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adrinktostopyourthirst · 1 year ago

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Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Finally

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Spy!Reader

Plot: Bucky and you have a hard time staying away from each other. And though you try to push him away, every time he finds you again, the universe finds a new way to pull you apart.

Warnings: 18+. Smut, fluff and angst.

Words: 9,1OO

A/N: Recently I’ve been trying to understand what it is people want to read of my works and I have no idea, so here is my brain in scrambled pieces. I'm so sorry it’s so long, I swear it's worth it!

Romania.

It isn’t often you agree to such an extensive trip to meet up with one of your clients, but apparently this particular one can’t be seen in the more supervised countries. Besides, you’ve never been to Bucharest before, so you’re quite enjoying your drink at the small picturesque café.

You’ve done your research and know damn well who you’re meeting up with. A small part of you is screaming at you not to agree to do business with him or back out now, but your curiosity overrules any common sense. Last you heard, Hydra had lost their favourite asset and you can confidently say you were relieved to hear it. It had been a few too many times that specific organisation had made your job more difficult than it had to be.

A many number of things could have happened to the Winter Soldier. He could’ve been killed, corrupted by another organisation, fled to live as a hermit– You really want to know. It’s the spy in you that enjoys knowing the ins and outs of the criminal world. He’d tried not to mention who he is, but you had a few offers on the table, he needed some leverage to get you to agree to meet him. Safe to say, you were surprised he’d told you he was the Winter Soldier. Big chance you will now be the only person to know about the asset’s current whereabouts. That is, if you live to tell it of course…

Every hair in your neck stands up straight, despite the comfortable weather and the easy going crowd roaming the street. The sudden change in atmosphere has your spy senses stand on alert. Your spine stiffens and you casually look around, slightly discouraged at the way your body has never responded to anything in this particular manner.

You cross your legs and turn to look behind you, scanning every face in the crowd. When you turn back, the seat next to yours is taken, only a rickety metal table separating you from the large man sat in the other chair. Your breath halts in your throat and you look him up and down, instantly recognising the buff man as the Winter Soldier. How? You’re not sure, you’d never really seen a picture.

You check his hands. Gloves. With this weather? To cover up. You check his build and take a particularly long time to do so, because God, this man is broad. He’s all sturdy flesh and muscle, firm and casual. His thighs look like tree trunks and you know the man is fast, despite his build. You force the deliberate sweep of your eyes over his body to appear more nonchalant and confident than you feel.

Then your eyes reach his face and the breath gets knocked out of you. There is nothing in that face that hints towards a stone cold killer. Dark blue, deep set eyes, freckles pattered over his nose and cheeks, lips bitten raw from contemplation and an expression on his face that almost looks like… Nerves?

“Hello,” you start carefully, unable to keep your surprise from your tone, but sounding relatively cool to your own relief.

“Hi,” he says and the tone of his voice is deep, but rough, like he hasn’t spoken in ages. You think that maybe he hasn’t.

“Should I refer to you as the Winter Soldier?” you ask, composing your cool nature entirely now. “Or would you say that is a bit on the nose?”

He huffs a laugh and you smile, feeling the overwhelming urge to make him do that again. “James will do, thanks.”

“Alright James,” you say, taking your time to let your mouth get acquainted with his name, “what is it you need my services for?”

“I hear you’re a spy,” he starts and searches your face. “A good one– the best one.”

“Well now, I’d hate to disappoint,” you purr. “What do you need?”

“It’s not so much a document or one piece of information,” he mumbles and his face hardens as he collects himself. You sit upright and frown as you study him. “I need you as a partner for an assignment.”

You instantly shake your head, “Absolutely not. I’m not working for Hydra, that organisation is–”

“Not Hydra,” he quickly cuts in. “Just me. It’s a personal assignment.”

You wait for him to continue, not appreciating his vague communication if he wants to become partners on whatever this is.

He sighs, “I– I have a lot of… gaps. Things I don’t remember, things I can’t quite place. Years of information. The things I did for Hydra– I wasn’t there for most of it. Neither were a lot of people. So I need someone with access to some dark shit to help me figure it out.”

Chewing your lip, you process the information he gives you and empathy clenches your heart together. James gives you the time you need to put the pieces together. You’d heard of Hydra’s experiments with brainwashing and had already sort of assumed some of their soldiers had only worked for them because of that reason, had stayed far away from the organisation’s shit to steer clear from that danger.

But it’s so different to see it in real life, or what is left of it, you suppose. Many things aren’t quite clear to you just yet. However, you slowly start nodding your head. Your brain starts running a million miles an hour, all the gears turning to form a plan, the way you always do before you agree to a job.

“Can you pay me for the service?” you ask, already wondering to yourself if you’d help the clearly hopeless and damaged man for free, and to be honest, just for kicks. The things you’d dig up from everything he’ll give you– Selfishly, you’d kill for it. Anyone would kill for it.

He gives you a tight-lipped, apologetic smile, “Not that much. But I can save up more.”

You think. Your gut tells you he won’t kill you after he gets what he wants, even though he could. And though you will always keep a close eye on him and everything he’s capable of, your gut feeling has never disappointed you.

So you sigh and shake your head. “That’s okay. I’ll do all of it for free, and you can pay me what little you have to insure that I stay quiet. Sound fair?”

His eyes narrow with a twinkle that you hadn’t expected from a man like him and he says, “Deal.”

“Alright,” you say and finish your coffee before clearing your throat. “First order of business: tell me your full name.”

He shakes his head with a faint smile, “James Buchanan Barnes.”

Oh shit.

You do know him.

Germany.

Relief seeps into your bones as you cross the threshold of your building and you slip into your routine of coming home. Tired feet drag you through your building and to your apartment, and muscle memory unlocks your door. After the week you’ve had, you are ready to turn off your brain and settle down.

You enjoy being this tired though, revel in it. Exhausting yourself with a normal person job and the way it puts your usually restless body to sleep at night is exactly what you wanted for your life.

One step into your own hallway, however, makes your daydream of a quiet night in crumble to your feet. Something is off. You can blame your trained senses for being so instantly on edge, but the apartment you just stepped into isn’t a place that has been vacated for the past nine hours. This apartment isn’t empty.

An even older routine settles into your bones this time and you creep into your home on light feet. The air is warm and the space is completely quiet. You’ve been alive long enough, seen enough, to know quiet is never good.

You don’t turn on any lights and let your eyes adjust to the dark. Ears perked and muscles at the ready to spring into action, you slowly make your way further into your home. And when you slip around the corner and look into your darkened living room, you let out a frustrated sigh at the dark figure lounging on your couch.

“How did you find me here,” you grumble and it is hardly a question.

You can feel him sit up and tune in to your presence. You couldn’t explain it if your life depended on it, but you instantly knew who it was. The dark figure in the dark apartment, waiting patiently for someone to catch him. After all, he will deny it until his dying day, but he does have an awful lot of dramatic flair for someone so stoic.

“Better question is: why are you here?” he counters and you drop your bag onto one of your dining chairs, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Trying to stay off the radar, are you?”

“And failing, clearly,” you say before he can say it for you. “How did you find me here, James?”

Your eyes are finally fully adjusted and you see the smirk forming on his face. You haven’t seen that smirk in five years. “I have my ways,” he says and pushes off the couch, adjusting his leather jacket. “Now, what are you doing in this abandoned town?”

“It’s not abandoned,” you counter and slip off your coat, deciding to just go about your old routine and ignore his presence as much as you can. Maybe then he’ll go away.

“It’s a shit town and you know it.” He cocks his head at you, eyes tracking all of your movements.

You notice his puzzled look. He’s genuinely wondering what is left of his old ally and you can’t quite blame him. Perhaps he can easily see your lame attempt at finding a normal life for yourself. He has probably tried a thousand times himself to escape the roaring life of saving the world, has probably failed every time, too. But you’re determined to make it work – make yourself normal and live a full life.

And that is all you were to him anyway, just an ally. The entire time, you’d felt that he paid a little too much attention to you, but you supplied critical information and occasionally wiped someone off the map. A spy. Nothing more, nothing less. However, for the infamous Winter Soldier to need your alliance again, you cannot help but feel wary.

After the first time he approached you, you’d spent months together. It was an effort not to grow too close – too much effort. Because you had. It was impossible not to, helping someone literally piece their life together through intimate and awful memories. Digging through protective walls and coping mechanisms to help him rebuild some of his life again. With a lot of reluctance from both of you.

Yes, you’d grown close then. Grown close enough that you fell asleep slumped over the kitchen counter in his awful Romanian apartment, your face sticking to the countless research papers. You’d woken up hours later on his poorly constructed bed on the floor with a blanket thrown over your frame. Close enough that you’d eventually asked him to assist you on your missions. Ones that required a different skillset than your own. Close enough that you cooked for each other, sometimes shared clothes, roasted one another for the mental health issues that lead you both to your current occupations.

After a while, you couldn’t describe your relation to Barnes in any other way than a partnership. Partners. Who had kissed once. Maybe twice. After some bad Vodka.

You sigh and turn to him, “Why are you here, James?”

“I need to lay low for a while.” A wider smirk, his eyes narrowing at you. “I remembered I know someone who is very good at that.”

“Careful,” you warn and roll your eyes. “You just gave me a compliment.”

His smirk turns to a smile and he shrugs off his own jacket, instantly making himself at home in your apartment. A strange thing when it comes to Bucky, since you don’t recall that man feeling at home anywhere. Then, he did always have this incessant cocky streak around you and he is awfully good at getting on your nerves, so he probably sees the perfect opportunity to be a pain in the ass.

“If you so much as sneeze on anything, I swear–”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cuts in, his tone unimpressed. “You’ll skin me alive. You’re always so weird about your stuff.”

You give him a tiny proud smile and decide to make yourself something quick to eat, only to feel him peer at you from the edge of your kitchen. He’s met with a confused frown before you raise your brows at him to make him spit it out.

“What’s the catch?” he asks warily.

You smile and look down at the sandwich you’re making. “Nothing. Just fix your shit and get out of my hair as quickly as possible.”

He winces slightly and you turn to him fully now, slowly taking a bite.

“What.”

Bucky sucks in a short breath and gives you an apologetic look before he speaks, “It might be a while…”

Your brows drop, “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I–”

“Bucky.” You cut him another look, one shaped by many, many instances of working together. “What. Did. You. Do.”

“It’s not important. I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

You open your mouth to continue arguing with him, but decide against it, already done with his shit. Yes, he is doing better and supposedly now qualifies as a good person. But you know the man before you and the soldier cannot stop himself from lying about pretty much everything. He has damaged tendencies. Give him an inch and he will take a mile, show him a weakness and he will exploit it. You genuinely think he doesn’t know how to be different, how to not abuse those effortless skills he trained all those years working for Hydra and surviving it.

“It’s my weekend off,” you tell him instead. “If you get between me and my plans, I will change the locks.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “You think I can’t get through a simple lock?”

Another glare is his answer and he raises his hands in surrender. You walk around him and toe off your own shoes, grabbing everything to take a shower as you shove the rest of your sandwich in your mouth. Bucky slowly strolls through your place and examines everything that belongs to you.

“Can you not pretend like you haven’t completely scanned the place already before I got home?” you ask him as you make way for the bathroom.

“It can’t hurt to have a second look,” he mumbles, but you have already closed the door and move take the shower you’ve been looking forward to the entire day.

You should probably work harder to get him out, should probably make an escape plan and move somewhere else. But you know arguing with him is futile and the best approach with him is to patiently wait for him to move on. Bucky doesn’t get attached and doesn’t nest, so he’ll be gone soon enough.

As the scalding water trickles down your scalp and spine, you realise how much more alert you should have been when you noticed someone was in your home. Especially with all of those loose ends and enemies you have scattered across this planet (and others). Yet, somehow you think your body knew it was Bucky waiting for you. After all, it isn’t the first time he’s pulled this shit, waiting up for you. Usually because you kept something from him, he found out and would start ambushing you to fess up.

And even though technically, you haven’t exactly kept anything from him this time, you can’t ignore the dreadful feeling that explaining your current situation will be the hardest thing to ever speak up about. How pathetic, to try and live a normal life when you’re ‘extraordinary’. Ugh, you hate that word. You’re trained well and you refuse to be anything but good at what you put your mind at.

Now, Bucky. He is extraordinary. He has potential to make a difference. You have always felt that. Hated working with him because of that. Not because of him – he never made you feel less than him at all. But–

The water turns cold and you groan audibly, time having slipped away from you as you got lost in thought. Stepping out and drying yourself off, you get ready to walk out of the bathroom. You’re met with Bucky sitting on your couch, reading one of your books.

“Let me guess, warm water’s gone?” he asks, not looking up from the book.

You walk to your bedroom and shrug, “Cold showers are good for you, I heard.”

“I suppose I’ll take the couch then?” he asks, finally looking up from the book.

You turn back and peek through your doorway at him. “You can take the floor if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“We’ve shared a bed before.”

“Not by choice.”

He smirks, “You liked it.”

“You snore.”

“Sleep tight, sweetheart.” He grins at you.

You make to get to bed when you pause and turn back to him once more with a slight frown. “Why are you so cheerful? Aren’t there people after you?”

“Well,” he says, casual as always, “these may very well be my last days, so I might as well be in a good mood.”

You find yourself swallowing hard and desperately search his face for any intel on how true his statement is, without giving away that you might just care a little bit about his well-being. But his grin stays firm in place and he raises his brows in wait for you to call it a night.

Without another word, you close the door between you and crawl into your comfortable bed. And you wonder why it is that you can’t quite get comfortable this time.

…

A powerful jolt rips through your body as you lift out of layers of sleep. You’re too tired for whatever made you wake up so suddenly. It’s too goddamn late for this shit.

But as you gain more and more of your consciousness, your senses start perking up and you realise you might very well be in danger. The gentle and calm voice calling your name with a warm stroke of a hand down your arm, confirms that for you. That specific type of calm in Bucky’s voice sends your body into overdrive.

“We’ve got to go, sweetheart,” he murmurs and is already throwing clothes onto your bed. “Now.”

You sit up and rub your eyes and it dawns on you after a week of Bucky staying at your place. This man wasn’t going to leave you until he got chased out of your apartment. And that day has come.

“Bucky,” you start with a hoarse voice as you climb out of your warm bed and quickly throw on the clothes he picked for you, “who the fuck is after you?”

He takes his time to answer, pulling two fully packed backpacks from the corner of your room that you surprisingly didn’t know he hid there. Oh, this man is going to get an ear full about this bullshit.

“Some weird underground cartel that deals in tech or something,” he grumbles and throws you a pack. You are nearly too slow to catch it before you sling it onto your back. You gape at him after his answer and his face stays solemn as he pushes a hand gun into your hands. “Let’s go.”

“Bucky.”

He stops and turns to you fully. “It’s bad, okay? I’ll tell you later.”

“No. Tell me now.”

He groans out your name, peeking outside while he impatiently chews on his lip. “Don’t do this right now. You can be pissed at me later!”

“I will be pissed at you now,” you seethe, “and later. How about that?!”

He sighs and then grabs your arm, giving you a boyish grin before shooting two bullets through your window, breaking the glass, slinging an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him and jumping out of the fucking window with you clinging to him. It’s only when you fly about five stories down, that you realise the two of you are attached to a bungee rope that eases your descent. His feet touch the ground first, yours following. He cuts the rope and grabs your hand before he starts running towards the parking lot beneath your building.

“Bucky, you piece of shit!” you yell at him as you run, hearing the faint sound of gun fire behind you over the sound of your ragged breathing.

“I’ll make it up to you!” he simply yells back.

You can hear the smile in his voice. And the worst thing? You feel yourself smiling as well when you realise how easily you’ve slipped back into being his partner in crime.

…

Bucky checks one more time, his gleaming metal hand pulling the sheer curtain aside to peer out onto the dark streets. You hear some shouting coming from outside and still feel your heart pounding, even when you know you have definitely outrun those people coming after you. You hate how out of practice you are. And how much you missed the adrenaline of being on the run with Bucky.

He turns back to you and finds you with your arms crossed, glaring at him. Oh, you know the perfect way to let out this adrenaline. There might be actual steam coming out of your ears.

Bucky cringes and slowly strolls over, already reaching out his hands to use his irresistible charm on you. Like the time he dropped the cake you made one afternoon and tried to make it up to you. Or that time he left some very important documents in one of the buildings he set on fire. Or the time he accidentally deleted your recordings off the TV when you had been looking forward to watching the next episode for two weeks.

However, your burning eyes stop him dead in his tracks and he opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it and closes his mouth again. A second later, he tries again, “Okay. Give it to me.”

You give him a satisfied, albeit sadistic smile, at his willingness to take your scolding and then, you start yelling. You have no idea what words specifically are rolling off your tongue, but your speech starts somewhere during that first meeting in Bucharest, drifts to your entire time together as partners, how you drifted apart, only for him to show up whenever he pleased, and you continue to how he stood at your door a little over a week ago, to him terrorising your happy little life in Germany… To now.

Your voice rises with every instance you tell him about, fire burning in your core and hands flailing to give your story that much more power (even though you couldn’t stop your conviction if you tried). As the grin on his face grows through your rambling, a metal hand pressing to his lips to stop it from showing too much, you burn even brighter with fury.

Then you stop, breathing heavily. You give him a withering look to get him to start speaking up, because let’s be honest, all the two of you really needed was only just a look.

His shoulders slowly stop shaking and he drops his hand, eyes sparkling like a glass of Prosecco in the light. Devious asshole. “I just– I haven’t seen you this alive in a while. It looks fantastic on you.”

You gape at him like a fish and you wonder if the warmth in your face still belongs to your anger. Though you fear it belongs to quite the opposite. Either way, this man certainly knows how to make you passionate. And you realise he knows what you have been trying to do with your fake little life here in Germany.

“I don’t think you–”

“I’m sorry,” he says and steps forward, his large hands cupping your face as he looks down at you with earnest eyes. “I’m sorry for making your life so goddamn miserable. So tell me how to make it up to you.”

And for all the world, you can tell he means it. Can tell that he will do anything to make it up to you. You can almost feel the squeeze of pain in your own heart when you see the disappointment in his eyes after he realises you didn’t enjoy this as much as he had.

But the worst part is, is that you did. You’ve never felt more alive than with him. Never felt more like you. You wouldn’t necessarily call him an adventurer, maybe he is just a magnet for trouble. But whenever you’re with Bucky, you’ll drop anything for him and you’ll burn like an inferno doing so. He makes you into the best version of yourself and he makes you love the parts about yourself that you have been conditioned to feel guilty about.

You sigh, “I don’t know. Never mind.”

He doesn’t let go though and searches your eyes, his own narrowing in suspicion. “I’m going to make it up to you, you know.”

You cross your arms and give him an unimpressed look. “Yeah? How?”

He smirks and your knees weaken. “I could kiss it better.”

“Shameless flirt,” you huff and roll your eyes as an excuse to break his intense stare on you.

“You’re just too proud to admit that my kisses would make you forgive me,” he prods and your eyes snap back to his. He’s right, that is pride surging in your chest to lunge at him.

“You’ve grown too cocky for your own good,” you sneer at him.

“You like it.”

“I assure you, I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“Manipulator.”

He feigns hurt, “Ouch.”

You huff a laugh with a roll of your eyes, “Such a fragile ego.”

He smirks again and you swallow as you fight to look at his lips. So close to your own. “Now you have to kiss me for forgiveness.”

You can’t help but truly laugh this time, your face still safely tucked in his palms and his brows raise with intrigue at the sound of your laughter.

You tell him, “You are so full of shit.”

His smile fades, his eyes large with earnest and all of a sudden, it’s the man standing before you that sat next to you in that Romanian café. Stripped down, bare, rough, and perhaps a bit vulnerable.

“Let me kiss you,” he says in merely a whisper now.

You fight for your life not to falter to that genuine request and the way he said it. “It won’t make me forgive you,” you say softly, but barely hear your own voice over the increased pounding of your heart in your throat.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs. “Just want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t wait for your permission either, because quite frankly, you most likely gave him a look of permission instantly at that request. His soft lips slot over yours and you could’ve never predicted the depraved moan that resounded in the back of your throat as your mouths meet. Your hands instantly slip into his hair as Bucky’s hands slide around your waist to pull you closer, fingers digging into your flesh possessively.

The kiss deepens when his tongue meets yours and he lets out a groan of his own, a sound so addicting that you instinctively tug on his hair to hear it again. The laugh against your lips is rough as he hauls you closer and changes the kiss. Something more desperate and impatient. Something hot and sweaty and slightly messy. You might be walking as Bucky finds something to press you up against or lay you down on, and you almost squawk in surprise as you fall back onto the double, motel bed.

Though before you can say anything else, Bucky is on you again, his mouth demanding and greedy against yours. His hands feel and grab and squeeze every inch of you and you grind your hips upward for his weight. You want his heaviness between your hips and on your stomach and against your chest.

Growing impatient, convinced that Bucky’s brain might no longer be working, you lock your ankles around his hips and pull him down between your legs, sighing a groan of relief at the feeling of him tucked against you so warmly.

“God dammit,” he grunts and gives one luxurious roll of his hips against yours, making you whine as your pulse hammers down in your core.

His mouth grazes against your neck now and you can hardly breathe, panting as if you’ve run a marathon. The pressure between your hips leaves as he moves further down and you buck your hips at the ache he leaves.

“Bucky,” you whimper and look down, heart slamming in your throat at the sight of him. He messily yet gently makes his way down your body. Hands roughly pushing up your shirt as his lips find the plane of your stomach, kissing from your bra, down to your hips that you can’t seem to keep still.

Your body feels so heavy, yet so light without him on top of you and you can’t remember any moment before this kiss. Before five minutes ago. Everything is solidified. Your entire history with him. And Bucky presses a kiss just below your navel that confirms that feeling, his hands peeling off your jeans. That is until he speaks.

“Listen to me,” he orders and you freeze at the sound of him. He’s only sounded like that during missions where either of you might die. So serious and detrimental. “Don’t ever try to build a life without me again.”

“Bucky–”

“No,” he snaps and you close your mouth. “Don’t ever pretend like we don’t exist. Like you and I aren’t supposed to do this shit together, like you are better off without me, like I am better off without you. That’s bullshit.” You give him a questioning look. Where is this coming from? “I’m going to kiss you and you are going to forgive me. And then I am going to kiss you some more.”

He waits then. For you to answer, to process what it is he is saying exactly. It’s a lot of words with a lot of meaning, yet you’re not sure if this is the declaration you didn’t know you were waiting for.

So you speak from your gut and let out a breath, “Finally.”

Bucky smiles at that and surges upward, clearly happy with that intuitive answer. His lips claim yours once again and then you feel his fingers inching up your thigh.

You whine softly against his lips and you feel him smile as his fingers reach your drenched core. Two fingers slip through your folds to explore your wetness and Bucky drops his head into the crook of you neck.

“Finally indeed,” he breathes and slips his middle finger into you, making you whimper and buck your hips.

The stretch against your swollen walls sends an ache through your abdomen that cries out for more. You cannot explain the desperation to have him, to have every empty pit of you filled with his essence. His finger curls up and you throw your head back, making Bucky raise his own head to look at you.

“There?”

You nod frantically and Bucky pushes in another finger, making you tense up around him. He curls that one too and you don’t recognise the sound spilling from your lips. You’re already so fucking full.

As Bucky teasingly darts his thumb over your swollen clit, he traces his tongue over your mouth and you gasp for air at the sensation.

“Bucky, fuck!” you cry and he pushes his mouth to yours in a claiming kiss, his fingers moving faster as his thumb rotates over your clit. You can barely kiss him back, overtaken by pleasure as he pumps his fingers over and over until you can hear your wetness surround his sinful digits.

It is by far the hottest thing you have ever experienced. So much time has passed and now this beast of a man who tries everything to make you blush with his flirty persona, is bent over you with his fingers peeling your pleasure to the surface like his own fucking release depends on it.

His chest is heaving from watching you, brows pulled together, eyes dark as they rake over you hungrily, muscles flexing as his hand disappears between your legs.

His leg slips beneath your knee and pulls your leg up to finger you in a different angle and your nails bury themselves in the muscles of Bucky’s neck, abdomen flexing at the wave of pleasure that courses through you. “More. Oh my God, more!”

“I know, I can feel it,” he grunts and slows his fingers. “But I’ve waited ages for this. I refuse to let it be over so soon.”

Your brain is nothing but cinders and you shake your head violently, “No! No, please. You can have everything, just let me come. Please.”

Bucky pecks your lips. Once. Twice.

“You want to come all over my hand, pretty girl?” he murmurs in your ear and you can only gasp at the press of his fingers against your spot. “Can I lick you up after?”

You clench around him like a vice, his low voice making you drip onto his palm, his words incinerating what is left of your pride. You can only nod, so you do. And his hand starts moving again. Faster, deeper, more thorough. You keep nodding, your moans raising, your pleasure retreating like a snake ready to strike. Oh God, oh God, oh God–

“Come.”

Your hips fly to the ceiling when you come, thighs trembling and closing around his hand. Bucky keeps moving and thrusting and curling until he has wrung all of your pleasure from your body and you feel like you’re made of jelly. Your voice is hoarse from yelling your release and the sheets below are drenched with your desire.

Soft kisses are pressed to your face and that is how you return from whatever plane of existence you went to. His gentle laugh makes you shiver and you open your eyes to find him licking his fingers like there is caramel dripping from them. You swallow hard and zero in on that action, making his eyes sparkle.

But something changes when you reach up to stroke his hair and his eyes flutter. Your eyes rove over his face in admiration and your entire soul sighs at the sight of him. Bucky looks down at you curiously and cocks his head.

“What is it?” he asks and you chew your lip, trying to find the words.

“You and me, huh?” you murmur with something like wonder in your voice. Bucky can only nod. You continue, “Who would’ve thought…”

Bucky leans down and kisses you. Soft, slow, deep. It makes your body sing. And he shuffles back to make himself at home between your legs. Though as he does that, he remains his focus on kissing you. Deeper, more, desperate. Depraved. He moans and breathes and you swear you hear him whimper, his hips grinding over your oversensitive cunt as he gets lost in kissing you.

Raking your nails over his scalp, you once again wrap your legs around his hips and pull him down. And if Bucky hadn’t snapped his leash just yet, this does it. He turns wild and passionate and heavy. One hand of his and one hand of your own both reach down, messily working together to get rid of his jeans. He shimmies out of them, not bothering to get rid of them entirely, but bothering to at least take off his shirt.

Your fingers drag down his pecs and abdomen, trying to memorise every curve and edge with what little brain capacity you have left. You feel like no more than a flame, no more than passion and want and need. And when Bucky slides his bare cock through your folds to slicken himself, you shudder so violently, your breath shudders with it.

“Woman, you are going to kill me,” he breathes and nips at your lips.

You almost growl with impatience, “Then fuck me and die already.”

He laughs, bold and happy, before thrusting into you in a long stroke. Home. Oh fuck, he’s home. Both of you freeze, taking in the moment of being fused together before he slowly pulls out and out and out. And sliding back in with an agonizing thrust.

Something in you clicks. Something so vital, so necessary. And Bucky feels it too.

“Yes,” he groans and presses another kiss to your lips, like he can’t get enough. “This is it.”

You nod and close your eyes in pleasure. In relief. You shudder with emotion and clamp onto him. Bucky keeps pressing kisses to your skin. Your neck, your lips, your cheek, temple, forehead.

“This is it,” you choke out and Bucky smiles. “You’re it.”

Bucky breathes a sigh, as if he’s been waiting ages for you to admit it. “Finally.”

Infinity War.

Biting your lip and bouncing your leg, you try to let the rumble of the swift jet calm your nerves. Your eyes search the cabin and go over the confusing screens for the thousandth time.

“Nervous?” Natasha’s sensual voice sounds next to you and you force a smile.

“Why would I be nervous?” you ask and smirk at her. “We’re only stepping into a war with the probability of us winning being like…” Zero? Less than zero? You sigh, “I don’t want to think about that.”

She bites back her own smirk and raises her eyebrows. “Wasn’t talking about the war. Are you nervous about seeing him?”

Bucky.

You glare at her after quickly glancing around to see if anyone heard her, making Natasha try even harder to hold back a smile.

Yes, you were nervous to see him. So much had happened. So many aspects of your spy work had suddenly intermingled and now you are fighting along with the Avengers. Even after you were sure they had torn themselves apart over Bucky. Being caught in the middle of that had put you and Bucky’s relationship –if you could even call it that– so far to the back of both your minds, you barely had time to mention it to anyone until Steve shipped him off to Wakanda to get some real help.

You and Bucky were over before it even started and you think that maybe it’s for the better. Neither you nor Bucky are any good at that relationship shit anyway. It showed over and over.

Luckily enough, you’d found plenty of distraction being on the run with Sam, Natasha and Steve. No Bucky in sight, but knowing he was safe and taken care of. Private mission after mission with other people you cared about, people who didn’t know about you and Bucky, one of them eager to forget about Bucky himself.

You barely gave it any thought.

Except you thought of Bucky every day.

And now you get to see him again. However, if any time would make you reconsider any commitment at all, it would be now.

“No,” you answer and then turn serious. “I mean, I was. But now I’m just preparing myself for either grief, or death.”

“Are those our only options?” she asks with a displeased frown. “Why not prepare for victory or somethin’?”

Giving her a long and hard stare, you sigh deeply. “Yeah. You’re right. If I die, I might as well die hopeful.”

“That’s my girl,” she grins and you bump her shoulder with yours, finding your own smile breaking through.

That’s when Steve gives Sam the coordinates to fly through a barrier and show you the hidden – and beautiful – kingdom of Wakanda. So you ignore every jittery feeling you have in your stomach at possibly seeing Barnes again, and you channel it all into hope.

…

Natasha strokes her hand over your shoulder as you walk up to king T’Challa, who’s flanked by his closest guard and a palace that screams to get you on your knees to worship. You barely hear the conversation the king has with Steve, partly because you’re still in awe of the beautiful place around you.

Now this, this is a refuge.

“How are we lookin’?” Natasha asks from next to you and that’s when you start to pay attention. You’d need a hell of a lot of man-power to win this.

“You will have my Kings Guard,” T’Challa starts, “the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…”

“A semi-stable hundred-year-old man,” finishes a voice that makes your entire system dysregulate. Oh God, it’s been so long since you’ve heard the warm timber of that voice.

You notice your hands have started shaking and clutch them behind your back, squeezing courage out of them to face your past, as Bucky Barnes walks up to hug Captain America.

“How’ve you been, Buck?” Steve asks and Bucky answers with a heart-stopping smile.

“Uh, not bad,” he answers, “for the end of the world.”

They share another warm look before Steve turns to everyone behind him and then to the king, “Should we prepare?”

A few minutes later, you’re following the king inside with all of his closest guards and your own team, which now includes Bucky. Focusing your eyes on everything around you, you barely notice the large hand slipping around your elbow and pulling you into another hallway.

You know better than to scream for help and you use the momentum to swing the person around and pin them to the nearest wall with a knife to their throat. But the air rushes from you when you stand face to face with Bucky.

“There she is,” he grins and slowly raises his hands in surrender.

You back away slowly and look at him like a gaping fish, your insides pounding and swirling and thrashing as your body heats with adrenaline. It’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

“New arm?” you ask him, your voice coming out surprisingly steady, and he glances at the appendage, flexing his hand between your faces.

“Yeah, you like it?” he asks and he almost sounds like a young boy, genuinely interested in what you think of it, of him.

And you calm. Everything inside of you settles and the heat turns to warmth. Your insides seem to melt with relief and you throw your arms around his neck, almost tipping over until Bucky’s arms automatically slide around your waist to pull your pliant body tightly against his. He’s so big and strong and warm.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he laughs softly and one hand starts to stroke your hair gently as you huff out a sob into his neck. “Oh, sweet girl. You’ve never been sad to see me before.”

You finally pull back and cup his face as he lets you survey him closely, him grinning widely at the worry in your every feature. You breathe, “You’re good. You’re safe.”

He nods and takes your hands, pressing a kiss to your palm. “So are you,” he whispers and you nod.

“Not for long,” you add, deflated.

He gives you a sad smile. “Now, who would we be if we didn’t go down fighting, hm?”

You smile slightly at that. “Back on the same team.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and the planet stops turning.

“Finally.”

The Blip.

Another knock sounds and you roll your eyes, throwing on a quick cardigan as you hop over to your door. Unusual, for your quiet, lonely evenings to get interrupted like this. You’re ready to cash in what you can only assume is some complaining neighbour or your awful land lord when you open the door and are met with a familiar face that makes your heart squeeze together.

“Steve,” you breathe.

“Hey.”

You step aside to let him in and take a deep breath.

“Want something to drink?” you ask as you close the door behind him and let him venture into your home. Or, whatever you have tried to turn into your home. It had never been more than the latest home trends and some empty picture frames.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I found you?” he asks and you get a feeling of déjà vu.

But you shake your head with a forced smile, “I left a trace for Natasha to track for emergencies. I know how you found me.” You give him a pointed look and Steve actually has the decency to look slightly apologetic.

That look tells you enough about how much of an emergency this is and you wonder what prompted Natasha to decipher your code and hand your location to the Captain. Maybe he was the one breaking and could use a familiar face. Maybe something turned him awfully worried about you. Maybe-

No.

“Aren’t you mad that Natasha told me?” he asks unsurely and you give him a tight-lipped smile, taking a seat in one of your dining table chairs and ushering for him to do so as well.

“Would you believe me if I said that it’s actually quite nice to see a familiar face after five pretty lonely years?” you refute and he gives you a warm smile.

“It’s good to see you, too, Kid.”

A comfortable silence settles between you two and you fidget with your hands, staring at them intently before raising your face back to Steve. “Why are you here, Cap?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Ever since the Blip,” he starts and you can feel him debating whether to continue, “I never– I didn’t get to tell you how sorry I am about Bucky.”

You freeze and slowly turn your gaze to him. “Okay. Now I am pissed at her.”

“Natasha didn’t tell me,” he quickly assures and you raise a brow at him. “He did.”

You fall quiet at that. “Bucky told you about…”

“What,” he laughs. “Didn’t think you two were serious enough for him to tell his best friend about it?”

You reply with a humourless laugh of your own. “He um– He wasn’t a very committing guy. And I don’t blame him. Why commit to something if you might lose everything all over again?”

The pity in Steve’s gaze feels burning to your skin. “Well, if you’re that scared of losing something, it might be worth committing to,” he says and you find yourself agreeing with the wise bastard.

“Well, I committed and look where I am now,” you huff. “Turns out, he was right all along.”

“Kid–”

“Why are you here, Cap?” you try again, all of a sudden too eager to get rid of him.

It takes a while for him to answer and dread settles low in your belly. When he starts talking, you’ve already started shaking your head. “We have found a way to bring them all back.”

You still. And you stay like that. Seconds. Minutes. Maybe another five years have passed.

“Did you hear what I said?” he tries.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. We figured out a way. Time travel.”

You bark a laugh and give him a pointed glare. However, your vision is already slightly impaired by the tears pooling at your waterline. “Don’t,” you stop him before he continues elaborating. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this in the past five years? That you, or Nat, or even Tony fucking Stark himself would stand at my door and tell me we figured it out? About a million times, Cap. And the more normal this delusional scenario became in my head, the more absurd it seemed to be. And now, you expect me to just believe that nearly five years on the dot, you have figured out a way to return everything to normal?!”

Steve can take it, the sudden outburst of your disbelief. He has definitely encountered a whole lot more scepticism in his life. But his heart breaks a little for you. Bucky had tried to be so casual when he finally told Steve about you, but Steve had caught the sparkle in those hundred-year-old eyes and he couldn’t describe the relief of Bucky having found someone, let alone you.

But now, to see you so far removed from Bucky – from hope. He hates it.

“I waited,” he almost whispers. “Until I was completely sure. We need you for this.”

You blink away your tears and one rolls down your cheek. Steve quickly reaches to catch it and cups your face. A touch normally so very unwelcome, but now you cannot help but bury your face in his palm.

“You’re sure?” you ask, voice breaking.

Steve pulls you in and up to his chest, engulfing you in a tight hug. “Time to bring our best friend back, Kid.”

Time Travel.

You cannot help but smile when you see the handsome brainiac hunched over a laptop near some high-tech stage that you can’t seem to look at too long without talking yourself out of this.

“Hey, Tony,” you say quietly as you walk up and his brown eyes light up when he hears your voice. Stepping away from the screen, he opens his arms wide and pulls you into a tight hug. Another comfortable embrace that you can only breathe in and cherish.

“My favourite spy,” he murmurs and pulls back.

“How are you doing?” you ask him.

He gives you a knowing look. “Oh, you know. Good. Until he showed up,” he sneers with a pointed look at Steve, who simply rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “he has a way of interrupting peace.”

Tony snorts. “Now that, is what I call a paradox.”

You laugh and pat his shoulder, “Pepper and Morgan?”

“They’re wonderful.” He grins, but you can see the fear shining in his eyes and you give his shoulder a firm squeeze.

“Thank you for doing this, Tony.”

He smirks in answer. “I swear, if you and Barnes don’t openly kiss after all I am about to sacrifice, I will find the stones and undo both of your existences.”

You shoot a thunderous glare to Steve, and to Natasha who is walking up behind the Captain. But Tony stops you before you can scold them on their horrible secret-keeping skills, “Pepper told me.”

You grit your teeth.

The Avengers are a bunch of gossips.

The Endgame.

You stumble backward, your sprained ankle and broken ribs somehow only a faint ache over the sight before you. You almost trip over debris, or a body, or just air and you keep blinking to see better or to make it all go away, you don’t know.

He did it. Tony did it. You’re sure you can still feel the snap of his fingers vibrate through your spine. And there he is. Slumped against more debris, half of his face cracked like burnt coal, his suit barely reflecting its original colours. The blue light at the centre of his chest is fading, shuttering and then… it goes dark. With Pepper’s hand over it.

Your own hand barely muffles the sob trying to break through and you stumble over and over again as you back away from that horrible, awful reality. He did it. But at what cost?

You turn around and start jogging. How? You’re not sure. Your body is in no state to hurry. But it’s incomplete. You were barely strong or extraordinary enough to be of any help during the fight, but you tried your best. Helping people in the field, some war medic patching up gushing wounds. You’d cashed some punches and kicks yourself. Dealt them, too.

It was all because you needed to be there. Because you needed to stay alive. Needed to stick around to see him again. And now… Now… You barely survived this, barely made it through. And Tony died. Tony Stark. The chance of him still being out there-

You start running faster. Hobbling and grunting from the pain.

“Bucky,” you voice is raw and frantic, it’s barely a sound as you cry out for him. “Bucky! Bucky!”

Head swinging from side to side, you hope the soldier reveals himself from behind one of the plumes of smoke. Further and further away, you flee from the horrifying scene of whatever is left after Thanos. You need to find him, but you can’t identify anything on this war ground.

If he’s dead. If Bucky is dead–

Your head whips around so fast, your neck might crack, when you’re sure you hear your name. Everything about you goes quiet and you hold your breath like it will make any difference. Slowly, you walk in the direction where you assume the sound came from, but you almost cringe at the idea that you might just be going insane. After all those explosions, your hearing can’t possibly be this sharp.

Though perhaps intuition is at play here, because you’ve always been able to feel him. Always knew it when it was him waiting up for you, or looking for you, or needing you.

“Bucky,” you croak again.

“Here…” It’s so quiet. But you hear it over everything else and follow the echo of the sound.

“Bucky,” you rasp out. “I’m coming!”

And there he is. On hands and knees, struggling to get up. You can only describe your approach as a dive, as you crash onto your wobbly knees and wrap your arms around him. His body instantly stops struggling and falls into your rib cage.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

“Yeah,” he groans. “’M right here.”

You had no idea you were sobbing it to him, but you don’t care as your hands grapple for a better hold of him. He does the same until both of you are kneeling in front of each other, cupping each others’ faces to check for injuries.

“You look pretty all roughed up,” he mutters and you smile through your tears.

“You look awful,” you reply and he chuckles before pulling you into his chest. “But you’re home.”

He shudders and you might actually hear him let out a sob of his own as he tightens his grip on you.

“Finally.”

#SLOW BURNNNN #I looove their dynamic okay #lots of dialogue which we all love #some action and fluff and passion adn efgedksbf i love them ok?!#PLease tell me what you think and if this is maybe too long...#it's a bit intimidating i get that but it's an easy read i promise #ok i love you guys #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #writing #bucky barnes fluff

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samandcolbyownme · 8 months ago

Text

Summary: Reader accepts Zach's invitation about coming onto the podcast, despite going through a hard time.

Warnings: there won't be smut in this (I can always do a part 2), but there will sexual innuendos and other things that make it feel like it belongs in this book, kinda sad beginning, swearing, joking around, reader is good friends with Zach and Jared, reader feeling sad/down, long distance relationship? possible angst?

I will be using some actual dialogue from their videos, but most of it will be from me.

Word count: 6.3k | not edited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

It's been a few weeks since you and Sam sat down and had a long discussion about your relationship.

You both agreed that it was best you "cut things off'' until things start to settle down - but you both didn't know when that was going to happen.

No matter how hard you tried, your schedules were always packed. You were flying to one state on the other side of the county.

Sam was flying to the opposite.

It didn't really make sense, because things really didn't change romantically, you still said I love you. You still FaceTimed when you could.

It's just, everything was always over the phone.

Through texts, phone calls, pictures.

You haven't seen each other since the night Sam left with Colby to do their overseas haunted tour thing that they've been planning for months.

That was three weeks ago, and it's killing you - both.

You both agreed that you need to give both of your lives all you got, and that's where it made sense. Putting your careers first, getting ahead so you have time to plan out the future together.

You hated it. Absolutely despised it, but you truly believed that if your love was real, and you truly believed it was..

It will always contain the habit of coming back.

You hugged Sam tight, not wanting to let him go. His arms stayed around you, chin rested on your head as he basked in the last moments you had together before he had to fly to Romania.

Then to Spain.

Then Ireland.

It was going to be non stop.

"Hey." Sam whispers, "I love you." You sniffle, mumbling into his chest, "I love you." He slides an arm over your shoulder, tilting your tear soaked face up to look at him.

He smiles slightly, biting his lip to hold back his own tears, "I don't care how complicated things gets. I still want you."

You nod, "Always your girl."

He kisses your forehead, "Always my girl."

You can tell he nods, meaning Colby has signaled him, and you let out a sigh, "Let me know when you land."

"You know I'll update you any chance I get." He pulls you into a hug, squeezing tight, "I love you. I love you so much."

You try your hardest not to cry, but you can't help it and sob into his chest, "I love you."

He cups your cheek, kissing you deeply before leaning back, "I don't want to, but I gotta go."

"Go." You smile, "But don't have too much fun." You laugh slightly before it quickly turns into crying again and you fight it, "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, "Never be sorry." He kisses you one last time, "Wait for me."

You nod, turning around to see Colby standing behind you, "Safe travels." You reach up, wrapping your arms around Colby's neck and he hugs you tight, "It'll be okay."

You nod, leaning back, "I know." You wipe your face, watching as Sam and Colby walk towards the gate.

Sam smiles slightly, giving you one last wave before he walks through.

Once he's out of your sight, you cover your face, absolutely breaking down and you didn't care that it was in the middle of the airport.

Your friend walks up, wrapping her arms around you, "You guys are inevitable."

"I have to go in like ten minutes, we're getting ready to head to our next place." Sam says from the other end of the phone.

You pout totally forgetting about the time difference, "Okay."

"Hey " Sam tilts his head, "Don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything. I've mastered waiting until we hang up." You laugh and he sighs, "Girl. You're going to kill me."

"If I was going to do that, I would have done it before you left."

You've been coping with jokes and humor. You were still absolutely dying inside with not being able to lay with him. Kiss him. Hug him.

It was still eating away at you, but, as said, you've just mastered it with humor.

"Part of me wishes you did." Sam mumbles with a laugh, "This is hell."

You sigh quietly, sitting up as you rest your chin in the palm of your hand, "I know." You smile as you think about what your friend said, "But just remember that we're inevitable."

"Damn right." Sam smiles and you hear Colby yell at him, "Alright, enough with the phone sex. The car's here."

You laugh as you watch Sam's mouth drop and he pans his phone over his fully clothed in layers body, "Does it look like I have my d-"

"I don't need to know what nasty shit you guys are in to." Colby laughs and you sigh, "Alright. I love you."

You see the phone get ripped out of Sam's hand and Colby's face appears suuuper close to the camera, "I love you, too."

You shake your head, laughing, "oh my god."

Sam gets his phone back and he smiles, "Talk later?"

You nod, "You know it. Be safe. Good luck!"

Sam smiles, "Yes ma'am." He salutes you, "Alright, I love you." You smile, "I love you."

The call ends and you feel that sudden rush of, once gated, emotions hit you all at once. You fall into the bed, specifically on Sam's side and take a deep shaky breath, "Fuck."

You lay a pillow over your face and lay there for a second, taking yourself down from crying.

Your phone dings and you hesitate for a second before you toss the pillow next to you and search for your phone.

A laugh leaves your lips as you see a message from your friend, Zach Justice, Hey sweet cheeks. Come on the podcast.

You click on it, typing out, oh now you want me to come on?

You take a screenshot and send it to Sam. You stare up at the ceiling as you wait for a response from either one, trying to convince yourself that what you're going through, is going to benefit your future with Sam.

Together.

You bring your phone up, rolling your eyes at Zach's response, Not so much me, but the people in the comments. Your name is infesting every video I post.

Infesting? That's a.. weird way of putting it lol. I'll see if I can squeeze you in to fit in my busy, busy schedule.

Your friendship with Zach has always been playful banter, ever since you met, but he's always there for you.

You haven't said anything to him, or Jared, about your current situation with Sam, but you know that just going on the podcast would definitely help you get through this easier.

You bring your phone back up and laugh as what Zach had to say, So kind of you to consider hanging out with me.

You laugh, I know, I can be sooo nice. I'll come if you buy me a plane ticket.

And pick me up from the airport, with donuts.

You see the message change from delivered to read and his face pops up on your screen. You take a deep breath and hit answer, "You couldn't have just texted me?"

"Donuts you say? You must be really going through it."

You laugh, "You have no idea."

"Does this have anything to do with Sam?" He raises his brows when you don't answer him and he hums, "Thought so."

"We're.. together but we're not together? If that makes any kind of sense. I don't know. We both agreed that our schedules are too much for us to be labeled as a couple right now, so we just, agreed to put more focus on the business of our lives?" You shake your head, "I'm just.. feeling a lot."

"Yeah, you're totally coming on the podcast." He laughs, "I'll get your plane ticket." You can tell he's focused on something else and you laugh, "I was joking. I can get my-"

"Done."

"Zach." You laugh, "I don't even know when I'm free."

"Well, you better be free next Thursday." He smiles, giving you a wink, "See you then."

"Don't.. wink at me. That's weird."

"Ugh" he groans dramatically, "Sorry." He smiles, "See you next Thursday, I'll send you the deats." He winks and hangs up before you can yell at him again.

You see a message from Sam and your attention shifts as you read what he says, You should definitely do it, babe. I think it would be good for you.

You tap the screen, Zach really didn't give me a choice. He bought my plan ticket for me already so now I have to move stuff around, but I agree.

Your eyes move up to the time, groaning lowly as you realize just how late it is. You remembered you have a meeting for a brand deal within the next four hours, so you reach over, turning off your lights so you can try and get at least a little bit of sleep.

Why'd he have to get such an early flight, you think as you zip your suitcase closed. You lift it off the bed and set it upright on the floor before replacing the spot on the bed with your body.

The last two days, Sam and Colby have been camping in a place they don't have service, so you haven't talked to him.

Your phone dings and you lift in hopes that it's Sam, but it's Zach, On your way to the airport?

You laugh quietly, You act like you're exited to see me or something, but soon. Waiting on my friend to get here to take me.

Your friend texts you, letting you know that she's there and you get a move on, pulling the handle from your case and wheeling it behind you as you walk out to the living room.

She comes in, "You ready?"

You look over at her, "Yeah I just have to grab my headphones, they've been charging." She nods, "You doing okay?"

You shrug, "I mean, yeah. For the most part." You laugh slightly, "As good as I can be."

"Where did he say they were camping again?" She crosses her arms and you look at her, "Some.. demonic forest? I have no idea. If I don't hear from him by tomorrow I'm sending a search and rescue team."

She laughs, "No I don't blame you." She walks over, grabbing the handle of your bag as you stuff your headphones into your carry on, "I know how Zach is, and he's a jokester.. are you going to be alright?"

You nod, "I talked to Zach about everything last week, I told him that joking is my way to cope, so I gave him the green light."

"I can't wait for this to come out. I just know it's going to be better than the others." She laughs and you nod, "Oh you know it."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Walking into the airport was almost like you were reliving that day with Sam all over again. Luckily, you had to go to a different gate in a different part of the building, which really made it a lot easier in the long run.

"Well. I'll see ya in a day or two." You lean in, hugging your friend, "Thank you."

She squeezes you, "Don't need to thank me. Have a good flight."

You nod, "I'll try. I'll text you when I land."

You turn, walking up to the lady to hand her your ticket. She smiles, "Hi, y/n. I have to tell you, my daughter is a huge fan of yours."

"Awe." You smile, "You'll have to tell her I said thank you.

The lady nods, "I will." She smiles, "Safe travels, y/n."

You smile and walk in, turning back to wave to your friend before boarding the plane.

You sit down in your seat, checking your phone to see if Sam texted - but no message. You sigh, unfolding your headphones and slipping them over your ears.

You've been on enough planes to know the routine.

After pressing play for your music to play, you send a quick text to Zach, letting him know that you boarded and should be there in about two to three hours.

Your flight feels longer than it should be. It felt like time was dragging by as slow as it could possibly go.

But once you land and are able to exit, you practically bolt to the baggage claim.

I got my bags, where are you?

You look around, waiting to either see Zach or hear back from him.

Moments later, he texts, Standing in front of the Starbucks. Someone didn't send me their gate number so I figured I'd treat myself to cheer myself up.

You laugh, grabbing your bag as you type with your thumb, you're ridiculous, did you at least get me one?

Zach replies, No why would I do that?

You roll your eyes and walk to the Starbucks, smiling as you see him holding two coffees, "You did in fact do that."

He turns, smiling as he opens his arms to hug you, "Yeah yeah, don't ruin it."

You step back, taking the coffee he hands you, "Ready?" He nods, "right this way, sweet cheeks."

"You just going to keep coming up with new nicknames each time you talk to me?" You laugh and he stares at you, "Um, yeah. That's what I've been doing? Right?"

You roll your eyes, "What are you going to do when you run out of nicknames? Recycle the old ones."

He laughs, "Boy are you funny. Listen here." He stops pointing to his head and you tilt your head as you watch him tap his temple, "This baby can go for miles. Don't ever underestimate me."

You hold your hand up in defense, "Message received, sweet cheeks."

He gives you a look, trying not to laugh and he sighs, "Not cool." He laughs, turning to lead you to his car.

The ride to the house was filled with small talk, mainly catching up and what not since it's been over a year since you've seen him last.

Once there, you're greeted by Jared and Alyssa with hugs.

"How was the flight?" Jared asks and you shrug with a laugh, "Long."

"Did you do your hair recently? It's so pretty." Alyssa plays with a stand and you nod, "Yeah I went after a meeting last week. I figured I needed a change or something."

"You know, I think I seen it on Instagram." She laughs and Zach rolls his eyes, "girl talk, yuck. I'm not doing this." He walks over to sit down and puts his headphones on.

He motions to the empty chair, "Are we doing this?"

"I still don't have a choice do I?" You laugh and Zach sighs, "Now you're finally getting it."

You set your stuff down, walking over to sit on the red seat. You put your headphones on and look around as Jared and Alyssa get settled in.

"We good?" Zach asks and looks at everyone, and you all nod.

"What's up guys. Welcome to one ninety six of Dropouts." Zach starts in a loud, cheery sing songy tone, "Were here with the guest you've all been waiting for..."

Jared gives Zach a drum roll and Zach looks at you, "Miss Y/n y/l/n."

"Hi everybody." You smile, "Just to let everyone know, Zach didn't give me a choice to do this, so everyone should go flood his comments-"

"No, cut that out. We're cutting that out." Zach tries not to laugh, "Listen. It only took how long for you to finally get here?"

"She's a very busy girl, Zach." Jared laughs, "Speaking of.. Did I, or did I not, see that you're going to be on the next cover of vogue?"

"You guys heard about that?" You smile and look at Alyssa and she claps for you, "Powerful woman."

You smile and look at Zach, "Jealous?"

Zach raises his brows, "That I'm not a woman? Please. I don't need anymore problems." He takes a deep breath, "Anyway. Besides that, I want to ask you a very serious question."

You time your head, "That could be anything.."

Zach fights back a smirk, "You seen, two or three episodes back that we had.. Sam, and Colby on here, right."

Jared laughs, "Zach, where are you going with this?"

"No where. Well. I mean." He laughs, "Somewhere, but just, wait. We aren't there yet."

"Clearly." You and Alyssa say at the same time and you both laugh.

Zach points between the two of you, "See. This is why I don't like having them both here, they like tag team me and not in the way any man would want to happen, ya feel me?"

You roll your eyes, "Sam and Colby, your question." You laugh when he looks at you and he smirks, "You and Sam.. getting down and dirty yeah?"

You laugh, "If you want to put it that way, I mean. Yeah, but not like.. recently."

"Why's that?" Zach rubs his chin with his fingers and you shrug, "in the words of Jared, she's a very busy girl, Zach."

"Mm, okay." He raises his brows and shakes his head, "Now another question I have for you.. and don't get mad at me for asking this, because if I'm correct, they confirmed this when they were here."

You raise your brows, knowing exactly where this is going, "Mhm."

"Did Sam leave the states to be with Colby officially because, now, this is what I was told, you threatened to turn Colby into a spirit himself?" Zach leans back and you stare at him for a few second before laughing, "Oh my god."

"That's.." Jared laughs, "Who did you hear that from?"

Zach makes a face, "Oh so now you're going to sit there and pretend like that isn't what you told me last night?"

"Whoa, okay. No. Y/n. I didn't-" Jared laughs and Zach cuts in, "Oh, see. He can't deny it. His face is as red as the seats and he's starting to smell because he's so full of it."

"What the fuck." Jared rolls his eyes and you sigh, leaning in towards the mic, "For the record, I have never threatened to turn Colby into a spirit."

"But you aren't denying that they're married?" Zach tilts his head, pointing his finger at you, "But even then, you'd have to ward off Colby because I'm sure his spirit will just attach to Sam."

"No that's little girl spirits." Jared laughs, emphasizing again, "Spirits. We've been over this with them. Please don't take that the wrong way."

"Anyway." Zach shakes his head, "When's the last time you talked to either one of them?"

You sigh, "Oh gosh. This will be day three, but I've already said, if I don't hear from him by the end of today I'm sending in a search and rescue team for their asses."

"Oh gosh, that just.. wow." Zach sighs, "Can I just.. that just brought up something very serious and I need to say it, like right now."

"Or what you'll explode?" Alyssa asks causing you and Jared to laugh. Zach looks over at her, "Can you just shut up for two seconds, I have something important I need to say."

Alyssa raises her hands, fighting back her laughter.

Zach looks at you and he takes a deep breath, "Now this.. might be hard for you to hear, as well for everyone else watching and, or listening.. but.." he looks into the camera, "If you wanna see me go retrieve Sam and Colby from." He pauses and looks at you, "Where are they right now?"

You fight back laughter, "Camping in some demonic forest."

He picks right back up, "Camping in a demonic forest, subscribe to the Patreon, you can see all of that plus stuff that's already happened."

"You're.. insufferable." Jared shakes his head as he looks down and Zach just shrugs, "People like them. And if they know that I'm willing to help them, they'll like me, too. Okay. Moving on."

"So you literally got in today? Like your flight." Zach asks and you just stare at him. He cracks a smile, "What?"

"You're literally the one who picked her up from the airport, Zach." Jared laughs and you gasp, "Oh, and he brought me donuts like I said to last week and a coffee at the airport while he was waiting for me."

"Hey hey hey." Zach says quickly, "Don't be telling everyone lies. You know I spit in your coffee before I gave it to you."

"That's atrocious, Dude. What the fuck." Jared closes his eyes and shakes his head. You stare at Zach, "No you didn't." Zach shrugs, "The world may never know."

"I don't know if I believe him, because I can totally see him doing that, just like to fuck with someone close to him." You laugh, "Oh god, I drank all of that, too. Did you really do that?"

Zach sighs, nodding his head as he speaks, "No, I didn't."

"See!" You point to him laughing, "You're a child."

Zach laughs, "Yeah and you're the queen of England." He pretends like he's using a gavel, "Case closed. So. Back to Sam and Colby.. Since you're so close with them, like have you gone on any investigations with them?"

"I used to. Like right before my channel took off, I would go with them maybe twice a month?" You answer and Zach nods, "Is that why your channel blew up?"

You can tell he's asking something that does relate to being touched or spoken to by a ghost, "Are you-"

"Yes." Zach cuts you off and you laugh, "No. I didn't sell my soul. I'm pretty sure it's still there, I mean I don't know how to check but."

Zach reaches over and feels your wrist, "Still there."

"Zach." Jared bursts out laughing, "that's her pulse man, not her soul."

Zach shrugs, "You never know. She may have turned into some sort of succubus demon thing that doesn't have a pulse but she has one. She's good."

You roll your eyes and you can feel your phone vibrating in the pocket of your sweatpants, "I'm getting a call."

"That the devil calling, he wants to return your souls." Zach says and you laugh, "That was good." You pull your phone out, not even hiding your happiness when you see Sam's name, "It's Sam."

You push your one headphone off your ear and bring your phone up, "hey!"

"We just got to service, are you okay?" Sam asks and you keep smiling, "Yeah I'm actually doing the podcast right now."

"Oh fuck, right now? I'm sorry." Sam says and you shake your head, "No, you're fine, how was it?"

You look over at Zach and he wiggles his fingers, "Put him on speaker." You hold up one finger and continue to listen to Sam speak, "I'll have to FaceTime you later and show you. It was pretty nuts."

"Oh god, yeah I'm sure. Zach wants me to put you on speaker so I'm going to do that here in a second." You take the phone away and tap the button, "Okay."

"Is y/n a succubus?" Zach asks straight away, obviously catching Sam off guard, "What.. the fuck?" He laughs, "Is she a what?"

"A demon. I mean I checked her pulse and she has one so I think we're good, but I figured I'd check in with the main ghost hunter because you'd know her better than any of us."

"What kind of things are you talking about on the podcast?" Sam laughs and Zach sighs, "I guess you'll just have to wait and see when the video comes out."

"Um.. okay." Sam laughs and you take him off speaker, "You're off speaker, now."

"Yeah so give it to her good, Sammy my boy." Zach yells and you roll your eyes as Sam laughs, "There's something wrong with him."

"Oh I know. But according to him, his brain can go for miles."

"Y/n. What did I say about telling my secrets." Zach shakes his head and you shrug, "Sorry, that must have been the devil taking over."

Zach raises his eyebrows, "Clearly." He nods, "Ask Sam if he got my text, since they now have service and what not."

You relay the message and Sam takes a second to check, "Oh yeah, I got it."

You nod to Zach, "Yeah, he got it." Zach nods, fighting back a smirk, "Cool, cool."

"Why are you acting like that?" Jared asks and Zach tilts his head, "What do you mean?" Jared looks from him to you, "You're being.. more weird than usual."

"I have my meter for weirdness and it sits right here." Zach holds his hand up, "and I haven't gone above that level since... Mm. Let say. Tuesday?"

"What's going on?" Sam asks and you laugh, "Oh Zach and Jared are arguing. Normal stuff, you know."

Sam laughs, "Oh yeah. Typical." You hear him sigh and you know what's about to happen so you cut him off before he can say anything, "Talk later?"

"You know it. I love you." Sam says and you smile, looking down, "I love you."

The call ends and you look up, "Alright."

"Alright, now we can get on with other things." Zach claps his hands together, "Are we still going out after this?"

You raise your brows, "Out?"

Zach furrows his brows and looks from Jared to Alyssa, "Is your guy's stuff acting up?" He motions to his headphones and they both shake their heads no.

"Mines good, why is yours?" Jared asks and Zach shakes his head, "No, I'm just trying to make sure that y/n can hear me alright because out is exactly what I said."

You roll your eyes, "Oh my god. Shut the fuck up."

"I didn't know if you could hear me okay or not, was just double checking, jeeze. No need to be so aggressive." Zach tries not to laugh and you shake your head, knowing that no matter how much you try and talk yourself out of it, you'll still be going out.

So you just sit back and accept your fate.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Almost two hours later, the podcast comes to a close and you set your headphones down on the bench, "Is it just me, or did that podcast feel like it went longer than normal?"

You look between Zach, Jared, and Alyssa.

"I don't think it felt any different." Jared shakes his head and shrugs. Alyssa nods, "I think it went over just a little bit, but not much."

You nod and Zach stands up, "That jet lag must be really doing a number on you."

You shrug, "I don't know, but are we at least getting dinner because I haven't eaten since this morning."

"You are such a cry baby. Let's go." Zach laughs as he walks away and you scoff, following him out the door.

You all pile into the car and start driving to the restaurant, "So where was Tara?" You ask leaning forward, "I texted her but I haven't gotten any answer from her."

"She's like, really sick." Zach says, "I called her this morning and it sounded like she swallowed her phone."

"Oh god, if she sounds that bad then she's probably sleeping it off." You lean back, looking down at your phone, "So what did you and Sam talk about?"

You look up at Zach and he looks back at you in the rear view, "When did your name change to Nelly because you're awfully nosey."

You laugh, "Fine then don't tell me. I'm sure he'll tell me anyway."

"Yeah, he probably will." Zach turns into the parking lot and you roll your eyes, accepting that reverse psychology doesn't work on him.

As you get out, you check your phone. You let out a sigh and slip it into your pocket before closing the door.

"I don't know much about the situation.." Alyssa says as she walks over to you, ".. but I know that you and Sam are major endgame if you ask me."

You smile, "Thanks. I just.. we talked about putting pause on our relationship and it's just so hard because the only thing that really changed was us making time for each other. I mean, it didn't really happen much lately anyway, but the fact that we just cut it all out in one shot.." you sigh, "I hate it."

She nods, "I'm sure it's rough, but you both have great careers, and I promise that it'll work out in the end. It might not seem like it now, but it will."

"Thank you." You take a deep breath, "I actually needed that."

She smiles and rubs your back, "Come on, Zach is probably in there bitching."

You laugh and roll your eyes, "Probably."

You walk into the restaurant, making your way to the table that Jared and Zach are sitting at and Zach looks up, "So they didn't get kidnapped."

"You can't get rid of us that easily." You laugh as you sit down, "So what's good here?" You look over at Alyssa and she explains some of her favorite dishes.

Throughout dinner, you caught yourself checking your phone and your sadness grew each time you seen zero notifications from Sam.

At this point, you wanted to go to a hotel and just sleep off your day.

But that wasn't happening.

"Why do you look more miserable than normal?" Zach asks and you look up at him, laughing slightly, "I'm just.. getting really tired."

Wasn't a full lie.

"Uh huh. Well you better wake up, because where we're going next will get your mind off, being tired." He tilts his head and you roll your eyes, "I hate that you know me."

"You secretly love it. Now come on." He stands up, along with you and everyone else and you make your way out to the car.

You're quiet for the most part, except for when they force you to join in on conversation.

"When did you hear about Vogue?" Alyssa asks and you can't help but smirk, "I found out a few days ago. I kind of just waited, kept it to myself. It really didn't hit until Jared asked me about it."

"So wait, the post that they made with your picture titled the next face of vogue didn't make it set in?" Jared asks and you shrug, "honestly, no."

You laugh and sigh, "How much longer?"

"We're here." Zach replies and you nod, looking out the window at the building, "So is this like a bar scene? I'm not dressed for that." You joke and Alyssa laughs, "You look fine, trust me. Your sweats were the way to go."

"I am super comfortable." You laugh as you get out, not even bothering to check your phone.

You follow them in, handing the bouncer your ID, letting him check it before making your way in.

The music is loud and it's filled with a few faces that you've met before, not anyone you're really willing to sit down and have a conversation with, though.

You walk up to the bar, ordering your drink as Alyssa does the same.

"So don't.." she laughs, "Don't tell Zach I told you this, I mean, he'd kill me if he knew you knew this.." she pauses and you nod, smiling, "secret is safe with me."

She leans in, "Zach is actually worried about you. He's afraid that you're working yourself too much and now he's worried that this whole Sam situation will break you."

You're actually kind of surprised, but at the same time, you're not, "I kind of thought that when he called me that night instead of just texting me.. but I'm actually really happy to hear that from someone who's close to him each day."

You take your drink, laying down your money, "keep the change."

Alyssa does the same and looks to you, "Just let him think that he's doing something you don't know about. I don't want him firing me."

"I won't let that happen." You laugh, "Thank you."

She nods and you walk back towards Zach and Jared. Right as you walk up, Zach stands up and walks way, phone pressed to his ear and he doesn't say a word.

You furrow your brows and point to him, "What was that all about?"

Jared sighs, "Last minute cancellation for the podcast. He's not taking it good."

"Oh gosh, who was it?" You sit down and Jared looks to Alyssa before he leans in, "Don't say anything, but it was the triplets."

"Chris, Nick, and Matt?" You raise your brows, "Why'd they cancel?"

Jared shrugs, "No idea, that's what Zach is trying to figure out." You pout, "oh gosh, I have Chris' number. I can text him and see-"

"Alright. We're good to go." Zach comes back and sits down. You look over at him, "So the triplets are coming on? They're not canceling?"

He looks between Jared and Alyssa before tilting his head, "You're not supposed to know.. so just.." he lowers his hand in reference to you lowering your voice and you nod, "Ahh." You lower your voice, "Gotcha."

You sip your drink and pull your phone from your pocket as you feel it vibrate, "Oh. It's Tara."

"What did she say?" Zach says and you read over her text, "Sorry I couldn't make it to the podcast. I was super sick this morning. I just now woke up, but I'm feeling a lot better, are you still in town? Would love to meet up with you before you leave again."

"What's the name of this place? I'm going to text her where I'm at." You look up and Jared tells you the name before you shoot her back a text.

"She said she'll be here in an hour." You put your phone back in your pocket and look down at your empty glass, "I'll be right back."

You get up, walking up to the bar to get another drink.

"Are you okay?" Zach asks and you look over at him, "Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?" He shrugs, "I'm just.. asking. Jeeze. Can't a guy just ask a girl if she's okay?"

You fight back a smirk, knowing that he really cares, "Yes, Zach. I'm fine, and you.. and Alyssa and Jared have all helped me get through the day without crying."

"Good, because I really don't think I could handle you crying.." Zach laughs slightly, "Tara said she'll be here in an hour?"

You nod, "Yeah, she has to get ready first, I guess."

He nods, "Of course she does."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Mm." You set your glass down, "Tara's here."

"She is?" Jared asks shocked and you look at him funny, "That's what I just said, isn't it?"

Jared tilts his head, "You've been around Zach for too long." He laughs and stands up, "I'll go get her."

"No I will. I haven't seen her in so long." You stand up, but the three follow you out anyway. You glance behind you, laughing slightly as you shake your head.

You make your way to the door and look around, "Where is she?"

You get a text from Tara, Patio, sorry I saw someone else I haven't seen in a while.

You look at Zach, "She's on the patio."

"To the patio we go." He points, leading you down the side of the building. You round the corner, seeing Tara standing there with a huge smile, "Ahh!" She yells as she runs towards you, "I've missed you!"

"Hey!" You yell and hug her, "I've missed you!" You lean back, "You look so good!"

"Same for you miss cover of vogue!" She pushes your shoulder, "How fucking amazing is that?!"

You nod, "Pretty amazing."

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you think it's just Zach pulling you away to pick on Tara, but when you turn, your heart falls into your stomach, "No fu-fucking way."

Sam is standing there, a huge smile on his face, "I couldn't go without seeing you anymore." He pulls you in for a hug, face buried into your neck and the tears you've been holding in all damn day are finally let loose.

"Hey. Hey, hey." He lays a hand on your head, shushing you quietly, "It's okay." He turns his head, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "I'm here."

You're glued to him. You want to let go so you can lean back and look at him but your body just wants to hold him.

"I'm taking time off. I'm traveling with you. I want to be with you." Sam whispers and you lean your head back, just enough to look at him, "Really?"

He nods, "Really. You're more important than anything in the world. We're making this work. I'm going to make it work."

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The end feels kind of rushed, and I promised you guys this yesterday, but I've been battling a migraine attack non stop for the last four days, so I just wanted to get something out.

A part 2 (with smut) is definitely in the brain for this, you know when I can get it to stop working against me.

But as always, let me know how you liked it. Thanks for reading. I love you all! 🖤

likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #sam and colby #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach one shots #sam Golbach #sam golbach fluff #sam golbach and colby brock #Sam Golbach one shot #dropouts ft y/n #dropouts podcast #dropouts #dropouts Zach justice #zach justice #ft Zach justice #y/n #sam golbach x you #famous!reader #famous!y/n #influencer!reader

575 notes · View notes

raven-dor · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, could you write something with Charlie Weasley x reader, where reader is friends with the twins and they invite her to the burrow where she meets Charlie, and she's really smart and knows a lot about dragons and that's how her and Charlie start to bond.

Also could reader maybe be a Slytherin, I'm a Slytherin so I just think reader would be too, but the house can be unspecified or something else if you want.

lost without you

in which charlie weasley meets the love of his life

PAIRING: charlie weasley x slytherin!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, sneaking around, falling out, love confessions, molly weasley (sorry...)

AN: i love this request so much... thank you for asking!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

She was exhausted, that was for sure. Spending all night- she blushed. She shouldn’t have done that, but he was so kind and strong. Mysterious but gentle. He was brilliant; she could tell by the look in his eyes.

She giggled as he kissed down her neck, squirming from his touch. He scoffed, no malice behind it. “Love, stop moving…”

She blushed wildly, hiding her face behind her hands. “I never do this…”

He pulled himself back to her level, prying her hands away. “There you are.” He whispered. “Don’t hide from me, please.”

“I’m embarrassed.” She whispered back. “I never-”

“Never do this.” He smirked, laying beside her and staring at her intensely. “You’ve said.”

She moved herself closer, tracing shapes on his chest. “What do you do for work?”

He laughed, and she thought to herself he had a rather jolly laugh. “Do you really want to know?”

She nodded, her eyes begging to shut. His hold was comforting despite the fact that she had known him for approximately two hours. “You look like you have a…” She yawned. “An interesting job.”

He smiled, leaning his head on hers. “I work in…”

She had fallen asleep before she had heard where.

Y/N blushed thinking about it. There she was, sleeping in a stranger's arms.

Then again, it hadn’t felt like that. It felt like she had known him for years. She shook her head, trying to stop herself from daydreaming. George laughed, nudging her ever so softly. “Wake up, Dolly Daydream.”

She rolled her eyes, shoving him away from her. “I am awake, thank you very much.”

Fred smirked. “You have that look on your face.”

“What look?” She glared. “I don’t have a look.”

He nodded. “Yes, you do.” He laughed. “It's that look when you can't stop thinking about someone.”

George wiggled his eyebrows. "A secret admirer, perhaps?"

She turned beat red, walking ahead of them to escape the interrogation.

The twins had a tradition, one they had kept up since they’d gotten into Hogwarts. Every Sunday during the summer, their best friend would come to the Burrow for dinner. There had never been a Sunday she had missed (besides the brief time she was on the run from Voldemort with Ron, Hermione, and Harry).

And in all that time, Y/N could proudly say she had met every one of their siblings. Except Charlie. According to Mrs. Weasley (who Y/N knew was prone to dramatics) he absolutely hated his family and chose the furthest possible job to worry her.

Y/N was sure it was because he actually wanted to go to Romania. All her children were good people, and she doubted Charlie stressed his mother out on purpose.

They had been walking into the Burrow when a shriek rang out from inside the home. Gripping their wands, they ran in ready to fight, when they saw that the shriek had come from Mrs. Weasley, who was sobbing rather dramatically.

They lowered their wands, peering further into the house to see a young man, not much younger than Bill, being hugged tightly by Ginny. Fred and George left their best friend's side instantly, hugging the man tightly.

“Charlie!”

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes widening instantly when he turned around.

What was he- This was the infamous Charlie Weasley. Seeker, Head Boy, and expert Dragonoligist. His grin was bright, and she loved the way his freckles accentuated his cheeks. He locked eyes with her, a twinkle appearing in them. He extended his hand, his voice light and full of humor. “You must be Y/N.”

She nodded, ignoring the fact that her cheeks felt like they were on fire. She could never tell George and Fred. “That’s me.”

He smiled, shaking her hand lightly. “I’m Charlie.”

“I know.” Her eyes widened, and she stumbled over her words, backtracking. “I meant that- Fred and George- I’ve met all of your siblings, so I just thought-”

He laughed, interrupting her. “It’s alright.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, clearing his throat. “Shall we eat? I’m famished.”

Y/N nodded, walking away from Charlie abruptly. George linked arms with his friend, pulling a face when she looked up at him. She rolled her eyes, shoving him away and sitting down.

Molly smiled at her second eldest son, loading food onto his plate. “You look as if you’ve been starved, Charlie.”

He glared, taking the food without complaint. “I’ve gained weight since you last saw me, Mum.”

“What have they been feeding you in Romania?”

“The same thing you’re giving me now, Mum.” He looked over at Y/N, winking. “I’m all muscle now.”

Fred shoved him, hissing. “What are you doing?”

Y/N’s cheeks were still red, and she looked away. Was he trying to fluster her; because he was succeeding. Charlie kept pestering her with small talk, much to her and her blushing nature’s dismay.

“What house were you then?”

“Slytherin.” She spoke through her food. Placing a hand over her mouth, she said it once more. “I was in Slytherin.”

His eyebrows rose, but he made no movement to disparage her house. “Makes sense that the twins were drawn to you.” He smirked. “They’ve always been rather cunning.”

Molly sighed. “You are one of the only Slytherins I’ve been able to stand talking to.” She smiled. “Which is quite the feat.”

Y/N smiled shyly, not liking all the attention that was currently on her. Normally, she faded into the background, only providing (what she thought) were witty remarks when necessary. And now, here he was, pulling her out of her shell. It was some kind of cruel joke, she decided, that they had met the way they had.

Loud knocks rang through her apartment, and she groaned, shoving her face into her pillow. “One moment!”

The knocks persisted, and she threw the covers off of her body, racing towards the door, wand in hand. “I said one-” She tilted her head, looking through the peephole to see Charlie. Now suddenly highly self-conscious about her appearance, she cast a beauty spell, smoothing out her hair before opening the door. “Hiya.”

He nodded. “May I come in?”

She crossed her arms. “Why?”

He smirked, stepping closer. “Is it so shocking that I wanted to see you?”

She blushed, stepping aside so he could enter. Watching suspiciously as he looked around at her flat, she shut the door. “You wanted to see me? That’s it?”

He nodded, picking up a photo album. “What’s in here I wonder?”

Y/N laughed, reaching out to steal it from his hold. “Charlie-”

“Indulge me.” He sat down, patting the cushion beside him. “Tell me about them.”

She sat beside him, peering over her shoulder and explaining each photo he asked about. “That’s me and the twins in fifth year. I think that was two days after they’d left the hospital wing.”

Charlie laughed. “When they tried to enter the Triwizard Tournament?”

She nodded, laughing with him. “Exactly. And that-” She pointed to the next photo. “Is me and George at the Yule Ball.”

He tensed. “You and George-”

She shook her head quickly, placing a hand on his arm. “We’re just friends, trust me. Ange would have my head.”

He smiled. “Ah. Well…” He looked back at the book, smirking at the baby photo. “What’s this-”

She snatched the book from his hands, clutching it to her chest. “Absolutely not.”

Charlie had been coming over practically every day since his first impromptu visit. During those visits, they’d discovered that they both had a mutual love of dragons and that her knowledge of dragons rivaled his, a professional dragonkeeper.

(She never let him forget it.)

She sat at her bar as Charlie cooked them a Romanian dish he had made ‘one hundred times before.’ Y/N trusted his cooking, after all his mother was Molly Weasley. She then reasoned with herself that his brothers were also Fred and George, who couldn’t cook to save their lives. He moved around her kitchen like he’d lived there for ages, and she tried not to drool as she watched his muscular frame.

He cleared his throat, laughing. “Williams? You alright?”

She sat up, realizing she had started daydreaming. Nodding quickly, she smiled. “Great.”

He sat his spoon down, walking over to her until they were right by each other. “Are you sure? You seemed…” He whispered, staring at her lips. “Distracted.”

She laughed, walking away. Salazar, if he looked at her like that again, she didn’t know if she could resist- “No, I-” A hand grabbed her wrist, and she gasped. Her skin felt like it was on fire. “Charlie.”

He stood behind her, his breath fanning over her neck. “Tell me you haven’t thought about that night, and I’ll stop. I swear to you.”

“Charlie, we can’t…”

“Don’t.” He pulled her close. “Have you thought about that night, yes or no?”

“Yes.” She nodded, turning around to face him. “Every night.”

He smirked, leaning down. “Every night huh?”

She nodded once more. “Charlie, stop teasing. It’s-”

He slammed his lips against hers, grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his waist. “Godric, you’re going to be the ruin of me.”

That had been months ago. She had felt horrible, keeping it a secret from the twins, Ron, and Salazar, Ginny too. She hadn’t told anyone, which could have been why she felt so wracked with guilt. It was odd, she told herself, to be sleeping with her best friend’s older brother.

But when Charlie held her in his arms, she forgot all about her guilt. Her heart felt full, and she reasoned with herself that Fred and George would be happy for her if she told them. Happy that she finally found someone that cared about her as much as she-

“Love?” Charlie's voice rang through the door. “Can I come in?”

She yelled back, casting a beauty spell over herself. “It’s open!” Walking out of her bedroom, she smiled shyly at the ginger man, holding hoards of groceries in his arms. He sat them down on the counter, taking each item out and putting them away.

“How was work?”

She shrugged. “Same as always I suppose. Kingsley told me if I keep it up, I could be one of the youngest team leads in history.” She laughed, helping him put the last of it away. “Except Harry, of course.”

Charlie nodded. “He’s quite the talented wizard.” Grabbing the vegetables for their salad, he began rinsing them off in the sink. She walked over, wrapping her arms around his torso. He hummed, smiling to himself. “Do you think we should-” She closed her eyes, taking in his rich scent of teakwood and tobacco. “Do you think we should tell my family about us?”

Her eyes shot open, and she pulled away from him like he was scolding hot. “What?”

His back tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “Mum’s been asking to meet the girl who’s been taking up all my time.”

“Well, what did you say?” She walked toward her fridge, grabbing a butterbeer.

“I said I’d have to ask her.” He turned around, watching anxiously as she refused to make eye contact. “So, what do you say?”

“Charlie…”

His voice was small. “Are you- are you embarrassed?”

“No it’s not…” She sighed. “It’s not that, Charlie. I just-”

“I’m sorry I brought it up.” He interrupted. “Let’s just go back to making dinner.”

She nodded, not wanting to break their peace. But as the night went on, she realized their peace had been broken as soon as she said she hadn’t wanted to tell everyone. The air was tense as they ate, the once warm air turned freezing from the distance between them. She cleared her throat, setting down her fork. “I’ve been meaning to bring this up to you.”

His face looked sullen, but he sat his fork down as well, staring into her eyes. Her heart fluttered, Salazar, he was beautiful. “Yes?”

“I-” She gulped. “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

He nodded calmly. “Is there someone else?”

She shook her head adamantly. “Merlin, no! I just… I think it’s odd. Don’t you?”

He tilted his head. “What do you think is odd about this?”

“That you and I-” She stuttered. “I’m their best friend.”

He nodded. “You are.”

“It feels wrong, lying to them.”

“Well,” His voice held a frustration she had never heard before. “That is why we'd tell them.”

“Charlie…” She was getting tired. “It’s not fair to you; me not wanting to tell them. I’m just-”

“What?” He laughed hurmourlessly. “What are you?”

“You could be out there, finding someone who you could end up…” She blushed. “You know.”

He stood up, grabbing his things. “I thought that was you.” His eyes looked heartbroken, and she honestly didn’t know why she was doing this to them. Everything was fine, why- “Because you are.” He smiled lightly. “You are that for me.”

Her eyes started tearing up. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright.” Opening the door, he whispered over his shoulder. “I’ll see you around then.”

She’d been a mess for weeks. She’d practically shunned everyone from her life, only going to work because she needed money to live. Peeling off her dress robes, a knock echoed through her flat. Odd, she hadn’t had any planned visitors. “One moment.”

The knocks were never ending, and she rolled her eyes, stalking towards the door. “I said-” The twins stood in front of her. “Oh.” She stiffened. “Hi.”

They scoffed, George breaking the tension. “You look like a right mess, Williams.”

Fred nudged him, murmuring. “George…” He smiled at the girl standing in front of them. “You alright love?”

Her eyes widened. The last time she’d been called love… It was like she couldn’t forget him. She nodded, ushering them in. “Sit, sit.”

They came in, taking in their surroundings. Fred cleared his throat. “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing much.” She forced herself to smile. “How’s the shop?”

George squinted. “We haven’t seen you for three weeks, and you’re asking how the shop is?” He stood closer to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What happened, love?”

“I-” Her throat felt as if it was closing. “Nothing. I swear.”

He shook his head. “Fine, you don’t need to tell us.” He sat down on the couch, Fred following after him. “Mum’s been asking why you haven’t come to dinner lately.”

She winced. How would she get out of this?

Answer: she wouldn’t.

Because moments after, they were flooing to the Burrow, Mrs.Weasley wrapping her arms around her. “Where have you been?”

She blushed, hugging the older witch back. “Work was busy.” She winced as Mrs.Weasley’s unconvinced stare pierced her soul. “I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Weasley laughed, ushering her inside. “No apologies necessary. Have you been eating? You look frail, dear.”

“I-” Charlie was in the kitchen, and upon hearing his mother’s voice, turned around. She felt like she could melt. “Weasley.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Williams.”

Mrs. Weasley interrupted. “Why don’t you take a seat in the living room dear. I’ll add an extra plate to the table.”

She nodded. “Thank you Mrs.Weasley.” Scurrying past Charlie, she plopped down on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

“You’re alive.” A woman’s voice broke through the silence. She turned her head over, smiling at the new presence.

“Hey Gin.” She stood up, hugging her tightly. “I missed you.”

Ginny hummed. “I missed you too.” Pulling out of the hug, she grabbed her friend's hands in hers. “Tell me what happened between you and Charlie.”

Her eyes practically fell out of her sockets. “What are you-”

Ginny glared. “Don’t play dumb with me. He’s been a whiny mess lately, that can’t be coincidence.”

“There could be a million reasons for why he's whining. You don’t-” Ginny sat down on the couch, pulling her along.

“What did he do?” Ginny whispered. “I’m very skilled at the Bat Bogey Hex.”

She laughed. “I know you are. Trust me, it wasn’t his fault. I-” She sighed, leaning against the back of the couch. “I thought you’d be upset at me, if you knew I was seeing your brother. Besides, Charlie is sweet, I’m not the right fit for him.”

A deep voice echoed through the room. “Don’t you think that’s for me to decide?” Ginny’s eyes widened, and Y/N stared back, begging her not to leave. “Could you give us a moment, Gin?”

She held on to Ginny’s hands as tightly as she could, but Ginny pulled away, murmuring sorry as she raced out of the room, no doubt telling her boyfriend and entire family. So much for secrecy. Taking a deep breath, she stood up, waving casually. “Charlie.”

“You’re not the right fit?” He scoffed, walking close enough so that he could whisper and only she would hear. “You’re not the right fit, really?”

“You know what I meant.”

“I don’t really.” He grabbed her hands in his. “You are what I’ve-” He took a deep breath, most likely gathering the courage to tell her. “You are what I’ve always wanted. What I’ve always dreamt of.”

She blushed. “Don’t patronize me…”

“Love…” He tilted his head. “You are everything to me, and it kills me to be apart from you. Really.”

“I don’t know how the twins would react-”

“Who cares!” He yelled, quickly remembering he was inside and lowering his voice. “Who cares? I love you and I-” Charlie’s golden eyes widened, and he stuttered. “I mean-” His smile was sure, brighter even. “I love you, and if you love me, then we can make it. Through anything, including my brother’s disapproval.” Pulling her as close as he physically could, he whispered. “I don’t think I can be that separated from you ever again. It was torture, Williams.” He leaned down, their foreheads leaning against each other. “Utter torture.”

“I love you too-” He pulled her lips to his, kissing her as deep as his body would allow him. She squeaked, melting in his touch. “Charlie, wait just a moment.” He groaned, leaning his head on her shoulder. “I know you could do perfectly fine with your brother’s disapproval, but they’re my best friends. I can’t just… I can’t lose them.”

He whispered into the crook of her neck, chills running down her spine. “Even if that meant losing me?”

She kissed his temple, humming. “I’m sorry.” Forcing herself to pull away, she ignored the chills that fell down her spine when Charlie grabbed her wrist, halting her in her tracks.

"I admire it, how fiercly loyal you are to my brothers." He laughed. "Very Gryffindor of you, I must say."

She scoffed, her eyes tearing up ever so slightly. "What can I say? Weasleys are worth protecting."

The table was tense, Y/N avoiding every attempt Charlie made at eye contact. The twins were suspiciously watching the pair, wondering what exactly was going on. Ginny had surprisingly not told everyone, contrary to Y/N’s belief. Mrs. Weasley tried to make conversation, but she only made the situation worse. “So Charlie, whatever happened to that girl of yours? The one you were sneaking off to see.”

Y/N looked up from her plate, staring at Charlie. He sighed, taking a sip of water. “She’s busy Mum.”

Mrs.Weasley nodded, turning her attention to Y/N. “And you dear? How has work been? I hope Kinglsey isn’t giving you too hard of a time.”

“Work’s been fantastic, thank you Mrs.Weasley. I actually…” She took a deep breath, grinning from ear to ear. “I just got promoted to team lead.”

The table erupted into well wishes and congratulations. Mrs.Weasley smiled. “That is wonderful dear. You must be the youngest yet.”

She nodded, giving a pointed look to Harry. “Besides this one, yes.”

Charlie cleared his throat. “Congratulations, Williams.”

The table quieted, and Y/N smiled gratefully, daring to make eye contact with him. “Thank you.”

Ginny coughed, obviously trying to get her attention, but Y/N couldn’t be bothered to break eye contact with him. His eyes were dangerous, she’d determined, and there was a spark in them that was not there earlier. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, and she shook her head slightly.

He was about to do something neither of them could take back, she knew it.

She also couldn’t find it in her to care.

Charlie stood, his seat scrapping against the floor. His parents’s eyebrows furrowed. Mr.Weasley spoke first. “Are you alright son?”

Charlie nodded, still looking at Y/N. “I’m perfect. I-” He smiled. “I have something to say.”

Mrs. Weasley smiled knowingly. “Spit it out dear.”

Y/N held her breath, nodding encouragingly. A second wind overtook him, and he stood strong. “I’m in love-”

Mrs. Weasley grinned. “That’s wonderful dear!”

Fred and George teased. “Lucky girl, that one.”

Y/N tried to control her blush. Charlie smiled. “I’m in love with Williams.”

She looked around the table, trying to gage reactions based off their expressions. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked positively shocked, and Fred and George… Her eyes widened. They didn’t look shocked in the slightest. Charlie continued. “I don’t want to upset you two, but we-”

George laughed. “Why would we be upset?”

Fred nodded. “We’ve known for months.”

Mrs. Weasley scoffed. “Months? Charlie Weasley, you kept this sweet girl a secret-”

“That’s actually my fault Mrs.Weasley.” Y/N interjected. “I- I didn’t want to upset the twins.” They pulled faces, rolling their eyes. “Why would we be upset? If anything, we’d be upset at Charlie for corrupting sweet little Y/N/N.”

Y/N shoved them. “Shut it, both of you.”

Charlie smiled, sitting back down. “Well I guess that’s settled then.” Y/N smiled back, mouthing the words he so longed to hear. ‘I love you.’

Mrs. Weasley sighed, picking at food. “Shall I be expecting more grandchildren anytime soon?”

Y/N choked on her drink, clutching her chest. Charlie’s eyes widened, cheeks bright red. “Mum!”

“I’m only asking.” Mrs. Weasley held her hands up in surrender. “Victorie has been so lonely.”

Charlie tilted his head. “We’re not even married yet, Mum.” He looked over at Y/N, winking. “But that can be arranged.”

It was Y/N’s turn to scoff. “Charlie Weasley, absolutely not.”

He stuck his lower lip out, pouting. “What-”

“Ask me in a year, not before then or after.” She nodded resolutely, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice, ignoring the looks from her friends.

Charlie nodded, looking much too happy. “Yes ma’am.”

taglist: @beebeechaos

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley x reader #weasley family #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #next gen #golden trio #deathly hallows #goblet of fire #auror #ministry of magic #literature #weasley's wizard wheezes #fred weasley #george weasley #slytherin!reader #fluff #angst

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wildechildwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Run, Rabbit

König/Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, Violence, Injury, Smut, lightly noncon but in the way that you're fighting it but are down, König being insane

No use of Y/N

Summary: You're on a solo mission in Romania, and König goes hunting

A/N: "Oh look another predator/prey coded Konig fic how original" SHUT UP I KNOW

AO3: Run, Rabbit

18+

You’re in the forests of Romania on a solo mission, snooping around an abandoned military base that’s been the location of some suspicious activity, according to your sources. You find the ghost of the for-hire group Kortac in rat-chewed maps and files, faint footprints in layers of dust, but the trail has long gone cold, the building slowly being reclaimed by nature. The trees show no sign of the changes of autumn, but it's in the air, the late summer whisper of a chill in the breeze. You take your time picking your way along the overgrown roads, enjoying the tranquility of the forest. The extraction point is ten clicks west of your position, but you’re content with your steady pace, the sun still high in the sky, shining brightly through the thick foliage, and the hike is an easy one. Your meager findings are carefully folded in your bag of gear, your gun snug on your hip. Ten meters to your right, a red deer raises its head up, watching you warily, before bolting away into the trees. You smile to yourself and raise your face to better feel the sun.

You hear the crack of the shot and drop, but not quickly enough. Your ears ring, your shoulder burning agonizingly, like someone’s pushing a hot poker against it. You fight against the nausea and pain, willing yourself to move, scrambling into the brush for cover. The shot came from your six, and you grapple for your binoculars, trying to locate the shooter on the hill above you. You recognize the mask first, the bleached tear tracks down an executioner's hood, the hulking form of the figure wearing it unfortunately familiar. König is standing casually, seemingly unafraid of any return of fire, staring down like he can see you through the trees. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle instinctually as he begins to move, a sauntering pace down the hill like the slow lope of a wolf. You drop down again, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you crawl through the underbrush.

Nestled low on a hill, large body half buried in the underbrush, König watches you through the scope of his rifle, toying with the idea of killing you. He recognizes you from the files he’s seen on the 141, but there was nothing left at the base for you to find, no reason to draw suspicion and attention back here. You were harmless like this, and magnetic, head tilted towards the sun, your face lit up in a wash of gold light that plays up the color of your hair. His finger brushes lightly across the trigger as he contemplates his options. He rolls his neck loose before glancing through his scope again.

You stop behind a small boulder, pressing your back to it, breathing heavily, and pull your radio off of your hip. “Bravo Six, this is Bravo Seven Four, over.”

The crackle of the radio is a relief, Price’s voice faint but firm. “Go ahead Bravo Seven Four, over.”

“Enemies one; direction east of my grid two hundred meters, injury sustained, six clicks out of extraction point, over.” You peek out from behind the rock, but can't see anything, so you continue your crawl, waiting for a response. The birds have stopped singing, a deadly quiet that warns of danger.

“Stay calm Bravo Seven Four–” Price’s voice is cut off by the sound of another bullet whizzing near you. You can’t have your radio giving away your position, and the squad is too far away to reach you before König could. You grab your radio and quickly press the button.

“Bravo Six, silence, meet at extraction, over.” You turn it off, not waiting for a response, and tuck it back into your belt. Ignoring the growing burning in your shoulder, you move as quickly through the underbrush as you can. You need to cover more ground if you’re going to make it out of here, so you weigh your options, propping yourself into a low crouch, scanning the woods behind you. You can’t see or hear anything. You inhale deeply, then break into a sprint.

The cracking of branches is faint, but König is listening for it, his rifle slung over his shoulder as he searches for you. He immediately changes directions, moving towards the noise and quickening his pace. If you want to run, he’s more than happy to indulge you, relishing the adrenaline of the chase. Your trail is clear, broken branches like a beacon beckoning him closer. He spots blood on one of the low boulders, and swipes it up on his gloved hand, smiling under the mask.

You're hyper aware of your disadvantage, the sounds of snapping branches as your pursuer draws closer, the sluggish flow of blood down your shoulder from where the bullet grazed you. Your lungs burn, head woozy as you run hard, branches scraping at your form. You risk a look over your shoulder, searching for König behind you, and your heart drops when you miss a step.

All of a sudden, you're falling, hands stretched out in front of you as you tumble down a steep hill. You hear and feel the snap of your ankle in your boot, a whimpering sob yanked from your chest as you finally land heavily in some thorn covered bushes, branches scratching your body even through the thick fabric of your uniform. You pull yourself out, ignoring the pain as thorns drag against your face, drawing blood, then scan yourself quickly, the prognosis bleak. You can't run, not with what is definitely a broken ankle, and your shoulder is still oozing freely, but you won’t go down without a fight. You drag yourself through the dirt using your good arm, stopping periodically to listen to the sounds of König moving through the trees. Your entire body burns, and you fight against the growing fatigue that’s threatening to overwhelm you, trying to hold onto your quickly waning adrenaline.

The sound of breaking branches draws nearer. He’s moving faster, heavy footfalls that make your leg muscles twitch with the urge to run. König whistles, high and loud, and you reach for your gun, cocking it as quietly as you can, turning around to face the direction of the noise, crouching low. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear creeping in, the weight of your situation crashing down on you.

“I heard you cry out,” a voice rings through the trees. There's something light in König’s tone, like this has all been a game of tag. “You can't be too far.”

Then the only sound is the breeze, rustling in the leaves. Blood from a cut on your forehead drips into your eye, and you resist the urge to wipe it away, scanning your surroundings as best you can without moving.

The unwelcome feeling of the muzzle of a gun presses against the side of your head, and your body shudders involuntarily.

“Drop your weapon, Häschen,” König murmurs. You comply immediately, tossing it at his feet, unwilling to argue with a Beretta at your temple. The large man quickly kicks your gun into the bushes. “Sit up,” he commands, and you move slowly, trying not to aggravate your broken bone.

The small shack hasn’t been used in a while, the table in the center of the room is covered in dust, and spiders have made their home in the corners, spinning silvery streamers that hang down, brushing against his helmet. König places you lightly on the small bed in the corner, stooping over uncomfortably in the low room. Your hair is full of sticks and leaves, your face scraped and bleeding. He needs to look at your shoulder, and the ankle you’d been hovering over protectively, but work comes first. You’ve thrown him off, his fingers tingling where he held you to him, the phantom pressure of your head on his chest as he carried your unconscious body through the woods haunting him even now. He grabs your gear bag, dumping it unceremoniously onto the table, pulling your medkit to the side before rifling through the papers you’d found. The information was outdated, but he shoves the papers into one of the pockets of his pants for disposal later regardless.

You knew he was large, but kneeling at his feet he feels like a goliath, towering over you, the gun held in his grip looking comically small in his giant hands. He holsters it, and you get a stupid, moronic, brilliant idea. In a quick motion, you’ve ripped your radio off of your belt, pressing down on the button and bringing it to your lips. “MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY–” König slams the heel of his palm into the back of your head, and the world goes dark.

He doesn’t bother stripping you properly, just takes his knife and slices it up through the collar of your shirt, baring your shoulder to him. His eyes, unbidden, trace the line of the now exposed column of your throat, and he swallows loudly in the quiet of the room. König draws his attention back to your injury with some difficulty. He barely even grazed you, the puckered wound bleeding sluggishly, and he quietly gloats at his own aim. When he pours alcohol on it, you awaken with a hiss, throwing your arm out hard in his direction reflexively before your brain catches up with you. He deflects you easily, wrapping large fingers around your wrist, enjoying the feeling of the delicate bones, watching with silent smugness as your confusion reads clear on your face.

“Guten tag,” he says, pleasantly casual, as though you’ve run into him at the grocery store. Your head is pounding, and you’re thrown, trying to grasp your surroundings. Your shoulder is burning, and you’re suddenly aware of the air on your bare skin. You rip your hand out of his grasp, pulling yourself as far away from him on the small bed as you can manage. He tilts his head, studying you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice hard.

König gestures with the alcohol he’s holding. “I’m patching up your injuries.” His voice is low, his accent curling around the syllables of his sentences like smoke.

You blink at him, utterly disarmed. “Why,” you pause, biting your cheek as a wave of pain radiates through your ankle, “Are you patching up my injuries?”

“Would you prefer it if I left them?” He volleys back lightly, tilting his head.

You don’t say anything, staring at him with suspicion. He’s got you cornered, quite literally, and there’s no way you can get away from him with your ankle like this unless you can get your hands on a weapon. There’s a knife tucked in your boot, but you can’t exactly pull it out subtly. His beretta is on his hip, his rifle is leaning against the table, but you’d be lying to yourself if you thought you had a chance in hell of reaching either before he could.

König takes your silence for compliance and goes back to dabbing your wound with alcohol. You flinch when he places his hand on you, and he makes a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat. “Such a nervous little rabbit.” The mask conceals his expression from you, but you can hear the frown in his voice.

“You shot me,” you respond dryly. “Doesn’t exactly foster trust.”

“Just a scratch. I could’ve killed you, if I wanted to.” He shrugs, a casual movement that’s unintentionally intimidating, your eyes on the way his shoulder muscles move beneath the layers of clothing he wears.

You spend your time with large men, the boys of your team all averaging above six feet, but König is just startlingly gigantic. You scan his torso, eyes tracing across the wide planes of his chest, lingering too long to be decent. You catch yourself and drop your gaze down to your hands. “If you don’t want to kill me, what do you want?”

“I want to know what you are doing here.” His tone is still pleasant, but interrogative. His fingers are deliberate, surprisingly gentle as he bandages your shoulder, but there’s an unspoken thread of tension in the air.

You’re much more docile when he patches up your ankle, an uneasy truce between the two of you. You sit still as he splints it, legs draped almost intimately over his lap, his large fingers curled around your injured leg, gentle pressure holding you steady as he works. He adjusts his hold, squeezing lightly on the meat of your calf, and your breathing stutters. His eyes flick to yours, something dangerous in their expression, and you hold his gaze as you deliberately drag your uninjured leg closer to you, your boot trailing across König's upper thighs intentionally. His eyes slip close at the sensation, just for a moment, and that's when you act, yanking your knife out of your boot and sinking it into his thigh and launching yourself to the floor. He lets out a snarling cry, and you scramble up, your vision going white from the pain of your ankle, but you push through it, sprinting out of the shack.

“Chasing shadows.” You respond, your voice equally mild. You know he looked through your pack and probably found the papers. You wonder if he thought it was ironic that you came sniffing after KorTac, just to run right into him. You certainly did.

You can't run properly, reduced to a hobble that's made all the more difficult by the fact that you're on uneven terrain in the quickly growing dark. You need to figure out your location and find a way to contact your team, but you’re disoriented and disarmed. You haven’t made it more than a few meters when you hear the sound of the front door slam open. You pick up the pace, trying to put as much distance between you and the very angry Austrian hot on your trail.

“Häschen,” König’s voice rings through the trees, and a trickle of fear runs through you. You duck behind a tree, pressing yourself against it firmly, trying to blend in with the darkness.

“Always trying to run away,” he snarls, shoving his body against yours. He thrusts his uninjured thigh between your legs, pinning you further, and you let out an unintentional gasp at the sudden pressure of hard muscle against your core. König instantly pulls away, his eyes shooting down to your ankle with concern, before dragging slowly up your body, his gaze accusatory.

He can hear you breathing, light and quick, and he doesn’t even try to disguise the heavy sound of his footsteps as he closes in on you. He whips around the tree you’re cowering against, and you try to bolt, but he wraps his fingers around your bicep, yanking you back, slamming his hands above your head, trapping you against the tree.

“You like this,” he says, and you shake your head desperately.

“I don’t–” he interrupts any denials you might have, deliberately grinding his thigh in between your legs. You clench your teeth against the noise it draws from your throat.

He leans impossibly closer, your noses almost brushing through the hood he wears. “Did you like the chase as well?” His voice is a husky rumble, full of heat, and you have to bite back a whine. “I liked the chase.” You realize the hard length against your stomach isn't his Beretta, and an unwanted spike of arousal shoots through you in response.

“You’re insane,” you snap, grappling for some semblance of control over the building pleasure in your core. König pulls away from you abruptly, and you flush at how wet you are, soaking through your underwear.

“How about a game, Häschen?” his voice has lost its edge, back to the pleasant tone he used in the shack, and your head spins at the sudden change. “I'll give you five minutes to run or hide, and if you can make it ten minutes without me finding you, I’ll take you to your extraction point myself, safe and sound.”

Your heart races. You don’t trust him, but there's no way you'll get another chance to get away from him. “And if I can’t?” You ask.

You know you’re fucked, but you scramble through the darkness as quickly as you can, trying to find a good place to hide. If your ankle wasn’t broken, you’d climb a tree, but you’re stuck searching for ground cover, listening with mounting paranoia to the quiet noises of the forest. You’re a celestial body pulled unwillingly into König’s orbit; collision unavoidable.

He says nothing, just purposefully presses his hard cock against your center. Traitorous want flows through you.

You hear him coming, branches breaking as he stalks towards you. You stand as straight as you can, letting him approach you, his eyes bright in the dim of twilight. When he comes within range, you lunge for his gun, almost succeeding in yanking it out of the holster before he grabs you around the waist and pulls you to the ground, pinning you roughly beneath him.

Even as he manhandles you, you're hyper aware of the delicate way he avoids putting any weight near your injured shoulder. He's got your legs splayed around him, but he's careful, adjusting you just so, keeping your ankle tucked safely away, angled so he won't jostle it. His hips press obscenely against your ass, and you can't help arching your back into him, begging for his cock even as you swear at him.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you spit, and he just laughs, an off-putting, mean sound, before reaching around and ripping open your pants. The button pops off, and the zipper teeth split forcefully apart as he shoves a hand into your underwear.

“Complain all you want, Häschen, but you're soaked for me,” he coos into your ear, roughly rubbing your clit. You moan at the contact, and he moves his hand lower, pressing his palm against your clit before shoving a finger into your wet center, roughly splitting you open. You gasp at the sudden stretch, König giving you no time to adjust as he pulls his finger out for a moment and plunges it back in, moving in and out at a punishing pace.

“Tell the truth.” He orders, adding a second finger. He curls them, stroking your inner walls, bullying you open until he finds the spot that makes you see stars. “Say you want me to fuck you.”

You're beyond words, making a derisive noise that transforms into a whine as you move your hips back, driving König's fingers deeper, your ass rubbing against his clothed erection. All you can focus on is the press of his body against yours, his fingers unspooling you, pulling you apart as he pants along with you. The tension is building, the knot in your stomach tightening as König forces you closer to the edge.

He pulls his fingers out abruptly, leaving you devastatingly empty and unsatisfied, and you let out an anguished whimper despite yourself. He pushes your pants roughly down around your thighs, and the purr of his zipper opening makes you clench reflexively around nothing.

He presses right against your entrance, a breath away from splitting you open on his cock. You shove your hips back, trying to fuck yourself onto him, and he pulls back. “Say you want this,” he demands.

“Fuck. You.” You snarl, even as your thighs tremble. He drags the head of his cock up through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, and you gasp.

“Such spirit,” he murmurs. In a single motion, he sinks into you, splitting you in open, pulling the air from your lungs.

He thrusts into you fast and hard, like he wants to tear you open, and it hurts, even with how soaked you are. You cry out, trying to squirm away from the pain. His fingers find your clit again, his breath hot in your ear. He dwarfs you, your legs shaking from pleasure and the weight of him on top of you, pressing you into the dirt.

“You wanted this.” His voice is a panting snarl, his talented fingers stealing your senses as he forces you closer to your orgasm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the forest air as he pounds into you without mercy. “Say it.”

“I want this,” you whimper. You feel the shocking whisper of his lips against the junction of your neck and shoulder and realize with a start that means he’s not wearing his hood. All thoughts are shoved out of your head as he sinks his teeth into your skin, and you wail as you snap, the sensation dragging you over the edge, your body trembling as you cum. His thrusts become sloppy, his cock twitching inside you as he shoves his hips against yours, filling you up. He stays like that, flush against you, as his dick softens, keeping you full and trapped under him.

You lay in the dirt panting, hollowed out and raw. There are pine needles prickling against your skin, soreness awakening in your limbs as you come back to yourself. König climbs off of you, still cognizant of your injuries, and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like a lover, the brutality melting into tenderness like watercolor. His hood is back in place, and the world comes crashing down around you as your senses return, the weight of your actions pulling you down as regret and shame bubble under your skin.

The walk to the extraction point is silent. König holds you cradled against his chest; your hand fisted in the front of the vest he wears. His thigh burns, his entire body consumed with exhaustion, but he clenches his jaw against the pain, focusing instead on your face, turnt up towards him, open and vulnerable, eyes rimmed with red. If he was a better man, he'd be sorry.

König notices your eyes glazing over, the warble of your chin, and reaches up a large hand to cradle your face, wiping away tears you didn't realize were threatening to fall. “Hush bunny, you did so well,” he croons down at you, his saccharine actions thrown in high relief against how violently he handled you before. “Such a good girl for me.”

He sets you down gently on a large rock, and pulls your knife out of a hidden pocket, his hand raised in a placating gesture as he slowly places it beside you. It’s still got his blood on it, dried to rust on the tip. You don’t reach for it, pulling your uninjured leg up and wrapping your arms around yourself. You look even smaller than you did before.

He straightens his spine against the odd sensation in his chest. “Tell your captain to keep a closer eye on his men,” He orders, then reaches out a hand, hovering just above your cheek bone. Neither of you bridge the gap.

You watch him disappear into the trees, the shadows swallowing him whole, the sound of a helicopter in the distance.

#konig: i showed minimal restraint when causing u bodily harm y wont u let me hit #part of me didnt want to post it because its simply so unoriginal but thats kind of how tropes work fun fact #I also just hate how it turned out eventually I'll rewrite everything but for now I'm just sorry #foreplay is actually shooting someone nonfatally btw #and reader has a pain tolerance like a mother fucker because this is poorly written fanfiction #I cannot write smut I literally wrote everything but the sex and then sat on it for weeks I have such a hard time with it #konig x reader #konig fanfiction #konig x reader smut #konig x you #cod konig #konig/reader #cod x reader #konig cod

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