I don’t.”

“But you still want my cock?” Sam questions, and you feel the tip of his dick start to drag against you, up and down the slit of your panties.

“No, I don’t want it,” you insist, trying to keep yourself from pushing back onto him.

“Good girl, Y/N,” Sam pets at your lower back and braces himself as he starts to sink in. You both moan when he enters you, but to your chagrin he stops when he only has an inch or so inside. “You want me to keep going?” he pants, and you’re pleased to hear that he’s not as composed now that he’s got the head of his cock wedged between your legs.

“No,” you shake your head quickly, silently praying for him to continue.

“Very good,” he groans, and begins to thrust into you again; tiny, sharp motions to ease himself into you bit by bit.

“No, stop,” you whine without prompting, hoping to encourage him to go faster. He does. “No, no, no,” you chant until he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, his hips pressed firmly into yours, his hands squeezing around your waist possessively.

“No?” Sam asks teasingly, pulling out a little.

“No!” you cry again, and this time you do mean ‘no’ – you don’t want him to leave you. At your cry Sam pushes back in harshly, snapping his hips back against yours and moaning, the sound bubbling up deep from his chest. “No,” you try repeating the phrase, testing your theory, and you’re rewarded by Sam withdrawing and fucking back into you piercingly.

“Please stop, please,” you whimper, not able to stop yourself from rocking back into his thrusts as Sam starts a punishing pace.

“You fucking liar, you love this you little cockslut,” Sam grunts pointedly, taunting you.

“No,” you insist, still meeting him thrust for thrust. “No I don’t want this, I don’t want you!”

“You’re always going to want cock, always gonna beg for it.”

“No!”

“You want me to stuff you full everyday don’t you? Maybe more than that. I bet you’d sit under my desk all day with my cock in your mouth if I told you to,” he laughs, his harsh pace becoming even quicker. He’s not fucking you deeply now but that means that every time he pushes in the head of his cock punches hard against the sweet spot on the front of your pussy, making you clench around him.

“No,” you shudder, feeling yourself close to the brink of your release, and you wonder what he’ll do when you cum – a clear demonstration that you’re fucking loving this, despite what you’re saying out loud.

“Say it louder, bitch,” he grunts, reaching down and spanking hard against your clit.

“No, no, stop!” you shout, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his cock, your orgasm just out of reach.

“You want to cum on my cock?” Sam slaps you again but then starts to rub tiny circles just where you need them.

“N–no,” you stutter, unable to hold back your moan.

“You don’t want to cum baby, you sure?” he teases, angling his hips so he’s fucking your sweet spot with each drive into you.

“No,” you whine, voice pitching higher as you feel yourself right there.

“No?” You can hear from Sam’s voice that he’s pouting at you, mocking you. “You don’t want to cum baby? Not gonna cum on my big, fat cock fucking you so good?” You clench around him, your toes curling, straining… “Come on you little slut, fucking cum already. Thought whores like you were supposed to be easy? Huh? Want you to cum for me, Y/N.”

“No, no, no, no, no–” you lose track of what you’re saying as you cum, screaming into your arm so you don’t accidentally say something to make Sam stop fucking you. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and your come down, hips snapping more and more erratically as you bury your face in his desk and try to catch your breath.

Suddenly, the weight of his body is gone, and then there’s a warm jolt between your legs, and you know he’s cumming – aiming his load at the top of your panties and letting it drip down through the open crotch. You moan high in your throat at the feeling of his release soaking into your underwear, mixing with your own juices, which are already leaking out of you and dripping onto his desk.

“That was a really good session, Y/N,” Sam says, and you’re surprised to hear how composed he sounds, though a little breathless. “I think this is going to be a good strategy for you.” He walks around to the other side of his desk and starts to pick up the books and papers you’d knocked down earlier.

Slowly, you peel yourself up off his desktop, your skin sticking to the surface with sweat that’s already started to dry.

“Go clean yourself up, Y/N,” Sam instructs, not looking at you as he continues to tidy his desk. You turn to go, still in your post-orgasmic daze, but you spin back around when Sam calls your name again. “Oh, and Y/N?” you look at him curiously, and a smirk curls slowly across his lips as you watch. “You better keep the tally marks, or there’ll be consequences next session.”

“Yes, Dr. Winchester,” you agree quietly and slip out of his office into the hallway, walking back to your room behind an orderly, with Sam’s cum still dripping down your thighs. You think about the tally he’d left on your body, and you look up at the orderly, who’s now stopped at the door to your room and holding it open for you.

As you pass him, you keep your eyes trained at the ground, and glance sideways to surreptitiously inspect the man next to you. The hospital scrubs do nothing to hide his endowment. You smile brightly, bringing your eyes up the rest of his body, taking in the muscles in his arms and the name tag on his chest, before landing on his face.

“Thanks, Dean.” You walk into your room, eyes flicking back to see Dean still standing there, watching you walk towards your bed. You bend over to grab something off the bottom shelf of your nightstand, not caring what you grab, just knowing that you’re now giving Dean a full display of your ass – Sam’s writing and Sam’s cum decorating your skin.

The door behind you shuts quietly.

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Happiness, I’m sorry you’ve been on hold.

Request: Could you do a one shot of Fred Weasley after the war, where he doesn’t die and actually falls in love with a muggle. And he tells her about wizards and meets his family? Thank you!

A/N: So this is now the longest thing I have ever written. My aim for this was to make it equal parts angst and equal parts fluff because I think Fred deserves all the fluff. Thank you so much for requesting this! I hope I have done it justice! Please read the warnings before reading this fic should anything trigger - you come first, not fic reading. Also, if anyone can name the TV shows I mention in this, you get a gold star! Title from Volbeat - For Evigt. I hope you all enjoy, I know it’s long!!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of war, depression, insomnia, PTSD, swearing, food, but THERE IS SO MUCH FLUFF - SO MUCH (as well as a bit of steaminess).

Word count: 13.3k

The voices have blurred into a senseless mess; Fred can only just make out the deep timbre of adult males and the high pitched shouts of students. He doesn’t need to hear the words to know that spells are being thrown left, right, and centre.

He does his fair share of fighting; hurling jinx after jinx at any Death Eater he comes upon.

The corridor he runs down is moaning and groaning as if ready to collapse, but Fred continues, his breath coming in pants. His eyes run over the bodies of students and teachers; his heart beginning the painful mourning process then and there.

Someone shouts; he doesn’t know who.

Something creaks; he doesn’t know what.

A brilliant flash of light bounces in front of his eyes, and he feels himself blown away just as the wall beside him starts to collapse.

Whether from shock or from injury, his vision fades to black.

Fred wakes with a start; heart racing, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream, hands gripping the bedsheets in a vice-tight hold.

With his eyes closed, he takes a deep breath before he begins to go through his exercise. An exercise he repeats nightly.

Aloud he says their names like a mantra: “Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, Ginny.”

He does this over and over again until his heart rate calms, and his hands can release the bedsheets.

Fred checks the clock; 3am. He nods, sighing. Three hours sleep.

Fred supposes he should be thankful. After all, it’s three hours more than he got the night before.

He leaves his bed, dragging his feet to the kitchen where with a flick of his wand, the kettle begins to boil, and teabag drops itself into his favourite mug – his only mug.

The Second Wizard War had been over for almost a year now, and for the most part, life had returned to normal. Routines were picked back up and time had simply started to move on.

But Fred felt stuck.

He couldn’t shake the nightmares; keeping the house up with his screams. He couldn’t face opening the shop up despite George’s best attempts at pleading.

He didn’t have it in him to laugh.

He felt broken; as if something vital within him snapped in two the day he avoided the winged clutches of death.

Settling on the couch with his now steeping mug of tea, Fred resigns himself to the fact that he won’t be getting anymore sleep tonight.

The TV plays lowly in the background, a rerun of an old British sitcom set in a prison playing. Fred pays it little to no attention; instead, looking around the small flat he’s called home for the last eight months of his life. The walls are sparsely decorated; a few photos hung up but nothing that screams his personality. His cupboards remain filled just enough for one person, as does his fridge. It’s a flat fit for a hermit; Fred thinks that’s what he’s become.

He decided to leave home two months after the end of the war. When he started to notice the dark circles underneath his mother’s eyes and realised that he was the cause of them – his nightmares and his screams.

Molly cried when he left; worried sick over how he would look after himself and cope. Fred reassured her and made a promise to send letters twice a week – a promise he has yet to break.

George was understandably angry with his twin’s decision, but he knew that deep down that Fred needed to go to heal so he can laugh in the shop once again.

With a tight hug from his parents and siblings alike, Fred began his new life in muggle society.

A frantic knock at his door has Fred spilling his tea and falling out of his reminiscing. Jumping up from the couch, his hand grabs his wand, ready to defend himself should he need to.

His breath comes in quick pants as a result of the adrenaline and panic coursing through his system. The only people who know where he lives are his family with the added bonus of Harry, Hermione and Lee Jordan; no-one else had his address.

The frantic knocking continues; becoming quicker if it was at all possible. Fred swallows past the lump in his throat as he unlocks his door, wrenching it open in a swift movement, ready to confront whatever was on the other side.

Fred wasn’t prepared for it to be you.

You stand in front of his flat with a wild look on your face; equal parts terror and panic. Your hand is still raised in a fist, ready to rain down on the faded red of his door. You only just stop yourself from pounding your fist into his chest.

“Can I help you?” Fred greets.

“I’m so sorry, I know how late it is, but I need your help.”

Fred raises an eyebrow, “What with?”

You toe his welcome mat sheepishly, pointing towards your flat next door to his. “There’s a massive spider in my bathroom and I’m too scared to kill it myself.”

“You’re knocking down my door at this time in the morning for a spider?” Fred asks incredulously.

You glare at him, “This isn’t just any spider, okay? It’s massive; I can practically see its kneecaps!” You huff, placing your hands on your hips, “Will you please help me?”

Fred leans against the doorframe, a smirk gracing his lips, “What’s in it for me?”

You purse your lips; eyes glancing between the red-headed man vexing you and the door to your flat where you know the spider is waiting to make a mockery of you. You sigh, deciding the former is the lesser evil than the latter, “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“You’ll buy me breakfast for killing a spider?”

You nod rapidly, “Yes, I’ll buy you breakfast, and I’ll even fork out extra for hash browns, just please kill the spider.”

Fred pauses; pretending to think it over in order to annoy you that little bit more. It had been a while since he had taken the time to vex someone; he had to admit he was rather enjoying getting on your nerves.

“Well?” You press, tapping your foot on his welcome mat, “Will you help me or not?”

Fred pushes himself off the doorframe, keeping his wand concealed in his shirt sleeve. He bows at the waist with a cocky smile on his lips, “Lead the way, my lady.”

You roll your eyes at the man; not remembering a time when a man had gotten on your nerves to this extent. You lead him into your flat; his eyes wandering over the heavily decorated walls and the over-filled bookshelves. You pause outside the door to your bathroom, biting your lip as you face the red-haired man, “I last saw it in the sink. It could have moved now.”

Fred nods, “Don’t worry, I’ll find it. Do you have a boot or something I could use?”

You turn away from him, heading back to the entryway where he saw piles upon piles of shoes. “I don’t have a boot,” you start, “but I do have a pair of trainers.”

“They’ll work,” Fred reassures, taking them from your hands.

You throw him a thumbs-up before retreating a few paces into your living room. You haul yourself onto the couch, much to Fred’s amusement, as if the spider is going to come running out of the bathroom to exact its revenge on you for throwing your pot of face cream at it before you sprinted out of your flat.

“Good luck,” You state as Fred opens the door to your bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Fred runs his eyes around your bathroom, looking for the eight-legged arachnid that’s caused this much trouble at this time in the morning. He finds it in no time; still stuck in your sink, unable to make its way up the smooth porcelain sides.

It doesn’t take Fred long to dispose of the spider; trapping it with a spell and flinging it out of the window. For extra measure, and to not alert you to his magic, he slams the trainer down on the tiled floor of your bathroom. Fred even goes so far as to scrunch up some tissue in his hand to make it look as if he had gotten the spider.

If he can avoid it, Fred won’t kill another living creature. In the short span of his life, Fred had seen too much death, and he knows he doesn’t want to be witness to anymore.

Upon opening the door, Fred finds you stood in the exact same place but with a rolled up magazine in your hand. He wants to laugh at the sight, but he can’t dredge up the will to do so. Instead, he holds up the scrunched up tissue and your trainer, declaring, “It’s gone. I got rid of it.”

You jump down from the couch, pottering over to him. The rolled up magazine still in your hand, “It’s in there?”

Fred nods, a little white lie won’t hurt you and he doubts the spider would return. “Do you have somewhere I can put this?” he asks, waving the tissue around.

“Of course, the kitchen is over here.” You lead him to the small kitchenette where he disposes of the empty tissue. You take your trainer off him and Fred claps his hands together as if he’s completed a job well done.

“Right,” He starts, “If you don’t need me for anything else…”

Your eyes widen as if suddenly aware what time it is and how long you’ve kept him, “Of course!” you cry, “I didn’t realise the time, you’ll want to be getting back to sleep. Thank you for all your help…” you trail off, realising you don’t know his name.

“Fred. My name is Fred.”

“Fred,” You smile, “I’m (Y/N).”

“I’m glad I could help, (Y/N),” Fred says, making his way to your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.”

You frown, “Breakfast?”

“You owe me? For killing the spider, remember?”

You hold your hand to your forehead, “Yes! I remember. How does meeting at half past nine sound? I want to get some sleep before I meet you again.”

“Half nine it is. I’ll see you then.” Fred says as goodbye, shutting your front door behind him and making his way back to the couch that had been calling his name since he left it.

The TV has moved on now; showing another rerun of an old sitcom – this one about two brothers hustling their way through life in a borough of London. Fred rather likes this show, having gotten hooked his first month in muggle life. He turns the volume up, taking a sip of his now cold tea.

Fred tries to pay attention to scene currently playing; the brother’s elderly uncle unscrewing the fastenings to a very expensive chandelier they’ve been hired to clean. Little do they know they’ve got their wires crossed and disaster is about to strike.

Fred pays little attention to this, but rather than return to the wallowing he found himself in earlier, he lets himself think of breakfast tomorrow.

His eyes begin to flutter shut; the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. He slumps down onto the couch, reaching for the blanket he keeps draped across the back of it for this very reason, and he throws it across himself. He takes one last look at the television to see that the brothers had been underneath the wrong chandelier their elderly uncle was loosening, and he falls asleep with the thought of breakfast running through his mind.

------------------

Fred is ready too early; he knows he is.

He also thinks he’s overdressed but he doesn’t let himself think too much into that issue.

Another nightmare had awoken him an hour after he fell back asleep in front of the TV. Fred wasn’t too resigned though; four hours sleep in one night was the most he had gotten in a while. He was going to count this as a win.

For a while, he remained on the couch, flicking through the channels hoping to find something other than telly shopping. He skipped over the news channels, not needing to hear anything about muggle society that could potentially send him further into his spiral. He ran a hand over his face as he turned off the TV; he had moved away from home to start getting better; to start the healing process yet he felt as if he was only making things worse.

Before he could let himself dwell further on that subject, he hauled himself into the shower. Taking extra time to scrub at his hair and body; making himself look presentable for breakfast with you.

Fred took extra care in picking out his clothes. Once dressed, he did feel overdressed for the occasion, but as he sits on the couch, watching the hands on his analogue clock tick by slowly, he’s more bothered by the fact that he’s ready over an hour early.

He sighs as he watches the second hand make another circuit around the clock; one less minute to go, he thinks wryly to himself.

If his mother could see him now, Molly Weasley would proceed to smack him with a tea-towel before offering her advice on the matter. Thoughts of his mother has Fred overwhelmed with a strong sense of missing her. He misses his mother more than he misses anyone; how she would always have food on the table and tea ready to drink, how she would push back his hair from his forehead so she could kiss him there. She would do that a lot when the nightmares were very bad; she would sit with him on the couch where he had exiled himself after waking George up too many times – she would run her hands through his hair in a comforting manner, kissing his forehead as his eyes would start to droop. Molly would only let herself rest once her beloved son was sleeping somewhat peacefully.

Fred thinks of this memory as he digs around his flat for some spare parchment and a self-inking quill. He had already sent his two letters for the week, but Molly would be delighted to receive a third unexpectedly.

Quill scratches on parchment for some time. Fred inquires after the wellness of his siblings – did Charlie pull his finger out and ask out Evie? How was Ron and Hermione? How was Dad? Would he like any more of the muggle sweets he’s become so fond of?

Fred asks the inane questions before asking about George. Fred knows that George loves him; they’re twins, they’re closer than any other sibling would hope to be. George knew Fred’s moods like the back of his hand and he only wants the best for his brother. Which is why Fred struggles with the guilt at leaving George to cope with the joke shop alone. George has reassured him that it’s okay, that he needs to take time and the shop will always be here when he’s ready to come back.

But it still doesn’t lessen the guilt that sits in his stomach like a lead balloon.

Black ink covers his hand by the he’s finished his letter; finishing his letter with the news of breakfast with someone he could see being a good friend. That would be enough to quash his mother’s worries that he doesn’t leave his flat enough. He seals the envelope with wax, making a mental note to go to a wizarding post office after breakfast so he can send it off in express time to his mother.

Cracking his knuckles – a nasty habit he picked up at Hogwarts – Fred checks the time to see that it’s almost half past nine. He slips on his denim jacket, tucking his letter into an inside pocket, patting it to reassure himself it’s there.

As he’s locking up the door, he sees you exiting your flat. Fred realises that when you aren’t dressed in mismatched pyjamas with a terrified look on your face, you’re rather beautiful.

You hurry over to him; your bag bouncing against your hip as you come to a stop in front of him. “Good Morning,” you greet.

“Good Morning. How did you sleep? Any more spiders?”

You direct your gaze to the floor, feeling somewhat sheepish in the light of day, “I know I said it last night, but thank you again. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if you hadn’t have got it.”

Fred smiles softly, “I didn’t mind. Besides, I get breakfast out of it.”

You perk up, “That you do! Off we go then.”

You lead him out of the building, continuing on the main road before turning left and then a right. Fred follows you all the way; making small attempts at idle conversation which you gladly take up, chatting to him about anything and everything as you lead him down a side street to where a small café sits.

The bell above the door chimes happily as you enter the building, holding the door open for Fred to duck in first.

You lead him to a table by the window that’s big enough for two. He pulls out your chair for you, letting you sit first before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it over the back of his chair. Fred may have been a little shit through his childhood and adolescence, but he had listened to his mother when she explained the etiquette for dining with a lady whether it be breakfast, lunch or dinner.

Menus are handed to the both of you by a waitress who looks to be wanting to be anywhere but here right now. Fred sympathises with her a little; remembering the early starts for the shop. They order their food in no time; you ordering a latte and Fred ordering a Yorkshire Tea to go with your Full English’s with extra hash browns.

You grin at him from across the table, “Thanks for agreeing to this.”

“Thanks for offering.”

“Did you get back to sleep okay after I woke you up?” You asks, face lined with worry.

Fred nods, clearing his throat, “I nodded back off, yeah.”

You sigh with relief, “That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“I slept very well in my spider-free flat, yes.”

You fall silent as your drinks are placed in front of you with a promise that your food would be with you shortly. Fred smiles at the waitress in thanks as she leaves.

He turns his attention back to you, “How long have you lived in the building? I’m sure I would have seen you before.”

You wave a hand nonchalantly, “Not very long, I moved in a couple of months ago. How long have you lived there?”

Fred sips at his tea, adding a dash of sugar and milk before answering, “Around eight months now.”

You nod at his answer, taking a drink of your latte. The caffeine was needed; the adrenaline from the spider incident had taken a while to leave your body, leaving you tossing and turning in your bed and providing you more opportunity to think about the red-headed neighbour you had just met.

“I’m going to propose an idea.”

“Oh?”

“I say we play twenty-one questions and get to know each other.”

“Get to know each other?”

You blink at him, “Yes. We’re neighbours and we’re having breakfast. What else should we talk about? The weather?”

Fred glances out the window at your words, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Well the weather is particularly lovely for London.”

You hush him, “That’s not very neighbourly of you.”

“Perhaps I’m not very neighbourly,” Fred taunts.

You gasp dramatically, “I refuse to believe that. If you weren’t neighbourly, you would have shut the door in my face last night.”

Fred raises an eyebrow, “Would you have started to knock again if I did?”

You purse your lips, repressing a smile, “Maybe.”

“Then I simply helped to lessen the noise.”

You scoff, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“You don’t have to.”

You glare at him, “Fred, stop being an arsehole and let me get to know you.”

Fred barks out a laugh, covering his mouth at the volume of the noise, “Well, when you put it like that. What do you want to know?”

You beam at him, and Fred can’t help but smile back. “How old are you?” you ask.

“I’m 22.”

“Are you at university?”

Fred shakes his head, “I thought I was supposed to ask the next question.”

You level him with a look, “Answer this one and then you can ask the next one.”

“Alright, but you can’t go jumping in with another question before I’ve asked mine. No, I’m not at university,” You open your mouth to interrupt but close it when you remember Fred’s words. He smiles at you, “How old are you?”

“You can’t repeat questions!”

“Why not?” Fred asks, affronted, “It’s only fair I know your age too!”

“Fine,” you mutter, “I’m 22 as well. 23 in a month.”

Fred nods, waiting patiently for your next question. You open your mouth, the words ready on the tip of your tongue but the waitress returns with your breakfast. The very smell of it has Fred’s stomach rumbling; he hadn’t a cooked breakfast like this since he left the Burrow. He digs in with renewed vigour; repressing a moan at the taste of the fried bread.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

Fred nods, unable to reply due to the mouthful of food he’s chewing.

You nod in understanding, swallowing your mouthful before saying, “I found this place in my final year of university; I needed somewhere that reminded me of my mum’s breakfasts. Her breakfasts will always be number one, but this comes pretty close.”

Fred pauses with a forkful of scrambled egg halfway to his mouth, “That’s what I miss most about home – my mum and her cooking.”

“Are you not from London originally?” You asks around a mouthful of bacon.

Fred shakes his head, “Devon originally. A tiny village in the county; it’s more of a hamlet really.”

Your eyes widen; eyebrows flying into your hairline, “Devon? That’s a while away. How often do you get to see your family?”

“Not as often as I’d like.” Fred says, drinking his tea.

For a moment, it’s silent between the two of you. The scraping of cutlery on plates being the only sound. Fred thinks of his family as he eats his breakfast; wondering what their plans are for the day – whether they’d be gnome hunting or playing quidditch or simply helping Molly with her vegetable garden. His heart hurts as he thinks of them; overcome with the absence of them from his life. It makes him shiver as he reaches for another drink of tea.

Fred breaks the comfortable silence, “What about you? Where are you from originally?”

“Lancashire originally but I moved to the south when I was young – it’s why my accent is so odd.”

Fred frown; he hadn’t noticed anything odd about your accent, thinking the way that you pronounced your vowels was similar to the way young Neville Longbottom does his, but yours are cut shorter.

“Tell me,” He starts, “Do you see your family as often as you’d like?”

“You’re going to repeat my every question, aren’t you?”

Fred grins, “Maybe… Maybe not. You’ll have to stick around to find out. Now, do you see your family as often as you’d like?”

You shake your head, “Not really. My parents like to travel a lot; a cruise here, a two week holiday there, a road trip across America through the summer. I don’t blame them though; they worked hard for the time they have now. I just wish they’d drop in more.”

“Are you rich?” Fred asks before he can stop himself. He cringes as the words leave his mouth.

You chuckle at the awkward expression on his face, “I’m not. My parents are. I’m a humble student working towards their master’s degree. My father created his company in printing greeting cards; he sold it off a few years back for a lot of money and they’ve been enjoying themselves since.”

“You’re a master’s student?” Fred asks; his knowledge on muggle degrees somewhat limited to what Hermione had told him.

You nod, scraping up the last forkful of food on your plate. “Yeah, I’m getting my master’s in Library Science.”

“What do you hope to do after that?”

“Work in a library or well, continue to work in a library, I already work at my university one. I’d love to work in an archives one day though, cataloguing pieces of history.”

Fred nods, enraptured by your words. He didn’t realise how much choice there was for muggles and their education. The wizarding world was somewhat limited to how witches and wizards could harness their talents; Fred and George were practically pariahs for choosing to dedicate their lives to pranks and happiness. He had always assumed the muggle world worked in the same way, but here you were, proving him wrong.

Knives and forks are crossed on plates when you ask, “You aren’t a university student, so you must have a job. What do you do for a living, Fred?”

Fred decides a kernel of truth wouldn’t do too much harm, “I own a joke shop with my twin brother.”

You laugh, clapping your hands together, “That’s incredible! Is the shop here in London?”

Fred nods, “It is. My twin brother is running it for the time being.”

“Can we go see it?”

Fred freezes; he hadn’t anticipated this. He glances down at the watch wrapped around his wrist then back up at you, not missing the glint of mischief in your eyes. “Perhaps another time?” he suggest, “I have some errands I need to run today that I can’t avoid.”

You lean back in your chair, feeling somewhat sad but you shake it off. “Of course, but I’ll hold you to that Fred. I won’t rest until I see your shop.”

Fred grins, “I have a feeling you’ll stick to your word.”

You move to reply but are interrupted by the waitress coming by to collect your plates and ask if you want anything else. She leaves the bill behind when her question is declined. Fred reaches for his wallet, but you stop him by snatching the bill.

“I made you a promise last night. Breakfast for your excellent services.”

Fred rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “I feel bad letting you pay.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” You tease, “No, I said I would buy you breakfast so I’m buying you breakfast. You can buy it next time.”

“So there’s going to be a next time?”

You shrug, biting your lip. “Sure – you might need my services for something. A blocked pipe or a blow fuse.”

Fred stands, pulling on his denim jacket, patting his inside pocket to find that his letter is still there.

You walk back to the main road together; waving goodbye to him as you head towards your university and he to a side street where he can apparate to the nearest wizarding post office. Fred hands his letter over to the clerk, paying a few extra knuts for express delivery.

Fred takes his time walking back to his flat; enjoying the spring day that was blooming around him. He felt lighter as he walked; as if he didn’t need to put as much effort into putting one foot in front of the other. He put it down to you and your presence; there was something about you that evoked all sorts of emotions from him. There was something about you that made him want to see you again.

However, he knew by tonight, the familiar fog will have settled over him – dulling the light of everything around him. He knew that he would still struggle to sleep; being lucky enough to get even an hour in before being pulled to consciousness kicking and screaming his way out of the same nightmare.

-----------------

His time over the next month is split three ways. He spends a third of it on his couch; watching old reruns of sitcoms – his new favourite being set in second muggle war and follows the Home Guard; Fred finds himself whistling the theme song more often than he’d like to admit. He uses his time on the couch to write his letters to Molly who was thrilled at the aspect of Fred making a friend; she wrote question after question about wanting to know their star sign to their hair colour. Fred smiles fondly; a smile reserved only for his mother – one that got even bigger when a second owl arrived with a small note with another question. Through all of her excited questioning, Molly forgot one crucial detail – what was their name?

He spends the second third of his time running. Fred had always been sporty; had always had an athletic build that helped him gain his spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Beater with George on the team too. However, there are few places in muggle London where he can play the sport freely, so he gets it into his head to pretend to train for a match. Fred begins to run; every morning and every evening. Two runs a day, seven days a week. The runs on an evening tire out his body so he has more of a chance of falling into bed with the hopeless prayer of a dreamless sleep uttered from his lips. However, the runs on a morning are more frantic as he runs off the excess adrenaline and panic running through his system as a result of the night terror his mind unleashed upon him, dragging him from sleep less than two hours after his eyes closed.

Then Fred spends the final third of his time with you. In your flat or walking around Hyde Park or visiting your university.

Fred finds himself spending more and more time with you; he starts to crave your company. And he feels ridiculous for feeling that way because he’s only known you for over a month and he should be using this time to start the healing process.

But he’s already told his mother about you; and who isn’t to say that he can’t work on healing from the trauma of the war with you by his side being a warm, comforting presence?

Fred sits on his couch at nearing two in the morning; questioning his entire existence and reasoning for moving to muggle society when he realises that whilst it’s only been just over a month, if he wants to start healing with you by his side, he needs to be entirely honest with you.

He needs to confess.

----------------

Fred inhales a deep breath before knocking on your door. He shuffles from side to side, nerves rioting in his stomach. In less than a minute, you’ve wrenched open your door, smiling widely as you take in Fred standing before you.

“Freddie! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He holds his hands behind his back as he rocks back onto his heels, “Do you want to go on a walk?”

Your eyes run over his face; taking in the dark circles underneath his eyes. He had told you about his insomnia soon after the friendship began; it worried you, but Fred had reassured you that he had it controlled. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Fred nods, “That, and I really need to talk to you.”

“No problem. Let me just get my shoes on.”

Fred smiles as he watches you toe on the slip on trainers he had come to know as Vans. You told him just last week about your obsession with them; unable to resist buying a new pair each time you passed the shop.

You grab your jacket from the hook, pulling it on as you lock the door behind you, bumping into Fred as you step out into the hallway.

Fred leads you out of the building, turning the usual left that heads in the direction of the park. You struggle to keep up with his long strides; calling out for him to slow down a little so you can at least walk side by side. He smiles at you as you catch up to him; apologising for his speed, he is just anxious.

The walk to the park is walked in silence. Fred’s mind occupied with how he’s going to tell you the most important thing about himself and how you’re going to react when you find out that a lot of your friendship was built on a lie.

The park settles on the horizon too soon and his heart is in his mouth. Fred used to be a confident guy; happily getting involved in scheme after scheme that would bring chaos and laughter to the corridors of Hogwarts, but he had lost that part of him in the battle. He wondered if he would ever be that guy again.

You bump his shoulder, “We’re at the park, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred settles on a nearby bench; fiddling with his fingers, “I need to tell you something but I’m not sure how to say it.”

“That’s fine. Why don’t you tell me why we’re in the park?”

Fred sighs, “It’s so you have the freedom and the choice to leave after I tell you what I’ve been keeping from you.”

Your heart starts to pound in your chest; panic rising slowly in your gut. “What have you been keeping from me that’s so bad that I would need to walk away from you?”

Fred turns in his spot, staring into your eyes, “Do you promise to hear me out and not interrupt?”

“Fred, you’re worrying me. What’s the matter?”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise! Now what’s wrong?”

“I’ve been lying to you… about so much.”

The air is knocked out of you, “I’m going to need more than that, Fred,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Do you remember when we first had breakfast? And I told you about the joke shop I own with my twin?”

“Yes… so what did you lie about? The joke shop or the twin?”

“Neither. I just lied about why you couldn’t see it.”

“Why?” You ask; your tone incredulous.

“Because I’m a wizard, and the joke shop I own with my twin – who is also a wizard – is a magical joke shops selling pranks and potions to witches and wizards attending Hogwarts.”

You stand from the bench, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, wondering when the TV cameras are going to show up, “That isn’t funny, Fred.”

“I’m not joking, (Y/N). I’m not lying to you now.”

“How do I know? What’s Hogwarts? Who is your twin? What’s the name of your shop? Why aren’t you there?”

Fred had prepared himself for the barrage of questions he knew would inevitably fall from your mouth; curiosity being your besetting sin. He hadn’t prepared himself for the look of betrayal and hurt that crosses over face as you continue to stare at him. Fred feels his already broken heart break some more at the sight of it.

He runs a hand over his face, “(Y/N), love, please sit down. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything?” You question, “I want to know it all.”

Fred crosses over his heart, “I promise. Now please sit down.”

You sit next to him; a few inches away as if the small distance will help to protect the heart that you had already started to give to the broken red-headed man.

You remain silent as Fred sorts out his words; you can see the cogs in his mind working as he figures out how to explain an entire society that you hadn’t known existed until less than a minute ago.

Finally he releases a breath and begins.

“Witches and wizards have always been around, but after famous witch hunts such as Salem, Pendle, and Samlesbury, we had to go into hiding to protect our numbers. From the age of eleven, we go to Hogwarts. Hogwarts is a school in the highlands of Scotland dedicated to teaching young witches and wizards the art of magic as well as how to control it. My twin is called George; we’re identical and sometimes, our own mother struggles to tell us apart,” Fred breaks off with a short laugh, thinking of Molly with fondness.

“He’s my rock, he’s my best friend. We bought the joke shop when we were eighteen – it’s called Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and it’s found in Diagon Alley. For your sake, it’s found near Charing Cross Road.”

Fred pauses once again, readying himself to explain his absence from the shop and his presence in your life. “I’m not there because I moved away. In our society, there was a dark wizard who started a war for purposes beyond me. I just know that when I was 21 I was running through the corridors of the school I used to attend fighting for my life and watching people I knew die. I almost died myself when a wall was blown apart; luckily, someone spelled me out of the way. I’ll be forever grateful to them for that.

“After the war, I couldn’t cope. I was doing more harm than good by being with my family – my insomnia stems from nightmares of the war so I left. I left them and moved here where I’ve started to heal from my experiences and where I met you after you started to bang on my door. I wanted to tell you sooner; my mother told me to in her letters, but I was enjoying my time with you, and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. It means a lot to me.”

Fred falls silent with a smile aimed at you. Your mouth hangs open from his words; unsure on whether to take them for the truth they sounded like or to question him to find the holes in his story.

But he looks so vulnerable; the smile is watery, and his eyes are lined with tears. You realise that it’s taken a lot for him to confess this to you, but that it had been weighing on his mind for some time.

You don’t say anything immediately. Instead, you draw his head to your shoulder, and he lets out the sob he’s been holding in since he started to talk about his past. You wrap your arms around him tightly; holding him together as he lets himself fall to pieces in your arms. You’re in public, and this is a scene but the both of you don’t care. You hold him to you until his sobs begin to quieten into sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” Fred murmurs, pulling away from you as he wipes his eyes.

“Never apologise for crying.”

He sniffles, “Do you believe me?”

You nod, “I do. I don’t think anyone could have made up what you just said. I don’t think there’s enough imagination in the world for it. But there’s one thing I want to know.”

Fred watches you warily, “What is it?”

You grip his hand tightly, “Are you healing, Fred? Are you coping?”

Fred’s shoulders slump as the tension leaves his body; he had tensed at your words, worried at what you might say. He stares into your eyes as he answers, “I am. I was struggling at first, but I think I’m starting to heal.”

“Can I help? How can I help?”

Fred pats your hand, “Continue doing what you’re doing, it’s enough.”

And it is. Fred finds it easier to breathe in your presence as if the weight of the world is no longer on his shoulders like he were Atlas. Instead, he finds it easier to focus on other things such as plans for the day or listening to you talk about your latest assignment. He doesn’t feel his mind drift off as much when he’s around you; which is a good thing, he thinks.

You smile at him, still holding onto his hand, “I can do that.”

You both fall into quiet; eyes now focused on the expanse of the park. Fred watches a young mother push her young son the swings, hearing his delighted laughter, whilst your eyes land on the teenage couple making out underneath a tree; you move your eyes away quickly, focusing instead, on the ducks swimming in the pond.

You break the silence, “Fred?”

He hums in answer.

“Would you cast a spell for me?” You ask tentatively, “If that’s okay!”

Fred smiles softly; letting go of your hand to reach for the dogwood wand he keeps hidden up his sleeve. With flare he hasn’t shown since opening the store, he pulls the wand out. He rolls the wand over his fingers, “Wizards can practice magic outside of school from the age of seventeen; I can show you a spell.”

“Really?” You ask, bouncing in your place.

“Are you ready?”

“Hold on, let me think for a minute… YES.” You shout, stamping your feet in the grass.

Fred grins; his eyes crinkling in the corners from the size of his smile. He checks for witnesses before holding his wand up whispering the incantation ‘Lumos’. The tip of his wand begins to glow with a pale light which in the falling darkness of the day only helps him see the beauty in your features.

You gasp at the sight of the light emanating from Fred’s wand, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. “I can’t believe it,” you sigh, “All this time I asked you to change lightbulbs and you could create light with a single word.”

“You’re not scared or freaked out?” He asks, unable to stop himself. The small voice in the back of his head needed to know whether you were going to leave him.

You shake your head, still watching the pale white light. With a single whisper of ‘Nox’, Fred turns out the light and slides his wand back into his sleeve. You turn your attention back to Fred, “I’m not scared or freaked out. I’m just in awe of you and this entire society that’s survived in secret. I feel like I’m privy to a secret organisation.”

“You’re in awe of me?” Fred asks; those being the only words he focused on in your entire sentence after confirming you weren’t scared of him.

“Absolutely. You can conjure magic, Fred! Actual magic! It’s incredible,” Your hands frame his face, keeping his eyes on you as you lean close and whisper, “You are incredible.”

He covers your hands with his; wondering when he’d become so soft. “Thank you,” he replies.

You pull away too soon; Fred’s hands dropping to his side, feeling suddenly cold at the loss of contact.

Standing from the bench, you hold your hand out for Fred to take. “Come on, magic man. It’s time we went home.”

“Magic man?” He asks, amused. He takes your offered hand, pulling himself up from the park bench.

“It’s my new nickname for you, do you like?”

“Magic man… magic man,” Fred repeats, testing the name out on his tongue, “I suppose I do.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’ll call you anything else.”

The walk back to the flat is quicker than the walk to the park. Fred’s steps lighter now than they were earlier. Chased by the turning on of street lights, you reach your building and lead him into your flat, offering him a warm drink as he takes a seat on your cream coloured couch.

Fred takes the hot mug of tea from you as you sit down next to him. He takes a shy sip, careful not to burn his tongue. It’s perfect, as it always is. You always know the right amount of sugar and milk to add.

“Thank you for telling me that today, I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“It wasn’t, but it got easier when you didn’t walk away. I was so worried that you were going to.”

“I don’t think I’d have forgiven myself if I had.”

Teas are drank after that, and Fred whispers goodnight to you before kissing your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. He lets himself out of your flat, making the short walk back to his where he throws himself on the couch and lets himself wonder when exactly he had started to fall in love with you.

-----------------

Two more months follow, and Fred knows that he’s now arse over tea kettle in love you. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes, that you like to shove under legs when laid on the couch together, so he yelps at their temperature.

Two more months follow, and Fred feels like he’s maybe able to start living his life again, but in small doses. He writes to his mother more who’s delighted by the tales he tells of you and your growing relationship; he could never keep anything from Molly – her face too trusting and her manner too warm. All Molly is concerned about in her letters is whether Fred is happy, and for the first time in over a year, Fred can reply saying he thinks he could be.

Molly won’t ever tell Fred this, but she cried at that letter, feeling her heart burst with happiness for the son she had always worried about.

Time passes, and Fred spends more and more time with you. Breakfast dates, lunch dates, movie marathons on the couch – he does it all with you. You even go so far as to make him decorate his flat more; pictures of his family now line the walls as well as the picture of him and George on the opening day of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

That’s when he knows he needs to go back to Diagon Alley, and he’s taking you with him.

-----------------

At nine am on the dot, Fred knocks on your door until you open it. You glare at the red-headed man, demanding to know his presence at your door when he only left at four am after binging the entire Godfather trilogy without realising how long the films are.

Fred beams at your state, “Go get dressed, I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Why?” You ask, puzzled.

“I’m taking you to Diagon Alley and my joke shop.”

You stagger back a couple of steps, “Really? Are you sure? Are you ready?”

Fred’s grin moulds into something softer at your concern. “I am, and I want you to come with me.”

A slow smile breaks across your face, “Give me ten minutes and we can go!”

You rush into your room; pulling open the doors to your wardrobe and raking through to find any sort of clothes you’d wear to visit a magical shop, and possibly meet the twin brother of the man you’d fallen in love with.

Minutes later, you exit your room, pulling a brush through your hair to make yourself look more presentable. Gratefully, you take the cup of coffee from Fred’s hand before rushing into your bathroom to brush your teeth and spritz yourself in your favourite perfume – jasmine, lavender and citrus.

You drain the dregs of your coffee as you leave the bathroom. Dropping the pale pink mug in the sink, you turn to find Fred leaning against your kitchen counter with an amused and entertained look on his face.

“Someone’s excited, I see.” He teases.

You pout, “It’s not every day I get to go see magical London, magic man.”

Fred claps his hands, laughing quietly. “Come on then, let’s get you to Diagon Alley.”

--------------

Diagon Alley is nestled behind Charing Cross Road; it’s the largest area of wizarding London and is completely hidden from the muggle world.

Fred has been visiting Diagon Alley for as long as he can remember; flooing there with his mother and Bill, Charlie and Percy to collect their things for the latest school year. As a child, he loved visiting Florean Fortescue’s when the budget permitted it; getting a single scoop cone with rainbow sprinkles.

As he enters the Leaky Cauldron, leading you in by the hand, Fred is a mix of fear and excitement making him act jittery as he approaches the familiar face of Tom, the barman.

“Fred Weasley? Is that you?” Tom asks, a large smile on his face, “I haven’t seen you in over a year! How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, Tom. How have you been?”

“Never better – you know me.”

Fred smiles, nodding. “I’m heading out back, is that okay?”

“Anything for a Weasley. Does this have something to do with the muggle hiding behind your back?”

You reveal yourself from where you’ve hidden yourself behind Fred. Keeping a tight hold on his hand, you smile shyly at the barman, “I’m (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tom smiles politely, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Tom turns his attention back to Fred, “You know what to do.”

Fred parts ways with barman he had grown up knowing, pulling you to the back door which opens into a small courtyard.

“Fred, love, it’s a dead end.”

“Are you sure?” Fred asks with a smirk, reaching for his wand. “Want to see some proper magic?”

“Always, magic man.”

He grins at the use of your nickname for him before tapping his wand on the bricks blocking your way. You cry out as the bricks begin to move; shifting to the side to reveal an entryway to a cobbled street lined with shop after shop all varying in colours.

Letting go of Fred’s hand, you take your first step into the wizarding world; already in love with every aspect of it, just as you’re in love with every aspect of the man making his way to your side.

“What do you think?” He asks, breathless at the sight of the place he hasn’t seen in a year.

“This is unlike any other place I’ve seen.” You hold your hand out for Fred to grab, “Show me around?”

“With pleasure,” Fred replies, wrapping your hand in his, tangling your fingers.

Fred takes you on a tour of the Alley; stopping outside Ollivander’s and getting out his wand to explain the importance of the place, turning his wand around to show you what he means. He tells you the story of Harry Potter; of what his wand meant, being the twin of the wand that had killed his parents. Your heart breaks for the boy you had never met; had never even heard of until today – you ask after him, how is he now? Fred reassures you; after all, he’s fine, Harry’s dating his younger sister much to Fred’s chagrin.

He takes you into Florean Fortescue’s, buying you ice cream for breakfast as any adult should have. Your eyes widen at the taste of the Butterbeer ice cream; butterscotch and buttercream icing bursting on your tongue. Fred smiles at your expression, licking his way through his own ice cream – strawberries and cream for nostalgia’s sake.

Sitting down at a small table, you tap your ice creams to each other in a toast. “Where are we going next?” You ask, catching a drip of the melting ice cream with your tongue – not missing the way Fred’s eyes track the movement.

“I thought we could visit my shop.”

“Your shop?” You ask in disbelief, “Are you sure?”

Fred nods, catching a drip on his own ice cream. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes also track the movement of his mouth. “Yes, I’m sure.” He looks away, ashamed, “I’ve left George alone too long.”

You reach for his hand across the table, “I’m sure he understands, Fred.”

“I know he does, but it doesn’t stop the guilt.”

You rub your thumb across the back of his hand in a comforting motion, “Are you sure you’re okay to go? We can always come back another day.”

“You’d come back with me?”

You grin, “Of course, this is the best ice cream I’ve ever had. I’m here for you, magic man – who else is going to kill the spiders in my bathroom?”

Fred relaxes, “You’re the best, you know that right?”

You take another lick of your ice cream, “I do know that. Do you want to stay and see your brother, or do you want to go? I’m happy with either, but you’re going to have to give me time to get more ice cream.”

Fred laughs at your words, “It is good ice cream,” he takes a lick of his, “No, let’s go. I need to see him; I need to apologise.”

“Alright then. We’ll finish here and then we’ll go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes… at last.”

He nods, remaining silent. The ice creams are finished in silence; questioning looks sent to each other across the table. Your feelings for Fred often overwhelmed you with their strength; never imagining that knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning could ever lead to something like this. In the short time you had known the man, you had fallen head over heels for him and also had your entire worldview altered by finding out about the existence of magic.

He’d quite literally turned your world upside down, and the only thing that ran through your mind through it all was: I hope he feels the same.

Soon though, faces are wiped on napkins and hands are back to hold each other’s as Fred leads you from the ice cream parlour to where the orange top hat stands out against the darkly coloured shops.

In a last minute attempt to delay the inevitable, Fred pulls you over to the pet shop. You coo over the animals; pointing to the Puffskein with questions burning on your tongue. Fred answers them all happily, delighted to delay walking into the shop and brother he’s neglected for so long.

After a few more minutes, you step away from the shop window citing the temptation being too great and you may end up smuggling the Puffskeins to the muggle world.

“That was a fantastic distraction, magic man.”

“Wasn’t it?” He admits, blushing at having been caught out but not wanting to lie to you, “It worked like a treat.”

You chuckle, “It really did. They remind me of clouds do the Puffskeins; neon, furry clouds.”

Fred snorts, “An excellent description.”

The joke shop now looms in front of the two of you; the bright orange and purple of the paintwork almost luminous in the morning light. Fred stops in the middle of the pavement; feet stuck to the floor, unable to carry him forward. He’s avoided this for so long, but he finally feels ready to insert himself back into the life of pranks, jokes, and happiness.

Your grip on his hand tightens, “I’m here, magic man. I’m not going anywhere.”

His nod is the only sign you get to know that he’s heard your words.

Taking a deep breath, Fred begins to put one foot in front of the other; a hand outstretched for the door handle to the shop, giving it a light push. The bell above the door rings, signalling his entrance into the shop but also his entrance into his old life.

The shop is quiet; it being still too early in the day to get masses and masses of shoppers. Their busy season is the three weeks in August before terms starts where students come to buy their school books but to also stock up on items of mischief.

A near identical man to Fred stands up straighter from his position behind the counter. He starts to open his mouth, to welcome the new customers to the shop but when he looks up, the words never leave his mouth.

He simply freezes in place.

His eyes flicker between the two of you quickly, before running over the man stood next to you. Looking for what, you don’t know.

In between one blink of an eye and the next, he’s thrown himself across the counter, sprinting to where Fred stands in the entryway.

No words are spoken; he just holds Fred’s face in his hands before pulling him in for a hug that’s been long overdue.

You step away from their reunion, letting your eyes roam over the shop. They need this moment alone; you don’t need to invade by watching them. You wander a little; fingers running over displays. You frown when you see you an area lit up in pink titled ‘Love Potion’.

You pick up one of the little bottles shaped like a heart; the bright pink liquid inside jostling as you examine it.

“Careful,” A voice sounds behind you, “It’s a powerful potion.”

Turning you find Fred’s twin, George watching you with inquisitive eyes. “What does it do?” You ask, fiddling with the stopper.

“It mimics the effects of love and obsession. If you smell it, you smell the person you love.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Truly?”

George nods, “Truly. We sell crates full of the stuff nearing Valentine’s Day.”

Releasing the stopper from the neck of the bottle, you take a delicate sniff. Peonies, rain, and Yorkshire tea come filtering through. The very smells you’ve become to associate with the man who had never really been your neighbour but has always been something more.

Replacing the stopper, you drop the potion into George’s waiting hand. He pockets it before turning back to face his twin.

“What did you smell?” Fred asks as you settle back next to him.

You shrug, “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

George grins at the two of you, “Is this the famous (Y/N) from your letters to mum?”

You nudge Fred with your elbow, beaming, “You write to your mum about me, magic man?”

“Hold on – magic man?” George asks, eyes glancing at both Fred and you.

You nod, “It’s my nickname for him.”

George chuckles, “It’s brilliant. I may have to use it myself.”

Fred blushes at his brother’s use of your nickname for him. He doesn’t say it, but it doesn’t sound right coming from anyone else’s mouth but yours.

“Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/N). Mum already loves you. I’m George.” George introduces, holding a hand out to you.

You shake his hand twice before dropping it, “It’s very nice to meet you too, George. Fred has told me so much.”

“He has?”

You nod, “He’s told me all about the pranks you played at Hogwarts and why you set up this shop – which I think is wonderful by the way – I feel like I already know you.”

George shifts his gaze to his twin, “I don’t know why but I didn’t think you’d talk about me.”

Fred gapes, “Of course I talk about you. You’re my twin brother, you’re practically half of me.”

George shrugs, “You only send letters to mum… I just assumed.”

Fred steps forward, placing his hands on George’s shoulders, “Mum made me promise to write, I couldn’t break that. I wanted to write to you so much, George, but the guilt I felt as just leaving you and the shop was too much and then more time passed. I’ve been an awful brother; can you forgive me?”

George laughs, tears falling freely down his face. “There’s nothing to forgive now that I know why.”

Fred hauls George into a hug; neither afraid to show their emotions through this reunion. Fred had been so worried before this; thinking his brother might turn him away at the door, but now holding him in his arms, he’s just happy to have his twin by his side once more.

They pull away with a sob; George clapping Fred on the back. “Will you be returning to work, Freddie?”

Fred’s eyes land on you; where you’ve stood silently through the whole exchange, just happy to see the two brothers reunite. His eyes search your face for something, and he finds it in your smile. “Yeah, George. I think I might do.”

George glances between you and Fred as if seeing the connection there. He keeps his mouth shut but smiles at the fact that his twin has found someone to share his life with.

You spend a couple more hours in the shop; pottering freely as Fred and George discuss the state of the business and when Fred would like to start work again. Pride runs through your veins as you listen to them from the upper floor; Fred has achieved so much in such a short space of time and you couldn’t be more prouder of him.

You also couldn’t be more in love with him. He handles himself with such grace; standing taller, smiling more. The more time you spent with him, the more you could feel yourself falling for him. Nights alone in your flat had you thinking of what it would be like to be laid in bed next to him – would he cuddle? Would he let you lay your head on his chest? Or would he prefer to spoon? You had spent so many nights thinking of these questions, trying to think of answers.

“(Y/N)?” Fred calls from the lower floor, “Are you ready to go?”

“Already?” You ask, descending the staircase.

Fred nods, “I’ll come back tomorrow and talk more to George about what I need to do. It’s time we got some lunch, however.”

Your stomach grumbles at his words, “You’ve got great timing it seems, magic man.”

He shakes his head, laughing softly, “No. I just know you too well.”

You smile at him before turning to George to say goodbye. George smiles at you, saying, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other very soon,” with a wink at Fred.

The tips of Fred’s ears burn red as he claps his twin on the shoulder, promising he’ll call in tomorrow. “Tell mum you’ve seen me, will you? I know she worries,” Fred calls on his way out.

“Already on it!” are George’s final words before the door closes.

----------------------

Sitting at a corner table in The Leaky Cauldron, Fred continues to ride on the high from seeing his twin brother after a year apart. He’s positively ravenous; the nerves before having dampened his appetite. He takes it upon himself to order for the both you; checking that you don’t mind. You wave him away, stating that you wouldn’t even know where to begin with ordering.

Tom hands Fred your drinks after ordering, letting him know it’d be around ten minutes before food was with you. Fred thanks the barman, picking up the drinks to return you.

“I’m really proud of you, Fred.” You state, taking a sip of the sweet Butterbeer.

“You are?” He asks bashfully.

“I am. It took a lot of bravery to do what you did today.”

Fred blushes, but doesn’t drop his eyes from yours. “I think I’m going to be brave one last time.”

“You are?”

“Yes,” He states, reaching for your hand, “I’ve only known you for less than six months but in that time you’ve helped me find who I was before the war. You’ve helped me find the laughter that was missing. What I’m trying to say is, is that I’ve fallen in love with you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, Fred,” You sniffle, “I love you too.”

“You do?”

You nod, “I really do. I love every last bit of you.

Fred sags in his chair; holding onto your hand tighter, “I was so worried you wouldn’t love me back.”

“No chance of that, magic man.”

The smile that breaks across his face is simply breathtaking, and you thank your lucky stars that the man you’ve fallen in love with, loves you back, just as much.

Tom fetches your food over then, settling two plates onto table. It smells divine and without letting go of Fred’s hand, you pick up your fork and dig in.

The meal is eaten in silence; happy looks and secret smiles exchanged over the steaming plates of food. Fred’s thumb rubs over the back of your hand; the motion now having another meaning alongside ‘I’m here’. Elation bubbles within you, flooding your veins. The love you feel for this man is entirely encompassing, filling your very pores, combining with your genetic makeup.

For as delicious as the meal is, the both of you barely taste it. Plates are empty in no time, and Fred leaves Tom a tip on the table. He pulls you up with him, dragging you to the door and back to muggle London.

It feels like a fever dream; stepping back into the reality you’ve known all your life until you met the red-headed man stood next to you.

Fred tugs you into him; his arm wrapping around your waist. He drops your hand in favour of caressing your cheek. His brown eyes sparkle with love and joy as he dips his head, pausing just before he touches his lips to yours, waiting for permission. You grant him in the form of pushing your mouth to his.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in close, feeling all of him pressed against all you. He tastes of the butterscotch from the dregs of his Butterbeer and you hum against his mouth – it’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating; you could lose yourself entirely in him and you wouldn’t mind a bit. Your hand runs through his hair, tugging lightly. Your toes curl at the sound of the low moan from the back of his throat.

From the outside, this looks like a simple passionate embrace between a young couple. They don’t know how long this kiss has been in the making; how many time you’ve wondered exactly what Fred would taste like, and now you have that knowledge, it’s not something you’ll be parting with soon.

Eventually, you pull away from him, coming back to the surface for breath but Fred doesn’t let you go. He holds onto you tightly, pressing kiss after kiss to your face making you giggle at his affectionate side.

He lets you go for a single instant to pull you into the side street beside The Leaky Cauldron. He wraps you tightly into his side, savouring the feel of you lined next to him.

“This is going to make you dizzy,” is his only warning before he apparates back to your flat.

----------------

Though confessions have been uttered, Fred takes his time to learn your body.

Kissing you slowly; peeling your clothes off your body with the air of someone who has all the time in the world – and he does. He takes his time to memorise every inch of your body; every dip, every curve, every freckle. He commits it all to memory though the both of you know that you’ll be doing this for a very long time. He whispers words of worship into your skin; your body was a cathedral and he was going to worship at your feet.

You take your time with him; running your hand through the hair on his chest before trailing it lower, watching how the muscles in his toned stomach jump at your touch. A simple touch, and it drives him wild.

He draws you in for a kiss; flipping the both of you so you’re underneath him. He braces himself above and you spend the rest of the night, and most of the morning, learning the noises that can be evoked from a kiss in the right place.

-----------------

It surprised Fred that it takes his mother almost a month to send him a letter demanding that she finally get to meet the person who had stolen her son’s heart.

Fred reads the letter beside you at the breakfast table; chuckling at his mother’s words over his morning cup of tea. He hands you the letter once he’s finished reading, watching your face for every emotion as well as letting his gaze drop to the small purple bruises at the base of your neck, laid there by his mouth.

You hold a hand up to your mouth, repressing the smile. “Your mother wants to meet me?”

Fred nods, “She has for a while, but I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“There’s no chance of that now, magic man, especially after last night.”

Fred blushes but beams, satisfied. “Would you like to meet them?”

You pause, tilting your head to one side as you think of how to phrase your next few sentences, “I don’t want to presume anything, but I’d like to think I’m going to be in your life for a long while. I think the earlier I meet your family, the better.”

Fred takes your hand in his, dropping a kiss to the top of it. “You aren’t presuming anything; I want you in my life for an eternity and more. But are you sure you want to meet them? I’m from a very large family, and if I know them, it’ll be partners as well.”

You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek then to peck his lips quickly, “I love the worry, but it’s okay. I want to meet them, and I want to see pictures of my magic man as a baby.”

Fred groans; he’s forgotten about the baby pictures but from the look on your face, he know he’s fighting a losing battle. He kisses you quick, “I’ll send an owl to my mum now, letting her know we’ll come tomorrow, how does that sound?”

You hum happily, “That sounds like just enough time for me to find an outfit good enough.”

-----------------

Molly Weasley opened Fred’s letter with a shriek; rushing to reply before getting started on calling the family together. She sends her Patronus to Charlie in Romania; threatening death should he not return home for this occasion. Charlie replies within two hours by showing up on the doorstep with his girlfriend, Evie in tow.

The whole family under one roof again would be something of an event; and one Molly would not waste by having petty squabbles and nasty reminders. She lines her family up in the living room; boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands and wives and proceeds to lecture about what this means. She’s grateful it being a Friday evening so she can lecture the whole family without absentees claiming work as the excuse.

Halfway through her lecture to her family, Arthur places a soft hand on her shoulder, “Molly, dear, we’re going to be on our best behaviour.”

She whimpers, “I haven’t seen my son is so long, Arthur.”

He wraps an arm around his wife’s shoulder, knowing the toll Fred’s absence took on her. He had been the unexpected twin; but they didn’t love him any less for it. On the contrary, Molly loved him more for the fear of his siblings making him feel unwanted.

“I know, dear. But we all promise to be on our bestest behaviour, don’t we gang?”

Confirmation rings out across all six of their children and their partners. Molly levels them all with a look, “Fred is bringing his muggle girlfriend with him, and George has told me it’s serious. We aren’t going to have a problem with that are we?”

“Definitely not,” George calls out to the agreement of his siblings and siblings-in-law, “(Y/N) is a sweetheart; you’ll see the moment they both arrive.”

Molly dismisses her family; dispersing them to different rooms with different jobs to make the house presentable for Fred and (Y/N)’s visit tomorrow.

-------------------

Tomorrow arrives quickly, and before you know it, the sun is shining through your window and the birds have begun their morning song. Fred’s arm hangs over your waist in a dead weight; you shift him gently as you make your way out of your bed and into the bathroom to begin your day.

By the time Fred wakes, you’re dressed and are brushing through your hair. With a lazy grin, he watches you get ready for the day. He’s in utter awe of how he met someone like you, but then you meet his eyes in the mirror and that awe transforms into something warmer.

He drags himself out of the warm bed desperate to feel you under his hands. He places his hands on your shoulder, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Good Morning,” He whispers, his voice still raspy with sleep, “You look beautiful.”

You hum, “Good Morning sleepy head. The kettle boiled a few minutes ago and there’s a teabag waiting in your favourite pot.”

“You’re a dream,” Fred calls out, pottering into the kitchen.

“And you’re a flatterer, magic man,” You call back; grinning when you hear his laughter.

Time flies by in a rush of breakfast, clothes, and kisses and before you know it, it’s time to apparate all the way to Devon.

“Are you ready?” Fred asks; your hand tight in his. You don’t miss the double meaning to his words.

“Take me to Devon, magic man,” is all you reply before your flat turns into a whirlpool of blended colours and you’re spat back out on the outskirts of green, green farmland.

Not letting go of your hand, Fred leads you in the direction of his childhood home. Air he hasn’t smelt in over a year wash over him, bringing with it a tidal wave of memories. Nostalgia settles within him as he glances down at you to gauge your reaction to his home.

The Burrow stands proudly in the valley between two hills. You gasp at the sheer height of it, “This is where you grew up?”

Fred nods, eyes on you, “It is. I lived here until I moved to London.”

“It’s incredible,” You whisper, taking a step forward, and then another, and then another until you break through the long grass into a clearing. A garage is situated to the left of the large house, and you can just make out the canes for a vegetable garden. You nod as if understanding every motive for the placement of everything; if you were to live somewhere like here, you’d too grow your own food.

Fred draws your attention back to him by speaking, “Through there is where we practice Quidditch; the game I told you about from Hogwarts?” He continues when he sees you nod, “Then behind there is a pond that a family of frogs live in. To the right of us is mum’s garden, it’s her pride and hoy – she excels at household charms, but she’s a wonder in the garden too.”

“Fred, this place is incredible. I already love it and I haven’t even met your family.”

Fred smiles, “You won’t need to wait very long; here’s George.”

You turn from the sight of the growing vegetables to see George making his way over to you. “Fred! (Y/N)! How are you?” he calls out.

Fred waves at his twin, leading you to him. “We’re good, Georgie. How is everyone?”

George beams at his twin and then you, “They’re beside themselves with excitement. Mum screeched when she got your letter; gave us a lecture on decorum and everything.”

Fred laughs; his heart swelling with love and fondness for the woman who had raised him with such love and care.

“What do you say, (Y/N)?” George starts, “Ready to meet the Weasley clan?”

You grin at George and then at Fred; utterly besotted by this man, “Lead the way.”

George claps his hands before turning his back on you, heading towards the open door. You follow him at a faster pace than the one you had done when walking up to the house. Eagerness settling in your stomach as you keep your eyes on the open door.

Fred keeps pace with you easily; both nerves and excitement coursing through his veins.

He hears his mother before he sees her, “Fred! My darling,” she cries, tackling him into a hug so tight Fred thinks his ribs might break. You pause next to him; Fred’s arm angled awkwardly as he hugs his mum with one arm – you move to let go of his hand so he can hug his mother properly, but his hold on you tightens.

“Hi Mum, I’ve missed you,” Fred says at the sound of her cries, “I’m home mum, and I’m starving so let’s get something to eat, shall we? I’ve missed your cooking too much.”

Molly wipes her eyes, running them over her son, “I think you have. You’re looking far too thin, darling,” Her eyes land on you; they widen for a second before she’s tackling you in a hug. She whispers, “Thank you” in your ear before saying much louder, “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you, dear. I’ve read so much about you I feel I know you already but it’s never the same thing.”

You return her hug with just as much vigour, “Thank you for having me, I love your home.”

Molly pulls away, “You’re lovely; you’re perfect for Fred, I know it. Come on in, it’s time we ate, and you can meet the rest of the family.”

Your stomach ties itself in knots as you follow Fred into his childhood home. Voices starts to shout upon the sight of Fred entering the home; he grins at them all, greeting them by name, passing out kiss after kiss on the cheek as well as hugs to his brothers.

Then it’s all silent as the crowd turns to you. Fred’s hand drops your and his arm wraps around your waist, “Everyone this is (Y/N). Please be nice, I’m rather fond as you’ve probably heard from mum and George.”

Everyone greets you as if you’ve been part of the family for years; kisses on cheeks and tight hugs as everyone introduces themselves. A dream of your since you were child was to have a large family, and now with Fred, it seems as if that dream would finally be possible.

His arm rests on the back of your chair as the family take their seats at the table. The food is served with loudness and love; Molly taking extra care with her cooking to make sure it’s perfect for you. From your first bite, you understand what Fred was on about all those months ago. After eating Molly’s food, you would be ruined for anyone else’s.

It’s wonderful; they take you in with open arms, ignoring the fact that you’re a muggle because to them, it doesn’t matter. They aren’t bothered whether you have magic or not, just that you love Fred and make him happy.

------------------

After the meal, Fred watches you interact with his family; explaining to his father the purpose of your degrees and your plans for the future as Arthur sits there entirely enraptured. He watches you asking Charlie question after question about Dragons with Charlie only being too happy to answer – his girlfriend Evie chiming in every now and then with her own knowledge on the subject matter.

He watches you talk animatedly; eyed wide and hands gesturing wildly, fitting in with his family better than he could have dreamed of.

Sighing happily, Fred realises three things:

One – his family would always be there for him, no matter the issue. They’re there to help, to never hinder.

Two – he’s still healing. It will be a long time before he’s recovered from the war, and he’s accepted that.

And three – he’s moving forward with all that in tow because he’s found the love of his life and he’s finally ready to start living it.

*********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe

Fred Weasley taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

You're Home | Jurdan

Canon divergent. Scene lift from TWK. The smut I wanted but was not given...

I slip into Cardan's room. Though it is not yet dawn, I am lucky. The room is empty of revelry. No courtiers doze on the cushions or in his bed. I walk to where he sleeps and press my hand over his mouth.

He wakes, fighting against my grip. I press down hard enough that I can feel his teeth against my skin. He grabs for my throat, and for a moment, I'm scared that I'm not strong enough, that my training isn't good enough. Then his body relaxes utterly, as though realising who I am.

He shouldn't relax like that. "He sent me to kill you," I whisper against his ear.

A shiver goes through his body, and his hand goes to my waist, but instead of pushing me away, he pulls me into the bed with him, rolling my body across him onto the heavily embroidered coverlets.

My hand slips from his mouth, and I am unnerved to find myself here, in the new High King's new bed- one I am still too human to lie in, beside someone who terrifies me the more I feel for him.

"Balekin and Orlagh are planning your murder," I say, flustered.

"Yes," he says lazily. "So why did I wake up at all?"

I am awkwardly conscious of his physicality, of the moment when he was half awake and pulled me against him. "Because I am difficult to charm," I say.

That makes him give a soft laugh. He reaches out and touches my hair, traces the hollow of my cheekbone. "I could have told my brother that," he says, with a softness in his voice that I am utterly unprepared for. "Where have you been?" he asks me. I don't know how to answer.

"Madoc says you've been ill," Cardan goes on, when I say nothing. His fingers still move lightly over my face. "Must you take your convalescence so far from me?"

"I must," I say stiffly, "since you've allowed Madoc to bar me from seeing you. I have information that cannot wait."

Cardan shakes his head. "I know not of what you speak. Madoc told me you were resting and that we should let you heal."

I frown. "I see. And in the interim, Madoc would no doubt take my place as your advisor," I tell Cardan. "He gave your guards orders to keep me out of the palace."

"I will give them different orders," Cardan says.

"See that you do," I say. "Now, I need to tell you about the plans from the Undersea."

But Cardan just tugs me closer, moves the cover over me so I am under it with him. "I don't care," he says.

"You need to care," I tell him. "Your life is in danger, and we need to make a plan."

"Later," Cardan says. "We have all the time in the world for planning. There's only one thing I've learned tonight that has been worthy of note."

"And, what, pray tell, is that?" I ask him impatiently. I am all too aware that the warmth now enveloping me is Cardan's own body heat, that I'm here in the cocoon of his sleep and his breath. That he is completely naked beneath the sheets, and is not at all shy about it.

"You're home," he says simply. "You're home and that's all that matters." And then he draws me into his arms, and just holds me to him, and I am so surprised that I don't move at all for a moment.

And then my arms are moving, quite without me telling them to, to wrap around his shoulders and to hug him back. His hands stroke at my back and my fingers curl in the hair at the back of his neck. He tangles his legs in mine.

I've been so focused on plotting and scheming and keeping ahead of the enemy, that it only now occurs to me what a relief it is to actually be here, with Cardan, in the silent hours of the early morning.

My arms tighten around his neck and before I know it I'm clinging onto him for dear life, and the horror of the days and weeks I spent under water figuring out how I was going to get back to him, if I was ever going to get back to him starts streaming in from whatever small corner of my mind I had crammed it into. I start shaking in Cardan's arms, and he just smooths circles between my shoulder blades and says "Shhh, you're home now." And that gentleness just freaks me out more, and it is minutes before I can relax.

When I am finally still again, Cardan pulls back just enough to study my face.

"What's this?" he asks gently, and wipes his thumbs across my face. They come away wet, and I realise I've been crying. I'm mortified, and I start to pull away from him, but Cardan put his hands on my face and stops me.

"I'm so sorry I let you get taken," he whispers. "I'm sorry I did not keep you safe." He leans forward and kisses the tears from my face. "And I've been wanting to tell you for so long now that I'm sorry I've always been unkind to you. I realised, when you were gone, truly gone beneath the waves and I hated myself as I never have before, that I've never apologised to you for that. For any of it."

He is so unlike himself in this moment that I cannot help but look for the trick in his words. I am aware that I am just gaping at him like an idiot, but I can't for the life of me conjure coherent words to say. Cardan laughs, his bed-warmed hand going to my shoulder.

"Either I've surprised you or you are as ill as Madoc claimed. Perhaps I am foolish, but I am not a fool. You like something about me," he says, mischief lighting his face, making its planes more familiar. "The challenge? My pretty eyes? No matter, because there is more you do not like and I know it."

And although this Cardan is the Cardan I know, I feel sorry to break the moment. So I shoot back at him, "Not your eyes. It's your lips. You have a cruel but lovely mouth. That's the reason I like you."

Cardan's eyes light. "So you admit you do like me," he says. His hand strokes down my side now. "If only for my beautiful features. I suppose I cannot blame you, for I am a sight to behold."

I go to smack his arm then, but he catches my hand and links his fingers through mine.

"Still," he murmurs, face only inches from mine. "Whatever you like me for. I'll take it. And if it's my lips you like, you can have them."

And then he leans in and presses his mouth to mine.

Desire floods instantly through me, and I am shocked by the strength of it. My lips part for him, and his tongue is hot and lush against mine. And as we kiss I realise that I've missed him, so much, and his kisses are like the piles of food I devoured after starving so long.

Cardan's hands slide beneath my shirt- his own doublet, it occurs to me, stolen only hours ago from his old bedroom. They find the shape of me, and tell my skin secret things that only our bodies know. Soon I'm sliding out of the jacket, and he's tugging off my hose, and although I am very warm in Cardan's bed, I shiver under his fingers.

Yet my skin knows his touch. I am still inexperienced, but we've been here before and this time, my body knows where to expect him. Arches up to meet him as he gets there. This time, my hands know better what to do.

This time, it is both of us breathing raggedly as we spin closer and closer together.

Kissing Cardan has always felt vaguely horrifying but he's right. I just don't care anymore. I'm home, and he's here, and all that's in my mind is chasing the pleasure that he's trailing along my lips, down my throat, across my belly, and between my legs. It's a molten heat that travels wherever Cardan's silvery skin touches mine.

And now his tongue is moving under my ear as he rolls to cage me in his long limbs. His lips descend down my sternum and his teeth catch under my navel. He kisses across my hips and I think I might die from the pleasure. I reach forward and run my hands through the curls of his hair, and he makes a pleased murmuring sounds that vibrates across my skin. I'm so comfortable here that I'm utterly unprepared when he dips his head and licks his tongue between my thighs.

My hips buck off the bed and stars burst before my eyes. I gasp, and see nothing, and my fingers tighten involuntarily against Cardan's scalp. He repeats the motion, over and over and I'm too overwhelmed to be self-conscious about the moans that he's pulling from my lips. Then he slides his fingers into me and I'm dead. I'm sure I'm dead because the world has ceased to exist and I float in boundless rapture. I couldn't say how long for.

Cardan moves back up my body like a wave of heat. He settles over me and his naked cock presses against me where his tongue was moments ago, and I still can't move.

"Jude," he whispers. I don't recognise my name. "Jude." He kisses my lips and still I float. "Are you alright?" I manage to nod. Cardan slides himself against me, wet from his mouth, and asks, "Do you want me to keep going?"

It's enough to bring me back, to meet his eyes as I nod again, and now he's nudging at my entrance. My legs slide up and curl around his hips. His tail coils around my lower leg, and my hands tangle in his hair once more. I can't stop touching it, it's soft like nothing else.

And then he's sliding inside me, incredibly slowly, and the world drops away once more.

In this moment, there's only me and Cardan and the sweetest ache between us, and he's whispering my name like a mantra. "Jude," he says, letting his head drop on my shoulder. "Jude," and this time it's a moan as his fingers interlace with mine and hold them against the mattress. "Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude..."

After that I stop hearing him, because blood is rushing in my ears as his hips start to speed up, and although I feel full to breaking with him inside me, I find all I want is more and more and more.

In that moment I wonder briefly if lust and power and love and hate might all be the same thing after all.

Cardan pulls out of me, and for a second I'm empty and dismayed. Then he's rolling me onto my side, curving his body around mine and pulling my hips back toward him. All I want is to have him back inside me, and I am gratified a second later when he pushes into me from behind.

Cardan has his mouth on my neck, and his hand is pulling my top leg over his hip so he can reach my clit with his fingers. Before I know it, I'm coming undone there in the High King's bed, my fingers grabbing at nothing.

I start to scream and Cardan leans up to cover my mouth with his, kissing me over and over until he, too, is shaking and coming and gripping my hip so hard I'm sure the marks of his fingers will be there for days to come.

We lie there, curled together in the dark and for the first time I'm not at all angry at the command he has over my body.

In fact I'm not angry at anything, and I don't know when else that has ever been true. I just have this bone-deep calm, and it's never, ever been like this with Cardan. It would scare me, if I wasn't so damn calm.

Cardan wipes my legs down and then kisses the back of my neck, and seems to settle back to sleep with ease.

I lie awake for a little longer, wondering what Cardan will be like in the morning, and how we will scheme ourselves out of the Undersea danger.

But Cardan is so warm around me that I do not scheme for long.

****

Soft jurdan, for once in their lives 🥺🥺🥺 My babies.

@asteria-of-mars and @swankii-art-teacher!

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#jurdan #jurdan fic #smut #mine #tfota #if i want to wrap them in fluff I will!

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 3 years

Text

checkmate

summary: where y/n and spencer live in a world of soulmates; but how magical can it really be when the last words of your lover are the only indication of their existence.

word count: 7,054 reading time aprox: 26 mins

warnings: character death, angst

a/n: this is my comeback fic, I hope you like it. I made sure to make it extra angsty to compensate for my disappearance :) also this fic can be read by anyone!

masterlist

Chess is a meticulous endeavor, not only in its cold and calculated nature, but also in the player’s ability to detect insecurity flash across their opponents' eyes, the unconscious idiosyncrasies that foretell future moves, and the slow descent into hopelessness that disintegrates the former’s conviction. Most will point out the cruelty of the game, how callous it must be knowing your end eight moves before it happens. However, others will oppose this notion as it is the game; one must lose to win.

It’s all a matter of who plays their pieces right.

Before that pivotal moment, players can only maneuver through a black and white arena. Fingertips would drum in anticipation while the other would hover over their pieces, striding across the board with purpose. Regardless of the disparity between the players’ experience or skill, there is always one factor, unmoved by player attributes, that is not a disadvantage nor luxury for either party: time.

Even in the checkered plane, nothing will matter. The players will cease to move, forced to end the game by the lack of time. This mechanism in nature acts as a failsafe if either individual is unable to conclude the game. In other words, there are only two outcomes: winning the game by will or letting time take that will away from you.

However, what is not noticed is the growing ache in the winner’s chest, disappointment beginning to fester inside of them because of their loss in deciding. In that split realization, the winner is placed on an equal plane as the loser, wondering if they ever really won at all.

This middle plane is beautiful and tragic simultaneously—maybe the beauty is in the tragedy. But as my palm leaves a bloodied handprint pressed against Spencer’s chest, all I can see is the world around me turning red.

Please be okay, please be okay for me

My mouth would silently mutter in tandem with his desperate and reaching touches, a mantra I convinced myself could surpass time, all while knowing my will was seized from me the moment Spencer uttered the words imprinted at my hip.

October 27th

2 days before

Water vapor collected around the coffee mug pressed to my lips. Although it’s ironic to call it a ‘coffee’ mug considering it was filled to the brim with scalding tea. The tips of my fingers and the skin of my palms tingled at the heat given off. My thoughts drifted to the explanation of the first law of thermodynamics that Spencer had kindly explained during the walk home from the night before.

An unconscious smile brushed over my lips briefly, reminiscing the blissful moments of the team gathered around a bar table after finishing up a briefing about a local case. A warm cloud of content passed through my chest while a lightness traveled from the bottoms of my feet to the summit of my forehead. The herbal tea traveling down my esophagus countered the cold nipping of the autumn air, bringing a welcome equilibrium to my wellbeing.

I shrugged the knitted blanket over my shoulders further, staring into the calming view that the apartment window provided. Across from the building was a small, abandoned park. Most of the neighbors had steered clear of the area as it didn’t meet anyone’s aesthetic standards—well, except for mine.

Half of the trees have lost their leaves, counting down the days to winter. The park benches were covered with tangled vines, even some lacking required wood boards. In summary, the place was an overgrown jungle that no one was willing to inhabit. In result, the once communal area was condemned by the normal folk for being ‘too dead.’ However, I would oppose those who claim the lack of life in the park considering life is not only just living, but it is to invite death.

In my observation of the park, a soft reflection suddenly appeared beside the yellow oak trees. In my peripheral, I can see my roommate creeping up behind me with his limbs moving catlike. I bit my bottom lip to conceal the amused huff threatening to escape me, instead settling to blowing over the steam rising from my cup.

Just before I saw his head bobble over my shoulder, arms stretched out above me, I whipped around his lanky figure and ducked under his arm. “You know for an agent; I expected a better performance.” An inaudible yelp interrupted the fit of giggles I was in as some of the tea spilled onto my blanket. “Now look what you’ve done! Do you know how hard it is to get dark liquids off cotton?”

“Just some hydrogen peroxide will do the trick,” Spencer shrugged, insisting to pull off the semi-damp blanket off my shoulders. “Plus, you messed up my bit!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was living with a five-year-old,” I teased, nudging him.

Spencer craned his neck to the side, letting the sore tendons and muscles stretch out from just waking up. All without forgetting to let out an obnoxious yawn in addition to his exaggeratedly extended arms. “I’ll have you know that this five-year-old has three PhDs and three bachelors,” he boasted.

“...and daddy issues.”

Before I can find a way to defend myself, the same blanket that brought me solace previously was transformed into an unmerciful whip. Spencer chased me around the couch until I slipped and toppled over the cushions, landing on the throw pillows. I buried my head into the leather arm, shutting my eyes, while I replicated the nature of Spencer’s antics by emitting ridiculous snores.

“You can’t touch me while I’m sleeping,” I murmured, feigning my slow lull to slumber. “It’s socially unacceptable.” During my spiel, Spencer had playfully grabbed my ankles and dragged me to a sitting position.

“SPENCER!” I gasped, clutching one of the pillows in hand and smacking him over the head with it. “You do not handle people like that! No wonder why you also have momm-”

Spencer’s palm gently nudged me back onto the couch mid-sentence, leaving my frame to hit the cushions with a loud thud. A boom of laughter filled the empty space of my chest, my breath thinning as dopamine jumped from my brain’s synapses. An enchanted smile caressed the corners of my mouth mirroring the one Spencer was sporting.

In these insignificant interactions, I would think back to the times where our comfortability was limited and reveled on how much our friendship grew over the years. There was a sense of solace that overwhelmed me knowing that introducing—and working on his—humor brought an auspicious light to the darkness that often clouded his mind.

My lungs deflated with a hefty exhale, my arm slinging across my eyes in relaxation. Clamored feet and the rug shifting against the wood floor caught my attention. Freeing my line of vision, I was met with a raggedy-haired genius with barely a foot between us. I reached out to comb through his locks, the webbing of my hands catching the tangled curls. “You need to shower greasehead.”

“Actually, the buildup of sebum and laloin in the gland of the hair follicles—coined as the sebaceous gland—offers moisture and protection, given that it is regulated upon its natural equilibrium.” Spencer leaned into the soft touch of my fingers, like how a kitten purrs against their owner’s affection.

“Well, I don’t know about you almost-birthday-boy, but I don’t think you want to go into the next chapter of your life smelling like you just changed out of your first diaper.” I pushed myself up the couch, gesturing Spencer to the hallway bathroom. “This is the big 31!”

“Y/N, we had a party for my 30th. I think I’m good to last for the decade,” he huffed, walking towards his bedroom to grab a change of clothes.

“That’s not the spirit, Dr. Reid!” I yelled across the room. “I swear Spence, you’re the only person who’d turn down a party... And, you even turned down Rossi’s invitation to go all out in his backyard.”

“Another year to celebrate the ever-closing gap between my time on earth and my imminent demise—oh, and how can I forget celebrating it in an open space full of ticks and pollen,” Spencer sarcastically jested, his voice bouncing off the thin white walls.

“At least you’d know your soulmate, right? Then I wouldn’t be the only one to deal with your ‘Debby Downer’ ass,” I added on, rolling my eyes at his usual pessimistic rulings.

“I would prefer nihilistic, but if that vernacular serves you then to each their own.”

“Hey, maybe after you die, I and your soulmate can mourn over you—bond and all that—and then I can steal them away,” I teased.

I looked to the lightning bolts etched into the crevices of my thighs, my fingertips tracing each design until it fell onto the carved words at my hip. In a way, the stretch marks made beautiful vines attached to the faded letters, covering the obvious red scratch marks that had resurfaced from my bad habits.

I kissed my fingertips before planting them back onto the markings, chuckling to myself of the intimate gesture. Unconsciously, I began to rub at the tattooed words once again, hating how their protrusion made my skin crawl.

“I mean I’m dead, what can I really do?” Spencer called out, stopping in his tracks when he reached the bathroom door. He faced me as he spoke, going on about his birthday celebration tomorrow—half of his speech unheard to me—until he requested my immediate attention. “You have to stop picking at the words, Y/N. You’re going to end up hurting yourself.”

“I know, I know,” I sighed, letting my dominant hand fall to my side. A pout fell on my lips at the loss of the small satisfaction scratching granted me. “But the words are just so uncomfortable sometimes. I mean you got lucky with the whole soulmate placement.”

Spencer brought his free hand to his chest, thumb tracing over the small words typed on the skin. “Yeah, I guess I did get lucky huh.” A soft smile grazed over his lips while his eyes were still trained on the unknowing figure resting against the couch.

“What does your marking read aga-”

“Spence, what’s it say on your che-”

I groaned in playful disbelief at the coincidental timing. “You know at this point I’m starting to think we’re telepathic, Spencer.”

“That’s actually what my tattoo is,” he laughed. “It’s my name.”

“Oh yeah,” I nodded, remembering the first time we brought it up in the early days of meeting one another. “Must’ve saved a lot of name tags in elementary school” I teased.

Spencer shook his head, shuffling into the bathroom with a lightness in his steps. With the closing of the door, my gaze fell onto the marking once again.

Regardless of the mechanics of soulmates, I was never worried about the possibility of not meeting them. I was already at my happiest knowing shared moments like these were good enough. However, unbeknownst to my ideal wishes, an irking desire still lingered in the back of my head while fingers hovered over the imperfect skin.

October 28th

1 day before

“Kid, you can’t sit there and tell me that finding your soulmate can be ‘scientifically extrapolated.’ That’s not the point,” Morgan amusingly shook his head at Spencer, ruffling the top of his head as he brushed past him.

“Okay,” Spencer tutted, “tell me. What ‘is’ the point then?”

“Well, all I’m saying is that finding your soulmate—if you have one—is supposed to come supernaturally.”

“Morgan, did you just try to win over boy genius here by talking about the supernatural?” With a tilted smirk, I nursed the half-filled flute between my fingertips. My gaze flickered over to a pleased brainiac sharing the same mischievous glint found in my eyes. I let my head fall back against the couch cushions, my eyes fluttering close to the sound of grown children bickering.

“Alright,” Morgan raised his hands up in defense. “All I was pointing out was that things like these can’t be solved by numbers and science.”

“The same can be said about Newtonian physics, but look where we a-”

Morgan flung a ball of crinkled wrapping paper Spencer’s way, aiming for his head. Spencer attempted to dodge the projectile—emphasis on attempted—only to have it hit him square in the face.

“So much for those Newtonian physics, huh?” I teased while getting up to open another bottle of champagne. Spencer slouched in his chair, the paper cone hat on his head shifting to the side. A grimace replaced the smirk he initially wore, muttering about how he was going to get Morgan back.

“Y/N! Bring that bottle over here when you’re done.” Morgan called out as I walked into the kitchen, pausing the ongoing discussion of the case we planned to tackle. “Also, bring another juice box for Reid here!”

A chorus of laughter followed my ears which each step, a grin finding the corners of my lips. I rose to the tips of my toes to reach for the unopened bottle in the alcohol cabinet. I made my way to the freezer, taking out the bucket of ice I stored away hours ago. When closing the appliance door, my eyes landed on a picture magnetized to the surface.

It was a physical reminder of the time that Spencer convinced me to dress up as Amy Pond, the eleventh doctor’s sidekick, for comic con. He too was dressed up in the doctor’s attire: a brown corduroy suit, a bowtie, and a sonic screwdriver. We both had silly grins planted on our faces, it seemed like nothing could tear down the joyous bubble we were in. Upon reflecting on the memory, the kitchen door swung open revealing a merry Spencer.

“Hey, I was supposed to be getting you that juice box,” I joked.

Spencer shook his head, pushing past me to get to the cupboard. “Very funny,” he droned, sarcasm dripping off his words. I leaned against the counter, setting the bucket of ice to the side. I analyzed his movements, noticing how often he fidgeted with his fingers or how his legs would clumsily turn inward at times.

“You know,” he paused, turning around to face me, “In some countries ruled by military dictatorship, staring could be deemed as a call for execution.”

I crossed my arms, challenging him. “Well last time I checked; we aren’t in any of those countries. Is that right, Dr. Reid?”

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled. “Did you need anything?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Well, by the way you were checking me out, I would think you needed something.” He sauntered over to the opposite counter across the kitchen, hoisting himself up on the granite. I watched as the casual smirk fell off his face after failing his initial attempt to sit. The second attempt proved to be better, although that didn’t stop me from rolling my eyes at his impotence.

“You know,” I repeated his words, grabbing the champagne and ice bucket as I began to stroll out of the room. “I’m really starting to think you have a better chance at ‘extrapolating’ your soulmate rather than finding them.”

“Wait!”

I whipped around to face him with furrowed eyebrows. I nodded for him to continue, watching as a sly expression reappeared on his face. “You forgot my juice.”

I sighed, setting the items back down on the counter before reaching for the fridge. “You are a grown man, Spence,” I gesticulated at the boy. I grabbed Spencer’s favorite sparkling water and left it aside. “You couldn’t get your own?” I raised my eyebrows at him, ducking out of the refrigerator door.

He crossed his legs, still propped up on the counter. “Well, you did call me a five-year-old and it is my birthday,” he argued, shrugging his shoulders tauntingly.

“I said that the other day, and considering it’s your birthday, that would mean you’d be old enough to conduct yourself,” I countered.

“Actually, it’s grammatically inappropriate to say, ‘the other day’ when the event in question occurred yesterday,” he began to ramble. With an unimpressed nod, I began to slowly back away from the scene until I was abruptly stopped once again.

“Wait!”

“What!”

“You forgot to put it in a cup,” he meekly suggested, his face evident of mischief.

“You’re clearly enjoying this aren’t you?” I groaned, shuffling towards where he was. “I’ll give you something to enjoy...” I whispered to myself.

With a plan set in motion, I sauntered over to where Spencer sat. Once I was in front of him, I made sure to give no indication that I was moving beside him. Instead, I leaned forward, letting our chests press together as I reached up for a mug. I would be lying if I denied the faint blush warming up the apples of my cheeks or the tightness of my throat from this proximity. In a nervous hash, I could’ve sworn hearing Spencer’s breath hitch as my chin brushed against his neck.

Feigning a confident disposition, I dropped back to the heels of my feet, finding myself to be inches away from the enamored and naive genius. “You need this?” I murmured, trying to maintain a collected tone of voice. However, Spencer did make it difficult with the intensity of his penetrating gaze or the way his breath fanned over my sensitive skin.

For a lasting moment, I began to dissect the small specks of hazel hues in his eyes and how a dark pool of brown surrounded his irises. The tip of his nose was flushed in crimson and his mouth hung in what seemed like anticipation and hesitation battling it out. “Uh, yeah... thank you.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, linking his fingers with mine to take the mug.

Without breaking eye contact, he set the mug aside and away from view. I opened my mouth to say something, but I soon discovered a dessert residing in the back of my throat. Slowly my composure unraveled, leaving me and Spencer in a purgatory of uncertainty and elation. I heard my heart thump against the walls of my ribcage as my eyes traveled to the parting of his lips, his tongue ever so often swiping against the skin.

I shook my head out of the trance we were in, popping the hypnotic bubble forming around us. With a trepidatious smile, I gestured to the living room, suggesting going back out there. “Do you want to...” I tied my hands behind my back, stepping away from him slowly. He nodded in response; his mouth tightly pressed into an awkward line.

With less than obvious movements, we both tiptoed our way back to the liveliness of the other room, soon forgetting about the juice and cup all together.

“Bye guys, thank you for coming! See you tomorrow.” I politely bid everyone a farewell, sending them safe wishes home as they excited through the front door. “Pen, are you coming with us tomorrow?” I received a tipsy nod and a few stumbling feet, but nonetheless confirmation for the case. Spencer was to the left of me doing the same, enduring some last-minute birthday teasing from Morgan before he made his exit.

With the slow creaking of the door, I leaned against the wood, letting my legs slowly slip down the floor until I was sitting. I tilted my head up, staring at an exhausted Spencer before making grabby hands at him. He snorted at the childlike request, aggressively pulling at my wrists until I landed into his chest.

“Alright birthday boy, just because you’re older doesn't mean you can get all strong on me,” I warned, nuzzling my heavy head onto his shoulder. A pleasant silence surrounded us, our bodies maintaining an equal balance as we leaned onto each other. On another note, it reminded me of Newton’s principle of force that Spencer explained to me a few months back. How Newton’s cradle, a simple office trinket, exemplified conservation of momentum and energy. In this fragment of space, it felt like that with Spencer—it always felt like that: a comfortable momentum.

“Hey Spence?”

The quiet continued to spread throughout the atmosphere.

“Spencer?” I pressed my chin against his chest, feeling his arms find their way to my lower back. He hummed in response, his eyelids resting at a closed position. “I’m sorry about that thing in the kitchen... I was just messing around.”

He took a while to react before sighing and pressing a tired kiss to the side of my head; with that, I knew things were okay. “Oh! I didn’t give you your present yet.”

I melted away from his arms, scurrying off to the couch. In an exaggerated reveal, I pulled a small parcel from beneath the cushions, glee filling my eyes as I watched the bow on top spring out. I extended my arms towards Spencer, eager to have him open it.

He walked tentatively towards me, taking purposefully leisurely strides. At one point he began to act like he was in a slow-motion sequence, causing me to threaten the integrity of his present. With raised hands, he sat next to me on the couch and gently pried the gift from my hands. “What did you get me this time? Let me guess. From the size and shape of his package here,” he turned the box around in his hands, shaking it up, “and the sound to force ratio-”

“Just open the damn thing, Spence.”

He smiled at my usual impatience, letting his fingers glide against the edge of the parcel. Finally, with gentle hands, he picked apart the wrapping paper, careful not to rip the heart sticker that held the presentation together. He gathered the bow in his palm, and gently pressed the sticky side of the accessory to my cheek.

I cringed at the feeling, but that soon dissipated hearing the mollified chuckle escape Spencer’s mouth. With a determined huff, Spencer pulled the last pieces of wrapping paper from the box and was left with a frayed book in his palm.

“The Parliment of Foweles...” he whispered; an unreadable expression crossed his features.

I curled into my own body, anticipating some form of reaction. “I... I remember you told me the first time we really sat down and got to know each other that your mom used to read that to you when you were younger.” I picked at the stitches on the couch, a lump forming in my esophagus as my tongue swelled. “It’s first edition...” I smiled, insecurity beginning to conquer my excitement from before.

“Sorry, if you don’t like it... I was just-”

A pair of arms pulled me into a secure embrace while a tender hand came around to cup the back of my head. An inaudible expression of gratitude was lost in between babbles of endearment and soft caresses. Spencer pulled away with pools of adoration, he clutched the book in hand as he pulled me under his arm. He ran his thumb along the deckles that adorned the sides of the pages, his palm tenderly feeling the roughness of the old woven spine.

To open the book, he singled out a random page and lightly flicked a few pages to the side before I halted his movements completely. “Wait!” I requested. “I want you to read it after the case so we can do it together,” I sheepishly tucked a hair behind his ear, hiding the careful blush on my cheeks. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah...that’s fine with me,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto the soft curves of my face. I pulled my hand away, tugging my sleeve further down my arm. “Oh! That reminds me.” Spencer places the book behind him and headed over the coat rack next to the front door. Sliding his hands through various pockets, he finally pulled a small box from one of the compartments.

He tentatively approached me, turning the object in hand. “I know it’s my birthday, but... I wanted to do something because you’ve made everything better in these past years,” he confessed, fidgeting as he came closer. “Being with my mother always felt like home, and I just... you became that for me, so thank you.”

My fingers reached over to his open palm, approaching the velvet box as if it was fragile. I glazed over its general shape, turning it a few times between my hands. “Spencer...I don’t even know what to say.”

“Well, you can start by opening it,” he smiled.

I shook my head, gently prying the box open. Inside laid a beautiful heart-shaped necklace with words etched into the metal. Once I read the words, a heavy breath escaped my lungs, and my shoulders lost all tension. “Spencer...”

“I thought that it would be easier to have the words of your soulmate above your heart rather than you tracing over your hip,” he professed. “I also know that even if you deny not having any connection to this soulmate thing, it often brings you comfort when needed.”

My attention went to him the second he uttered those words. “How did you know,” I mumbled with an enamored chuckle.

“Well, whenever we’re in the field, I could tell the times you get nervous or need reassurance by the way you subtly touch your hip.”

“I thought staring was punishable by death,” I joked, referring to his argument earlier today.

He brushed it off with a wide smile, combing his hands through his hair. “I know we have a hefty case tomorrow based on what Penelope showed us last briefing, so I hoped that this would make you feel better,” he confessed, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back into the arm of the couch.

“Thank you, Spencer...really,” I wrapped my arms above my head, trying to attach the unlocked chain around my neck. “Can you...?”

With gracious hands, he lifted the chain from my fingertips and wrapped it around my neck. The skin of his fingers would occasionally brush the back of my neck, sending euphoric chills down my spine. I felt myself squirm under his touch slightly, although it wasn’t enough to be obvious. Lifting my hair to the side with his wrist, he clasped the necklace together, letting the cold metal kiss the skin.

I turned around, appreciating the trinket in my hands. I shook my head in disbelief, watching as some of the moonlight that seeped through the window reflected off the metal. “Thank you, again, Spencer.” I nodded, bringing him into a meaningful embrace. My head rested in the crook of his neck, an aroma of pine, vanilla, and old books surrounding us. “This really is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever possessed.”

He scoffed, gently wrapping his hands around the small of my back. “Everything pales in comparison to you.”

October 29th

...

I twirled the metal heart in between my fingers as Hotch’s words failed to reach my ears. I would look up occasionally to see the pictures, but we’ve been dealing with an unsub who showed no mercy to anything morally reprehensible. I sighed, swinging my feet under me as I pretended to be enveloped by the case file in my other hand.

“Since we’re dealing with a L.D.S.K-”

“A long-distance serial killer,” Emily intercepted, nodding towards the team.

“We’ll have SWAT patrol the surrounding rooftops. Emily and I will stay with the defense team here.” Hotch pointed to the house of the unsub’s target. “Morgan, Y/N, and Reid will go through the floors of the apartment building with the strike team—witnesses stated that he was located on the 5th floor, but we have to be ready for anything.”

I looked over to Morgan with a determined expression. His face hardened at the words and his lips was pressed into a tight line. In my peripheral, I could see the way his veins would constrict against the skin as he clenched his fists.

This case hit him particularly hard considering we couldn’t save the unsub’s last victim. It was a 4-year-old little girl, and we were misinformed about her possible location. By the time we got to her, she was faced down into a park well with a single bullet hole above her heart. I watched the slow diffusion of her blood, and how the water turned to a murky black. I couldn’t imagine Morgan’s guilt considering he was so sure of himself when reaching a breakthrough with the unsub’s whereabouts. The parents of the child would soon blame Morgan for his ignorance, spewing derogatory slurs in their distress.

“We’ll get him Hotch,” Morgan assured, “This time, we’ll get him.”

Spencer noticed the certitude in his voice, sharing a look with me to give extra attention to Morgan out in the field. I smiled at him, warmed at the concern that the genius had over his friend.

“I’ll be working with local PD to hold a press conference to keep the public on the lookout,” JJ expressed, crossing her arms.

“Since...last time, we figured that unsub finds enjoyment in toying with us or singling us out. So, keep each other in check and make sure to report back in your earpieces every five minutes.” Hotch himself seemed perturbed by the unsub’s earlier actions considering he had his own toddler to deal with. “Penelope has sent the coordinates to everyone. Remember the profile, and don’t leave yourselves vulnerable. We’re dealing with an elusive unsub that won’t stop at nothing to satisfy himself,” Hotch spoke with a quiver in his voice.

I bit the inside of my cheek and breathed heavily through my mouth. My hands began to drift to my hip but momentarily stopped as I remembered the chain around my neck. I slumped into the chair as Hotch dismissed the team, sending them out for their respective assignments.

“You, okay?” I whipped around to the sound of JJ’s voice. She leaned against the doorframe with an expression full of concern. Looking behind her, she noticed Spencer noticeably pacing through the bullpen waiting for a specific someone. He attempted to disguise his eagerness by counting tiles on the floor or squares on the ceiling, but to JJ he was easily discernable.

I let a dry laugh, shaking my head. “After what happened, I’m a bit worried—not about me—but Morgan and Spence.” I swiveled around in the office chair a few times until I landed in front of JJ.

“You know you fidget the same way as Spence,” she pointed out, grinning at the similarity. I shook off the oncoming warmth that flooded the skin and looked elsewhere. “You’re right to worry about both of them though. But you know how stubborn and determined they are.” As she began to walk out, she left a lingering message that soothed my nerves. “Plus, Spencer may have that IQ of his, but we all know runs things between you all.”

She wasn’t wrong. I’ve always kept a watchful eye over the both of them—maybe Spencer a little more—but nonetheless, I deeply cared about both of them. It was relieving to know that Spencer’s circle of trust exponentially grew from Morgan to JJ to me. It symbolized the growth that Spencer was mostly oblivious to, but it meant more to me than I can explain, seeing how he opened himself up to happier possibilities.

A sharp exhale left my lungs while my lips formed into a sly smirk. Without another minute to wait, I left the round table behind JJ, leaving Spencer to stop dawdling. “You ready genius?” I walked out into the hall, not sparing a glance at the figure trailing behind me.

“With you? Always.”

“Nothing here,” a voice confirmed in my earpiece. My gun hung low in my hands while I tiptoed through the floor of the apartment building. “You know Y/N, if I knew that the unsub was going to the pick a building in the area we resided in, maybe I would’ve considered having the party at Rossi’s instead,” Spencer joked.

I bit the smile growing on my lips, focusing on the assignment on hand.

“Maybe after the case, instead of reading that book in our apartment we can go over to that small library/cafe we’ve been meaning to go to,” he continued to drone, forgetting about the connection of everyone’s channels.

“Reid, if all you’re gonna do is flirt with Y/N, leave the damn channel,” Morgan warned. Hearing the worry in his tone, Spencer straightened up, coughing to cover up his soft apology. Being separated didn’t help the irrational thoughts that built up in the back of my conscience; I can’t even comprehend what’s probably going through Morgan’s head.

“You good?” I mumbled into the com; my eyes straightforward while I advanced towards the hall. Morgan didn’t respond, an inaudible huff coming through the speakers.

“I’m moving up to the top floor. Y/N and Reid, go back down to the basement and see if we missed anything,” Morgan broke the awkward silence with an austerity in his words. The silent hum that came afterwards was worse than earlier. I turned off my earpiece, sensing a conversation about to ensue between the two gentlemen.

The thickness in the atmosphere was similar to the air that surrounded me and Spencer when competing in recreational chess. Whenever I attempted to put his king in check, he would block the move by maneuvering another piece in front of it. This would lead to a game of cat and mouse until I would figure out that the entire time, Spencer had been deluding me into false security while checking my king piece. Ultimately, I would lose to Spencer. However, there were games where I’d outmaneuver him or win by dumb luck.

I’d like to think that I developed some sort of intuition for his behavior from playing against him, but he’s deemed unpredictable every game. He was always sharp, eight steps ahead and aware of all possibilities. I guess that’s what make him an effective profiler, always thinking in the future.

I ran down the stairs, still armed, when Penelope’s voice ran through the earpiece. “Updates! Updates people.” The joy in her voice always relived me of the gloom that usually surrounded me in the field; hopefully she has the same effect on Morgan.

“Hey, Pen.” An invisible grin was evident in my words, knowing she’d pick up on it.

“Hello, my love, seems like at least one person is happy to see me,” she verbally jabbed at the lack of response from Spence and Morgan.

Still no response.

“Sorry, they’re working out their marriage at the moment,” I teased, hoping for the usual distasteful comment I usually get from Morgan.

Still nothing.

An unnerving feeling crept up the back of my neck. “Penelope, can you check if their coms are still workin—shit.” Before I could finish, a long buzz of static came through the speakers. The only comprehensible words that were picked up was the beginning of my name before cutting off.

I bit my lip, pulling out the small piece of technology and tapping it a few times. “Come on... dammit.” After playing around with the earpiece, I grew frustrated with it and stuffed it into my pocket.

I paced in the small landing between the stairs, thinking of a new gameplan. I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair, feeling the split ends prick at the skin. I felt a mountain growing in at the bottom of my stomach, leaving my esophagus constricted without air. “What would Spencer do,” I mumbled to myself, gripping onto my necklace.

“Spencer...Spencer...”

Before I could finish the mantra, a shot rang out from above me, and the crashing off glass followed. In the split moment, my legs grew a mind of its own and sprinted to higher ground. Suddenly, the sweat perspiring off me turned cold, and my heartbeat slammed itself into my spinal cord as I ran. My feet forgot its exhaustion while my mind devoured every irrational thought, and combined it with adrenaline.

The single thing that drove me over my limits was knowing that the person who fabricated and would shoo away these thoughts was somewhere I didn’t know I could get to in time.

Spencer’s POV

I tiptoed into a vacant suite of the building, still antsy about the scolding I received from Morgan. The conversation after didn’t help considering it was all a reminder to be aware and focused on the task at hand. I knew Morgan was filled with the need for redemption despite the team forgiving him of his ignorance. So, I shook off the creeping feeling and abided by his instructions.

Deciding to update Y/N and Morgan about my whereabouts, I spoke into the coms only to have static come out of it. I tried once again but failed to reach anyone. The room around me shrank as a sharp exhale left my lungs. I swallowed the buildup of saliva in the back of my throat, feeling uneasy about not knowing what’s to come.

Seeing at the area was clear, I looked out of one of the windows. Initially I cringed at the accumulated dirt and grime in the glass panes, but that all dissipated when I spotted the quaint park that Y/N loved. No one else had any interest in the community lot, seeing as people would coin it—or what Y/N would tell me—the park of death. But to her, she saw the opposite as she always does.

The light feeling of reminiscing my interactions with Y/N soothed the disconcerting atmosphere, keeping me grounded. Although the sentiment ended as soon as it started when I spotted one of the apartment walls was spray-painted with black letters.

Zugzwang

A blaring shot rang out and glass shattered into the room. I ducked into the floor, shutting my eyes. My head spun as the boom impaired my hearing. The window was forcibly open, the shards resting beside me. Left disoriented, I groaned, only feeling the after wave of vibrations on the ground. However, I soon found out that the quake of the floor wasn’t from the initial shot, but the rapid clobbering of feet inching closer to the suite and a shadowy figure preceding it.

Y/N emerged from the doorframe, panting. Eyes were laced in fear while they bore into my own. My stomach twisted into knots from previous events while I contemplated what had occurred. The presence of Y/N wasn’t even strong enough to relinquish the egging feeling crawling in my skin. I anticipated Morgan to appear, considering he was closer to the scene.

Where was he?

Another thing I didn’t anticipate, a second shot.

“Spencer?”

January 3rd

Three months after

My thoughts antagonized one another while I stared out into the world from the eerily quiet apartment. The living room was cold and empty despite the array of furniture scattered about and the broken picture frames lining the walls. The vapor rising from the cup of tea drifted into the air, vanishing into nonexistence. It’s funny how that could happen in a matter of milliseconds.

The pain the lived inside the chambers of my heart was no match for the burning of skin I felt when holding onto the steaming cup. The only worthy adversary would be the rush of self-resentment that coursed through me when picking up the book. I deserved it though. I deserved the spikes through my stomach while my fingers trailed the deckled pages, reminding me of the first time I held the book, its previous owner present with me.

I would remember our time together.

I would remember the promise shared between us.

I would remember the bloodied handprint pressed against my chest.

Now all I had was the physical manifestation of what’s left: the necklace. As cruel as it was for me, I kept it in the book, using it as a bookmark while I lost myself into poems. After a while, the inked words lost their meaning to me, becoming an empty cacophony that encased the jewelry.

Every time I grasped the chain in my clutches, a numbed ache would make itself known at the pit of my stomach. It clawed at my intestines and made the entirety of my body system obsolete. With that, I was abandoned with the sinister hauntings of my own mind—a part of me that I was once praised for.

A genius. A prodigy. Hidden behind the real mess of a guilty man.

I ignored the smashed chess board and pieces that laid still at my feet, concentrating on the snowflakes that littered the park across from the building. The grounds looked beautiful, covered in layers of pure white. I sipped at the tea once more letting my mind deteriorate with a sophisticated nonchalance.

What a tragedy it was to know my soulmate, especially right under the tip of my nose. What a cruel joke life had played.

I wished I had more time.

It was easier to let the guilt consume me rather than pondering on what I lost—who I lost. Had I lost myself too? Maybe, it didn’t matter. In some masochistic way, I enjoyed the guilt because it was a way to remember that at one point someone made for me existed. I used it to relive the moments I could never get back.

All that remained was an empty shell of a man, staring out into a dull world, wondering how time took everything away from him.

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @honeymilk-4 @linthebinbag @andreasworlsboring101 @ssareidbby @kyleetheeditor @fanofalltheficsx @jimilogy @lulwaxim @jhillio @m3ssytrash @haylaansmi @meowiemari @ashwarren32 @codyf3rnsupremecy @goldentournesol

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aching-tummies · 3 years

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if i was your partner... I'd take you on a date to the county fair. I know you have a sweet tooth, and I promise to buy you whatever you want. When we get there, we haven't had dinner yet so we get a big meal of hamburgers and hot dogs, and some fried dough and cotton candy for you. I tell you I want to take a lap around the fair to see what rides there are, and get you as many treats as you want. Ice cream, churros, sodas and milkshakes all end up in your belly... 1/?

I’ve never been to a fair/amusement park or anything so when my beloved suggests we go I’m excited. Since I was a child, I’ve always wanted to go to these things because friends that have gone always have such cool stories about the rides or cute ones about laughing and having fun with their dates. Also…the occasional fair food item sounds delicious.

At the same time, I’m wary of the food because I’ve eaten stuff like ice cream, churros, milkshakes, and hot dogs before. Not at a fair setting and definitely not all in the same day. Past experience tells me that these are the kinds of foods that give me a queasy tummy ache individually. The idea of eating them all in the same day has me apprehensive. Absentmindedly, I press my hands to my tummy as though guarding it from the thought of such a nasty ache.

The day of the fair arrives and excitement has given way to nerves and those nerves have gone straight to my stomach. As we get out of the car and approach the fair grounds my stomach clenches and does flips. An empty growl splits the air but peters off into an inaudible, nauseous burble. I haven’t eaten much since you told me about our visit to the fair. The thought of fair-food filled me with dread since I knew we were coming and I guess I subconsciously lost my appetite in preparation…to try to give the fair-food a blank slate as though in hopes it’ll hurt less if it’s just the fair-food bouncing around in my gut. I rub my tummy with both hands, squeezing my eyes shut against the sensations rolling within it. I want to bolt. I want to go home. It’s like my tummy knows exactly where we are going and knows it’s in for something nasty.

I toy with the idea of asking that we just go on rides. I try to formulate the words, to make up a reason why I won’t be eating anything at the fair. Variations of “my tummy’s upset” or “I ate earlier and I’m full” come to mind. The latter wouldn’t be something I could fool you with. We’ve been together the whole day and you know naught but water has passed my lips all day. If my stomach weren’t sickeningly empty, I would definitely have thrown up by now. The anxiety of the impending situation twists in my gut, and I feel like a solid mass is forming inside my hollow gut…an imagined mass that sends urgent “puke” signals to my brain. I feel my stomach muscles convulse and I squeeze my eyes shut as it snarls again.

Your hand comes to my stomach and jolts me out of my thoughts.

“Aww…hungry?” You say as you pat my stomach through my clothes. You heard the hunger part of the growl and you took my hands on my tummy as a sign of a hunger pang. Or so I think.

“Uhm…n-not exac—"

“They sell food in there. Let’s grab some hotdogs before we check out the rides.” You pat your own stomach, triggering a growl that has no hint of nausea in it. “I’m hungry too.”

My stomach burbles as you all but push me forward, walking us to the entrance of the grounds. Each step brings the thought, “dead man (stomach) walking”. I had opted to eat less/not at all in preparation for this day because I didn’t want to come to the grounds with an upset tummy. My own stupid anxiety over what this kind of food does to me foiled that plan. If I had known my stomach would be upset entering the grounds regardless of whether or not I had eaten anything I would have just eaten something rather than endure hunger for so long.

“Uhm…d-darling? Hotdogs…uhm…y-you know what hot dogs do to my stom—”

“Ooh! Chilli-dogs! Yeah, those beat hot-dogs any day. We’re getting some!” It’s like you didn’t hear me. Tears prickle my lashes as I realize you’ve cut off all my attempts at telling you something is wrong. I open my mouth again but the glint in your eye shuts me up.

You know. The way your hand is snaked around my waist and how your palm is pressed up against my tummy is a new clue. The gentle, subtle rubs you’re giving me, that I haven’t noticed until now—you’ve done similar motions before. When I lost a dear family member you made those same motions on the back of my neck and on my shoulder when you put your arm around me. It’s your go to ‘comforting’ move. You know what’s on my mind. You know how upset my tummy is. You know I’m anxious about the impending stomach ache. And I know about your fascination with my stomach; we aren’t just here for the fair.

“Let’s walk and eat. Fair grounds are huge and I don’t know exactly what rides they have this year. Let’s do a lap, or two, and fill our tummies with all the different food as we narrow down which ones we want to go on.”

You’re still rubbing lazy circles on my tummy. Your voice and the gentle rubs slowly bring me out of my own head and the tight vice-like coil of anxiety in my gut unclenches just a little. The anxiety lessens just enough for a hungry growl to squeeze out. You know exactly what rides are offered. You studied the pamphlet thoroughly and I know for a fact you have a ranking order of your favorite rides. You love the fair and are a seasoned fair-goer. The walk is for my benefit. Suggesting two laps and suggesting that we slowly fill our bellies is entirely for the sake of my tummy. Starting at the fair with an already upset tummy wasn’t in the plan. You don’t just want to deal with an anxious tummy or a sickly one…the food and the fair-experience are part of your script for tonight. I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. If I let myself throw up it’s all over—that’ll be the end of the night. I don’t want to rob you of your opportunity to enjoy the fair. It only happens once a year. I don’t want to imagine having to deal with an entire year of an anxiety-induced stomach ache—knowing that you’ll try again next year.

“O-Okay…uhm…c-could we just split the food? I-I just want a bite or two of everything.” I pat my tummy. “You know my capacity is garbage.” You grin.

“Sure! One large chili-dog it is. Wanna choose what flavor milkshake we get? Oh, and the churros at one particular truck are to die for—you gotta try ‘em!”

And…we’re off. Your hand slides away from my waist and takes my hand instead as you pull me into the fair. I slide a reassuring hand on my tummy, hidden behind my messenger-bag. I rub my tummy gently, trying to quell the upset.

2/? ... and by the time we're ready to ride a ride, I can hear your tummy grumbling noisily. I ask if you're okay, and you insist, though you look a bit nauseous. We end up on the Tilt-A-Whirl, and afterwards, your stomach is louder than ever. I ask if you're hungry, if maybe that'll help your loud, bloated aching belly, and you say yes. More treats end up in your tummy, until its aching so bad you can barely stand...

A large chili-dog, a sub-par burger, and a churro have disappeared between both our guts and I’m currently polishing off the large choco-banana milkshake we ordered. Sure, you had most of the chili-dog and the burger was because you were still hungry—I’ve let you have the lion’s share of the solid foods. I meant to let you have most of the milkshake too, but you’ve been sneakily finding ways to have it end up in my hands and to my lips.

My stomach is comfortable right now. There’s a barely-there queasiness in it but it’s slight enough to be ignored. It’s quite noisy though, churning away as it tries to break down what’s gone into it. You’ve been rubbing my tummy as we’ve been walking for the last ten minutes or so and I’m sure your rubs are the only reason my stomach is comfortable right now. Without the rubs, a normal fast-food combo has been enough to give me a twisting ache in my gut, enough to get me to cry and dash off to a bathroom to be rid of the mess.

“Oh, hey! Let’s go on that!” You gesture to the roller-coaster we’ve arrived at. I’ve never been on one. “Oh…damn…no drinks allowed on it.”

I raise my eyebrow quizzically as I rattle the empty milkshake cup. You offer a sheepish smile and hold up a full cup of cola you’ve been clutching in your other hand. “Came with the burger. Could’ja help? My tummy’s gettin’ kinda full.” You place a hand on your slightly rounded tummy.

Sure, it’s only cola…but neither of us is in the habit of wasting food. Steeling my nerves, I grab the cola and begin to suck at the straw, taking it down in gulps and thanking the heavens that it’s small as far as beverage containers go.

You pat my grumbling tummy as I finish the cola, forcing a sharp belch to pass my lips. “You didn’t have to chug it, we could have come back.” You coo as you continue to pat and rub my tummy. I groan, realizing my stupidity. My stomach sloshes sickeningly and rumbles violently at the sudden addition.

“Nah. We’ve already done two laps around the grounds. If we’re going to ride anything now’s the time.” A part of me just wants this night to be over. That cola pushed the discomfort meter in my gut higher. There’s a tight pressure inside of me right now and I want to believe it’s just the carbonation from the cola.

We share a car in the roller coaster. I grip the bar. Do not throw up. Do not throw up. Do not throw up. Repeats like a mantra in my head. Just as the coaster starts rolling, you release the bar and put both hands on my gut. You knead into my tummy, forcing burps out as I grip the rail tightly for the both of us. We have seatbelts and all that…the bar is just there for an extra level of safety. You’re experienced, you know we won’t fall even if we aren’t white-knuckling it so you put your hands to a different use. Each loop and sharp turn of the coaster causes your grip on my tummy to tighten. A particularly sharp turn sends your entire form slamming against me and your elbow meets my stomach and has me feeling something wet surge up my esophagus but I fight it down. You’ve managed to get most of the gas out of my tummy before the big loop of the coaster, at which point you offer one last pat to my tummy and turn to face forward properly. My stomach churns as we slow and watch the looming loop seeming to creep up on us. As we crawl up the loop my own hands clutch my tummy and I begin to squeeze, short and small burps burble out of me. You raise an eyebrow but are more fixated on the coaster. I want the gas out. I don’t want the inversion to cause a burp to bring up something else when we’re completely upside-down.

As we climb out of the coaster all that is left in my gut is a dense mass of thick sludge swirling around in a lake of cola. Some of the milk from the shake most definitely curdled in the acid bath of the cola. I let out a few moans as I walk and my hands have not left my tummy since we got off. I cradle my churning gut as I make my way to a miraculously empty bench.

“Babe, you okay?” Concern colors your voice as you skip after me. I need a few minutes for my stomach to re-orient itself. I can feel the thick sludge swimming in my gut and it is not a pleasant feeling. The squeals and whines from my gut betray that it doesn’t like the sensations either.

You’ve disappeared and I’m too absorbed in the activity in my tummy to care. Bathroom break, maybe. I press into my tummy cautiously, wincing at the churning grumble that is pushed forth from it. I can’t help but groan under my breath. My stomach really sick. I feel like it’s a sack of vomit churning violently rather than a stomach at this point.

I hear the crinkle of paper and I open my eyes. Something crisp and golden is shoved into my face as though you are presenting me with a bouquet of flowers.

“Is that?” My eyes widen.

“Yup! A Bloomin’ Onion! I saw a stall selling ‘em while we were on the coaster.” You announce proudly as you plop yourself down next to me.

Eagerly, I reach to tear off a piece of the treat, my nauseous tummy forgotten.

“I thought you’d need something to settle your stomach and maybe absorb some of the mess in there.” You pat my noisily churning tummy. “A-also…you’ve always wanted to try this thing, right? ‘cuz you love onion rings.”

“Mmph.” I give you an affirmative grunt as my mouth is full of the treat. You giggle and tear off some for yourself.

Once the onion has disappeared between the two of us my stomach is feeling moderately better. I’ve eaten most of it. I’ll definitely come to regret putting something so oily down the hatch, but I take your hand and suggest more rides before it has time to bloom into a full-blown sickly ache. I’m resigned to it now. We’ve got precious few minutes before my stomach begins to literally belly-ache about what’s gone into it.

We arrive at your favorite, the Tilt-a-Whirl. Nothing will stop me from letting you enjoy this ride tonight. I hope my stomach gets the memo. As I hear the screams from the ride, I notice someone off to the side of it, hurling into a convenient trash bin. I grimace, willing that not to be me.

“Babe, you sure you’re up for this?” You’re worried. I take your hand as we get in the (thankfully) short line.

“Yeah. You love this ride. It’s fine.” My tummy grumbles deeply, sounding like a dying lawn mower or something.

You slide your hands around my waist, rubbing and patting at the upset vat that is my stomach. Your hands are magic. By the time we’re at the front of the line my stomach is still churning, and aching, but not as violently as it was before. There’s a very present ache in my guts but it’s just under the threshold between a full-blown stomach ache and something that could just be classified as discomfort.

The seatbelt is tight against my tummy and I have doubts, almost caving and telling the staff I’ve changed my mind and to let me off before the ride has even begun. As the cup spins the centrifugal force causes the belt to cut into my stomach jostling it every which way. I grow steadily more and more nauseous as the ride goes on. I don’t have your miracle hands on my tummy and that thought is enough to make me want to cry. Seeking some escapism, I let my mind wander as I try to focus on anything but the violent churning in my tummy. This ride has accomplished in thirty seconds what it took your hands thirty minutes to fix.

I imagine how this ride looks from above. It must look pretty cool—my thoughts are interrupted by a new one: how this ride looks from above is how my stomach feels right now. Uneven, unpredictable churning with little bits seeming to churn within the mess. Yeah, the inventor of this thing must have seen some cruel irony in fabricating a ride that was an external representation of what it was causing internally.

When the ride ends I practically stumble into you. You laugh, dizzy yourself, and we move together. I’m leaning on you, whimpering and clutching at my distressed tummy. I can feel it. I want to throw up. The vomit signals are very strong but it feels like one of the chunks of curdled whatever has blocked the path to my esophagus. My stomach convulses and I whine as it grumbles angrily.

Your hand comes to my tummy. “Aww…baby…you hungry? The most of a solid thing you’ve eaten today has been that onion. Maybe something more solid in your tummy will calm it down?”

I can no longer tell if you’re sticking to your kink-script or if you genuinely believe my sickly tummy is in need of some proper sustenance. My stomach feels too awful to care so I let you lead me by the hand wherever it is you want us to go.

I don’t protest when something is shoved into my hands. You tell me to eat and I mechanically bring it to my mouth and take bites. I don’t even know what it is you’re making me eat, but many different treats disappear into my tummy. I think there was a burrito of some sort at one point. At least two different churros have made an appearance too. A slice of pizza, dripping with grease, is definitely one of the items if the layer of grease floating in my gut is any indication.

“Ergh…ugh…” I curl, bringing my knees up and sandwiching my arms over my belly. You led me to a sort of hidden bench. We’re kind of behind one of the tents for some carnival game and there’s tree-coverage around us. You wanted some privacy while you fed me and I’m grateful for it because I’m certain my stomach is about to spill out of my mouth and I do not want an audience. Upset doesn’t even begin to cover how bad it feels. I feel like I’ve swallowed lava and the molten mass is burning away my digestive organs. The lingering ‘discomfort’ of an ache threatening to bloom finally explodes and I curl up tightly, the added pressure not doing any favors for my poor, achy tummy. “Ugh…urp…n-no more…please? Ugh…babe…it hurts. My tummy hurts so, so much…” My stomach protests just vocally as I do.

I end up flopping over onto my side on the bench, knees still curled up to press my arms into my sickly belly. You guide me to make sure my head is on your lap. You try to get me to uncurl, to grant you access to my tummy, but my limbs refuse to budge so you settle on rubbing my side and back.

“Aww…baby…maybe a walk would settle your tummy?” Your voice is sickly sweet and I groan as it goes straight to my stomach, feeling like I just guzzled another cola.

“Umph…nuh-uh—nope. Not gunna.” I curl up, my tears soaking into the fabric on your lap as I whimper a little. I try to bring up a burp, desperately trying to relieve some of the pressure in my gut. Nothing comes up. I know there’s some in there—there has to be—but each time I clench my abdomen it feels like there’s something sickly blocking the path of the gas. If I were to really push it I could maybe clear the blockage…but I’d almost definitely end up vomiting all over your lap.

“Babe…how about that walk?” You suggest again and this time I glare at you from your lap. I glare at you and uncurl just a little. You can see the pain lancing through my eyes for a split second. I watch as your gaze travels to my gut and then I jab at it with a hand. I bite back the groan of pain so that you can hear the resulting rumble. The turbulent sounds from the jab continue for a few moments even as I curl up again.

“A walk? You kiddin’ me? My tummy hurts, babe. Hurt doesn’t even begin to cover it. I can’t even stand up straight ‘cuz my tummy is imploding; and you want me to walk?!”

I’m being curt with you. I know I am and I regret it even as the words spill from my mouth. It’s the stomach ache. I haven’t had such a nasty one in a very long time.

3/3 I feel terribly you're not feeling so well, and offer to help you to the car. You lean on me heavily, and I rub your aching belly as we make our way back to the car. I have to help you in, and the seatbelt barely fits over your round tummy. I rub it as we drive home, and carry you into our house where I'll nurse your tummy back to health... or maybe give you more snacks ;)

“Oh, baby…I’m sorry.” You’re genuinely sorry and that makes me feel even worse about snapping at you. I pull a hand out from its position on my tummy, reaching over to brush against your face, to apologize in some way.

A sharp cramp shoots through my unhappy tummy and I let out an exclamation of pain. It felt like I got punched, from the inside. I whimper and close my eyes, breaths labored as I clutch at my tummy again. My stomach convulses violently and you can tell that I’m trying very hard both to vomit and to keep it in me. The struggle exhausts me and it breaks your heart to see it go down.

The fit dies down after a while and I eventually lie still on your lap. My stomach continues to churn within me and you can hear the sickly burbling. You’ve taken to carding a hand through my hair and using your other hand to rub at whatever you can reach—arm, side, back. The shooting cramps die down somewhat and I manage to uncurl. I find your hand and guide it to my stomach and you rub it gently. I’m still biting back grunts with each breath but you can tell that your massage is slowly doing something for my sickly tummy.

“Do you think you can get to the car? I think we’re done here.”

I whimper, shaking my head and guiding your hand back to my tummy. “Not yet. Ugh…please?” I look at you, silently begging for more rubs. “If I get up now I’m gonna hurl.” You continue rubbing my tummy and we continue in our positions for a while.

My stomach is fairly distended. I usually don’t eat much in a single day and you managed to cram a whole lot of stuff I usually wouldn’t touch into me today. Sugar, fried foods, salt, milkshakes. This is stuff I only allow myself to indulge in a couple of times a year…and only one at a time, usually. Like…before meeting you I was the type to see a can of cola as a treat. That was my dessert quota for the day or week. After we got together the occasional scoop of ice-cream became another dessert option—but always only one scoop. This is our first time at the fair as a couple and you really let me have it. You gave me the ‘full’ experience in more ways than one and my tummy is suffering for it.

“Urp…ugh…nachos? When did I eat nachos?” You laugh at my observation, a sign that I’m doing a bit better.

“I think it was between the second burrito and the banana split.” You inform me as I sit up.

“Second? Banana…split?” I’m surprised. I know I was out of it when you were feeding me, too caught up in the agony swirling in my tummy, but I didn’t think I was that out of it. “Wait…when was the pizza?” You laugh at my dumbfounded expression.

“I only gave you a few bites of the banana split ‘cuz I wanted it…and ‘cuz it looked like you were going to be sick at that point. You ate a whole slice of that pizza before the ice-cream.” My stomach burbles as it’s reminded and I put a hand on it.

“I don’t think that qualified as pizza. It feels like it was grease with a side of dough and cheese.” I groan, patting my tummy gently and rubbing up and down slightly. I still feel sick but the crippling ache has subsided…for now.

I take your hand and get up off the bench. You’re up immediately and drag one of my arms over to rest around your shoulders. We stumble our way toward the exit with your hands resting on my waist. My other hand on my belly is more to support the extra weight while yours provide some much-needed rubs. It’s a team effort to get to the car in my state.

You help me into the passenger seat as I moan. The cramps are building in intensity. You fasten my seatbelt and I almost push you off when you put too much pressure leaning over me to get the thing buckled. Now that I am sitting up my belly is really prominently distended. As you back up I immediately recline the seat, giving my belly some much needed room.

“Do not throw up in the car.” You admonish.

“Urgh…urp…ulp…ugh…no promises.” I whimper. You close the door and the impact jostles my belly. I clutch at it with a groan, swallowing back something thick and wet.

It’s a long drive back home. I’m reclined as far as the seat will go. You have one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing absentmindedly over the crest of my tummy when it’s not needed to steer or shift gears or whatever.

A part of you feels horrible for what we have done tonight. While both of us are into tummies, this is the first time we’ve ever done something like this. We’ve done some minor stuffings before. We’ve done other things in the realm of tummy kink before. This is a first where you stuffed me with foods that would normally cause me great distress all on their own and you decided to cram them all into me in the span of six hours.

I’m lost to the pain as we pull up to our place. I’m in the same incoherent state I was in when you fed me all those things I didn’t register. Gently, you unbuckle the seatbelt, guiding it home so that it doesn’t have a chance to upset my belly further. I groan and nearly lose my gorge as you slide your arms under my back and my knees and lift me out of the car with a massive heave.

The vertigo goes right to my tummy and I’m a groaning mess as you whisper reassurances at me. We’re almost home. Don’t throw up on you. Etc.

You set me on the couch. The bedroom is too far a walk and you don’t want to risk dropping me. The extra weight of all that indigestion is more than you anticipated.

I can’t move. My tummy is pinning me down and the threat of vomiting is extreme. I feel like a thermometer or something with the sludge going up and down my esophagus.

You set a bin within reach of me before disappearing to the kitchen. I whimper, wishing I could call out. I need your hands on my belly. I feel so sick.

I hear clattering in the kitchen. The tell-tale signs of something being microwaved. I hope it’s a heat pack or something even if the added pressure of it is sure to make me vomit. You return with a plate of pizza bites and my stomach pulls a move where it feels like it’s trying to drop out of me and run. I can’t move. I’m too full, too sick, and in too much pain. I only hope you have a night of rubs planned and that you’ve got a hair-tie somewhere ‘cuz there is no way this night ends without me throwing up.

#AT Asks #Tummy RP #bloated belly #Tummy ache kink #Stuffing #tummy stuffing

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justnerdthings · 3 years

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Frigid Heart Ch. 5

F!Reader x Bi-Han

Surprise!

A little short. But here you go.

@poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @whitelotusfighter @icy-spicy @crazytxgradstudent @d-taslim @bihansthot @legends-of-apex @lillikue @missroro @shang-hung

To say the Grandmaster was impressed with you would have been an understatement. You could feel Lily’s eyes bore into the back of your head as she followed you and the Grandmaster through the halls. You had been cleaned up and given a clean hanfu--a nicer one. You were beyond thankful for the gift, but the Grandmaster was wise. He could see the worry behind your eyes. And he could sense Lily’s hostility. She had begun to grate against his nerves… But he understood her frustration. Who were you to come in and turn out be so full of surprises. He’d surely rile up Lily later on. He may have enjoyed her a being a tad jealous. But for now, he would ignore her behavior. You were much easier to look at anyway.

“Were all Snow Ninja servants as loyal as you?” he asked you.

You glanced up to him, then quickly looked away. “We’re raised to be loyal. If we aren’t loyal, we’re disposed of. I’m sure it’s the same here, Grandmaster.”

“Ah. Yes, we do expect loyalty. But such loyalty--to protect their masters? That is a rare treat for the Lin Kuei. Only a handful of girls have ever wielded our blades.”

“There is no use in weak servants,” You repeated the old mantra your former masters had taught you.

The Grandmaster rose his brows at your words, considering them for a moment before giving a single nod. “I suppose that is correct. To an extent.”

You sucked in a deep breath. You couldn’t help it anymore. This was eating away at you. “What happens to me if Sub-Zero dies?” You asked.

He chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “Who said Sub-Zero will die?”

“Those injuries—”

“I assure you, dear. He has endured much worse.”

You stiffened being called ‘dear.’ You heard a noise of displeasure behind you. Lily didn’t seem to like it either. “But, if he does, Grandmaster…” you cautiously pressed.

“If he does die, then I’m sure you’ll be picked up by another Lin Kuei assassin.”

“I won’t be sold, will I?”

He chuckled. “Perhaps. Though I imagine Tundra would offer to take you. He would have first rights to Sub-Zero’s belongings.”

That was right. That’s what you were. You were one of Sub-Zero’s belongings. You were just a piece of property.

“Though, I wouldn’t mind having you for myself,” the Grandmaster said. Your jaw stiffened and he had noticed. His brows rose. “That does not please you?”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you kept your mouth shut.

“Ah, so you’ve already heard about my girls.” He nodded “I am not unkind to my girls, I assure you. But they are mine. I do what I will with them. I have the means to offer them any pleasures they wish. I only ask for loyalty in return… and one other thing.”

You glanced to him. Once he noticed he’d piqued your interest, he’d smirked.

“A son,” he answered your curiosity. “Throughout the years, I have been given nothing but daughters. God seems to mock me. He denies me a rightful heir. Try as I might, I have not one son to speak of. Perhaps it’s a curse for the horrible things I have done in my life. But I will keep trying until my death.”

Well, now that just made sense. He had so many breeding women because he was trying desperately to have a son. But was it true that he was kind to them? And what of all these daughters?

You were suddenly reminded of Snowflake. She had been raised in the palace, but she didn’t know who her parents were… Was she one of the Grandmaster’s daughters? Did he… Did he just give them away? Your jaw hardened more.

“You wonder where all my daughters are,” the Grandmaster said with an understanding nod. “Dead.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Dead? All of them?

“But, that is a story for another day. You’re worried for Sub-Zero.” He stopped at a door which Lily moved to open. He motioned for you to go on ahead, then followed you into the large room.

It was full of injured assassins. Those knowledgeable in medicine were helping whoever they could. Servants were running back and forth, desperately trying to keep up with demand. Lily pushed herself towards the back of the room and you followed.

Bi-Han was laid out on a bedroll. His robes had been removed so his wounds could be properly assessed. A sheet had been draped over him for his own decency. Kuai was seated next to his brother and looked up as you appeared. He stiffened as he noticed the Grandmaster follow you. He bowed his head respectfully. “Grandmaster.”

“Tundra. How is Sub-Zero?” The Grandmaster asked, stepping closer.

“He’s lost a lot of blood. But he will live,” Kuai answered, then watched as you sat on the other side of Bi-Han.

“Very good. I had faith he would pull through.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.” Kuai nodded.

“I trust until he recovers, you will take responsibility for…” He suddenly became aware that you had not told him your name. He looked to you for it.

You frowned and looked away with a shake of your head. You were still nameless.

“Ah. Well, no matter.” He dismissed it with a wave and looked back to Kuai, who had turned his attention back to you. Kuai heaved a sigh, but nodded.

“Yes, Grandmaster,” he agreed.

“Good. And do tell me when he wakes. I would like to speak with him.”

Kuai bowed his head respectfully. You did the same. The Grandmaster smirked at both of your obedience before turning to leave, Lily at his heels.

_________

Bi-Han’s eyes shot open. His vision was horribly distorted. His lungs were burning. Where was he? Why couldn’t he breathe? Why was it so hot?

It took so much effort to even lift his head, never mind pulling at the chains around his wrists and ankles. He opened his mouth to speak… his throat felt as though he’d swallowed jagged rocks. A grunt escaped him.

As his vision began clearing, he could make out the figure of someone--someTHING standing several feet away. It was blacker than any black he’d ever seen with just as dark wisps dancing over it. Glowing white eyes were locked on him. “Who… Where am I?” Bi-Han managed to choke out.

The figure chuckled and caused Bi-Han’s chest to rumble with the deep resonance. “Home,” it answered.

Bi-Han’s brows knotted. He glanced around at the vast wasteland. No matter how hard he tried to suck in air, nothing soothed the empty burning in his chest. He wouldn’t have been able to describe it if anyone asked. It was like suffocating, but to no end. Death would not come. Even his heart had stopped beating. Agonizing pain radiated through his body as his muscles and organs were denied blood… What was this icy burn that washed over him? Was it… Panic?

“This… is not home,” he forced out, voice shredded.

“Oh. But it will be. Soon.”

“You speak in riddles.”

The figure chuckled again and disappeared from Bi-han’s view. Bi-Han was suddenly hoisted up by the chains and slammed back against a wall of black fire. He cried out as the flames burned his skin, blistering it instantly. And just as with the pain in his chest, relief would not come… And neither would ice as he tried to will it in an effort to protect himself.

Panicked voices soon filled his ears. Opening his eyes, he was faced with the Lin Kuei village in chaos, the palace and surrounding homes burning to the ground. No one seemed to notice him as he struggled against the chains. Smoke now filled his aching lungs, making them burn more. Trying to shout just made it worse. What was going on? Who had attacked them? Who had set fire to the village?

Kuai had run past him, into the blazes, summoning ice in attempts to combat the flames. Sektor and Cyrax were trying to evacuate the assassins and servants. Tomas was nowhere to be seen--he may have just blended in with the rest of the smoke. The Grandmaster collapsed as the smoke overwhelmed him. Lily laid lifeless on the ground next to him. Burned bodies laid everywhere. But you… Where were you? His eyes desperately searched the scene for you.

That demonic chuckle muted the sounds of the chaos around him before it all faded away. No. Wait. He hadn’t spotted you yet!

“She will perish just as the others,” that voice told him.

Bi-Han’s eyes snapped over to the figure. He choked on his words. “What is this?”

“This is where you become your true self.”

“What?”

“Do you not recognize yourself?”

Bi-Han’s brows knotted and the figure appeared in front of him, face only inches from his.

Those eyes… Those were… his.

“Don’t look so surprised. You knew you would end up here someday.”

Bi-Han’s jaw hardened.

“Welcome to Hell.”

No…

“Too bad you can’t stick around. This would have been fun. But, you’re not quite ready.”

“For what?” He hissed.

“To conquer Netherrealm.”

“What?”

The figure--a twisted version of himself--had chuckled again before everything faded away.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #mortal kombat fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #mk fanfic #mk fanfiction #sub-zero #bi-han #lin kuei #bi-han x reader #reader x bi-han #sub-zero x reader #reader x sub-zero #joe taslim #reader insert

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solarwonux · 3 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Drabbles #4 - Facetime

Ceo!Jun x f!reader

w.c 1.9k

warnings: smut, dirty talking, masterbation, mutual masterbation, phone sex, face time sex ya kno the usual lol

note: I’m having so much fun writing these lmao, I think I will do one for each of the 13 members, So I am gifting you Jun for today. I hope you’ll enjoy, let me know your thoughts. Thank you.xx

drabble game || masterlist

Jun’s business trip had been extended for another week, and he was pissed but the merge between his company and Seungcheol’s company was important. His stress of being away from his home and you getting to him as he felt his exhaustion rise when he bounced from meetings to meetings. A few times he had been able to sneak away for a breather and contact you, giving you updates on his day and telling you how much he was missing you in more ways than one.

“You don’t have to come out with us tonight.” Chan said as he finished tying his shoe and standing up, admiring his appearance in the mirror. Jun nodded tugging on his shirt, running a hand through his wet hair.

“This is important, we’re so close to finalizing the merge Chan I can’t back out now.” Jun sighed, sitting down on the bed grabbing one of his shoes.

“Wonwoo and I got this, we’ll just say you had an emergency to tend to, I’m sure they’ll understand.” Chan smiled, placing a comforting hand on Jun’s shoulder. “We’ll get this.” He nodded reassuringly, patting his shoulder and made his way towards the door. “Pick up your phone, it has been ringing nonstop.” He laughed and walked out.

Jun sighed, throwing his shoe to the side and stood up walking over to where his phone was charging. A sigh of relief escaping his lungs as he saw your facetime call light up his screen and without a second thought, he picked it up. His smile grew when he saw you appear on his screen. His heart beating rapidly as he took in your relaxed appearance, his body itching to be with you.

“Hey baby, you going out?” You smiled pushing up your glasses, leaning your elbows against your desk, getting close to the camera as you took in his attire. “I can call later if you are?”

“Hi love, was going to but I think Chan will beat my ass if I step out to meet him and Woo, they already scolded me for overworking myself too much earlier today.” He grinned, throwing himself on the bed, placing an arm behind his head holding it up grinning at you through his phone.

“Good maybe you’ll listen to them.” You smiled leaning back in your chair. “I miss you.” You pouted playfully crossing your arms in front of you.

“Believe me I miss you so much, if all goes well tonight and tomorrow, I should get back home tomorrow night or the following morning.” He said sitting up resting his back against the headboard.

“Jun, I’m confident everything will go well, stop selling yourself short.” You affirmed wishing you were with him to hold him and reassure him that all his hard work was going to pay off.

“Okay, okay if you say everything’s going to be fine then everything will be fine.” He smiled pushing his drying hair back, before slamming his hand down on the bed. “Now let’s stop talking about this…how was your day?”

“Fine, there was a tech problem at the office, so everyone got sent home early…I went to the mall and then came home took a bath, cooked and now I’m talking to you while waiting for my cookies to finish baking.” You gushed watching as Jun’s smile grew wider. His stomach was spiraling with butterflies as the excitement of seeing you again grew.

“Did you buy anything?”

“Ahh, I did but you’re going to have to come home in order to see what I bought.” You smirked playing with the strings of his forest green hoodie, his eyes widening realizing what you meant. He let out a playful groan running a frustrated hand across his face making you laugh loudly.

“Baby please show me…I’m in need right now.” He whined laying down on the bed again as you shook your head.

“Nope, that will ruin the surprise Jun…you can wait a few more days, or hours.”

“Please just a preview, I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day today.” He pouted, bringing his phone closer to his face magnifying his pouting lips.

“Fine but pay attention.” You giggled standing up from your chair, and pushing it in. Pushing your computer screen back, watching as Jun bit his bottom lip in anticipation. You walked back a little carefully, slowly hitching up his sweatshirt, revealing a baby blue see through bra with hearts covering your nipples and matching see through mesh shorts. Jun groaned, throwing his head back hitting his pillows repeatedly as he felt himself grow harder. You scoffed playfully at his reaction before bringing down his sweatshirt and covering yourself again as he whined.

“Did you like it?” You asked leaning against your chair watching as Jun rolled his eyes at your question.

“I’m so happy you showed me that today because when I get home its coming right off darling.” He mumbled unbuttoning the first few buttons of his dress shirt, feeling the heat start to take over his body. “But also I’m so hard right now and Chan could come back any minute now.”

“Better go take a cold shower then.” You suggested taking a seat again, fixing your computer screen so you were back in frame. “No, help me.” He pouted, fixing his pillows before sitting up against them, his free hand threatening to start touching himself as the image of you kept replaying in his mind. “Touch yourself for me.” He breathed out finally letting his hand rest against himself, palming himself slowly.

“Jun! You exclaimed your eyes growing in size, feeling your body heat up, the thought of pleasuring yourself for him making you aroused. “Please baby, look at what you did to me.” He smirked turning his camera around his hand gripping his cock through his slacks, a moan escaping your lips as you felt yourself start to crave him. You pushed your chair back standing up and taking off your bottoms throwing them aside, hiking up his sweatshirt and sitting back down. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” You spoke, opening your legs for him, your hand slowly caressing the inside of your thighs, making him moan out in satisfaction.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures my love.” He spoke rapidly standing up from the bed, setting his phone down on the nightstand making sure you’re able to see him. Once he was sure he stood up straight, taking off his shirt in a desperate haze. Moving his arms around as he tried pushing it off making your giggle at his clumsiness. “Not funny.” He mumbled once he succeeded throwing his shirt on the bed. His golden chest glistening underneath the dimmed light of the hotel room, your hand getting closer and closer to where you needed it most.

“Take off your pants you’re taking too long.” You joked as you teasingly ran your index finger through your arousal. Jun scoffed, rolling his eyes, “And you call me the impatient one.” He shook his head, unfastening his pants and pushing them down along with his boxers, kicking them aside. His hardened length resting against his stomach, begging to be touched. “You are.” You breathed sinking into the chair, moaning as you started circling your clit slowly.

He sighed as he took his cock in his hand circling his thumb over his reddened head, spreading around the bead of precum that hard started to form. “Aren’t you wearing to much clothes for me baby, let me see you.” He spoke letting go of his length spitting in his hand before moving his hand against him again.

“Deal with it.” You smirked before pushing against your clit gently. “You’re such a tease baby.” As he slowly started teasing himself. “Put a finger inside of you.” You moaned obliging, throwing your head back as you slid in one of your fingers moving it slowly against your wet, velvety walls wishing it was his finger instead. “Jun, I need you so badly.” You whined out searching for your g-spot, moaning when you finally found it.

“God, you have no idea how delicious you look right now.” He groaned, tightening his grip on his length. “Can you put another one in?” He sighed, running his thumb over his head once again, the pleasure feeling out of this world. You nodded as you started to slowly scissor your fingers as your other hand rubbed your clit teasingly. The sight was so sinful and beautiful at the same time. A masterpiece he wished he could frame for his own pleasure.

“I wish you were here.” You breathed out throwing your head back, pushing your hips against your hand as you slowly felt the wave of pleasure build up. Jun moaned loudly as his hand started moving faster, his hips moving along with it. “I wish I was there. inside you…Are you close?” He sighed, feeling himself start to reach his high, you nodded increasing your pace, your back arching against the chair, as your breaths started to get louder. Your chest rising rapidly as you worked yourself up, moaning his name like a sinful mantra when you felt yourself come undone underneath your heated touch. Jun following in suit, whispering your name through gritted teeth. Ropes of his cum shooting out against his toned stomach, the sight exciting you.

The two of you stayed silent for a while, taking in what had happened before you let out a laugh. Jun chuckled as he grabbed his phone with his clean hand, walking into the bathroom and grabbing the towel he had used earlier after his shower. “Why are you laughing?” He smirked, setting his phone down, resting it against the bathroom counter.

“I just can’t believe we did that.” You blushed crossing your legs in front of you. “Was that a good enough preview for you?” You added feeling your cheeks get hotter.

“More than enough baby girl.” He grinned, running the towel underneath the faucet before cleaning himself off. He then set the towel aside once he was done, looking around making a satisfied sound when he found the sweatpants, he had thrown on the floor that morning and putting them on.

“Good, now I have to go check on my cookies, the oven beeped around two minutes ago, but I was a bit busy obviously.” You stated standing up.

“Wait don’t leave me.” He whined grabbing his phone and walking out of the bathroom, his ears perking up as he heard the door of his hotel room click open, Chan walking in, his jacket over his shoulders and a satisfied smirk etched on his face. “Chan just walked in, say hi.” He smirked turning his camera around to face his best friend and coworker, your palms feeling sweaty as you set down your laptop on top of the kitchen counter. The fragments of what had happened not even five minutes ago playing through your head.

“H-Hi Channie. Did it go well?” You waved shyly, looking down at your attire and making sure you were all covered.

“Hi, yes, we’re signing the merger deal tomorrow, you’re welcome Jun.” He smirked patting his friend on the shoulder before walking past him unbuttoning his shirt. Jun turned his camera around, his face glowing as he heard the news.

“See, Jun I told you it was going to go perfectly fine.” You said excitedly, turning off the oven, silently hoping you hadn’t burned the cookies, as you had been craving some for days.

“Your manifestation skills are out of this world baby.” He joked making you laugh as you slowly took out your cookies, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips, your perfect cookies staring back at you. You set them down, spinning around and turning on the faucet and running your hands underneath them “That was all you baby, I just offered words of encouragement.”

“And more.” He winked, giving you a knowing look, as you turned the faucet off giving him a warning look. His laugh erupting from his chest at your reaction.

“I’m hanging up now, goodnight baby, I love you, I’m proud of you and the guys.” You said drying your hands then leaning against the kitchen counter. “Night Channie.” You yelled to the younger boy.

“Goodnight, did you make cookies?” He questioned appearing next to Jun raising a brow at you.

“Yes, I’ll save you guys some.”

“You’re amazing, thank you.”

“Alright, stop flirting with my girlfriend.” Jun mumbled pushing Chan out of the frame before turning to face you. “I love you, sweet dreams my love and save me more cookies than Chan.” He chuckled, throwing you a kiss before ending the facetime call. He sighed happily, throwing himself on the bed, pulling the covers up to his neck.

“Hope the two of you didn’t do gross stuff while I was gone.” Chan mumbled laying down on his bed, staring at him suspiciously.

“Of course we didn’t,” Jun nodded reassuringly trying his best to keep a poker face. “Go to sleep, I’m waking you up early tomorrow so you can tell me everything that happened tonight.”

“Whatever.” Chan mumbled, turning his back to him. Jun smiled, turning off the light of the room, his body finally relaxing for the first time in two weeks.

#kpopscape #kdiarynet #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen drabbles #jun x reader #jun smut #seventeen jun #jun imagines #jun fanfic #jun fanfiction #wen junhui #wen junhui imagines #wen junhui smut #wen junhui fanfiction

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buckyjamesbarnes1917 · 3 years

Text

Endlessly

A/N: Reader is a survivor of the Super Soldier Serum Experiment and continues to be haunted by the nightmares & terrors she had to endure during her time as one of HYDRA's pets. One day when she's thinking her existence simply doesn't matter in the world, someone from her past showed up unexpectedly. This does contain a little bit of TFATWS spoilers!

Warnings: Suicidal Thoughts, Nightmares/terrors, and torture & death. (All three & flashbacks are in italics)

“P-p-please no, you don’t have to do this, I have a family,” said a man trembling and begging for mercy on his life with tears rolling down at his face at the end of the barrel of the gun

I just stood there with the same cold, blank stare that stayed upon my face on every mission, mind unfazed, no emotions, the way HYDRA created me. I still felt part of my mind screaming “Don’t! He’s done nothing wrong!” but my mind couldn’t fight against the forces & the control HYDRA has on me. I pulled the trigger and muttered, “The mission is finalized.” After I determined the man to have no sign of life, I stepped over the body to then feel his hands grasped my ankles and then I saw his bloodied face frozen with an agonizing expression.

I awoke suddenly to then start panicking, thinking I was still within HYDRA’s facility where they still had control over me & tortured me to do their biddings. After I finally calmed my breathing down, I reminded myself, “You’re okay, you’re safe in your own apartment, HYDRA fell with S.H.I.E.L.D when the Avengers took them down, just continue the breathing exercises, and everything will be alright.” Except, it’s not going to be alright, though doing the breathing exercises keeps my breathing under control, I’m still being tormented by my nightmares. I sighed and got out of bed, maybe a shower will help me clear my thoughts.

~Meanwhile, on a plane to America~

“What’s the story about the name Zemo was talking about when we were on our way to Madripoor?” Sam asked as Bucky thinks back to the conversation.

“To beat Karli, we need a lot more allies, I suggest we start by enlisting the help of Y/N L/N,” Zemo said as Sam looked confused & Bucky’s facial expression tweaked

“Who-” Sam started to say until Bucky interrupts him, “Don’t you ever mention that name again.”

“I’m sorry, so let’s talk about the plan,” Zemo responds as Bucky went back in his seat.

Bucky sighed and said, “Her name is one of the people I have to make amends with, she was one of HYDRA’s experiments.”

“Hold up, I thought Zemo got rid of all the super soldiers, why did he spare her?” Sam responded as he and Bucky finally exit the plane

“He spared her life because he had a feeling that she could be free from the controls of HYDRA and so that she could try to live a normal life, like me,” Bucky said as Sam looked at him confused and asked, “How do you know that?”

“Before The Dora Milaje took him to The Raft, he knew she was on my list when he went to cross his name off. Zemo didn’t give me a definite answer why he told me, he just felt like it,” Bucky responded as Sam nodded an okay

“You think she can help us?” Sam asked as Bucky nodded his head and then said, “But it’s not going to be easy to convince her to join the cause.”

“Why? Did you do something to her that caused her to be on your list?” Sam asked

Bucky sighed and said, “You don’t even want to know.” as Sam stayed silent, a sign that he understands and doesn’t want to push it

“I’m going to visit Isaiah before heading home to Sarah and the boys, want to tag along?” Sam asked as Bucky shook his head

“No, I’m going make amends with someone I should’ve made them with a long time ago,” Bucky responded as he only has one mission on his mind.

~Back in New York, a day later~

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” I kept whispering to myself, repeating the mantra

The shower did help me clear my thoughts, but throughout the day, I couldn’t shake the dread & despair the nightmares and terrors brought me. I know it wasn’t my fault for all those deaths, I was a weapon that HYDRA created and used, but HYDRA doesn’t exist anymore so I’m not a weapon. I don’t know why Helmut Zemo spared my life that day he confronted me, I have no place in this world nor would be of any use to make a difference.

“Why am I still alive? I’m nothing and nobody even cares about me nor care I still exist.” I whispered to myself as I rest my head on my knees

Then I heard a knock on my apartment door and stayed silent to see if I can recognize if one of my neighbors is behind the door. I got up from the floor and composed myself together before I go up to the door to check through the peephole and I suddenly froze when I saw who was on the other side, James Barnes aka The Winter Soldier, HYDRA’s former powerful weapon. A lot has changed and its been a long time since I came face to face with him.

“Y/N, I know you’re behind the door. Can you let me in so we can talk?” James whispered so I can only hear him

“You know he’s changed too, he isn’t The Winter Solider anymore, let him in,” I could hear my conscience telling me

I then started to unlock the door and opened it to him standing there, with a concerned face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as James walked into my apartment

“Your name’s on my list,” James responded as I looked at him in confusion

“What list? Your list of people to kill or torture?” I asked as James hands me a notebook with his writing that shows my name under the title, “Amends”

“I’m no longer the Winter Soldier. I’m James “Bucky” Barnes and you’re part of my efforts to make amends,” James said

I was about to ask something, but then James interrupts me by responding, “I heard you.”

I started to develop a confused look on my face and then realized, with his enhanced hearing, he heard what I said minutes before he knocked on the door. I looked away from him and mutter, “Of course you did.”

“How long have they been happening?” James asked as I said in response, “Since before & returning from the Blip. Glad to see you’re looking well, therapy going good?” adding a little irritation at the end since therapy hasn’t been working for me

James sighed and then responds, “I’ve been having them too so, you’re not alone.”

“I thought therapy was suppose to help with that,” I said with a tone of shock in my voice that maybe he hasn’t changed much

“It’s helping, but not as much as it needs to.” James replied

James sighed and then said, “I’m sorry for what happened in the past, all the pain & torture I caused you as the Winter Soldier. I know I can’t take it back, but if you’ll allow me, I want to make it up to you. I need your help.”

I contemplated accepting his apology to then say, “Okay. What do you need help with?”

“Are you aware of the Flag Smashers?” James asked as I nodded my head in response “Well, their leader, Karli decided to lay low after what Walker did to one of her followers. We need to be prepared for her next move when it happens, but Sam & I can’t do all this by ourselves, so will you help us when the time comes?”

“Why me? You heard what I said, I’m nothing, Zemo should’ve ended me when he had the chance,” I responded as James looked away

“You are not nothing, you are a survivor and a fighter. Zemo spared your life because he believed you would make a difference in this world and protect it when the time comes. I know that you are strong enough to stand your ground and I believe in you,” James said as I stood there, stunned not knowing that his words would make that much of an impact on me.

“Okay,” I responded as James looked back at me, “I’ll help you and Sam take down the Flag Smashers, whatever it takes.”

I could see James thinking about something so I asked, “James, what are you thinking about?”

“How would you feel about taking a trip down to Delacroix, Louisiana? You get a break from the city and you get to meet Sam so you can start to build your trust in him,” James responded

“Think that would do me good since I haven’t gotten much sleep, also sorry for getting irritated with you,” I said as James laughs and smiles at me

“It’s fine, doll, also call me Bucky,” Bucky responded as he starts to back up and turn around to leave my apartment with me walking behind him

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile or laugh like that before,” I thought to myself as I start to smile at the ground, “It’s definitely having an effect on me.”

As we’re on our way to Louisiana, he caught me up on what happened overseas, including the incident with John Walker.

“So wait, Walker wouldn’t give up the shield and felt no remorse for what he did to Steve’s legacy? What an asshole,” I said as Bucky chuckles in agreement.

“Yeah, Sam and I took the shield back, which left Walker with a broken arm,” Bucky responds as he looks at his vibranium arm that’s resting against mine.

“Hey, remember, you’re free from HYDRA, you don’t have the arm they provided you, and you learned to resist the trigger words,” I reminded him as he nods his head

“I’m sorry if this brings up the nightmares, but are they about your victims or is it just your subconscious making you feel what you do?” Bucky asked as I sighed

“They’re just about me remembering what I’d done and how much control HYDRA had over me, it’s just hard to shake off the feeling of dread & despair after experiencing them,” I responded as I felt Bucky move his hand into mine and squeezing it in reassurance

“It’ll be okay, maybe the change of scenery will help the both of us,” Bucky whispered

After we arrived two days before, we went to the docks where we saw everyone helping out Sam and his family with the boat. Bucky and I walked over to the boat when we see Sam talking to two locals when Bucky decided to help them get an equipment out of the trunk.

“Thanks Buck, this her?” Sam asked as Bucky nodded, “So will you help us?”

“Yes, I will help you with the Flag Smasher, need help with the boat?” I responded as Sam said, “Hope you don’t mind”

“No, we don’t mind. Where do you want us?” Bucky asked as Sam pointed us to where he wanted us

As we were working, I notice out of the corner of my eye, a woman who looks to be Sam’s sister, walking along the dock with a clipboard.

“Hey, I’m Bucky,” I hear Bucky say as the woman stops in front of him

“Sarah, nice to meet you, and who are you?” Sarah responds to then turn her attention to me

“Y/N, nice to meet you too, also don’t mind Bucky, he’s a bit of a flirt,” I said teasingly as Sarah laughs and Bucky makes a face at me that says “Really?”

“What? You know I’m right because if I recall, in the 1940s before you went to war, you were one of Brooklyn’s biggest flirts, I read about it at the exhibit,” I responded towards Bucky’s way

Bucky shook his head and smiled to the ground, thinking no one would notice, but Sam did.

After I finished up with what I was tasked to do, Sarah asked me to help her out with something so I got off the boat and followed her to where we needed to go, leaving Bucky and Sam sitting there. Sam walks over to the cooler and grabbed two Heineken to then hand one to Bucky.

“Alright, so what’s going on between you two?” Sam asked as Bucky sighed

“We’re just focusing on me making it up to her and completing my efforts to make amends with her,” Bucky responded as he took a sip

“Bucky, I’ve seen that look in your eyes, you’re in love with her, how long has that feeling been there?” Sam asked, unknowingly oblivious to the fact I returned from helping Sarah and was standing nearby.

“I remember seeing her at the facility after Steve broke the trance, the first thought that came to my mind was, “Who was this girl with the blank cold stare?” then they commanded her to do her task and I could see for a split second that her eyes showed emotions. A split second, I knew she still had the parts to her that made her human,” Bucky responded as he then said, “That’s when it happened.”

“So after HYDRA fell, you forgot about her or did that memory only existed in the Winter Soldier persona?” Sam said as Bucky got up to stand

“After Hydra fell and I started to gain my mind back, I always thought back to her, wondering where she was and what she was up to. One day, I decided I was going to see for myself, so I found her. When I saw her that first time since that day at the facility, Sam, I wanted to make my presence known to her, she looked so lost and knowing what me as the Winter Soldier did to her, not knowing if she even remembers it, I didn’t want to force myself to stand face to face with her because I didn’t know if she was ready then to talk to me or if it was going to jeopardize her healing from the torture and the horrors of HYDRA. So I left, though it pained me that she never would’ve known someone still cared about her, and I wish I could’ve helped her with her nightmares before now,” Bucky said as he runs his hands over his face

“Y-you really feel that way?” I finally spoke, making my presence known as Sam and Bucky looked towards my direction

“Okay, that’s my cue. I’ll let you guys talk and have your privacy,” Sam said as he got off the boat and left, leaving me and Bucky alone on the docks

“Yes, I do feel that way and I am so sorry that you’ve been feeling that way for a long time,” Bucky responded with tears welling up in his eyes as I go on the boat to stand in front of him

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I said putting my hands on his face, feeling one of his hands wrap around my wrist, “I’m glad that you did what you felt was right for me no matter how bad you felt about doing it. You were willing to be patient until the day you felt I would be ready to face you again.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” Bucky asked as I leaned in closer to the point where our lips are close to touching

“James Bucky Barnes, despite all the torture and pain you put me through as the Winter Soldier, I still forgave you at my own pace which you allowed me to have. That makes you one of the amazing guys I have the pleasure of knowing,” I said as I finally kissed him, making the first move

Bucky kissed back and moved one of his hands to my hair and the other to settle on my waist as we kissed in the sunset. We pulled away and I looked up to see Bucky smiling down at me, then he reached to one of his back pockets to pull out his notebook and handed it to me.

“So shall we cross off your name off the list?” Bucky asked with a smirk plastered on his face

I smiled back and said, “Definitely” as I took the notebook & pen from him and crossed out my name.

“Feels good huh?” I asked him as he laughed

“It does, so should we start finding a hotel to crash at before our flight back home?” Bucky asked

Before I could even answer or make a suggestion, we hear Sam from behind us, “You guys can stay at our place if you want to.”

I was silently glad that Bucky took up on Sam’s offer because that night was the first night in years where I had a peaceful sleep and it was in the arms of someone I loved & trusted in the house of people we felt comfortable around.

#bucky barnes #tfatws #sebastian stan #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #the winter soldier #tfatws imagine

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hiswhiteknight · 3 years

Text

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 9

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 1900

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

You heard Jamie’s word after he left, ‘You should go up and spend some time with the clan, it might be worth learning a bit more.’ He wasn’t wrong, though it was hard for you to admit it. You took a deep sigh, fixed your hair, and went back up the stairs. You found Mrs. Fitz, who passed you a drink. “Lovely you joined us again Y/N. Everything prepped for the hunt?”

“Sure is, Mrs. Fitz, sure is, which means I can drink and be merry,” you watched as the line started to dwindle down as the men took their oaths to Colum. “Anything happen after the oath taking, like that musician, will he be playing today. Love that guy,” you smile down at her.

She looked at you bemused and shook her head, “No, he won’t be playing this evening. There will be dancing later, I’m sure quite a few men would be interested in dancing with you.”

You shook your head at her, “You are not a match maker Mrs. Fitz. I would not dare to go out on that floor. I would insult the good Mackenzie clan with my lack of grace.” A man tripped over his feet in front of you and stumbled on to find his friends.

“Grace is nothing you need to worry about here dear,” she grinned at you. “Not too difficult to figure out, I’ll have Laoghaire show you later,” she tapped you. Laoghaire stood next to her, giving you a strange look, you were sure you didn’t warrant. Suddenly the room grew quiet and you looked up towards the entrance of the hall. Jamie was weaving through the crowd slowly. He had changed and making his way towards the oath taking line. And every eye was on him, except when you turned to observe everyone’s reaction Murtagh was looking at you. You gripped Mrs. Fitz’s arm and pushed towards Murtagh, there was no way you were taking credit for this.

When you made yourself up to him, he was towards the back of the room with his hand gripping the top of his sword, “Why do I have a feeling this involves you?”

“I didn’t do it,” you whispered harshly to him, sounding like a child defending their lack of innocence. He tipped his head over not believing you for a second, “I didn’t do it on purpose, and he told me he could get back just fine.”

“You don’t understand what you just did to him. You signed his death sentence,” he pulled you back further. Murtagh caught you up in the severity of Jamie’s predicament. With every word, you grew more worrisome and filled with guilt. The thought of not having Jamie to rely on as a friend tousled around in your head. You tried to find a way to free Jamie from this situation and the only thought you could manage was start a fire or faint and you didn’t believe either of those situations would help him out of this.

It was Jamie’s turn next and you didn’t acknowledge that you started to hold your breath. Suddenly without reason or thought, you grabbed Murtagh’s forearm. And without much thought, Jamie diplomatically got himself out of the situation looking like a leader. You cursed under your breath, before dusting off the front of your dress, “And you were worried Murtagh. See Jamie came out looking like a,” you paused not being able to come up with a metaphor that would make sense in the 18th century, “I don’t know. He is just fine. Now you can’t be mad at me.”

Murtagh rolled his eyes as Jamie walked up to him, “Couldn’t stay away from trouble, aye?”

Jamie looked towards you, his face grew a knowing smile I didn’t quite understand, “Sometimes trouble finds me than I’m like a moth to flame. Y/N, I see you decided to join the gathering again.”

“You made it sound so exciting and here you were not wrong. Though it doesn’t bode well that you got caught. And now Murtagh here is blaming me for your lack of discretion,” you use your thumb to point back at Murtagh, “And I was starting to win him over.”

Scratching the back of his neck, leaning in to whisper, “Not everyone can be sneaky as you and not get caught.”

“Tis right there sir,” you shoot back at him.

Hearing a big sigh come from his partner in crime, Murtagh gave Jamie an eye roll and pulled him out of the hall, “You’ve had enough of trouble this evening, let’s go.”

“Enjoy your evening, Y/N.”

You shook your head, biting back a snarky comment. You could throttle the man for making everything seem so suave and charming. As Jamie and Murtagh rounded the hall entrance, the phrase you repeated to yourself, ‘your charm doesn’t work on me Jamie.’ It was slowly hitting you that, that mantra might not be as strong as you needed it to be. You looked around, feeling someone starring at you and caught eye contact with Laoghaire. And suddenly she was storming out of your eyesight. The dancing had started and you watched the mesmerizing dance of the culture. Everyone’s laughter put you at ease for a moment. Then suddenly, you were in your head missing your home and brother. You weren’t meant to be here, everything you are is fake or reserved. You couldn’t live like this and the bought of hopelessness took over your soul. In this moment, something inside you became a little toxic.

The next morning, you were up early for the hunt. The way the night ended with the uneasiness sat on your chests as you dressed for the day. This wasn’t your place, this wasn’t your job, and it started to bother you how different the times are. You would never be respected as a woman, an unmarried woman. You tossed your hair in two French braids, per usual fashion when having a busy day. You dropped your hair piece under the bed and you ducked down to grab it to suddenly find a strange bundle. You finished with your hair and brought the bundle down to the kitchen.

You grabbed some bread and sat the bundle on the table, “Dear what are you bringing that into this kitchen,” Mrs. Fitz yelled catching you off guard and causing you to stumble backwards.

“I,” you paused to comprehend the situation, “I, I found it in my room, under my bed and I was going to ask it was some weird potpourri thing. What is it?”

“It’s an ill-wish, a witch’s making,” she tossed it into the fire.

“An ill-wish, what?”

“Someone be wishing to bring you harm dear, what have you gotten into,” she put both her hands on your face, “Try staying out of trouble, someone has an eye to hurt you.”

“I didn’t do anything, literally I have been making myself small at possible Mrs. Fitz,” your voice started to raise. You have done everything in your power to win people over, treat people with kindness, not start a stir when you found injustice to your gender and status. You didn’t believe in witchcraft, though it should cause you to question since you are living the 18th century, which is something you would never believe in.

“All due respect, Mrs. Fitz, but someone is going to get their ass beat hard,” you shot catching everyone’s attention.

“Lass, mind your tongue. That is not the language a lady speaks,” Mrs. Fitz tried to sooth you.

You pull away from her, “No,” you start to gather your things feeling the heat of this betrayal crumble the wall you built around your true self to keep you protected from these people. Every comment, action, and lie you’ve told to keep yourself from being killed, shunned, raped, or imprisoned is bubbling out of your pours. You have reached you limit, “I am not a lady Mrs. Fitz. I do not belong here. I wear pants damn it, I swear, and I could probably kick the ass of half the men here,” you paused, “At the same time,” you paused again, “Maybe not, but I sure would die trying. I do not belong here. Look at how everyone looks at me, treats me, I’m the enemy because I’m different. I’m not part of the clans, I’m an imposter. And rather than whisper about their hatred, someone wants to cause me actual pain with this bullshit. Fuck that. I’m sorry Mrs. Fitz and pardon me, but fuck that.” Your packs were hanging from my shoulder, “Let this spread around the village, anyone that can guarantee me the name of the person who put this under my bed gets all the money I have earned over the time I’ve been here.”

“Y/N,” Mrs. Fitz called after you. She clearly was not offended by your lewdness, but more she was concerned about what you were about to cause with your burst of feelings of revenge and anger.

You stomped up to Angus, “Where the necklace man, I didn’t escape or leave, now give the piece back?”

“Don’t speak to me like that lassie,” he started to feel around his body for the necklace you gave him the night before. With every pat, your already boiling anger grew. That was the only piece from your family you owned. “Might of lost-,” he started to say.

With the beginning of his sentence, you went for your dagger lying on your waistband. Before you could pull it out, Rupert pushed your hand down holding the handle down, “Settle down Y/N, Angus gave me the necklace to watch over. He noted he would lose it.” He pushed the charm in your hand, “If that would have came out, Angus would have gutted you. Does the hunt have you on edge lass?”

“Stupidity has me on edge Rupert and it’s not much of your business,” you stormed away to find your horse. Something had changed in you and you weren’t sure what to do about it.

You struggled to get on your horse, when someone came up and offered you an extra push. Jamie stood in front of you and your horse, “Mrs. Fitz asked me to check on you. She shared you were upset and threatening people. I heard you tried to pull a knife on Angus, what has gotten into you woman.”

This time you didn’t make eye contact with Jamie, “Mind your business Mister MacTavish. If I want to fight or punish someone for their actions against me, then I’ll see fit to do it. Now get out of my way, there is a boar to chase down and murdered.”

Jamie didn’t move, keeping your horse in place, “You going to get yourself killed and as your friend, that does in fact concern me. You shouldn’t be going on the hunt like this.”

You pushed forward with the horse causing Jamie to back up quickly, “I’ve seen Old Yeller, I get the dangers that come from a boar. Right now, you should be worried about the clansmen Mackenzie. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you started to move towards the field.

You were fully aware he would not get the reference from the 21st century, but you did not care. The thought of taking the horse and charging out of the village to the stones drifted to your mind. But you still cared to get back to your brother at the moment and that meant you had to have a chance to survive, “Y/N,” Jamie yelled after you.

“Leave me alone, Mister MacTavish, I have business to attend to,” you shouted back.

Part 10

Taglist: @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans @slytherinambitious @kinky-asher @lovesanimals @bilesxbilinskixlahey

#Outlander #fanfiction #outlander fanfiction #outlander imagine #Jamie Fraser #jamie fraser imagine #jamie fraser imagines #jamie fraser x reader #jamie frazier x reader

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iaal · 3 years

Text

Hisoka x reader!caught with another man

Earlier, I was just minding my own business innocently, like I always do, when I got the idea of angry Hisoka. One thing leading to another I ended up writing like a possessed mad woman and the result is me giving birth to 3k words of filth. I didn’t even know this kind of stuff were swimming in my brain, I have no idea what I just channeled. With that said I never wrote so fast so whatever it was it was working. So yeah enjoy. It’s almost 6am and I didn’t even reread it one last time before posting, I need a break and lots of sleep.

WARNING: NON CON, CUCKOLDING(KINDA???), PAINAL, VERY VERY TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, VIOLENCE, DEATH THREAT, MANIPULATION, VOYEUR, ANGRY TRASH CLOWN

You didn’t think it was a bad idea to spend some time with your friends and go to a club. It wasn’t a bad idea either to go home with some random pretty boy. Fucking him on your couch, even if it wasn’t mind blowing was still not a bad idea. No, you really fucked up when you didn’t noticed your phone ran out of battery a long time ago. If you did you’d have seen Hisoka’s text telling you he was on his way to see you and you wouldn’t have been riding another man when he opened the door.

Hisoka looked at the scene with cold eyes for a moment before closing the door and leaning his back against it, arms crossed, lips pressed in a tight line.

“Hisoka… ” you couldn’t manage more than to whisper his name. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know… ” you swallowed hard, your mouth getting drier by the second under his gaze, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Your random lover was bright red under you and started to try to get up, no doubt wanting nothing else than to be anywhere but here. You felt the same but unfortunately this was your flat and even if it wasn’t you knew Hisoka wouldn’t let you go that easily.

“Don,’t. Continue what you were doing.” Hisoka ordered when you got off of the other men’s laps.

“What?!” you and the pretty boy shouted at the same time. You looked at Hisoka and there was no trace of arousal in his demeanor, just cold anger. He wasn’t asking you to get fucked in front of him to get him off.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, love,” a card appeared between his fingers and your blood froze in your veins. No doubt he was serious.

“Listen man,”, the guy started and you panicked, you tried to hush him but he was oblivious to your attempts. “I don’t know what this is all about but I’m not into this shit. I’ll just leave and you guys can settle things between you, this has nothing to do with me.”

You blanched. Maybe you could beg, maybe Hisoka would forgive you, there was still a chance. But the other guy? So far Hisoka’s glare was intended for you, if he wanted to live he’d better not make himself too noticeable. When he tried to get up your grabbed his wrist to keep him seated. Finally, he seemed to realize how serious the situation was when he turned to you, probably to complain, and saw your colorless face.

“But is has everything to do with you!” Hisoka insisted, “After all you’re participating in the game too. I’ll tell you the rule, it’s really simple,” a wicked smile was growing on his lips “The first one making the other come gets to live.”

“Please, Hisoka,” you pleaded.

A card flew past your head, scratching you cheek before embedding itself in your couch. You heard a squeal beside you but you were too shocked to move, your eyes fixated on the drops of blood that were falling from your face to your thigh.

“That’s your last warning,” he said in a low voice. With a flicker of his wrist Hisoka replaced the card he just threw by a new one. This one won’t just graze you if your were to continue arguing.

The other guy’s erection was long gone but you still removed the condom and grabbed his flaccid dick. There’s was no way you’d be able to come in this situation and the whimpering and ‘Oh God, what the fuck what the fuck what the...’ your partner was chanting like a mantra weren’t a good sign for him either. You weren’t sure Hisoka wouldn’t kill you if you were to lose the game but you’d hope that if at least you got along with his punishment he might calm down a little. Nonetheless, it was the best outcome. The other guy wouldn’t be spared if he was the one to lose, Hisoka wouldn’t have any insensitive to let him live. His body wasn’t cooperating with your attempt to save his life though, and in spite of your best effort you couldn’t get him hard.

“Try to not think about him, it’s going to be fine,” you whispered, trying to reassure him, albeit pitifully. “Just focus on me. I’ll come, I’ll definitely come.” You thought you smiled, but you wouldn’t be certain of what kind of face you made. The guy nodded, probably not believing in your comforting words but clinging to any hope he could get. You cupped his cheek and turn his face so he’d look at you. As scared as he was he started to relax just a little bit. Until Hisoka spoke again.

“Pathetic,” you heard him scoff. “How long is it going to take?” he sighed and you clenched your teeth. “I told you to continue what you were doing before, not playing around.” Hisoka walked to your terrified companion of misfortune and took a fistful of his hair, yanking his head painfully before bending close to his ear. “Fuck her like your life depends of it, because it does,” he growled. He released him and got back to his previous position against your door.

Hisoka’s threat was more effective than your soft encouragement, and a fear boner was something you could work with. Not wanting to lose any seconds you picked the guy’s jeans to fish another condom. Nothing was exciting and you weren’t wet in this situation but at least the lube from the condom would help. You started getting back on his lap before Hisoka interrupted again.

“Not like this, turn around and look at me,” he directed you. Hisoka knew the face you made during your orgasms and you assumed he’d want to check in case you thought of faking it. Not that you had any confidence in your acting skill at the moment. Keeping an eye for a cheating attempt was certainly a reason but it didn’t seem to be the only one. When you faced him you caught him palming the front of his pants but adorning the same cold expression. Ever the hedonist.

You started moving your hips, your partner seemingly too focus on keeping his erection to really help you out. Even before Hisoka came in the sex was nothing to write home about, now it was painful and you had no idea how you’ll manage to finish. You just prayed that fear ejaculation wasn’t a thing. Letting your mind wandered, you did your best to aroused yourself, pushing the danger of the plight you were in to a corner of your mind. Ironically, that was sex with Hisoka that you would start to remembered. Looking directly at him you still imagined it was him behind you, like all the time he has taken you on this very same couch. Slowly you started getting there, the sting gone, replaced by a quiet pleasure. Yet, your imagination only got you so far and you pussy was far for being as filled as with Hisoka. You eyes trailed to Hisoka’s eyes to his arms, stomach and stopped on his hand rubbing his hardness. A soft moan escaped you when he gave his length a squeeze.

“Mh? Do you want this now?” he asked teasingly before stroking himself harder. “Riding a man’s cock while eyeing another’s…” Hisoka pushed his pants down just enough to free his throbbing erection, resuming his masturbation. “I knew you were a slut but your greed is boundless” he tutted.

Moving in rhythm with his hand, you bounce your ass more energetically. The pretty boy seemed more inclined in doing his part too and was starting to meet your ass with his own thrust, it was meek to say the least but he was an active participant now at last.

“She likes it hard,” Hisoka chimed. “If you want to win you’ll need to pick up the pace,” he added, giving pointer to the guy pounding you.

Grabbing your hips, your lover took Hisoka’s advice at heart and set a faster rhythm. He was really fucking you like his life depended on it. You moaned louder, eyes still glued on Hisoka’s cock eliciting the first moan from him too. You closed you eyes focusing only on the sounds of wet skins slapping and Hisoka’s voice, ignoring the grunting behind you. Only a few minutes of this symphony was enough to put you over the edge. Still, even in this situation you didn’t forget that Hisoka always wanted you to look at him in the eyes when you were coming. And so you did, you opened your eyes, your vision blurry, searching for his eyes. When you found them you let yourself go and cum loudly, shouting Hisoka’s name again and again. As soon as you were finished Hisoka was beside you, holding a card against the poor guy throat.

“Get out,” he said without even looking at him. His other hand already around you to get you off of him.

The man didn’t even took the time to get dressed, he just picked his stuff and was out in a flash. At least he was alive and unscathed.

“You weren’t suppose to enjoy it you know,” he scolded you, throwing you back on the sofa.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t know you were coming,” you panted both because of your orgasm and fear after you’ve lost his game.

“I’ve sent you a text well in advance. Where’s your phone?” he asked.

Getting up you grabbed your bag and searched for your phone. You gulped when you found it shut off. Hisoka took it from your hand.

“I-It ran out of battery … I didn’t noticed,” you explained but shut your mouth really fast when Hisoka crushed your phone with his hand.

“You have no use for it if you’re not even able to keep it charged.” He threw the already broken beyond repair phone against the wall. “I do like surprises but I really hate being ignored,” taking your face between his fingers, he pressed his nails painfully on your cheeks. “You know that. Don’t you, love?”

“I’m really sorry,” you whined, unable to prevent tears to start flowing. You had Hisoka being annoyed with you, irritable for no good reason and even sullen. Never have you seen him mad at you and it was frightening. The worst was his tone. He wasn’t screaming, on the contrary his voice was getting lower and quieter.

“Did you win because you were sure I wouldn’t kill you?” he mused. Hisoka wept your tears roughly, his nails scrapping at your skin. When you didn’t answered he insisted, grabbing your chin and placing his eyes only a few centimeters from yours. “Well? Were you so sure about your safety?”

“N-No. I wasn’t sure but I thought…” you swallowed a sob before continuing, “I thought… I mean I hoped you would be less mad if I did what you asked.” You sniffed loudly trying not to bawl.

“You know me well, it was a smart move,” Hisoka eased the pressure on your chin and chuckled. “I’m a tad less mad. Not that I intended to really kill you, but it was more fun to give you a motivation.” Pushing you on the couch he pushed back his pants lower, putting his still hard cock in front of you. “But maybe you didn’t need any motivation, you were moving like a bitch in heat on his cock.”

Your tears hadn’t even stop flowing and you were still shaking, you took a minute to calm yourself but it wasn’t enough. He’d have definitely killed the other guy, knowing your life alone was never at risk didn’t help your nerves when you were this close to witness a murder. It would have been your fault, just because of a dumb mistake. Honestly you just wanted the night to be over, you wanted Hisoka to hold you and to tell you it’s okay now, you needed that.

“Your punishment isn’t over, darling, you’re still the loser,” Hisoka was waiting for you to compose yourself patiently but his patience only goes so far when he’s hard.

“Hisoka, please, can you give me a hug?” you sobbed, pleading with your eyes.

“Oh,” he smiled almost softly and patted your head gently a couple of time. “I wish I could, love, I really do. But bad girls don’t get hugs now, do they?” he sighed as if refusing you was painful for him. “Now get me nice and wet, it’ll be easier for you,” he pushed the tips of his cock against your lips and you sobbed one last time before opening your mouth.

You sucked him off almost mechanically, you knew by heart the spots he liked the most and your body was moving on instinct at this point. When he pushed deeper into your mouth you relaxed your jaw without thinking about it, moving your tongue at the right place to leave him enough room to fuck your throat. You expected him to finish like that and were surprised when he removed his cock.

“On the couch now, ass up,” he said in a breath, giving your ass cheek a slap when you positioned yourself as he asked.

Climbing behind you, hand on your hips, he started to push the tip of his cock against your hole but once again it wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Hisoka! I’m not ready, it’s not going to fit!” you panicked as he continued to push against your asshole. It wasn’t your first time doing anal but you never attempted it without a good dose of lube and foreplay. You gasps as the tip went in, the stretch was painful and you bit your lips to not whimper.

“Hush, hush, it’s your punishment,” He pushed harder and you let out a cry. Hisoka moaned. “You didn’t think I’d get some sorry guy’s sloppy second?”

You tried to bear the pain, you really did but when Hisoka bottomed out and start to thrust roughly you felt like you were about to pass out.

“Please it hurts, it hurts, please,” you repeated, incapable to manage a proper sentence, wailing between words. You were really going to break if this continued. You brain was telling you to relax but your body was in shock.

“Just a bit longer,” Hisoka panted. “Almost there.” he put his hand in front of your mouth, “Bite, it’ll helps.”

Taking anything to distract you from the pain you bite hard on his offered hand. Hisoka let out a long groan before thrusting faster. You tasted blood on your tongue and the saltiness of your own tears rolling down into your mouth but you kept biting harder, you knew it was almost over. With a moan and a last slap of his hips Hisoka finally came, his fingers crushing your hip but you didn’t even noticed it.

His dick slid outside of you and you took a deep breath, the pain didn’t disappear but it was more mute and you didn’t feel like you were going to break anymore. Hisoka got out of his clothes and carried you to the bathroom, holding you in the shower while he was washing you. At this point you were barely conscious and let him moved you around to get you in the position he wanted to clean you up. In the same fashion he dried you in silence, sitting you between his laps when it was obvious you couldn’t stand on your own. Finally he carried you to bed, laying with you and resting your head on his shoulder. When he hugged you close you started bawling.

“It’s okay, love. I’m not mad anymore,” he consoled, littering your head with kisses, his hand stroking your back. “I know you won’t do it again.” He held you like that until your tears ran out and you fell asleep.

When you woke up it was already late in the afternoon and Hisoka wasn’t in bed. You cried out when you tried to sit and went back to lay down on your stomach. You were thinking on how you’ll be able to manage the next days if you couldn’t walk and how you were without a phone when the bedroom’s door opened.

Hisoka sat next to you, caressing your head for a while before leaning in for a kiss. He was smiling like he usually did. The events of the previous night felt like it was only a nightmare, the pain was the only reminder that it actually happened.

“It was scary,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I know, love,” he acknowledged.

Hisoka played with your hair for a while longer before leaving the room and coming back with a plastic bag. He emptied the content on the bed and you crooked your neck curiously to see what is was. The effort wasn’t needed because Hisoka was about to show you. He placed a donuts shaped pillow next to you and helped you sat on it. You winced when he moved you but it didn’t hurt to sit at least. Next he took a tube of cream and put a generous amount on his finger before applying it on spots on your face. Once done, he put the tube down before taking a different one.

“This one’s for your ass. I presumed you’d want to do it yourself?” he hummed, eyes crinkling with amusement. Amusement wasn’t what you were feeling and you shivered at the simple suggestion. You quickly nodded and took the medicine from him.

“You missed breakfast and lunch, you must be hungry. I’ll make some pancakes and we can eat in bed,” Hisoka kissed the tip of your nose twice before getting up.

“Are you staying tonight?” you finally asked. After last night you wanted more of the Hisoka in front of you. The one who always smiled, who kissed your nose and made you breakfast food for diner.

“You don’t want me to?” he turned around and smiled.

“I want you to stay,” you admitted.

“Good, because I was planning to stay more than a few days,” you beamed at his words. Having Hisoka for more than a night or two was rare in itself but he never spend multiple days with you. “Your antics yesterday really did sour our time together, I expect to leave on a happier note,” he continued and your own mood start plummeting. “Don’t make this face, love. It’s in the past. I told you, I’m no longer mad,” he laughed, “Now let’s have fun!”

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hisoka #hisoka scenario #hisoka morow #smut #tw noncon #tw pain #no seriously #I don't condone this kind of relationship irl #that's not the first filthy thing I wrote #but I especially feel the need to say it loud #and clear #this time #This is going to be awkward when i'll reread it tomorrow #when the sun's up #anyway #I'm fine #this is fine

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ppersonna · 4 years

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kiss it better - ksj | m

been waiting on that sunshine boy, i think i need that back. can't do it like that. no one else gonna get it like that. - kiss it better, rihanna

↳ summary- your best friend Kim Seokjin makes you an offer you can’t refuse

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 3.7k

↳ pairing- seokjin x reader

↳ genre- smut, comedy, fluff

↳ warnings- oral sex (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, dirty talk, daddy kink, jin making really bad jokes at bad times.

↳ a/n- well hello there! i hope you enjoy this! this fic is a collab with @kookiesjoonies all about bad hookups being saved by BTS. make sure you check out her yoongi fic HERE! i hope you enjoy this little piece! i love the visual of jin....well.... you get the idea HNNNGGG *vibrates in thot*. feel free to message me, send me an ask, comment, throw a rock at me, whatever u wanna do i wanna engage w/ UUUUU. LOVE YOU ALL! -lindy

If you had to pinpoint a moment where it all started, where everything changed, it was the night you came home after another bad hook up left you nearly crying in your shared 2 bedroom apartment.

Jin found you pouring an excessive amount of wine into a mug, on the verge of tears.

“Terrible date?” Your roommate asks as he leans against the door of the kitchen and motions with his head towards the gallon of alcohol you’re about to drink like it’s coffee.

“You can fucking say that again,” you grumble. You will not cry—you’re forcing that mantra through your brain at whiplash speeds.

“Jeez, how bad could it have been to make you wanna pound a keg of wine?” He jokes. Your eyes level with his and he can see you’re not in the mood for comedy. Another time, he supposes.

“Men,” you laugh with mirth. “You and your stupid fucking dicks and no brains and all you care about is getting off.” You’re fuming with anger, which given the situation is probably more than what is called for but you’re sure if the next hook up you manage doesn’t care to get you off, you will go absolutely wild.

“I’m still not grasping what’s wrong here,” he folds his arms over his chest and relaxes against the wood. You’re clutching the wine glass—mug—but still not drinking it.

“I haven’t gotten off!” You exclaim with enough gusto that some wine spills out. Jin rushes towards you and grabs a rag. He knows you’re lethal in the kitchen. Sticky for days.

“You haven’t gotten off? Like they don’t make you cum?” He asks as he wipes up the harsh red liquid on the counter. Your eyes watch his hands and for a second, a split second, you admire the tendons and veins moving under his skin as he cleans up your mess.

“Exactly. It’s a one and done, get out of my bed sort of thing,” you huff. “I’m not asking to be cuddled or whatever. But can’t a girl at least get some oral?”

Jin stifles a laugh and wrings the rag out in the sink. “How long has it been since someone made you cum?”

A wave of shame courses over you, but you’re not sure why. Jin’s someone you trust. It’s not like he thinks any less of you for fucking guys who don’t have a shred of decency.

“I mean, I can make myself cum every night in my room,” Jin’s ears turn a slight shade of pink at this and you’re suddenly curious. “But with a guy? Fuck, probably a year. Looks like I pick the real winners.”

He’s silent, and it makes you feel nervous. You can’t explain it—or rather you refuse to accept what you’ve been avoiding for a while. That your eyes linger on your roommate’s form as he exits the shower with a towel around his waist, the broad expanse of his bare shoulders with water still running down his back. The way he pushes his hair back when he’s tired. That you’ve had more than one night of slipping your hands down your body with the image of him in mind.

It feels wrong. It feels dirty to think of your best friend in such a way. And yet, it thrills you even more.

“I hope you don’t—... feel like I’m sleazy or something,” you murmur, buried in your newfound self-consciousness.

He smiles up at you and leans over the counter, resting his head on his hands and watches you curiously.

“I could make you cum,” he offers. It sounds like he’s offering to run errands for you, buy your lunch when you forget your wallet.

It’s so simple that you’re stunned into silence. Your brain skids to a halt to process what just escaped the mouth of your longtime best friend, roommate, confidant.

He chuckles as he watches the gears try to turn in your mind. “I’ve been told I’m great at oral. Not to brag. Just what I’ve heard.” The smirk on his lips definitely tells you he means to brag.

“You want--... to eat me out?” You ask incredulously. He’s still staring at you like it’s no big deal, just another everyday event. Best friends getting each other off. You wash the dishes, he dries, then he’s buried tongue deep in your cunt? Is that how it works?

“You seem really upset, and as your friend, if I have the tools to fix it, why would I hold back?” He postulates. You can’t help but agree with his theory. Your heart is thumping soundly in your chest. Is it just a friendly thing? Is he offering out of the goodness of his heart or is there something more? Are you willing to let your pussy win out and get the pleasure at the sake of getting your heart broken?

It doesn’t take long to decide.

Fuck yes you are.

“Okay,” you agree. “Are we going to fuck too?” You ask as you wash your hands of any remaining wine. You haven’t drunk a sip and you still feel tipsy and lightheaded.

“Do you want to fuck?” He narrows his eyes at you in playful suspicion.

It makes you blush. “I—I’d like to…” you’re suddenly shy and you can tell it thrills Jin to see you thrown off your game.

“Then let’s fuck, baby girl,” he smirks as he pushes up from the counter top he rested on moments ago.

“Your place or mine?” His joke is stupid, but it makes you laugh, anyway.

“Knowing your disgusting ass, your bed is covered in god know’s what. Mine, please.”

He tuts and walks behind you down the hallway, hand resting gently at your back.

“Is that any way to talk to your best friend? The one who’s going to eat you out until you’re crying for more?” His words send a shiver down your spine, and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Well, fuck—when you put it that way…” you trail off.

Your bedroom has never felt more foreign to you in your life. It’s the same as it always is. Queen-size bed, photos on the wall, messy laundry in the corner spilling out of the hamper. But now you’re in it with Jin. You’re in it with Jin because he’s promised you at least one orgasm and you’re sure he will try for more, knowing his ego.

“Welcome,” you gesture nervously as you sit on the bed.

He rolls his eyes. “Stop acting weird,” he chides. “It’s me, you don’t have to be weird around me.” He’s pressing you down towards the pillows to relax.

You want to retort it’s exactly why you’re acting weird. The man you play drunk Monopoly at 3 am with is pressing into you now like he wants to eat you for hours. He’s seen you crying, held your hair back while you puked, heard or witnessed your most embarrassing moments. And now he’s about to fuck you stupid.

You allow your body to relax against all the sirens in your brain telling you this is weird, this is fucked up, you’ll regret it. The blood is rushing out of your frontal cortex and towards your lower half, making your pussy drunk on anything Seokjin can give you.

He smiles as he sees your body relax into the comforter on your bed and he places a hand on your cheek.

“See? Easy peasy.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles. You want to comment, tell him he’s a fucking idiot like you always do when he says something cheesy, but he beats you to the punch and presses his lips against yours gently.

You’ve always wondered what his lips would feel like against your own. He tastes like peppermint. Idly, you realize you’ve always associated Jin with the taste of warm, smoky vanilla, but now that you’re here with your tongue swirling around his, the peppermint makes sense. It suits him.

He kisses you tenderly. It’s not the rushed kiss of a quick hookup. It’s not the passionate kiss of long-lost lovers. It’s the sweet, compassionate kiss—the kind that wants to make you feel like nothing is wrong in the world. Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat as he cups a cheek in his embrace and rubs the delicate skin there with a thumb.

The kiss is finished too soon for your liking. He’s pulling away and smiling down at you. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t quite put your finger on but it makes you feel lit up like Christmas.

“I hear I’m an excellent kisser too,” he smirks down at you and the moment is lost. “Would you agree?”

You roll your eyes. “God, I can’t believe you,” you sigh. “You’re hopeless.”

He tugs on the hem of your shirt, indicating he means to take it off. You tense for a moment. It seems you’ve stupidly forgotten you should be naked for this act. You’re about to be naked and laid bare in front of your best friend who you’ve harbored an inkling of a crush on. He’s about to see your most vulnerable side. Could you trust him? What if he mentioned the freckle above your ass? What if he pointed out something wrong with your body? A wave of uncertainty washes over you.

Jin pulls your shirt off easily and gently. He tosses it toward your ever-growing laundry pile and turns his attention back to you. You’re still in a nice, pretty bra from the hookup and Jin’s eyes are captivated. The cocky smirk is wiped off his lips, and instead he gapes. Your breasts are encased in creamy red satin and he sits up straighter and can’t break his gaze.

“Wow,” he breathes, and it makes your cheeks heat.

“Sorry, I know it’s too much, I can just—,”

He cuts you off with a finger to your lips.

“I always knew you were pretty but, fuck—.. you’re a vision. You’re gorgeous.”

You’re heating. The way your core clenches around nothing as Jin compliments you with all sincerity and no sense of humor like he does has your blood rushing.

“Can I—,” he swallows as he attempts to steel himself. “Can I take it off?”

You nod, too shy to impart any dialogue and assist him by lifting your back slightly to allow his hands space to un-clasp the lingerie.

It falls away easily and you close your eyes as your full globes come free. You hear Jin’s breath catch and it’s silent. A few beats pass and you’re ready to end everything now, it’s too awkward, when a hand gently cups one and a thumb rubs over the nipple. It makes your spine tingle.

You crack your eyes open and see Jin staring intently at your chest, following his thumb as it drags back and forth against the hardening nipple.

“I think you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You want to argue and tell him he’s just saying that to be nice, but the retort dries up in your throat as he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. He tugs on it with the suction of his mouth and licks stripes against the bud. You moan loudly. It feels like he’s praising you with his mouth.

Jin takes his time. You can tell he’s in no rush. He suckles and presses kisses to your breasts with the same attention to detail he gives his culinary creations. He massages each globe in his hands and alternates his lips back and forth between nipples. He draws sweet sighs and moans from your lips and your fingers thread through his thick hair.

After his careful ministrations, he pulls up and smiles at you.

“I’m not going to lie,” he starts. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

You feel like you’ve been slapped. Kim Seokjin, your roommate and best friend, has wanted you? As much as you have wanted him?

He can see you’re faltering for words and he shrugs.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. It doesn’t have to change anything.”

His immediate dejection spurs you into action.

“I’ve wanted it for a long time too,” you reply. “Jin, why would I agree to have sex with you if I wasn’t interested in being with you?”

He smirks a little and you know you’re in for a witty one-liner.

“You wanted to take a ride on this wild stal-Jin.”

His grin is cocky, as it usually is, and as annoying as his jokes are, it loosens a knot of nerves inside you. You had somehow convinced yourself Jin would be a completely unfamiliar person after this. It seems that wouldn’t be the case.

“Oh my god,” you groan.

His hands and mouth are roaming your chest and stomach, peppering the skin with kisses. He teases at your navel with his tongue and any irritation you felt at his terrible pun flies out the window as you feel a surge rush through your veins straight to your cunt.

He fiddles with the button and fly on your jeans, the ones that hug your curves just perfectly.

“Your ass looks good in these jeans,” he comments as he tugs them down. “Almost a shame to take them off. But I’d rather get a full uncensored view.”

You blush and lift your hips to allow him to pull your jeans off. Long legs are spread on the bed and a thong barely protects your modesty. It’s already soaked, there’s no denying it when Jin steals a glance and cocks a coy smile.

“Naughty,” he tsks jokingly. “Someone’s excited to get sucked by the Seok-master.”

“Jesus Christ, Jin,” you sigh. “I hate you.”

“I’d like you to try to say that again when I’m three fingers deep inside you with my tongue.”

His words roll over you like a trail of fire. It clenches at your throat and sizzles down to your core. You can’t help but let a moan out and arch your back.

“I thought so,” he smirks. He fingers at the straps of your thong for a moment and then trails a finger down your slit. It’s wet and warm, and he bites a lip.

“Bet you’re real pretty here too. I think about what your pussy looks like a lot.”

It’s sending you into an unfamiliar state of consciousness to hear Kim Seokjin say such illicit things about you—things you thought to be off-limits.

“Bet it looks even prettier with your face buried in there.” A sly smile spreads on your own features, and Jin looks pleased.

“That’s my fucking girl.”

He tugs the black thong down and it joins the chaos on your bedroom floor.

He’s here now. It’s real. It’s happening. His eyes are glued to your cunt, and a finger is tracing the outline of the lips there.

“No one has ever made you cum from oral?” He asks again. He’s mystified by your center and he hasn’t even seen the full thing yet.

A shuddering breath escapes you as you confirm. “No, no one ever has.”

He sucks his teeth for a moment and remains silent. His fingers slowly slide in to spread you open lewdly, displaying your clit like the grand prize behind the curtain.

“I’ll make sure you get off every single night,” he promises. “No more hooking up with assholes. All mine, okay? Just like you always should have been.”

It’s hard to breathe as you feel his fingers achingly close to your clit and you’re sure your channel is weeping with desire.

“Okay, Jinnie,” you murmur.

“It’s daddy, now, baby.”

It feels like the world stops and you whimper with need.

“Please, daddy,” you cry. “I need you.”

“I can tell, baby. Your poor little pussy hasn’t been shown the love it deserves, hm?” He asks. He still refuses to move any closer to where you need. “You need daddy, don’t you? You need someone who will worship this cunt.”

The air in your lungs is sucked out with vacuum-like force.

He lowers himself to lie between your legs, face close to your center. He spreads your legs further, almost on the verge of discomfort, and wraps his arms under your thighs and grips at the tops to keep you spread.

Suddenly, he’s pressing his face into you and a tongue darts into your channel and laves around. Your eyes roll back in your head at the feeling.

He’s testing the waters, per se, and getting a taste of you. He wants to know what spots drive you crazy. Are you solely a clitoral stimulation girl or do you need the feeling of something filling you tight and deep too? He hopes to learn every single aspect about your cunt before the night is over.

He watches your facial expression as he licks from your walls and up to your clit. Your face contorts in ecstasy as the tip of his tongue flicks quickly on the nub. You’re gasping with desperation, singing his praises as he suckles and rub at your button with his tongue.

You taste delicious; he notes. Earthy, but still sweet like nectar. He thinks maybe your body was tuned to be his.

He spends time there, and it drives you mad. He’s sucking and flicking and dipping his tongue inside you and you feel a sense of euphoria no man has given you. Jin’s pillowy plush lips apply just the right pressure to your clit, kiss it so sweetly you might cry as he then inserts himself to lap up your juices. He drinks as if he’s dehydrated of you, only you, and if he doesn’t get more, he’ll perish.

“Jin—.. daddy, fuck,” you correct your mistake and it makes him chuckle against you.

“Good girl,” he coos. He pulls an arm out from between your thighs and sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, a disgusting display for you that has you nearly cumming right there.

After he determines you tortured and his fingers slicked enough, he moves forward again and slides said fingers up into you. Your back arches again and Jin smirks. You’re a penetration girl just as much as you are a clit girl, and Jin knows he has you hook, line and sinker. He’s unlocked your formula and plans to see it to your very end.

“Look at you,” he murmurs adoringly as he fucks in and out of you. “So nice and wet for daddy. Getting my fingers so slick.” He groans. His cock is hardening rapidly, and he moves his hips on the bed for some stimulation. “I can’t wait to fuck this sweet little hole. I’m going to be the only one who ever makes you cum, and I will always make sure you fucking cum.” He promises.

You’re whimpering with a pleasant mixture of need and satisfaction as he thrusts his digits into you. Jin’s taking his time, which leaves you breathless, gasping for more and more. You want to be greedy and tell him to take you now, so hard and fast, but you want to make this last forever. Your pussy has never felt so alive and vibrant with desire as it does right now.

Jin returns to his post, mouth firmly attached to your clit as he picks up a pace with his fingers. He’s suckling again at your nub and you find it’s the perfect amount of pressure that has your vision darkening around the edges. An impossible tight string is winding so tightly inside you and you feel it threaten to collapse your entire body.

You allow your waning attention to focus on Jin for a moment, and you realize how he truly looks in his element. It looks as if Jin should have been the one between your thighs this whole time. You thought maybe this would feel wrong and perverse. Instead, it feels as if you two have finally slipped together and fit into the picture perfectly, instead of trying to jam into spots not meant for either of you.

It’s heady to think of him like this, your best friend who knows everything about you. It makes sense now—it was always meant to be him in your life. You’ve always wanted him to be the one who simultaneously makes you laugh and cum. He was always meant to be the one for you; it just took until now to really understand it.

Jin picks up the pace again, and it washes away your thoughts as you feel him increase the speed and pressure of his tongue in time with his fingers. His eyes are closed and he’s focused on this like it’s his destiny. Your legs quiver in anticipation as the tightness pulls more, pulls harder and your cunt tightens around his fingers.

It snaps the string inside you and your mental capacity. All you feel is bliss as your body unravels at his hand. Your channel pulses around him and he grins as he feels the clenching and hears your sweet and agonized moans. You’re incapable of any coherent thought except Jin, Jin, Jin and how deliciously sweet he has made you feel and the ecstasy he has wrought out of you.

He allows you a moment to settle down from your high and pulls his fingers from you. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit which makes you squeak at the over stimulation.

As you come back to life, panting breath slowing, he sits up on his knees and smiles at you.

“So, are all the rumors true? Am I good?” He looks smug and as much as you want to slap it off him, you can’t when he’s covered in your slick and looking incredibly sexy while doing so.

“Yeah, you’re good,” you breathe. He grins back at you and moves to lay next to you on the bed. You snuggle up beside him and throw your arm and leg over him. It feels as if you’ve been doing this for years, as if this isn’t the first time you’re being intimate with your best friend of two decades.

After your breath settles completely, he looks over at you with a smile.

“You ready for round two?” He asks.

You’re moving and straddling his hips, rubbing against the hard length in his jeans.

“You know it, daddy.”

His hands quickly move to unbutton his jeans and shove them down and off his body.

“Well,” he quips with his signature grin. “We better get down to Jin’s-ness.”

#bts smut #bts jin #bts seokjin #bts fic #bts kim seokjin #seokjin smut #jin smut #worldwide handsome #bts imagine #bangtan smut #hyungsmutsociety #kwritersworldnet #btswriterscollective #btswritersnet #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #heartsforbts #ficswithluv

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