#every time i drew i line it tried to make it perfectly straight for some reason -_- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

let me be your ruler.4

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, fingering, treats.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: There is no escape but it doesn’t make staying any easier.

Note: Well, I finally got around to finish the chapter I had half done but we finally get some deliciousness.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You didn’t move as the city streets flashed by. You stayed huddled against the car door; paralyzed and petrified. You couldn’t even look at the man next to you as he kept one hand on the wheel.

You felt his gaze at every stop and his hand lingered ominously between your seats. You touched your chin where he’d pressed the muzzle; a lump lodged firmly in your throat.

He passed through the gates of his extravagant estate that loomed before you like a pale giant. The engine hushed and his door opened and closed. As he opened yours, you nearly fell out, your seatbelt loose and forgotten. He caught you and pulled up straight.

“On your feet, princess,” he lulled and slung his arm around your shoulders. “You got lots of time to get ready for dinner. I just gotta talk to my chef.”

He led you up the steps and a man in a dark suit moved to open the door. Peter nodded at him and carried on inside.

“Any problems, my security is always here to help…” he ushered you towards the stairs, “and I can keep an eye out myself.”

His gaze ventured above you and you turned to follow his attention. You squinted and the nearly imperceptible lens gleamed back at you. The camera was set into the wall sconce and was only obvious if one were looking for it. Your imagination stormed as you wondered how many were scattered throughout the mansion.

“Go,” he nudged you back to him, “upstairs. Our room.” He caressed your chin. “I was saving the surprise but the closet just to the left of the bed. Put on something nice.” He leaned in and pecked your lips. “I’ll expect you in about…” he drew away and checked his watch, “One hour, princess.”

Your eyes began to water as you stared back at him. You nodded and turned away slowly. You grabbed the railing and lifted your foot. You climbed in dread and at the top, you looked back to find Peter still watching you. You shivered and turned down the hallway.

You retraced the steps you’d taken the day before. The bedroom decked in black and white greeted you on the other side of the door. You shut it carefully and hesitated as you faced the room. You crossed to the glass doors that opened onto the balcony and looked out across the vast yard. You’d never felt so empty.

After a moment, you turned back and went to the closet. It was a whole other room hidden behind the bedroom. You stepped inside and looked around at the array of dark suit jackets, pressed pants, and steamed shirts. A shelf of carefully folded socks and ties over a set of six narrow drawers. A bench ran below the higher shelves with polished shoes lined up across them and you sat as brighter colours caught your eyes.

A dozen dresses in varying shades of pink, red, purple, and black, made of sequins, prints, velvets. Below, another cubby with at least six sets of heels and to the right, a glass cabinet of jewelry. You sat forward and held your head in your hands. It was some dystopian romance; twisted and terrifying.

When you found the strength to sit up, you were still trembling. The adrenaline remained as hot as ever. You closed your eyes and saw the gun, heard that awful click. You stood before you lost your will entirely. You took the black velvet dress with the tiny gems set like stars into the fabric.

You changed in silence. The dress was snug and hugged your form perfectly. You took a pair of black heels and bent to shove your toes into the pointed shoes. You stood and considered the diamond necklaces, studded cuffs, and dangling earrings. You didn’t touch any of them as you went back into the bedroom.

You swept into the bathroom and startled yourself in the mirror. You saw the fear, the desperation in your feature. Your face felt brittle. You fixed your hair as best you could. There was a finely organized kit of make-up and accessories nestled on the broad counter beside an electric razor and leather zip-up bag.

You thought of keeping your face bare. You thought of Peter and the rage in his eyes as you came out of the station. If he was disappointed, he would let you know. Appease him, that was all you could do. You reached for the mascara and blinked away your terror.

You weren’t certain of the time when you finished. You went back to the bedroom and looked out again onto the green grass. The gates were closed. A dead end. You couldn’t turn back, you couldn’t bypass it, you had to face it. There was no choice. Peter would get whatever he wanted and it would be easier if you just gave it to him.

You winced as the door opened behind you and you turned to face Peter. A smirk slowly spread across his face as he saw you and he raised a brow. He waved you to him and licked his lips.

“Gorgeous, princess,” he said, “dinner’s waiting for us.”

You tried to smile but your face was stiff and your lips quivered. As you neared him, Peter took your hand and pulled you close. He swayed you against him as he looked you in the eyes. His gaze flicked down to your mouth. He kissed you and purred.

“I don’t know if I’ll make it through dinner,” he whispered as he drew away. “you look delicious.”

You swallowed as you searched for your voice. “Thank you,” you murmured.

He winked and parted, keeping a hold on your hand as he tugged you through the door. Down the hallway and the stairs, across the foyer then through to the dining room. The lights were low and the table was set for two. You sat across from Peter and a man in all black offered you wine.

You shifted awkwardly as you waited for your glass to be poured and then Peter’s. He watched you as the man told him that dinner would be served shortly. You took the cloth napkin and spread it over your lap to keep from fidgeting.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said and you glanced at him. “the staff. Usually just a maid to keep things tidy and the chef for mealtimes. Some hired hands occasionally for the garden and the pool…” He squared his shoulders. “You’ll never have to lift a finger… well, in some contexts.”

You pressed your lips together. You were speechless. How had you gone from the certain doom of the alleyway to the luxury of this ridiculous house?

“You okay, princess?” He asked.

“I…” Your lips parts but you stopped as you heard another enter.

You waited patiently as covered plates were set down and uncovered with some explanation of the meal you didn’t hear. The server left and you stared at the chicken breast drizzled with some fancy sauce. You raised your eyes cautiously.

“You were going to shoot me. Am I supposed to be okay?” You asked.

He laughed, a soft roll in his throat. “I’ve done a lot worse to others for less.”

“So what? I should thank you?” You gripped the edge of your seat and tried not to show how afraid you truly were.

“Princess, I’ve treated you kindly. Dressed you up, taken you out, made you cum.” He winked and looked you over vulgarly, “all I’m asking is for your loyalty.”

You picked up your fork and looked at your plate. There was no arguing; no choice. Only what he wanted.

“Fine.” You muttered.

“Look, princess, let’s not get into all this right now. Let’s enjoy our dinner,” he said, “As far I’m concerned, the slate is clean. I’ve forgiven, but I won’t forget.”

You speared a green bean and took a bite. You nodded and chewed. Whatever kept him happy, kept you alive.

✨

Your skin was covered in goosebumps as you entered the bedroom. Peter’s hand lingered on your low back and grazed your ass as he shut the door and passed you. You stood, frozen, and watched him move around. He shed his jacket and loosened his tie. His eyes found you with a glimmer.

“Ah, princess, I forgot.” He said as he pulled his tie off completely, “I’m still working on your side of the closet.” He unbuttoned his shirt casually, “You can grab one of my shirts to sleep in… unless you’d rather nothing?”

You shook your head and carefully slipped your heels off. You picked them up and went to the closet. Peter followed you inside as you replaced the shoes in their cubby.

“Thanks,” you said quietly as you went to the row of shirts and looked them over.

He came up behind you and ran his hands over your shoulder, sliding the straps down your arms. As they fell limp, he reached out and took a plain white shirt from the bunch. He pressed the hanger to your chest and leaned close. “That should fit you nicely.”

You took the hanger and parted from him. You felt him watching you as you shimmied out of the dress and turned your back to him. You unhooked your bra and quickly buttoned up the shirt over your panties.

You heard his soft footsteps as he closed in on you. His fingers tickled along the hem of the shirt and delved beneath. He grabbed the side of your panties and tore them down your legs. You flinched and stepped out of them. He gathered up your clothes, one piece at a time, admiring the warmth of your body still radiating from the fabric as he did.

He left you and slowly, you crossed the closet. He dumped the heap into the hamper and turned back as he took off his shirt. He dropped it into the basket without looking and continued to undress. You lowered your head and paced listlessly around the room.

“Lay down, princess,” he said as he came around the bed, “you’ll need your sleep.”

You stopped and peeked up at him. You wordlessly approached the bed from the other side and climbed up after him. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, pressing your head against his chest as he leaned against the plush pillows. You shivered and his hand glossed over the curve of your body.

“I already took care of Halle. As far as she’s concerned, you’re spending the night. Not a lie, is it?” He said coolly as his hand moved up and down your back, “and tomorrow, you’ll forget about your work. Call whoever you need but you won’t have time for all that. Not for a while.”

“I… can’t do that,” you breathed.

“You work from home.” He said evenly.”

“How… yeah but that doesn’t mean I don’t have deadlines.”

“Find someone else to pick up the slack. You’ll have time to do so before we arrive.” He said sternly. “You’re clever, you’ll figure it out.”

“Peter, I-- where--”

“Shhh,” he slid his arm out from under you and rolled over to shut off the lamp. He nestled against you again as he turned onto his side. “It’s taking everything I got not to keep you up all night.”

You let him embrace you and closed your eyes. You found it hard to relax as your body remained rigid and your nerves skittered through you. You let out a shaky breath and grasped for sleep. It was your only escape but it seemed just as unlikely as any other.

✨

Peter drove as you held your phone to your ear and listened to Selene rant from the other end. You rubbed your eye socket and yawned as you nodded along with her complaints. She was right, you were leaving her in the lurch and you would owe her, however your debt to the man beside you was more pressing.

“Look, I’m so sorry and I know I’m asking a lot. I promise, I’ll take care of everything else but I just need you to take the rest of my assignments for the week. Yeah, I talked to Melinda, she’s not happy either. And it’s extra pay, please?”

“This is really short notice,” Selene sighed and you heard the tapping of keys.

“Yes, it is, but so was your spring vacay and I covered you, didn’t I?” you pleaded. You felt bad for bringing up the favour but a work relationship hardly mattered against the steel hidden beneath Peter’s jacket.

“Fine, fine, I guess I owe you,” she resigned, “I’ll let Melinda know.”

“Thanks,” the line died abruptly as Selene grumbled again and you swiped away the window.

“Sorted?” Peter asked.

“Yeah,” you answered quietly and crossed your legs, leaning heavily on the door as you watched the scenery without, “I still have to get some things done myself, I can’t just drop everything.”

“You’ll find the time,” he slithered and reached over to squeeze your thigh then slipped his fingers over your phone. He took it and dropped it in the cupholder, “just relax.”

“You still not gonna tell me where we’re going?” you asked.

“You know, princess, you ask a lot of questions,” he said, “that could get you in a lot of trouble and I think we’ve had enough of that.”

You took his warning and pressed your lips together. You tickled your cheek with your fingertips as you sank into silence. He was headed upstate, you knew that much, but you didn’t know much beyond the stinking city.

You closed your eyes and stifled a yawn behind your fist. He had you up early but you hadn’t really slept at all. After the few hours you managed, you woke up to his hand under your shirt, nestled along your vee. He let you go without venturing further but promised you more by the end of the day.

He packed a bag for you from the spacious closet and as you descended, he was presented with several shopping bags from which he picked a few more pieces to add to the haul. He drove you to your apartment to grab your toiletries and allowed you your tablet for work purposes.

You explained to Halle you were going away and she listened with envious curiosity as she watched Peter. She slipped in an “I told you so” and you withheld your bitterness. It was all her fault and you could at least be glad that you’d be away from her.

You mind lingered as you wished to be anywhere but in that car. You looked over at your keeper as he drove, his brown eyes distant as he watched the road. He didn’t wear his usual tailored suit, instead a button-up with a few buttons undone and a pair of pale slacks with some expensive loafers. A gold chain peeked out around his neck and his large gold ring caught the sunlight.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were uncomfortable in the short lilac skirt, the flare of it had it slipping up often. Your top was pure white and nearly see-through over the bubblegum coloured bra. It wasn’t your style but Peter had been meticulous in his selection. The chunky heels were better suited to someone at least a decade older but he insisted they suited the look.

You wrinkled your forehead as you pondered on his eye for detail; likely he only went for what showed the most skin. You hated that. Even when you were a care-free co-ed, you never had the courage to flaunt your thighs so openly. You planted an elbow against the door and the seat belt strained across you.

“Tired?” he asked above the low hum of the radio, “I think a nice glass of wine will help when we get there.”

“Just a little,” you murmured and stayed as you were. He had to keep reminding you he was there, that you were trapped with him.

“Another hour,” he said, “then we can settle in and relax.”

You nodded and his hand trailed along the hem of your skirt again. He squeezed your leg and growled. His hand remained even as you shifted and he pulled your legs down from over the other. His fingertips tapped along your inner thigh and traced circles along your skin. You trembled and he chuckled.

“I know, I know,” he said, “I’m having a hard time waiting too.”

✨

The beach house stood above the shoreline, a short deck stretched over the water and a balcony opened up to a sparkling pool at the rear. It was unlike anywhere you’d ever been before, even that cottage you’d stayed at for your sister’s bachelorette. It was the type of lifestyle porn you saw in magazines or in those reality shows about wealthy old wasps.

Just like his house near the city, there was a staff ready and willing to tend to your every desire. You wanted little but that you knew you couldn’t have. Peter kept his arm around you as he showed you around the exorbitant interior and ended the tour in the bedroom. Your bags were already waiting on the bed.

“How about a swim?” he said as he unzipped the Louis Vuitton duffle and pulled out a red one piece and laid it out on the mattress, “I’ve been waiting to see this on you.”

You reluctantly neared and flipped it over. There was no ass, only a thin strip that would have your skin burning with embarrassment. You picked it up by the thong and squinted.

“You don’t have anything… with a bit more fabric?”

“You’ve got a nice ass, you should show it off,” he purred as he pulled you to him and stretched his fingers across your skirt, “princess, I like a little… bite but I thought we came to an understanding.”

You gulped as you stared into his eyes. The naturally warm brown had turned dark and foreboding. His jaw squared as he held you against him.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds and all that,” he lowered his voice and his breath tickled your lips just as he drew you in for a hungry kiss, “let’s not have this conversation again.”

He parted and left you to stare at the red bathing suit. He rolled his shoulders as he went to the door, “I’ll meet you by the pool, I gotta make sure everything’s running smoothly.”

“Sure,” you muttered and lowered your chin.

He left and closed the door lightly. You undressed and laid out the disposed clothing on the bed. You shimmied into the scanty bathing suit. You felt almost naked as there was almost no back at all and the high vee threatened to show more than you wanted. You checked yourself in the slatted mirrors that hung along the wall and cringed. He would be able to see everything you tried to hide.

You took a towel from inside the attached bathroom and wrapped it around you. You ventured out through the hallways and found your way to the sliding doors that opened onto the mosaic patio. You inched over to one of the sunbathers and sat on the edge as you picked at the top of the towel.

You flinched as a shadow appeared in the open door. A man in a pale blue shirt and white cotton slacks greeted you with a tall cocktail with fruit bubbling from the bottom.

“Miss,” he set it down on the table, “compliments of Mr. Parker, he would like me to inform you he will be out shortly.”

“Thank you,” you said awkwardly and gave a weak smile.

The man left and you reached for the glass. You smelled the sweet alcohol and sipped. It made your cheek twitch and you stirred the concoction with the little plastic stick that twisted at the top.

“Princess,” Peter’s voice startled you and you looked up. You set aside the drink as he strode through the door, a silky black robe hung open over tight swimming briefs.

His stomach was tightly muscled and as he shed the extra layer, his arms were thick but wiry. He was in good shape, much better shape than you, and you tried not to stare so obviously as he tossed the robe over another chair and turned to you.

“So, you just gonna watch the water or… you gonna have some fun?”

He neared and took your hand. He pulled you up and tugged the towel down so that it fell to your feet. He eyed you as he backed away and took you with him, turning you to check out the back. He slapped your as and laughed as you squeaked and reached back to shoo him away.

“Please,” you turned to face him, “it’s a bit…” you looked down at yourself, “it’s not much.”

“I’d rather nothing but the staff is still here,” he clung to your wrist and urged you towards the pool, “maybe later.”

You followed him down the curved steps that led under the water if only to hide your bareness beneath the surface. He guided you deeper and spun you against the wall of the pool. The tile was cool as the water swayed around you. He kept you trapped against him and brushed your nose with his.

“You really do look amazing, princess,” his hand dipped under the water and he felt along the vee of the suit, “last night…” he exhaled and pecked your lips, “it was so hard to… I was so hard.”

“Peter,” you pressed your palms to his chest.

“I wanted to wait but seeing you like this,” his fingers slid under the suit, “I can’t…”

He shoved his hand under the fabric and cupped your cunt. He held two fingers against your cunt and swirled them. You gasped and clawed at his chest. His eyes were smoky and his touch determined. He kissed you again, this time longer as his fingers slickened along your folds.

He pushed his legs between your and spread them wide as he pushed along your entrance. You clenched as he poked around and slid his finger into you. You pulled back and bit your lip. He bent his head and his mouth explored throat. You trembled and whispered a soft, ‘please…’ but he either didn’t hear you or didn’t care.

He slipped in another finger and kept his thumb firm against your clit. The swimsuit crumpled to one side and he rocked his hand as he grinded against your body. He nibbled the flesh along your neck and purred as you tensed around him.

“Princess,” he murmured and nipped at you, “you’re perfect.”

He curled his fingers and squeezed, the pressure building between his thumb and his index. He pushed the heel of his hand against your bud as he lifted you off the pool floor. He sped up as quiet mewls flew from your lips. As much as you didn’t want it, you couldn’t stop him and your will to resist dwindled as he plucked at your core.

Your hands crawled up over his shoulders and you gripped him tightly as you felt an orgasm blooming. You bent your legs and arched your feet as your eyes rolled back and you pushed your head back into the tile. His deep groans made you quiver and as the water moved vigorously between your bodies, the tension snapped.

You cried out as you came and your walls rippled around him. He tickled your neck with his nose as he eased you through the afterglow and you winced as he lingered in your cunt. He lifted his head and slowly slipped his fingers out of you, dragging them over your clit.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth roughly. The sloppy noises set you alight as he pressed against you and his other hand crept along his bottoms. He wiggled as he pushed down the elastic and you felt his warm tip poke against you.

You moaned into his mouth as he lifted you higher and his tip glided along your wet folds. You went rigid and tried to turn your head away. He grasped your chin and eased you down onto him. He growled into your mouth as he sank into you. Your lashes fluttered, your eyes damp as you were all too aware of your body’s betrayal.

“Oh, princess,” he dragged his lips over your cheek, “you’re so precious.”

He began to move against you, slowly as the water rippled with each tilt of his hips. His breaths were long and ragged. Your chest burned as your heart pattered and he pulled down the straps of your swimsuit and freed your arms. He bent to bite at the top of your breasts as he played with your nipple.

You whimpered as his pelvis rubbed against your clit and the flames licked at your thighs. Your arms fell over him as you hugged his head desperately and his motion grew more frantic. His breaths turned shallow and humid against your chest and he lifted his head again to kiss along your chin and throat.

“See how good I can be to you,” he hummed, “all you have to do is be good, princess. So good.”

He fucked you until you were witless and wild-eyed. Another climax crashed down over you but he gave you little time to recover as he kept writhing against you. You reached back and gripped the edge of the pool and he took a step back, holding you at an angle from the wall as he pounded into you, the water stirring around you.

He stared down at the water and watched how he slid in and out of you. He snarled and sped up as he covered your clit with his thumb. You moaned, a steady drone as he forced another orgasm from you and shivered as you clenched around him.

He bared his teeth and gritted them as his eyes roved up your body and clung to your dazed face. He didn’t look away as the muscles in his neck tensed and he grunted through his own climax. He growled as he emptied himself into you, a warm deluge amidst the cool water.

He pulled you down onto him entirely as he drew you away from the wall. He threw your arms over his shoulders and hugged you against him as he carried you through the pool. You felt fuzzy and fiery as he stayed inside of you and spun slowly. His breaths steadied and he cradled your face as he jerked his hips. He smirked as you gasped and your walls twitched.

“You understand now?” he rasped, “what I can do for you, princess?”

Your head lolled and you nodded dumbly. You hunched forward and rested your head on your arm as it hung over his shoulder. His hands ran up and down your back and he nuzzled your hair.

He walked you back into the wall. He thrust and slapped his hand against the tile and you felt him growing hard again, “I can make you my queen.”

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #mob!au #mob au #mafia au #mafia!au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #spider-man #series #let me be your ruler

576 notes · View notes

starsinmylatte · 4 years ago

Text

Tease (1/2)

Reader is fed up with the lack of attention from a certain Grand Admiral. To force his hand, she decides to send some pictures to tempt him while he's away, but things don't quite go as they were planned.

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags/warnings (for part 1): lingerie, m@sturbation, slight dom/sub undertones

AO3 link here

Author’s note: Here’s the smut I promised! I’ll either post the second chapter tonight, or a different smut prompt partially inspired by @pala-din-djarin ;)

Let me know if you enjoyed it <3

Ch’eo ch’itiseb- my sweet

In the beginning, the plan was to tease your lover ever-so-slightly. Grand Admiral Thrawn had been away from the Chimaera for a week, and you were in no mood to be the last person in line for attention upon his return. Sady, Thrawn had been so busy the week before his departure that he had very little time to spend with you.

As a Commander, you, of course, had your own duties to attend to in his absence, but there was no denying you missed his touch a little more than usual during the unrelentingly long week. It was more than understandable for Thrawn to be busy; he was a Grand Admiral, after all, but it couldn’t hurt for you to remind him exactly what he was missing……

You would never do anything to jeopardize his ongoing mission. Still, he was just on Coruscant visiting the Imperial Palace, and you weren’t exactly above sending some choice pictures to him through an encrypted communication line. Did you know exactly what you were doing by putting on the fine, lacy lingerie he had gifted you but never got the chance to see? Absolutely, but then again… that was the whole point. You wanted him to feel exactly as desperate for you as you did for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you slipped the final stocking into place, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection in the mirror.

Ah, this should do nicely.

Red, lacy lingerie, which perfectly matched the shade of your lover’s eyes, trailed across your skin like flames. The bralette was mostly sheer, but it offered the perfect amount of support and framed your décolletage in a way you knew Thrawn would find delectable. The matching panties hugged your hips and were partially hidden below a thin belt made from the same lace, which circled your waist and connected to the stockings in the front and back.

You laughed mischievously as you turned to see how the outfit looked from the side reflection in the large mirror, “Oh, this should definitely work well.”

The stockings themselves rested perfectly on the soft swell of your upper thighs, a place you knew Thrawn loved to kiss and mark as his, and they framed your ass beautifully. You were beyond resplendent, a piece of art that he couldn’t have, and you were going to use it to tease him as much as possible. However, if you were actually going to do some real damage, the pictures needed to be convincing.

“What better way to make this authentic than to do it in his bed,” you mused out loud. Fortunately, the datapad could both take and encrypt the pictures, so all you had to do was prop it up on the bedside table and set the photo timer.

The setup was fairly easy for the first few pictures, but all your ideas for poses were running out before long. Then, another exciting thought crossed your mind.

I’ll just set it to video! I can freeze and save sections of it as the pictures; that’ll be absolutely perfect.

You reached up and set the datapad to the necessary specifications before returning to the edge of Thrawn’s bed. Taking the pictures had been building sensual anticipation under your skin, and it went straight to your core as you imagined your lover’s reaction to them. Just the thought of Thrawn, breathless with want and worlds away from having his hands on you…. Well, it was more than enough encouragement for you to hit the record button on the datapad.

The silken black sheets on his bed caressed your soft skin and added another layer of sensation to your already stimulated mind as you lay back down among them. You took a deep, tentative breath in; Thrawn’s intensely masculine scent seemed to be everywhere. It completely surrounded you, drawing you further into the seductive depths of your mind and triggered vivid memories of all the ways he’d taken you on top of them.

One such memory was his powerful form pressing your back deep into the sheets, fucking you at a relentless pace, and worrying the tender skin of your neck with his teeth. Another was of Thrawn bending you over the edge of the bed, pinning you in place with his strong arms as he ravished you from behind, all while whispering filthy sentiments in Cheunh into your ear. Finally, your memory turned to his head dipping between your thighs to drink you in as he drew his true name from your lips like a prayer to some forgotten god….

You glanced to the side, and the mirror on the opposite wall showed a glimpse of just how beautiful you looked, displayed like a prized possession in the middle of his bed. No extra persuasion was needed for you to begin trailing your hands slowly and sensually over your curves. You lightly traced down the bothersome seams of the lingerie, following the path Thrawn’s own hands would’ve taken, before resting one hand at the apex of your thighs and placing the other on the ample swell of your breast.

By this point, the self-sufficient, capable Commander of the Chimaera was all but gone. Your breathing was ragged with desire and coming in short bursts; you would’ve willingly torn the world apart if it meant Thrawn could be in the room. It was all too much. Thought of him, his scent, his imaginary voice in your ear commanding your every move … Your cunt absolutely throbbed with desire. Arousal pooled between your legs, soaking through the lacy fabric and drawing a needy groan from your lips. With a gaze half-lidded and hazy from lust, your head lolled to stare directly into the camera, and you pleaded like it would bring him to bed, “ Thrawn….. please….”

You were so far gone that you hadn’t even noticed your hands were moving of their own volition. At the utterance of his name, two fingers pushed aside the interfering fabric and slipped deep inside your cunt; the other hand pinched down hard on a peaked nipple. Your back bowed off the bed, and stars danced behind your eyes as a broken moan fell from your mouth.

At this point, heady lust had completely taken over. Gasps and cries of pleasure rang out in the silent room as your fingers moved to circle your clit, driving you closer and closer to a shattering climax. You screamed Thrawn’s name when you came, digging your fingers deep into the sheets and searching desperately for stability as the intense orgasm rocked your body.

You stopped the recording on the datapad and laid still for what felt like an eternity as you tried to regain your senses. Finally, you were recovered enough to actually retrieve the datapad from the bedside table. The screen had gone dark, but when you brought the device back to life, something wasn’t quite right; the video was nowhere to be found.

As you checked through all of the possible places it could be, your stomach did a flip as you finally realized what had happened. The video was set to send automatically after it was filmed, so when you hit stop……

One quick glance at the message history confirmed your theory. However, you were so much more preoccupied with the flashing notification button. With a trembling finger, you clicked on it, and an audio file popped up. Thrawn’s voice, usually so soft and collected, was now heavily accented and barely concealing a feral tone, “Ch’eo ch’itiseb, you know you really shouldn’t tease me like this.” He sounded ready to eat you alive.

Sith hells, you were in trouble.

Tagging some friends: @handbaskethell @mittheresabosen @pala-din-djarin @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @bluecynadi

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #mitt'raw'nuruodo #chiss #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x reader #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #star wars smut #star wars rebels fanfiction

152 notes · View notes

catrasredemption-moved · 4 years ago

Note

can I ask a prompt with some ppl giving pregnant catra a hard time? (is it still okay for pregnant catra? if not then it's okay too)

Vomiting TW

Time didn’t heal all wounds.

Catra was aware of it, and she didn’t take it personally when people glared at her or made comments. She drew the line at people trying to physically hurt her, but usually at that point Adora was between her and whoever was taking a swing, and she didn’t have to worry too much.

Even ten years later, Salineas was still the worst place to go. The kingdom had recovered nicely (due in no small part to the hours of sleep Catra had sacrificed to rebuild it), but memories lasted.

Mermista’s word trumped all feelings, though, so when Catra was invited to Salineas, no one could really protest.

“I’m still not sure why we couldn’t teleport,” Glimmer grumbled. “Pretty sure the boat is worse for Catra.”

It absolutely was. Catra had spent most of the journey leaning over the edge, or resting limply against it while Melog tried to comfort her. “Are you sure she’s okay?” Bow added, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her. Adora rubbed the back of her head nervously.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I’m sure. I’m just... going to go check on her.”

She scrambled across the deck, joining Catra, who was starting to look a little green. “Maybe we should’ve just let Glimmer teleport us,” she said uncertainly. Catra shook her head furiously.

“No. No magic around the baby. Not like that.”

“Then can we at least tell Glimmer and Bow why? They’re worried.”

Catra raised her head to look blearily at their friends, who weren’t even trying to pretend they weren’t staring. “Maybe later,” she mumbled, dropping her head back against the edge. “If I survive this trip.”

They hadn’t told anyone outside of Mystacor they were trying to have a baby, and they hadn’t told anyone when they’d found out last week that Catra was pregnant. They were going to, but she was only six weeks, and they wanted to just wait a little longer, to be absolutely sure. They didn’t need pity if anything went wrong.

“We’re almost there. Just take a deep breath.”

Catra did as she was told - then groaned when the smell of salt water hit her sensitive nose. “Bad idea,” she groaned, leaning over the edge again. Adora rubbed her back pityingly.

It was a relief to finally dock, even if it took Catra an extra few minutes to collect herself and get up. They weren’t that far from the palace, but Glimmer still offered to teleport. “Nope,” Catra said, squaring her shoulders. She was not going to spend the rest of the night locked in the bathroom.

She felt a little better by the time they arrived at the ball room. It was Mermista’s birthday, which was pretty much the event of the season in Salineas. Catra was sure she would have reluctantly accepted if Catra had played sick to stay in Bright Moon, but... who was she to turn up some of the best sea food in the kingdom?

“Yeesh, I figured you guys would get here first,” a dry voice said as they walked into the already crowded room. They looked at Mermista, who was watching them with a dry smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Happy birthday!” Bow and Glimmer hugged her tight.

“Catra insisted on not teleporting for some reason so we had to take a boat-”

“What, was two hours of being sea sick better?”

“A little fresh air never killed anyone,” Catra said dismissively. Mermista rolled her eyes.

“Sure.”

Catra went straight for the food table, dragging Adora with her. “Well at least you’re feeling better,” Adora teased, squeezing Catra’s hand.

“Oh shut up-”

“She-Ra!”

Every time, without fail. Catra rolled her eyes, sighing, as Adora was waylaid by several admirers. She wasn’t about to wait - she was starving. And the baby was demanding shrimp.

And she wasn’t alone for long. Scorpia and Perfuma were already at the table, talking and snacking. “Hey Wildcat!” Scorpia said happily, scooping Catra into a hug. She winced, but smiled, patting Scorpia’s back.

“Hi Scorpia. You mind? I’m dying.”

Scorpia set her down, letting her get to the table at last so she could eat. “How was your trip?” Perfuma asked. “Bow mentioned you were taking a boat.”

“Yeah, enjoying the sights, you know.”

“Did you develop some love for the ocean?” Scorpia asked doubtfully. She’d seen Catra on boats a couple times. It never went well.

“I mean...”

Her attention was torn between Scorpia and Perfuma and the food, not to mention the din of the party. She had almost no warning before a rough hand grabbed the back of her shirt, throwing her to the ground. She landed hard, head snapping back with a crack. The world went blurry for a minute.

“-tra? ...okay?”

Perfuma’s voice drifted in and out. Catra grimaced, blinking a few times to clear her vision. Perfuma was kneeling beside her, trying to help her sit up, while Scorpia held Adora back from punching out the chef who had decided it was a crime for Catra to be enjoying herself in the kingdom she had destroyed. She sat up, grimacing, one arm crossing her stomach. Six weeks. She wasn’t fragile by any means, not like she would be in about six months, but that didn’t mean she could just be pushed around and thrown into floors, either.

“Hey!”

Mermista’s voice reverberated in Catra’s head. The princess cut through the crowd that had gathered, furious. “Adora, stop trying to murder my chef and take care of your wife. Sea Hawk, put him in cell.” The chef started to protest. “You don’t think you get to assault someone at my party and get away with it, do you?”

Sea Hawk appeared to take the chef away; there was no further protest. Adora knelt on Catra’s other side, gently sliding an arm across her back to support her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra took a few deep breaths. Her head hurt, but she was fine. The baby was probably fine. It wasn’t even really a baby at this point, just a bunch of magically bound cells trying to make a baby, it would suck if something happened, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It wasn’t like Catra hadn’t already taken to talking to her stomach when she was alone, or poking it experimentally, thrilled about the little life growing inside, or-

“Catra? Catra, hey.”

She was shaking, her breath coming a bit too fast. Adora had a hand on her cheek, trying to get her attention. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Does something-”

The world turned over in a sickeningly familiar way. Catra pressed her face into Adora’s shoulder, groaning, as soon as they were settled wherever Glimmer had taken them.

“Glimmer-”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to get you both out of there.” Glimmer sounded nervous. Catra wanted to look at her, but her eyes were still squeezed shut and she had no intention of opening them. “I’ll... I’ll be right back.”

She teleported away. “There’s a bed,” Adora said quietly. “Do you feel okay moving?”

“Sure,” Catra muttered through gritted teeth. That turned out to be a lie; she forced her eyes open as she was moved, and the world was spinning. Nope. “Adora-”

A small trash bin was forced into her hands before she could finish the sentence. And of course Glimmer chose that moment to return with Bow, Scorpia, Perfuma, and Mermista.

“Should... I get a doctor or something?”

Adora rubbed Catra’s back as she heaved. “No... maybe? I’d rather take her to Mystacor-”

“For a head injury?”

Catra cracked an eye open to look at Adora, who was watching her uncertainly. She nodded miserably, returning her attention to breathing and trying not to freak out. So much for keeping it to themselves.

“Well, she’s um... she’s pregnant, actually.”

Dead silence followed the words.

“I’ll kill him,” Glimmer declared.

“I’ll help.” That was Scorpia, surprisingly.

“Okay, okay,” Bow cut in. “Maybe murder isn’t the right idea...”

“Let’s not out-rule it completely,” Mermista said darkly.

“It’s probably fine,” Catra mumbled, setting the trash bin aside. “I’ve been sick for like, two weeks, this isn’t exactly a new development.”

“Seeing a healer might still be a good idea,” Perfuma pointed out. “When you’re ready to move.”

“Is this why you didn’t want to teleport?” Glimmer asked. Catra ducked her head, refusing to answer. “Why don’t I go to Mystacor and get someone, and if they say you’re okay, I can take you home - that has to be better than suffering on the boat.”

“I didn’t think the boat would be that bad.” Catra sighed. “You guys don’t have to stand there and stare at me. Go back to the party - I mean, yes, get a healer first.” She’d feel better just confirming that everything was okay. “But it’s stupid to stand around staring at me.”

“It’s not stupid to want to make sure you’re all right,” Bow said. “And what about our future niece or nephew?”

“Why don’t you stay, Glimmer goes to Mystacor, and the rest of us can go back downstairs,” Perfuma suggested. She had spent enough time with Catra to know when she was starting to get overwhelmed. Scorpia started to protest, but stopped when Perfuma placed a hand on her claw.

“I’ll send up a staff member in case you need anything,” Mermista compromised. Catra nodded, since it didn’t seem like she had much of a choice. She knew her friends cared, though.

Everyone left, and Bow immediately joined them on the bed. “I didn’t know you guys were trying to have a baby.” He was doing a very good job at restraining his excitement and not shouting. “How far along are you? Do you have thoughts about names?” He gasped. “Will they have little cat ears?”

Catra smiled slightly, dropping her head to rest on Adora’s shoulder and letting Adora handle the questions. She knew her wife had been dying to talk about the baby with someone besides Catra, and it was nice to listen to their excited chatter fill the silence.

(Everything was in fact fine, save for the slight head injury, and the healer assured them that it was perfectly safe to teleport with Glimmer. Catra vehemently disagreed with that last part, but that was an on-going debate.)

#MAN that got long I'm sorry #anyway um #here?#pregnant catra #askbox fic #Mystery Person #Sam Answers

150 notes · View notes

savagesbonergarage · 4 years ago

Note

ok, i need SMUTTY thrawn. like anything you wanna write

Don't we all 😏

I’m weirdly a little upset with Thrawn right now for ridiculous headspace reasons, so this is gonna be interesting. I think I have a good idea, though...We’ll see how this turns out lol

Update: Wow this has a lot of feelings??? Apparently I needed to get that out of my system *shrug*

A/N - Tried to write this for a gender-neutral reader so let me know how that works 🤐, longer than I expected but what else is new, yeah feelings like I said, but it turns into you domming Thrawn so I think it’s worth it, face-riding, cumming in pants, role-play? kinda?, the smut’s at the end

Thrawn

“Neglect”

“What is this?” you asked with a knowing curiosity and no small amount of irritation in your voice.

You held the painted helmet in your hands, Thrawn’s gaze never leaving it until he eventually answered you through a defeated sigh. “It belonged to one of the rebel captives I’ve been tracking. The boy Jedi.”

“I see...” you retorted unflinchingly, inspecting the crude loth-cat design on the front of it through hardened, yet undeniably sad eyes. “So this is what you’ve been up to this entire time? Spending your vacation working instead of...”

Instead of being with me, like you’d promised.

The chiss finally rose from his seat, although he still couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. He was fully aware of the situation he’d created, of the promises he’d made and failed to keep, and most importantly the lies he’d told in order to continue tracking this particular band of rebels. “I...I apologize for disappointing you.”

You uttered a scoff, nearly rolling your eyes at his words. After finally catching him in the act when he’d sworn he was too tired to stay up with you and was heading straight to bed all these nights, it was difficult not to take this revelation a little personally. Not to mention his superiors had specifically instructed him to use this shore leave to actually relax and enjoy himself after his continuous dedication to the Empire and his duties without fail or complaint - and when he’d arrived with more luggage than usual, you interpreted that to mean that he was intending to stay the entire length of his trip this time with no intention of returning to work early as he typically did - however, that extra baggage was ultimately filled with rebel artifacts that he was fully preparing to study.

“I’m not disappointed, nor am I surprised,” you admitted through a sigh, moving to stand straight across from him with only the width of the helmet between you as you continued, “I don’t know why I was expecting this time to be different from any of the others. I know you. When you’re dedicated to pursuing something, there’s no stopping you or trying to change your mind.”

His lips parted as though he had something to say, but ultimately decided against it. He must have seen through your facade of trying to keep your expression firm as he gently spoke your name, and you silently cursed yourself for never being able to keep a straight face. You caught his hand when he moved to bring it to your cheek, only holding it firmly in mid air as you kept your head down while you asked him the question that had been plaguing your mind for years.

“Are you still pursuing me?”

You clutched his hand even tighter, your frown already shifting into a grimace as you stared straight down into the visor of the helmet. This talk wasn’t one you’d been particularly looking forward to having, especially since you more or less already had a preconceived notion of what his answer would be. Perhaps your relationship really had changed, and rather than voice it outright, Thrawn expected you to determine the status of it through context to avoid having an uncomfortable conversation. It certainly didn’t feel like the two of you were lovers anymore, and with this revelation that he had the time for intimacy if he desired it and was choosing his usual activities over being in your arms, there was little reason to believe otherwise.

The helmet was abruptly removed from your hands and placed elsewhere, with the hand that was holding yours moving to snake around your waist as you felt him pull you against his broad chest. It was a kind gesture, but what you really wanted was a definitive answer.

“Thrawn-”

“I’ve always been adept at coursing after my targets,” he began with an ounce of regret in his somber tone, “yet I find that the ones affecting my career operations tend to take precedence over the ventures in my personal life.”

You’d already known that much, and yet the sinking fear that came with the prospect of the inevitable “it’s not you, it’s me” parting discussion still began to overtake you. It felt like you were going through all the stages of grief all at once - denial, anger, bargaining, depression...but you weren’t ready to accept this just yet. You weren’t sure you ever would be. Anger was definitely occupying the forefront of your mind; anger at Thrawn, anger at the Empire, anger at yourself...you wouldn’t be enduring all of this if you’d never fallen for him in the first place. You just had to go and fall in love with a man that was emotionally and physically unavailable, didn’t you? You’d known at least some extent of what you’d be getting into when you agreed to be his significant other - that your rendezvous together would be short-lived and few and far between, with his work always taking priority over you, but this...knowing that given the choice, given the mandate, he was still choosing the rebels over you...

It hurt.

You were tensing up in his arms, doing all that you could to keep the tears from forming. If only to encourage the transparency you wanted to see from him, you began solemnly pouring your thoughts out against his chest, the release of the words you'd been keeping to yourself for so long aiding in your preemptive recovery somewhat.

"I've often thought about joining the rebellion just to reclaim some of your attention," you admitted, the statement sounding more pathetic to your ears than you'd anticipated, "I've never been an artist, but I like to imagine what it would be like if I made rebel propaganda for you to find. I've wondered if you'd even be able to figure out it was mine, and that with every stroke it was really just me trying to tell you..." ...that I love you.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until you felt yourself involuntarily choking on a sob, and before you could hide your face from him his hands were caressing either side of your jaw and pulling you up into a deep, tender kiss.

How long had it been? When was the last time you felt his touch like this, let alone a kiss? It almost didn't feel real, and you instinctively returned his vigor to make sure it wasn't all just a fantasy. Your tears were stinging against both of your faces now, and Thrawn drew back to wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs. His glowing red eyes were so melancholy, his brows threading into a line as you held his indigo hands to your face and leaned into them, as though the warmth of his skin was a rare sensation that you were savoring to remember back on when you'd be without it again.

"My love..." Thrawn began, his voice soothing as he brought his lips to the tender flesh of your ear, "if I've been so neglectful of your needs that you would become my enemy to be closer to me, then I've failed you so much more exponentially than I ever could have surmised. For that, I am so, so very sorry."

Part of you perked up at the implication that perhaps he wasn't intending to cut ties with you just yet, although it was clear he had much more to say. You brought his hands down to your chest and interlocked your fingers with his, holding onto them for dear life as he continued. "I...I have become consumed by my mission. My mind won't allow me any reprieve unless I've made substantial new discoveries and analyses concerning these rebels on a constant basis. I haven't faced any challenging opposition like them in quite some time, and to feel the invigoration of facing a worthy opponent with the potential to outmaneuver me...it's...addicting."

You listened to his confession intently, relieved to have him opening his heart to you once again. You brought his hands up to your mouth and smiled with amusement before you placed a kiss against them and bore into his concerned gaze with a look of alleviation gracing your own features. “I think I’m beginning to understand where your superiors were coming from when they demanded you take this leave.”

Thrawn’s countenance softened as he returned your smile, even managing something of a titter while he brought your own hands to his lips. “Am I that insufferable?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

He flashed his teeth in an impudent grin, moistening your skin with his lips as he resumed speaking against it. “Reassuring, as always.”

“Thrawn...” you spoke gingerly as the seriousness of the conversation recommenced and you withdrew your hands, rubbing the place where his warmth had just been while you gathered up the courage to proceed with your thoughts, “I need to know where we stand. It would have been stupid of me to expect our relationship to be like anyone else’s...I’ve been aware from the beginning that your duties come first, and I’m perfectly content with that. I want to see you succeed, and I love that you’re so persistent and driven. But...”

“I know,” he interjected, his guilty conscience evident simply by the tone of his voice, “my behavior as of late has been inexcusable. You mean so much more to me than I’ve led you to believe. It has been despicable of me to overlook your wishes in favor of my work when it is unnecessary. I...I love you, and...I’d like to make it up to you.”

Your heart breathed a sigh of relief, remedied by the fact that it still belonged to him. Before you knew it, you were back in his arms in an instant and planting another passionate kiss at the corner of his mouth while you grasped at his light civilian clothing. “Do you mean it?” you asked before he could properly perform the action in return.

“Of course. There are few things I wouldn’t do for you.”

For you, that was about as good as anyone else saying that they would do anything. Some things were off the table, such as leaving the Empire or betraying the Chiss or halting his investigation of the mysterious alien race that posed a threat to the entire galaxy - but other than that, he was yours, and that was more than enough.

“I might already have a few ideas...” you admitted pleasantly, capturing his lips in a more heated kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His smile granted you more access to the rest of his mouth and you obliged, nipping at his skin and warring with his tongue as both of your actions became more lascivious. It wasn’t long before you felt his warm, strong hands snaking up your bare abdomen while you fumbled with the clasps of his shirt, though it become more difficult to concentrate once he reached your chest and focused his activity there, drawing a moan from deep within your throat. Taking note of your struggle, he briefly took his hands away from you to discard his top and aid you in removing your own.

“I’m intrigued by these ideas, if you wouldn’t mind enlightening me,” Thrawn said as he reached both arms around you to grasp your behind and knead it through the fabric of your pants while he continued to kiss you along your temples and hairline. Your mouth was too busy peppering his pecs with kisses and love-bites to really say much, but that was alright - you were more of a demonstrator, anyway. You brought his hands to your sides and he helped you slide your bottoms down, giving your ass an excited smack once it was bare for him. He attempted to sneak a hand around the supple flesh of your inner thigh and curl a few digits upwards, but you smacked it away.

“Ah-Ah,” you tsked, guiding his arms away from you entirely. He started working at the sealing strip of his own waistband, but again, you stopped him. “No.”

“No?” he asked, a brow raised in amusement but also plenty of genuine confusion.

“No,” you reaffirmed as you stepped completely out of your pant legs and planted your palms onto his chest, pushing against him with enough force to influence him to step backward. The pressure was continuous, so he didn’t stop until his back hit the cool metal of the durasteel wall behind him. “You’ve kept me waiting for a long time, Admiral.”

“I...yes,” he uttered, slightly taken aback by the firmness and determination in your voice, and especially the mocking tone you used with his moniker, although he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

In an impressive display of flexibility, you raised your leg up until your heel rested in the curve of Thrawn’s neck and over his shoulder, holding him in place as you stared him down with an air of dominion. “I’ve lost most of my patience,” you explained as you applied a significant amount of strength down through your foot and into his muscle, indicating once again that he was to move. He did so silently this time, enraptured by your confidence as he slid down until he was sitting on the hard ground. Your foot didn’t let up, adding more pressure as your tone became a little more demanding. “Down. All the way.”

He obliged, shifting downwards so he could lean back onto his forearms and lower himself completely onto the floor. Your foot remained on his shoulder, a smile contorting your face as you could see he was taking in the view and enjoying it, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His eyes eventually met yours, giving you an innocent and questioning look as he spoke.

“Would you like to take this outside of the office? To the bedroom, perhaps?”

“Here’s fine,” you retorted smugly, and for a moment your attention was captured again by the painted rebel helmet that was perched atop the desk beside you. You took it, examining the artwork on the front one more time before you smirked at the curious Chiss beneath you and donned it upon your head. His breath hitched when you suddenly dropped to your knees over his chest and slid your hand around to the apex of his skull, lightly grabbing a fistful of previously perfectly slicked-back hair before gazing straight down into his crimson orbs.

“Are you still curious?” you asked with an inflection of authority.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion before he spoke lowly, just above a whisper. “I believe I understand.”

“Good,” you began, positioning yourself directly over his face as you pulled his head forward so that the tip of his nose was only centimeters away from the source of your pulsing heat, “...you kriffing Imp.”

With that, you saddled his face and sighed when you felt the hot wetness of his mouth envelop you, the room quickly filling with the sounds of the obscene slurps and smacks of his ministrations on your flesh. Your other hand grasped another lock of his hair as you bucked against him, his tongue finding all your most sensitive spots as it darted over them, and all the while you carefully supported his neck while he fucked you religiously with his face. You looked down at the master tactician through half-lidded eyes before throwing your head back in ecstasy, feeling the creep of your climax edging closer and closer. You were having a difficult time catching your breath, and eventually you decided that this sensation ought to be somewhat mutual.

You reached your hand back behind you and starting palming Thrawn’s erection through the fabric of his pants, earning an approving sigh between your legs as you stimulated the head through the still-expanding wet stain of his precum. You jerked him as well as you could in tandem with his movements, struggling to suppress the moans and expletives that erupted from your lips as he went at you even harder. His hands gripped your hips with a cautious desperation as both of your breaths became increasingly ragged, and it wasn’t long before your thighs were quivering against his ears as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of absolute pleasure. Your gasps of euphoria coupled with the intensified friction of your touch had Thrawn stilling and slightly jerking his hips not long after, finally leaning his head back away from your entrance as his face flushed while he came in his pants.

The both of you relaxed as you were overtaken by the surge of your highs, and after a while you managed to shift downward so that you were straddling his waist as you removed the helmet and set it aside. You returned your attention to the handsome, feverish warrior panting beneath you and moved a stray strand of his mussed hair back into place. You leaned forward and kissed him gently on his swollen lips, not minding the taste of yourself as you rested on top of him and listened to the accelerated beating of his heart together with yours.

And when his arms wrapped around you while he planted a loving kiss on your forehead, you looked up at the ceiling and pondered just how much work he’d get done the next time he studied that helmet.

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn x reader #thrawn smut #lemon #star wars rebels #star wars x reader #star wars smut

205 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 4 years ago

Text

Enough

My take?

Bakugou asks you out - it honestly comes out of nowhere.

Why would a pro hero be interested in just another paper-pusher working in his agency building?

(NSFW, rough fucking, slight predatorXprey)

You were flattered to say the least, but also intimated. He had stormed up to you at your desk (the man had never spoke to you before, so you didn’t know what to think) and slammed his hands down, rattling your pens in their cup, making you jump.

“You’re gonna go out with me”

“W-what?”

“Did I fucking stutter? Go out with me.”

Had you missed something? You had never talked to the man in your life, had only seen him as he came and went, your work station one of the ones on the same floor as his “office”.

There had been no indication that he was interested in you - there had been no indication that Bakugou even knew you existed.

But you didn’t want to insult the hero, you knew he was proud and brash and maybe not the best at feelings, so maybe he’d been wanting to ask you/ talk to you for a while.

Still, you didn’t feel comfortable saying yes.

Maybe it was the way he stood over your desk, practically leaning into your space, leering down at you with those bright red eyes. You didn’t like his tone, the way his words were a statement instead of a polite request. Almost as if he was ordering you to go out with him... or else.

So you brushed him off, you need some time to think about it, have to see if you have any free time (”I’ll give you a whole damn month off, lets fucking go do something or some shit.”) and you had to quickly come up with poor excuses, ones that both of you could tell were weak, fake.

Bakugou had just set his jaw, before clicking his tongue and storming back into his office, leaving you alone at your desk.

Yeah, that had been a weird day.

The next week at work had been weird too, Bakugou glaring at you whenever you unintentionally looked in his general direction. He caught you in the break room, leaning in the doorway with a cup of coffee clutched in his calloused hands.

The man just smirked, stood still, made you squeeze your way past him even though he was perfectly capable of moving.

He had bumped into you in the elevator, mouth set in a firm line that somehow seemed pleased when the elevator filled up with other people, allowing him to crowd into your space, literally breathe down you neck.

The pro hero managed to “accidentally” trip and spill his cup of water all over you, making your shirt stick to your skin, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He had scoffed at you, before you had hurried past him and rushed to the bathroom to try and pat your shirt dry with paper towels.

By the third week of Bakugou being an absolute shithead, you had made your decision - not that you were going to let him know that. He hadn’t asked you about going out any further, and by now you knew, you didn’t want to get involved with that.

Bakugou was too volatile, too unstable and angry and insecure. You wouldn’t be able to handle even trying to connect with him.

So you did your best to avoid him

----

And oh, did Bakugou notice.

He didn’t like being ignored, being fucking teased. Because that’s obviously what you were doing, playing hard to get. Well, he was good at this game, always got his prize, everything that he wanted in the end.

It was clear that you wanted his attention, any attention for that matter. You wore those tight little shirts, buttons almost straining at the seams, the top button undone so Bakugou could see down you shirt every time you bent over in his line of sight.

Those slutty skirts, short and form-fitting, the slit up the back giving teasing glimpses of your legs as you walked. Every skirt you owned made your ass look great, Bakugou enjoyed admireing the view everyday whenever you were turned away from his office, bending over at a co-workers desk to look at some documents or some shit like that.

Your silky stockings that made your legs look so long and soft and smooth, the high heels that clicked with each step. Even though each and every outfit was modest and work-appropriate, your body just wouldn’t quit. You looked hot, Bakugou wasn’t afraid to admit that it was the reason why he had noticed you.

But there were plenty of beautiful women employed by his agency.

You were special.

There was something about you, the spark in your eye, the straightness of your spine. You were bold, weren’t willing to roll over and show your stomach. Bakugou knew you were stubborn and confident and stupidly self-assured.

It intrigued him. You hadn’t thrown yourself at him, respected his space - that’s why you were allowed on the same floor as his office, one of the few desks that was in view of it.

He didn’t care about your existence at first. No, you were just another shitty extra. But damn, he had sure taken notice when you put an idiot in their place.

A fucking mailman had tried to “hand deliver” a package - meaning he was going to try and get up in Bakugou’s face, beg for an autograph, fanboy all over his office and be stupid and annoying and clingy. Bakugou was left wondering why the receptionist had even let him up, in which case damn, he should probably fire her or something.

Bakugou hadn’t even noticed the man until a shout drew his attention away from the boring paperwork on his desk. There you were, hands on your hips, staring down an angry mailman who was flailing his arms like a goddamn octopus. The man was mad, shouting at you about delivering the package, before you promptly snatched it out of his hands.

You set it to the side on your desk, before crossing your arms and turning back to the shocked mailman. You informed him that he could either get out now, or you’d drag him out by his ear, since he wanted to act like a pissy little baby.

And damn, did that make Bakugou pay attention to you.

Unfortunately, after the mailman had left with his tail between his legs, you hadn’t even attempted to take the package to Bakugou. You had asked one of your coworkers to do it, Bakugou had watched you gesture to the box on your desk while talking to one of the other employees. Truthfully, Bakugou was a little disappointed you weren’t going to come into his office.

But from that day on, he was hooked on you.

And now, with you trying to play coy, being a little bitch that couldn’t own up about their feelings? Bakugou was furious with you. He had been man enough to admit his feelings, to ask you out on a date, show his interest. And what had you done? Brushed him off, gave little fucking stupid excuses and tried to smile your way out of things.

Bakugou could see what you were playing at.

Little tease.

He could tease right back.

After weeks of your stupid flirty game, Bakugou was done. It was clear you weren’t interested in him, kept avoiding him and turning the other way whenever you spotted him. Tried to take the stairs in order to not run into him on the elevator, conveniently got sick whenever Bakugou wanted to do trust building exercises with the team working on his floor.

He didn’t need your fucking approval, he could take what he wanted. You thought you were better than him? You were nothing but dirt.

Granted, you were pretty dirt - dirt that made his heart clench tight and his dick twitch whenever he thought of you in your little pencil skirts.

But still dirt.

And for some reason, even though you had subtly turned him down, you still decided to be the worlds biggest tease. Bakugou was going to snap, he was frustrated and horny and angry that you didn’t even have the balls to tell him in person that you didn’t want to go out with him.

All day you’d been acting extra flirty, laughing with your coworker over some stupid shit, the sound making Bakugou’s do little flips. He saw you accidentally drop a stack of papers - bend over to pick them up, perfect little ass sticking out just for him. You had ate your lunch at your desk, coincidentally Bakugou also randomly decided to do the same, watching you lick yogurt off your spoon. God, the way your tongue swirled around the spoon, licking up the creamy white substance had Bakugou popping a stiffy, had him chewing through his vegetables with a little more force than normal.

After lunch you had given a quick stretch of your arms, letting your back curve just right and Bakugou wanted to swear as you let out a breathy little moan as you stretched out a sore muscle, no one else around to hear it but him.

Fuck.

Getting through the rest of the work day was hell, Bakugou remaining seated at his desk so he wouldn’t have to be bothered with trying to hide his boner when he stood up. He had to watch you welcome your coworkers back from lunch, smile at one of them, let out a stupid little giggle at some stupid shit one of the fucking stupid little employees said.

He tried to put you out of his mind, focus back on his work. He was managing to do it pretty well actually, until his bladder got the best of him and he had to make a trip to the bathroom. Luckily by then his boner had gone down.

There weren’t many people on this floor, no need for separate bathrooms - just one single room, unisex.

Bakugou knocked on the door waiting barely a second before pulling it open, almost blowing up the damn thing as someone practically fell onto him.

“Sorry! I was just opening the door and I didn’t hear you knock…” You trailed off as you realized who was attached to the arms steadying you.

Bakugou glared at you, not listening. He was focused more on the fact that your breasts were squished up against his chest, could feel your rapid heartbeat, was so close that he could see the bright little specks of color in your eyes as you gazed up at him with a shocked expression.

With a flurry of movement, you pushed yourself away from your boss, stumbled backwards, and promptly fell flat on your ass.

Now normally, Bakugou would burst out laughing, or maybe sneer and goad you about being clumsy and dumb, but not now.

Not when he had caught a glimpse up your skirt as you fell away from him.

HIs heart was beating so fast in his chest, Bakugou didn’t even register your quick “So sorry sir!” as you scrambled to your feet, hurriedly trying to straighten out your clothes. He could only stare at you, try to control his breathing, stop himself from jumping you right then and there.

Were you serious? Teasing him like this, leading him on, being an absolute slut with no remorse? He could barely believe you. As you dashed past him, cheeks flaming, Bakugou watched you go, a plan forming in his head.

He was going to teach you a lesson.

——

Bakugou waited until the end of the work day, 4:55, before exiting his office and stomping over to your desk.

“Hey, I need you in my office in twenty minutes.”

You looked up at him, confused, brow furrowed. “Bakugou-san, it’s almost five.”

Bakugou could care less, sneering. “And? I need you to stay later. You and I are gonna have a little discussion about your compliance with company rules about work attire.” You turned bright red, glancing quickly down at your outfit. “Of course, I can talk to you now if you’d like, out where all your coworkers can hear me tearing you a new one. …Your choice.”

Glaring up at him, you shook your head, spitting out “I’ll see you in twenty minutes Bakugou-san.”

He smirked as he turned away from you, swaggering back into his office. The man liked your little spark of defiance, the stubbornness hiding deep down.

The two of you would be having a lot of fun in a little while.

There wasn’t much more for him to do except wait, scroll through his phone, boots knocked up on his desk, leaning back in his office chair, hand behind his head. It was almost amusing, watching you say goodbye to your coworkers as they left, pretending to straighten your desk and finish up whatever you had been working on.

Ten minutes passed, Bakugou watching you squirm out of the corner of his eye as each subsequent “goodbye” of your peers left you more secluded with your boss.

Twenty minutes passed and you got up, straightening out your skirt before coming to knock loudly at his office door, pushing it open before he could acknowledge your presence. He raised an eyebrow at the subtle show of disrespect - maybe you knew what game he was playing, were trying to rile him up even more? Every little play of yours made his blood burn hotter.

You sat down in the chair across his desk, folding your hands in your lap, tucking your feet to the side - the very picture of professional employee. Bakugou kicked his boots off his desk, leaning forward over his desk.

He didn’t say anything, just watched you, narrowing his eyes as you lifted your chin, staring straight back at him.

“If you had me stay late just so you could try to intimidate me, that’s disappointing.“ Bakugou shrugged at you, and you almost snorted before continuing. “I’m curious as to why I’m here - my work attire is always appropriate, I complete my work on time, there’s no reason for complaints. What am I not doing for you? I’m a good employee.”

“Well, for starters-“ Bakugou stood up, rolling his neck, relishing in the subsequent pops from his bones releasing stress. “You could stop always being such a fuckin’ tease.”

The look of confusion on your face was priceless.

“It’d be nice if we could get this game over with too - much as I like playing, I wanna get to the part where my cock is down your throat.”

Mouth dropped open in shock, you quickly snapped it shut, a blush rising on your cheeks. “What game? This is inappropriate Bakugou-san-“

“What game?” Bakugou scoffed. “This little game of cat-and-mouse. Damn, didn’t take you as the dense type. Are you just trying to get me to punish you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you - little slut.”

Bakugou knew you weren’t playing a game with him, knew that your teasing was unintentional. But your obliviousness made him hard, and it was fun watching you rocket to your feet, indignant at his words. Before you could even get a response out, Bakugou spoke again, starting to walk around his desk towards you.

“Seriously, don’t act fucking stupid. If you want me to spank you so damn bad, all you gotta do is ask.”

He held out his hands, as if it was ridiculous that he had to tell you this. The blond could tell you were starting to get what was about to happen, eyes flickering down to the steadily-growing bulge in Bakugou’s pants. He could see the wheels turning in your head, the reasons he wanted to talk to you after everyone had left for the day, why he had been such a creep these past few weeks.

You bolted.

Heels clicking against the floor, only able to take short steps in your pencil skirt, brain blank with fear.

This was exactly how Bakugou had wanted this to go.

He wanted to chase you down, pin you despite how you struggle, and fuck you like an animal.

It was easy for him to cut you off from the elevator, leaping over desks and sliding in front of the doors before you could reach them. With a frustrated cry, you whirled on your heel, dashed towards the stairwell. Bakugou beat you there too, lunging at your form and pushing you to the side before you could open the door.

You stumbled, a heel coming off in the process. You shucked off the other shoe, taking a second to throw it at your boss. Bakugou laughed as he dodged the strong throw, your heel thudding uselessly against the wall behind him.

“Keep running bitch, you won’t get far - there’s no where to go.” He taunted.

You barely waited a moment before taking off across the office floor again, able to go faster without difficult shoes. You were heading back towards Bakugou’s office, the man realized. A smart move - the door locked, there was a phone you could use to call for help. Too bad you wouldn’t even reach the door.

The pro-hero grabbed your shoulder, pulled to whip you around to face him, making you stumble backwards. Without missing a beat, he slapped you across the face, palm burning. That wasn’t part of the plan, but Bakugou was worked up, running on adrenaline and emotions. Your head whipped to the side from the force of the slap, shocked.

Taking advantage of your sudden stillness, Bakugou grabbed your waist, lifted you up and into his arms. Your arms were flailing now, trying to punch and hit and scratch but even with your strength you were barely a nuisance to the pro-hero.

Here’s the part that he had trouble with - where was the best place to bend you over? Your desk? Should he shove you to the ground and rip off your skirt? Up against the wall where he could thrust up into you with wild abandon?

On his own desk?

That sounded good.

The man marched to his office, kicked open the door and then kicked it shut, wincing when you landed a solid kick to his knee that twisted the joint a bit too far to the left. “Goddamn, you still gotta lot of energy? That’s gonna change, I’m gonna fuck you until you pass the fuck out.”

You shrieked at his admission, doubling your efforts to try to get the man to loosen his hold on you. Bakugou dropped you onto his desk so you were sitting upright, wrenched your thighs apart, stood between them as he wrapped a hand in your hair and pulled your neck back as he pushed himself flush against your body.

“Mm, you feel real damn good. Like the way you struggle ’n shit - rubs just right over my dick. Feel how big I am? I’m gonna fuck you open with it.”

He could hear your choked whine, still too proud to beg. No, you were too stubborn and proud to beg and plead right away. Bakugou knew you would after he broke you down though, had you drooling over his desk.

The man used this moment to bite at your neck, relishing your gasp as he bite down roughly on the side, before quickly sucking over the red indentions of his teeth. Your hands were on him, one wrapped around the wrist of the hand wrapped in your hair, the other hand pushing against his chest as if that was going to make him go away or some shit.

His hand not wrapped in your hair fisted into your shirt, uncaring of the fabric as he flexed his arm, literally tore it off your upper half. Bakugou didn’t have the patience to take it off properly; He had waited too long for this, he was almost lightheaded with how much blood was rushing through his dick right now.

You were wearing a simple bra, nothing fancy - which was good, cause Bakugou ripped that off too, leaving you bare from the waist up. He was breathing heavily, panting as he quickly glanced at your body, taking in your soft skin, the rise and fall of your chest as you squirmed and whined and tried to escape from his grip. He liked the way you leaned your upper half away from him, following the hand pulling your hair so it wouldn’t pull your strands, subsequently pushing your lower half against your boss.

The blond groped roughly at your tits, giving quick little slaps to each one to watch them jiggle.

“You have been such a fucking tease, you know that? Wearing these tight outfits, little shirts that don’t even cover your tits. Every time you bend down I can see right down ‘em, see what the tops of your tits look like.” With a grunt, Bakugou bent his head, biting roughly at the top of your chest. “Makes me wanna fuck your tits, spit all over ‘em until they’re dripping, make you hold ‘em together around my dick. God, that’d be hot.”

He let go of your hair, hands falling to your waist to pull you closer so he could grind his bulge between your legs. With him not pulling your head back, you could focus on what he was doing, fight back.

Bakugou felt the burning pain on his cheek, then heard the sound, then registered that you had just slapped him. Fucking bitch. With a growl, Bakugou grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks painfully in-between his fingers, bringing your face forward so he could press his forehead against yours.

“Try that shit again, see what happens. I can assure you it won’t be fuckin’ pretty. I don’t mind, but you probably would.” He threatened. Your eyes shined, not wet with tears, still sparking with the fire of defiance.

Bakugou wanted that spark. Did he want to extinguish it? Fan it into a blazing fire? He didn’t know, he just wanted.

He glanced at your lips quickly, instinctively licking his own before making eye contact again. He couldn’t resist - didn’t want to. Bakugou surged forward, capturing your lips with his own, immediately biting and growling into your mouth, using the hand on your waist to move you against himself, humping into your clothed pussy.

When he pulled away, you were gasping, a string of saliva dripping down your chin.

The blond gripped at his throbbing cock through his pants, groaning. His hands moved to your skirt while pulling you to your feet, clumsily fiddling with the zipper in the back, trying to tug it down with one hand while the other kneaded into your chest.

With how you were positioned, it’s no surprise when he felt you bite down onto the side of his neck.

Bakugou laughed, tapering off into a moan as the pain bloomed in his neck.

Fuck, that felt good. He didn’t mind you biting at him, even if you were doing it to try and get away from him, and not out of lust.

Finally beating the zipper on your skirt, Bakugou stripped off the garment, whistling when you were revealed to him, no panties covering your sex. There you stood, nothing but smooth, sheer panty-hose covering your legs.

Bakugou flipped you around, shoved your face into his desk. He needed to be inside you now, he was done with games, done with the teasing, done with the dirty talk.

You were bent at the waist, ass up in the air. The blond quickly undid his pants, pulling down his boxers just so his dick could be pulled out. There was already precum beading at the tip, and Bakugou hissed as he gave his member a quick stroke. Letting go of his cock, the man took hold of your panty-hose, right at the crotch, smirking as you wiggled around, yelling profanities.

Damn, you really were perfect for him.

The panty-hose ripped easily, a large hole that exposed your cunt, the barest hint of wetness in between your folds. The blond didn’t want to wait to prep you, simply spat into his hand, gave his cock a quick stroke to cover it in his saliva, then lined himself up, cock nudging at your pussy.

“Relax your fucking hole bitch, this’ll hurt less.” He paused, surprising himself. Usually he wasn’t so considerate. “Or not, again, your choice.”

And with a snicker, the man began slowly pushing in, grunting as he was immediately met with tight resistance. But Bakugou wasn’t a quitter, and what he wanted, he got.

It took several minutes - minutes of you beginning to cry, beg for him to stop, shrieking at each new inch that sunk into you. Bakugou on the other hand had his head thrown back, calloused hands gripping your hips tightly to prevent you from moving anywhere but back and further onto his cock.

And then he was bottomed out, balls pressed against the top of your pussy, the pressure teasing your clit.

“Jesus Christ, You’re such a damn tease, but fuck, this pussy’s worth the work.”

You squirmed, before stilling as you gasped, able to physically /feel/ your boss’s cock twitching inside of you.

Bakugou didn’t waste any time getting to work.

“You have been riling me up every damn week. I fucking hate you and you’re slutty little body, making me all hot n shit- haven’t been able to focus on anything. Stupid bitch.”

He was thrusting into you, pushing you across the desk before pulling you back onto his cock.

“Bet this is what you wanted the whole time. It’s why you brushed me off, huh? Ignored me like that? You just wanted me to hold you down and take what I fuckin’ want.”

Deep down, Bakugou knew that wasn’t true. It was clear by the way you struggled, your pathetic cries, you whimpering “No, no I’ll rip your fucking throat out!” On each thrust. But even deeper down, Bakugou didn’t care whether you wanted this or not.

He did, and that’s what mattered.

His abs were clenching, pleasure shooting through his gut as you tightened around his cock, practically milking him. The suction was heavenly, made him groan, made him relax down against your body, sprawling to cover your back.

Like this, Bakugou let his arms rest over your shoulders, his hands grabbing the other side of the desk. Your hips were trapped against his, pinned to the desk. There was no where for you to go, you could barely breathe with the man’s weight on you.

But it let Bakugou hammer into you like a stallion.

You whined as his speed increased, aided by his grip on the desk, his hips working furiously, skin loudly slapping against skin.

With a growl, Bakugou buried his face in between your shoulder blades, mouthing roughly at the skin there, panting and growling and groaning like an animal as he fucked you.

Fuck, he was close, fuck.

With one last thrust, his balls tightened up, his dick jumping. He quickly pulled out, immediately reaching his hand down so he could fuck into his fist, and within seconds the man was cumming over your back.

Fuck, that felt fucking amazing.

When he was able to think clearly again, actually bring air into his lungs, Bakugou looked down at you, laying limp against his desk. There was a shine of wetness between your thighs, your pussy glistening and clenching around nothing.

“Aw, poor little tease wants to cum?”

He could tease too, giving your ass a quick, light slap. With an embarrassed shudder, you nodded imperceptibly. Bakugou chuckled, bringing his fingers down to the puffy little nub nestled at the top of your pussy. “If you want me to make you cum, you gotta say so. Don’t try and tell me you aren’t turned on’ you’re a shitty-ass liar.”

You trembled, before managing to spit out “Make me cum.” Bakugou shuddered, loving the hate filling your voice, the emotion. You sounded like you wanted to kill him, strangle him with your bare hands, and yet you were still begging for him to make you cum. How pathetic.

“Mm, too damn bad-“ Bakugou pulled his fingers away from your cunt, slapping your ass again, a little harsher this time. “Maybe next time I’ll let you cum. Teasing sluts don’t get to have shit, gotta earn it first.”

Maybe next time he’d fuck your throat.

#yandere thoughts #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #yanderebakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bnha #tw noncon #predator #prey

924 notes · View notes

frustratedpoetwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some people to take part.

Thanks to @theroomofreq for the tag. This was an interesting one to look back on some of my earliest work. My favourite is Heart shaped box as I like how it sets up the whole story. For the two that I co-wrote I have shared the opening lines of my part. Tagging @petalstofish, @blitheringmcgonagall, @mppmaraudergirl @sweeethinny @littlerose13writes @alrightginger

1. Come away with me

Lily lay staring at the skylight, and watched the patch of sky turn from black to indigo. She just gazed without moving, hardly even blinking as it gradually grew lighter and lighter.

2. Saving James

The Holyhead Harpies’ annual friends and family barbecue was always a fantastic day, especially for the Potters. It was one of the few times James saw his mum and dad relax and enjoy themselves outside of a Weasley gathering.

3. Grounded

James felt the surge of adrenaline as he heard the roar of the crowd intensify over the wind whistling past his ears. This was what he loved about the game. The crowds, the passion, the everything or nothing feeling.

4. Sins of the fathers

Teddy stood on platform 9¾ with his gran looking around anxiously. He could see families saying their goodbyes all around him and getting on the train already. He looked up at the clock and resisted the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet.

5. Mr. March

Lily stared at her office calendar again, wondering once more if she should probably take it down. It wasn’t exactly PC and, even though she had checked that nobody was offended by it, she didn’t know if it was exactly acceptable to have a calendar of shirtless male firemen in a workplace anymore.

6. Where do we go from here?

Ginny was no longer sure how many days had passed since the end of the battle. Her grief for lost friends, for Fred, kept a hold of her and stopped her from thinking about the passing of time beyond sleeping, waking and eating. She was desperately trying to hold herself together drawing strength from her mother’s example.

7. Breathless

When Jamie ran in from the cold outside — her face shining brightly from the joy of running with her friends — she spotted Lily straight away. There weren’t many redheads in Gryffindor and none with quite the same shade of hair as her. It always drew Jamie’s attention, like a flickering candle seen out of the corner of your eye.

8. The fabulous baker brothers

Lily Evans had no problem walking around London. Her flatmates would always tell her to be careful, take the train, the bus, or even an Uber. Like she could afford to take an Uber every day for goodness sake.

9. Promises

Remus walked into the hotel function room feeling completely unprepared for the scene in front of him. For countless times that evening he considered just turning around and going home. It was already quite late, the invitation had said three hours earlier so most people were already well on their way to plastered and making fools of themselves. He grabbed a couple of shots as a server carrying a silver tray made their way past him. He knocked them back one after the other, not caring what they were.

10. Heart shaped box

For Lily Evans, Monday’s were like preparing for combat. Her perfectly applied makeup was her war paint, her carefully selected clothes a suit of armour. Her lesson planner, battle strategies. Her pens, her chosen weapons.

But it wasn’t her students who had her wound up tighter than a clockwork toy, it was her infuriating colleague, her rival, her nemesis.

11. After dark

Lily threw her pen down on the table in frustration.

“This guy is completely innocent. How on Earth can we not find a way to prove it? He’s going to crumble on the stand.”

“He won’t,” James stated convincingly, “because I’ll coach him on every possible scenario.”

12. House hunting

I love it, let’s get it!”

Lily tried her best not to roll her eyes at James’ enthusiastic shout as they parked up outside another house. They had already looked at four that day. Another one of many days looking at disappointing options, and she was beginning to wonder if they would ever find something in their budget that met all her specific requirements that were not at all unreasonable, because if you were going to buy a house it had to be the right house.

13. Midnight marauders

“Gryffindor!”

The word seemed to hang in the air for a prolonged amount of time, such was the complete silence that followed. Sirius didn’t dare look at the Slytherins, or to his new housemates. He was frozen. Stunned. That tiny glimmer of hope he had created and grown on the train ride here had been found by the sorting hat, and pronounced to the school.

14. The devil wears elf shoes (colab with alrightginger)

Once upon a time, James Potter had loved Christmas. As a child, he adored the sparkling lights on the Christmas trees, the smell of cinnamon and spice from the kitchen, the anticipation before the big day. The way perfect strangers would be nice to one another. He couldn’t wait to sit at the enormous dinner table with just his family, eating way too much food. He even loved the way his mum would get squiffy on sherry and start singing along to the Les Mis soundtrack. He loved the laughter. But not anymore.

15. In sickness and in Sparta (colab with alrightginger)

James and Sirius had a reputation. A notorious reputation for throwing the best parties. The type of parties that those lucky enough to attend would talk about for weeks, even months later. Assuming they could remember, of course. Sirius and James would entertain and delight with a mixture of funny stories and games they had invented that everyone had to join in on.

16. Dancing in the dark

Remus was waiting at the international arrivals gate at JFK airport when he felt his phone buzz, he already knew who it would be before he even looked at the screen.

17. Charlie's big secret

The Burrow was its usual bustling hub of Weasley activity as it was every first Sunday of the month. Of course it was not going to be all that long until they were celebrating again for her birthday on the 11th. Harry was outside with the children, supervising a game made up by them (mainly Teddy) that involved kicking a ball as far as they could and then asking Harry to summon it back.

18. Reunion

The Marauder’s bar, Soho, had once upon a time been a grotty dive bar, named one of those all too common pub names, like the Red Lion , or the Prince of Wales , or the King’s Arms.

Whatever it was once named. However bad the smell had been, with the horrendous sticky carpet, and painted wallpaper walls, all of that had been ripped out, replaced by polished wooden floorboards, and clean whitewashed walls.

19. High school hopes

Being the Queen Bee of the school seemed to be every girls dream. The Queen Bee had her pick of the hottest guys, went to all the coolest parties, and sat at every break surrounded by her admirers, or at least that’s what it looked like to any outsider.

The reality was somewhat different when you were inside that special circle. Brigitte was still the queen, but she was also an insecure mess who required constant praise and admiration, or she would likely find a way to make your day, or even year, into a living hell.

20. Summer heat

Lily is thankful when the evening finally hits their little cottage, and the searing sun slowly sinks behind the trees that border their quaint little garden. The sun may be gone but it leaves its heat behind, like the lingering smell of perfume on clothes. Like a thick blanket that covers everything, refusing to lift in the stagnant air.

#i was tagged #opening lines #fun things

14 notes · View notes

the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years ago

Text

A Bad Option for Close Quarters

PART OF THE VIPER & THE WILD THING COLLECTION

A/N: Hey there, Prince Oberyn party people! Before we get started in this one, I want to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone for all the encouragement and kind things that you had to say after I posted the first part of this collection. I was and still am nervous to take on Oberyn, so reading the comments that you left really made me feel less nervous. You are Great!!

A/N 2: And now I have to talk about serious stuff- this part does have some sensitive material in it that may be difficult for some to read. I don’t normally put big red warning stickers on my work, but this one feels like it warrants it. Please as always read the content warnings and if you are still unsure, know that you can always send me a message to ask specifics.

Warning: language, violence, blood, injury, abuse (physical & sexual in nature) death, NO LIKE ALL THE WARNINGS APPLY. general brothel un-pleasantry.

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: Oberyn has made it clear that you are his favorite way to pass the time while he is in King’s Landing, and you are perfectly happy with that. But not everyone is.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time.”

You heard him before you saw him, lined up a few heads behind the front of the procession of prostitutes spilling into the brothel’s main chamber, but there was no mistaking his rough voice or the lowborn accent he tried so hard to hide when he spoke in the presence of others. Shit. You had known him long enough to pick him out from a legion of men by sound alone. Or smell.

It was Gannon Yast, a foot soldier in the Lannister army who had saved up his coins for years to purchase his surname from a forger on the black market. Like you, he had been born on the streets of King’s Landing, and like you, he was just another drop in the bay, another bastard bearing the name Waters. But unlike you who knew what you were, Gannon had always been subject to outlandish fantasies and truly believed the lies he told about himself and his upbringing. He had been spinning them in his own mind for so long that by now there was surely an elaborate tapestry depicting the lineage of a House that had never existed.

House Yast. The very thought made you roll your eyes. His sigil could be the pot he bought himself to piss in on a shit brown background.

The penalty for falsifying documents such as the ones that Gannon had illicitly procured ranged from execution to public flogging and time in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep. To him, imprisonment in a cell was no worse than suffering the flea bitten life his birth name chained him to. Since he wasn’t so bold as to impersonate a nobleman, he knew that he wouldn’t lose his head, and to him it was worth the gamble.

You didn’t share his viewpoint. You had heard stories, rumors, about female prisoners and the things that had been done to them at the hands of the Gold Cloaks, and while you had no idea how true they were you were not at all interested in finding out. If you were going to get fucked by Lannister guards and soldiers, you may as well be paid for it. Forged proclamation of respectable provenance wasn’t the only way out of King’s Landing, and you’d also been saving your spare coins, few and far between as they may be, for passage across the Narrow Sea and out of Westeros. Even if it would take you a lifetime to save, you would rather hoard what you could over decades than spend even one night in those dank caverns.

Unless Oberyn actually… You had done your best not to dwell on the offer he had made you to leave the city with him, to live free in the Kingdom of Dorne. He hadn’t mentioned it again though you had been with him several times since. Six. Six times in eleven days. It wasn’t as though you were the only one of Litlefinger’s whores that the Prince and his paramour came to see. The only one he chose every time though. The only one he spent an entire night with. You shook your head and followed Dria, one of the other girls who had been there nearly as long as you had, into the chamber where Gannon and two others were waiting. Even if he truly meant to make good on his offer, his departure from King’s Landing was still weeks away. Anything could happen in that much time. He could make promises to half the whores here about-

The thin curtain separating the hallway from the main reception chamber was still billowing near your ankles when you felt Gannon’s meaty hand close securely around your wrist. He yanked you straight out of line, much to the dismay of the other men in the room, the girls in front of and behind you scrambling out of the way so as not to get tripped up by your sudden departure from the lineup. Biting the inside of your cheek to hide the grimace on your face at the twisting and pinching of your skin beneath his rough fingers, you stumbled into his hold. Shit. From the corner of your eye you saw Dria sneering at you as she draped herself over the shoulder of one of the other infantry men, and you knew it was because she was bitter about how much time you’d been spending with Oberyn and Ellaria while she and the others were left to serve the lesser customers like Gannon and his acquaintances. Jealous witch.

You didn’t have the chance to sling a glare back at her, Gannon spinning you around to catch your chin in his free hand, the other releasing your wrist to grab at your ass. Squeezing both to the point of pain, you let out a small muffled sound as he brought your face close to his own.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t that fuck-drunk prince’s prized little cunt.” His breath reeked of stale ale and whatever the slop stalls were serving up in their brown bowls that week, his clothes and hair soaked in the bodily stench of a soldier who had been away for long months. He drew his lips into a vicious grin, continuing to grope your flesh through the gauzy sash that barely covered you. The stark contrast between his touch and Oberyn’s made your skin crawl and your stomach turn. You knew that the next time you saw the Prince you’d likely be riddled in bruises and marks left behind by Gannon’s greedy grip and forceful fingers. What will he think of that?

Your mind provided a quick answer, the way he had looked at you when you told him how you ended up working as a whore in King’s Landing flashing in your memory, his eyes filling with pain, anger and dark fire. He won’t like it. At all.

Dria’s shrill laughter met your ear as the man she’d been pawing at picked her up and brought her into one of the private pleasure chambers, the door slamming behind them. The third man in the room seemed happy enough where he was, two of the remaining girls already stripping each other of their sashes and teasing him with the perfumed fabric. Those unselected by the men were already shuffling back down the hall, waiting to be called when the next batch of customers arrived. You longed to join them even if it meant forgoing pay for the afternoon, but wishful thinking wouldn’t get you out of this.

Nothing could.

You’d been anticipating this encounter since you caught word that the Lannisters were bolstering security around the city leading up to the Royal Wedding. You knew that meant low ranking soldiers like Gannon would be flooding the inns and brothels. The fact that Oberyn had been monopolizing you, keeping you from giving Gannon the homecoming he clearly thought he was entitled to only exacerbated the man’s jealous anger, his lack of patience, his belief that he was owed things from you and your body.

The man who was currently claiming as much of you as his fingers and thumbs could fit between them broke through your thoughts, continuing to snarl his displeasure over your recent unavailability. “You had me settle for scraps while you fucked that southern shit,” he snarled, spit flying from his lips to land on your cheek. “Every time I came looking for this,” the hand that had been squeezing your ass slipped between your legs as though you of all people needed him to explain why he was in a brothel. You winced, every last fiber of your being trying to recoil from him and finding nowhere to go. “Every fucking time, you were in that room bouncing on that peacock’s prick.” He turned you roughly towards the room that you had utilized several times with Oberyn on his visits and shoved you towards it. “I could hear you in there. You made me fuck scraps while I listened to that and-”

“I didn’t make you fuck anything, Gannon.” Knowing that you were only making him angrier in your struggle didn’t stop you, and even though he was twice your strength you did what you could to resist the way that he was steering you into the private chamber. “It isn’t my fault that you have to buy time in bed with a woman because no one who wasn’t forced to fuck you ever would.” You bit your words at him only because his flesh was too far from your teeth. “It isn’t my fault that-”

He timed his backhand with the slamming of the door that he had just pushed you through, releasing his grip and driving the knuckles of his right hand across your face so that you fell hard to the stone floor. Your knees and palms made blunt contact and you knew that as soon as the white hot ache tearing through your skull subsided, pain would erupt over those areas too. Fuck. Letting out a small groan, you tried to crawl away if only just to turn back towards him to see the next blow coming, one scuffed and scraped palm coming up to your already swelling cheek. You could feel warm blood pooling in the shallow cut there, saw a drop fall to the floor as you inched yourself closer to the wall, and though you knew it was likely that he would hit you again, while your body throbbed with the raw, abusive way he was handling you, you didn’t regret saying what you did.

Gannon Waters was a pile of shit in the gutter, and no forger could change that no matter how fancy the calligraphy on the falsified lineage documents looked. He was foul and filthy and that had nothing to do with which surname he paid for. He was a rotten being and it had nothing to do with where he was born or how many golden coins he could rub together, and suddenly you couldn’t bear to keep those opinions from leaping from your tongue. Not when you’d seen and known better men well before you ever even met Oberyn. The men you served were not always like Gannon, seeking only to assert dominance and demean the unlucky prostitute who didn't feel quite as unlucky until he put his hands on them. Not all of them were despicable and suddenly you had reached a threshold for what you were willing to accept without at least letting loose your venomous feelings, consequences be damned.

Before you could get too far though, you felt his tight grip wrap around your ankle to yank you back towards him, your knees both hitting the floor again as he did. You let out another involuntary cry, trying in vain to kick free of his grasp, aiming for his chin if at all possible. He thwarted your attempts with another hard pull, dragging you closer so that he could hold himself above you, trapping you between his limbs with one hand pressed firmly over your mouth. “You’re going to regret the day you turned me down, you little cunt.” He seethed as he tore at the sash that somehow still covered your lower half as he dropped his heavy weight on you, the hilt of the sword he still wore and the buckle of his belt scraping at your skin to leave indents. “You could have been my wife, could have had a name, but you wanted to be whore, and I am going to make you regret that choice no matter how many times you fuck that Dornish dog. I’m going to make you regret that until the day that you die, do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

It was Oberyn’s voice that you heard next, and at first you thought it was just a trick that your mind was playing on you, dizzy from the strike and the fall, wishful thoughts sweeping in to carry you away from consciousness. What? How is..?

The dangerous vibration in Gannon’s voice, the unhinged way that his eyes were twitching, the crushing grip he had on you, all of it made your world shrink to just those things, just what you could see and feel and hear. Which meant that you hadn’t noticed the door bursting open, hadn’t heard the shouts or the hurried footsteps of two figures as they rushed inside, hadn’t fully registered what was happening as Gannon was hoisted off of you and slammed into the hardwood table that stood in the center of the room. Someone was pulling you to your feet, wrapping a pair of warm arms around you, murmuring your name and pleading with you to look at them.

Shaking in shock, you managed to turn your head and focus your eyes, blinking them furiously to force the room to stop spinning. Ellaria? As soon as you recognized the woman you let yourself collapse into her, feeling as she let out a sigh and strengthened her hold on you to keep you on your feet. “You’re alright now.” She spoke softly in your ear as she led you closer to the small table beside the bed where a wash bin and cloth had been set out. “Come here.” Without letting go of you, she reached for the white cloth and dipped it in the cool water before bringing it up to your cheek, the soothing relief of the soft fabric instant as she gently pressed it there. She continued to hush and soothe you, letting you lean into her, and more quickly than you would have thought possible you felt your breathing return to normal, the adrenaline still pounding behind your eyeballs, but allowing you to make sense of what was happening at least.

Oberyn and Ellaria… they must have come in just after… and then they-

“I heard you,” Oberyn growled at the man again as he used his agility to duck Gannon’s reactionary swing, slamming him into the table’s surface once more. Using the momentary disorientation, Oberyn disarmed the man before Gannon could fully unsheath his long sword, simultaneously forcing the man into a seated position in one of the chairs that hadn’t gotten knocked to the ground in the fray. “Now tell me why I should let you live.” He moved one hand to the back of Gannon’s neck and pressed hard until the man began to choke out, gasping and gesturing to the Lannister crest emblazoned on the leather chestpiece he wore, and Oberyn released his grip enough to lean back and glance down at the embroidered lions, a look of mock appraisal pulling his handsome features into a cruel mask. “A soldier? Is that what you are trying to say? That I should let you live because you are a soldier?” He scoffed, shaking his head as he tossed the sword aside. “No, no, no,” Oberyn chided, the skin over the knuckles of his left hand stretched tight over the other man’s neck as Gannon fought to free himself from the Red Viper’s hold. “You are not a soldier.”

The dented steel clattered noisily against the stone floor, skidding halfway across the room to where you and Ellaria stood, the woman stopping its momentum by placing the sole of her sandal atop the flat width of the blade. She still had one arm around your waist, the opposite hand still covering yours to help you keep the cool cloth pressed to your bloodied cheek. Eyes never leaving Oberyn, she turned only enough to whisper into your ear. “He’s going to make that swine pay for what he did to you,” she told you, leaving a comforting kiss on your uninjured cheek. “I promise.”

You didn’t doubt it. Ignoring the ache, your upper lip curled as you eyed the man who struck you. “Good.” From the corner of your eye you saw Ellaria’s mouth lift into a grin at your response while Oberyn shifted his grip from behind Gannon’s head to one of his wrists, forcing his fingers to splay open atop the carved wood.

“You are not a soldier,” the Prince went on, “I am sure of this because a soldier would know better than to draw his longsword in such close quarters. No, I don’t think Lannisters have soldiers. That word implies training. Dedication. Skill.” Leaning closer, he paused to allow his voice to fill with disdain, then looked over to where Ellaria’s foot held the weapon in place. “You are just a sack of meat with a pointy sword that is too far away to save you now.” Gannon began a string of swears then, but Oberyn didn’t let him finish it, cutting him off with a question. “Do you know why King’s Landing is such an ugly place?” He used his free hand to grab the sniveling, shaking excuse for a soldier by the jaw.

You shivered, watching his fingers dig in with enough force to leave deep bruises if not crack the bones beneath them. How are those the same hands that he- With a rough twist he forced Gannon’s face in your direction, left hand still pining the other man’s wrist to the table. The man who only moments before had been holding you down even more harshly actually had the audacity to shoot you a pleading glance, the fear in his eyes begging you to call off the attack. Fuck you, Gannon. You narrowed your eyes at him and spat blood onto the blade Oberyn had stripped him of.

Dropping his level he lined himself up directly beside the coward. Releasing the man’s chin as roughly as he’d grabbed it, he turned in your direction. You saw a quick flash of pain in his eyes as he looked at you, and though it was gone before you were truly sure it was there, you felt it in your chest. Oh, Oberyn, it’s… I’m alright.

As though he could hear your thoughts, he blinked and the remnants of the flash were gone, replaced with renewed anger. He swiveled his head to face Gannon once more. “Because worthless fucking shits like you destroy all the beautiful things.” With lightning speed he reached for the short dagger hanging from his own belt to unsheath it and dragged it across the tabletop. Gannon’s chair shifted as he tried in a desperate panic to distance himself from the glinting edge of the razor sharp weapon, the rounded legs scraping the stone floor as Oberyn brought the crooked dagger to hover over the man’s pinky finger. “Do you know what we do to men like you in Dorne?” He rested the edge of the dagger between the top and middle knuckles of Gannon’s last two digits, a thin crimson line appearing beneath the blade before it had even had the chance to bite into the skin there.

“Oberyn, wait.” You called out his name, raising the hand you’d been clutching onto Ellaria’s forearm with to stop him from removing Gannon’s fingers. His forehead creased in confusion, the woman beside you drawing a breath to protest your seemingly merciful request. But you only waited long enough for a spark of relief to flicker in Gannon’s eyes, your own burning with hate- for Gannon and men like him- and that flicker fizzled to nothing as he realized that you had no plans to grant him mercy. “It was the other hand that he struck me with.”

Flashing a grin as quick as the blade he held, Oberyn switched Gannon’s hands so that it was his dominant one to take the punishment, and in a testament of just how sharp the Red Viper of Dorne kept his knives, removed the top portion of the man’s four fingers with almost no pressure needed, the detached parts rolling over the table, no longer a piece of the man’s body, now just bits of waste. Gannon let out a nearly inhuman howl of pain as he keeled over onto the floor in a bloody heap, clutching the gushing stumps above his knuckles that used to be fingers. Though you had never had a digit cut off and couldn’t begin to guess at how it would feel, the sounds coming from the man were twisted, inverted almost, turning into a shriek, his face contorted as though he was being consumed in flames you couldn’t see. Finally, writhing his way to his feet, Gannon scrambled from the room, his screams still audible even as he fled the brothel.

You hadn’t even realized that you’d stepped away from Ellaria, not until you were reaching for the handle of the dagger that Oberyn had released once he’d finished carrying out the sentence he had passed on Gannon. But before you could close your fingers around the hilt, you felt and then saw Oberyn’s hands coming from behind you to cover yours, stopping you. Pressing your hands into your own stomach, he pulled you back gently but urgently into his chest, his lips immediately finding a home behind your ear where he kissed your name. “You’re safe.” His breath hit your skin in a wave as he slowly turned you in his arms to look you over. Satisfied that you hadn’t been more seriously injured than you were, he relaxed but only slightly.

Sticking one hand out wordlessly behind himself, he waited for Ellaria to pass him the cloth she had been using to clean your cheek, his eyes glued to your face as he brought the cloth there, dabbing so feather light that you hardly felt a thing. You did feel the weight in his eyes as he looked at you though, and you could tell that what he and his paramour had walked in on had shaken him. Just as your lips parted, intending to whisper his name, his eyebrows came together, a crease forming between them to turn his expression even more grave and it silenced you. Cradling your face between his large palms, he kept you framed between his bent forearms as he spoke. “You must never touch one of my blades unless I place it in your hand, do you understand?”

Sucking in a breath, your eyes widened as they flicked back to the blade where it still sat atop the table. You had heard the rumors about the poisons that the Dornish Prince coated his weapons with, and as the sunlight filtered through the window, you saw it shining a dark sickly green color and everything fell into place. That was why he was in so much pain, that’s… he- You looked back at Oberyn then, your chest heaving as you wrapped your head around everything. “You… poisoned him?”

“He deserved worse.” You watched his nostrils flare, something fiery roaring to life in his eyes. “For what he did to you, he deserves-”

“Will he die?” You asked without flinching, without your voice wavering, giving him no reason to believe that you were off put by how he had handled Gannon.

His upper lip curled slightly as he answered, his voice dropping lower. “Not right away.” You inhaled a breath through your nose. He will, then. You caught what he wasn’t saying, that the poison he had used was not only responsible for the increased pain sensitivity, but that it would also masquerade as infection soon enough, sickening the man well beyond the point of saving before he’d even shown signs of illness.

“Good.” You narrowed your eyes to add emphasis, wanting him to know that you were entirely supportive of the fate he’d subjected Gannon to. He did it to himself.

Oberyn tilted his head to one side as Ellaria stepped around to take the cloth back from him, the pair of them existing in such harmony with each other that they didn’t even need to communicate verbally. She laid her hand on his arm, moving closer to press her lips to his bicep, kissing him through his robe. Though she didn’t even make contact with his skin, the action was so intimate that their connection was almost tangible. They’re so… Despite the pain you were still in and the shock that still coursed through your veins, the pure beauty in the way that they loved one another wasn’t lost on you. Most people would never have even a fraction of what they gave each other, what they allowed one another to have, what they encouraged each other to experience. You knew that no matter how long you would be involved in their lives, even if you did end up going back to Dorne with them, there was nothing that you or anyone could do to come between Oberyn and Ellaria. It was gorgeous, the way that they respected and supported each other, and you knew that most people wouldn’t understand it, but that didn’t matter to you, or to them.

Ellaria leaned over to tuck a piece of your hair out of your eyes, sweeping her fingertips over your swollen cheek. “This will fade, I promise.” She gave you a smile then that was softer than you had a feeling she liked to appear to anyone but Oberyn, then leaned in to speak into your ear. “Let him take care of you. He… he needs to know you’re alright.” Dropping a soft peck to your eyebrow, she pulled back and gave you a minute nod, and then she was heading for the door without another glance or word.

Once it had clicked shut, Oberyn took both of your hands in his and led you slowly backwards to the bed, pausing when he felt his calves hit it to shift his grip to your waist. As he sat on the edge, he pulled you into his lap, and you let him fold you close to his body. But instead of staying there, he slid his arms beneath your legs and around your torso, moving both of you backwards towards the pillows until he had enough space to lay you down. Completely bare, the sash you’d been wearing torn in bloodied pieces on the floor, he let his eyes roam every bit of you, taking stock of the bruises and scrapes, the scratches and red marks that you’d received before he and Ellaria had come to your aid. Then, without warning, his eyes were on yours, and they were spilling over with need, but it wasn’t the same kind of need that you’d seen there before.

He needs to know you’re alright.

You heard the other woman’s words echo in your mind, and you knew that this was what she meant. Licking at your lips, you reached for his jaw, fingers grazing the deceptively soft hair that covered it, and you felt him lean into your touch, eyes closed for several beats. “I’m alright, Oberyn,” you kept your voice as even as you could, knowing that it would help convince him that while you were hurt, it could have been far worse. “I’m alright, because you and-”

“I am sorry that I could not stop him sooner.” He hadn’t waited for you to finish speaking, nor had he opened his eyes, and the way that the muscles in his throat contracted as he swallowed told you that there was more to what he was feeling than you knew.

“I...Its-” His eyes opened as you swept your thumb over his cheek. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Yes- I do.” He shook his head slightly and took your hand in both of his. Bringing it to his lips, he fit the knuckle of your middle finger between his lips, dragging it along the seam of them before kissing the very end of it. “I have my reasons,” he said, “for why I… why seeing this happening was-” he swore under his breath and swallowed again. “Something…monstrous happened to...to my sister.” You felt your heart break at the sadness in his usually vivacious tone, and you wanted to say something to comfort him, but you fought the urge, remembering what Ellaria had said. “I do not wish to talk about that with you tonight, not while you are…” He brought one hand to your abdomen, fingers finding a divot left there by the press of Gannon’s metallic sword hilt against your skin. “Not while you are in need of my care.” He carefully lowered himself to lay beside you, letting his touch travel over your body to caress each bruise, and then his lips were raking over the cut on your cheek, impossibly close but so gentle that even though the skin was raw and angry, it didn’t hurt at all. “I will tell you about her one day. I… I want you to know me, understand me. And you cannot do that without learning about her.” You wanted to know whatever he would tell you, even if hearing it would shatter your heart all over again. “But not tonight. Tonight…” he looked into your eyes then, that need still there. “Tonight, let me take care of you, my wild thing.” Though it wasn’t sexual, the burn in his desire to tend to you purely to help heal your wounds, you couldn’t help the way that your stomach flipped and your heart lurched, because that somehow made it mean even more. “I will not rest, he went on as you hummed at the sensation of the backs of his fingers trailing over the purplish marks on your arm, “until I have made my penance to every part of you that he touched.”

You fell asleep that night to his fingers in your hair, his lips resting against the crown of your head as you lay against his chest, not a single mark left untended by the Prince.

THANK YOU FOR READING! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list please feel free to let me know. And like I said up top: if you have any requests or ideas that you would like to see for these two, send an ask and I will see what I can do!

tags: @something-tofightfor @gollyderek @pheedraws @valkblue @alraedesigns @beefcakebarnes @persie33ik @fific7 @g0ldenlush @insiespeckagain @thisgirl-knm @writeforfandoms @paracosmenthusiast

#oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #oberyn martell x you #pedrostories #game of thrones fanfic #got fanfic #the red viper of dorne #oberyn martell #the viper and the wild thing #pedro pascal characters #TV&TWT #please read warnings

134 notes · View notes

fanficsrusz · 4 years ago

Text

POWER - Henry Cavill Smut

Warnings: Smut.

Pairing: Y/n x Henry cavill

Summary: Y/n's plan to seduce Henry backfires but in a wondrous way.

Word Cound: 7.7k

A/N: Its been a while since I've posted anything and I feel a little nervous 😅. However I've missed the thrill of creating a world all of my own. I also apologise for any spelling/grammatical mistakes. I havent edited anything for a long time so yeahhh.

Please comment/reblog if you enjoyed ❤️

"You're drunk"

The accusation, issued through Henry's teeth, was an angered hiss and Henry's reaction was everything that Y/n could have wished for… And more.

Y/n forced a little hiccup, feeling it bubble its way through her body before it made its escape out of her mouth, and almost laughed at the thin set of lips across from her that stayed in a straight line.

He looked positively prim - just like he always did.

"No-" she defended, "-I'm happy". The correction came with a sly smile, her upper body leaning towards him across the bar, her inner amusement increasing as she watched his body stiffen in annoyance.

Henry was keeping a distance between their bodies, as if he thought her intoxication may be infectious.

The hold he quickly took to her waist was more of a brace rather than an intention as she swayed forward and then backwards.

"Don't you want me to be happy, Henry?"

Y/n pouted, tilting her head back and looking at him with what she hoped would be a sultry invitation. She laughed, a bold, wicked sound that drew a few glances from others in the bar. Henry stared stiffly over her head, swallowing the lump in his throat that had seemed to form as he grew more irritated with the woman's involuntary outbursts.

"For God's sake, Y/n, control yourself", he whispered tightly.

Was he embarrassed by her lack of inhibition? No. It was quite the opposite. He felt… lost. As if he had no idea how to act in the situation he had found himself in.

It was normal for him, the playboy, to taunt her with his fancy words, to distract her with his sinfully dark looks and honeyed phrases, but turn the tables and he wasn't quite so poised himself and Y/n felt a delicious thrill of power at the knowledge that she had him off balance.

She deliberately let herself go limp in his arms, and, when his grip relaxed in relief at the stability her body found, she quickly slipped under his guard, pressing the entirety of her body sinfully against him.

Her tactics immediately threatened to backfire as Henry's coldly rigid body seemed to be generating an incredible amount of heat and that in itself was enough for her to lose focus of her goal.

She rested her check against his chest and willed away her trembling response even as she measured his annoyance by the wildly uneven thump of his heart.

"You'll regret this tomorrow," he told her sternly, his hands tightening painfully on her waist.

"'Why in hell did you drink all that champagne? Do you want to make a total fool of yourself, jeopardise a deal with Dere-?"

"Rubbish. Derek thought I was as graceful as ever; he told me so," y/n said airily, thinking that it was too late to regret drinking at a business meeting with her boss and other potential clients.

Y/n moved steadily in his arms to prove it, brushing her breasts against his chest, hoping that the crushed velvet of her dress would hide the multitude of her sins that had seemed to accumulate quickly throughout the night and not to mention the past year that she had worked beside Henry, every single dirty thought she ever had about him portraying itself as nothing more than a red stain upon her cheeks and chest.

She had never been sinful before, always a dutiful daughter, just as she had later been a faithful business partner to Henry but there was only so much a woman could take before she had to take drastic measures. Now she was neither a daughter nor a business partner. She was Y/n Y/l/n. Herself. A woman before anything else and more specifically a woman with needs.

"You're the only one who thought I was wrong for declining the partnership" , she drawled mockingly, too caught up in her reckless self-absorption to monitor his surfacing awareness. "Chill out, Henry. If you can't fix it with a snap of your fingers, you might as well lie back and enjoy the open bar…"

The thud of his heart had settled down to a swift, arrhythmic beat that set up a sympathetic vibration throughout her body from her scalp to the soles of her restless feet.

There was a small pause as he manoeuvred her pliant body away from another couple that wanted to get to the bar. Then he tilted his head to look down at her.

"Chill out?" Amusement leaked through his iron control as he suppressed the grin he held in tight. " wow- I never thought I'd hear street-slang from that elegant, business-lady mouth of yours…".

For a second Y/n gulped, thinking she had lost all control of the situation that she had perfectly built up all evening but then Y/n moved dreamily against him, fully immersed in her ideal scenario.

She linked her arms round his back and arched her neck slightly so that she could see his expression.

"But I'm not a lady tonight, Henry, I'm a woman," she said huskily.

"Should I lie back and enjoy that too?" he enquired cynically.

That conjured up indecent images that for a moment left Y/n shocked, breathless even and if it wasn't for the distant sound of a glass breaking somewhere in the bar then she would have stayed in her trance like manner.

Her lips parted as she tried to say something sophisticated in response but she couldn't think of a thing and for a moment she feared that she had lost the edge. Y/n bit her lower lip and suddenly he had control over her again, his voice rough with threat, as he gave her a small shake.

"Behave yourself, Y/n. Stop being so fucking provocative. You should go home"

"I'm not ready to go home yet" she mewled, eyes darting over to the dance floor that served as a pick up ground.

Henry sighed, his eyes following her gaze

"One dance, that's all you get. Then I'm getting you out of here before you start leaping onto table-tops and doing the can-can!"

"What a killjoy you're turning out to be, Henry" with fresh fury, she suddenly spun out of his arms and danced freely for a few moments before cutting mischievously in on another couple. Soon Henry was glaring murderously over the shoulder of a blonde woman while Y/n languished in the sweaty grasp of a nervous young man who was very aware of the hovering blue-eyed menace.

When Henry cut back in a short time later, Y/n was relinquished with ill concealed relief.

"You're playing with fire, Y/n" , Henry warned, his firm hand taking hold of her again. This time he held her so captively close that she could feel the lines of his suit being imprinted on her velvet dress.

She had the feeling that if he had been able to shackle both her wrists behind her back without attracting attention he would. He wanted to cage her, tame her, but tonight, surrounded by the security of a crowd, she was determined to be untamable, just to see how far she could push him.

"Mmmm, I know, and I feel so gloriously toasty and warm," she murmured wickedly, waggling her eyebrows at a passing male.

Henry swore under his breath and pulled her flirtatious eyes away from any male that passed by capturing her gaze before she could perform some similar impropriety. He quickly brought his own hand to his mouth to mask his aggression in the pretence of courtesy. She had been right about the shackling.

"You're drunk", he repeated raggedly, more as if he was telling himself than her. She rather liked the hint of desperation that seeped into every word he spoke. It was almost as satisfying as having him grovel at her feet.

Y/n laughed, a sensuous 'cat-with-the-cream' look of satisfaction on her face as she widened her eyes and purred, "But not incapable, darling…".

She tamed a deliberate misstep as she spoke so that her leg slid caressingly between his thighs as they turned.

Henry almost stumbled as she lifted her knee, briefly applying the pivoting pressure of her thigh firmly to the juncture of his. Her provocation had an immediate effect and she drew back instantly, finally aware that her teasing had gone too far. But it was too late. Henry had reached the end of his tether.

"Fine -" he seethed, "-we'll do this the hard way then"

Five minutes later Y/n was belted roughly into the passenger-seat of her own car.

" I'm perfectly fit to drive, Henry" she raged at the man who slid angrily behind the steering wheel before inserting her keys into the ignition.

"I'm as sober as you are!"

" For your sake, I hope that's a lie, Y/n".

His voice was nothing but a growl and y/n felt the shiver that started in her groin slowly rise up through her spine.

"But if it is true then maybe you've done me a favour. If you were teasing me deliberately I don't have to feel guilty for what I'm about to do." his eyes stayed focused on whatever he was staring at, his fists curling tightly around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned pale.

"Do?" Y/n asked faintly as the car sprang into motion with far more power than she ever managed to coax from under the unimpressive bonnet.

"Did you think I would calmly walk away like an obedient lap-dog when you got tired of your little game ?"

"I...I... didn't think-" she began to splutter.

"No? Just instinct, was it? Trap the beast, then rattle his cage until he howls? Wasn't that your goal?"

"Henry!"

He hadn't looked at her since they had got in the car, driving with a narrow-eyed concentration, but now he slipped a grim sideways glance at her shocked expression and what he saw there seemed to ease his ferocious tension but the wolfish twitch of his mouth wasn't reassuring

"You did, didn't you? You really thought I'd let you get away with it. You didn't think I'd have the guts to drag you kicking and screaming out of there"

Y/n swallowed the dry lump in her throat. She had definitely underestimated her victim and definitely forgot to plan this far ahead.

"'I wasn't kicking and screaming," she protested weakly, avoiding the obvious answers he wanted.

"Not on the outside maybe. But your innocent act never did cut any ice with me" Henry's eyes glanced over at Y/n

Y/n clenched her fists tightly, until her nails dug into the palm of her hand, but she barely noticed. The only thing she was really aware of, was the sound of her heart throbbing against the cage of her chest.

It wasn't until she looked up into the rear view mirror, that she noticed she had been biting her lip so much so that they were almost as red as the lipstick that had wiped off hours ago.

"Scared, Y/n?" Henry jeered softly as she swallowed again, this time audibly. "You should be." he said lowly

"What about your own car?" she began weakly, hoping that practicalities might prevail where argument hadn't.

"I'll pick it up tomorrow." Y/n went quiet. This fantasy was easier to plot when she didn't have to concentrate on parrying his verbal thrusts and she tried to calm her nervous actions with whatever had made her think that she could best him at his own game.

She wished she were drunk but all she could do was hope that the drive would cool down that scorched male pride. All she could do momentarily was create another plan.

When they would finally get back to her apartment building she would placate him, contrive to convince him that it had all been a silly mistake. For all his threatening manner, she knew instinctively that he wouldn't use violence to enforce his threats. He didn't have to... all he had to do to seduce her was to take her in his arms and then she would be at his mercy. But once she had bolted her door on him she would be safe from her own wicked urges.

He could rage and huff and puff all he liked but he wouldn't be able to get in. The irony was rather quaint. All the security locks that he had insisted she have installed on her doors and windows when he first found out she lived alone in a not so friendly neighbourhood would ensure that her virtue remained unassailable - well for tonight at least.

Y/n had almost convinced herself that she had already outwitted him when she noticed the unfamiliarity of their route.

"This isn't the way to my home!"

He ignored her. The moving light thrown by the passing street-lights illuminated his shadowed expression. It was a hard mask of satisfaction.

"Dammit, Henry, where are you taking me?"

"I told you. Home."

"This isn't where I live."

"I never said I would take you to your home. I simply said 'home'. It's not my fault that you assumed I meant your home."

Henry turned into a steep, dark, curving driveway that seemed to drop away directly into the deep black glitter of a Lake that Y/n didn't even know existed in the area.

Y/n's heart was in her mouth as the car swooped towards the water, but when they reached the lower curve into darkness, security lights suddenly flickered on and she saw the brick paved courtyard clearly for an instant before the car was swallowed by the lower level of the house.

The garage door closed automatically after them, and for a moment after Henry cut the engine, the only sound in the softly lit enclosed space was the faint ringing echo of the metal door. Y/n was irresistibly reminded of the metallic springing of a trap. One that she had baited herself into.

"Welcome home, Y/n." Henry leaned towards her and she flinched, but he was merely flicking open her seatbelt.

She couldn't see him smile but she could hear the amusement in his voice as he continued, "No, not here in the car. I'm not so crude as to take up your generous invitation without due ceremony and at least a few comforts."

Henry leaned even further, reaching across her to push open her door, this time dragging his arm deliberately against her rapidly rising breasts as he withdrew.

"Get out. I'd prefer to go inside" he purred dangerously, pointedly placing her car keys out of reach in the inside pocket of his jacket.

" but If you can't restrain your wild passion and don't mind a little discomfort I'm quite ready and willing to make love to you against the dashboard"

Y/n was up and out of the car with as much alacrity as her fumbling apprehension would allow. His mocking laugh as he followed suit had her searching for the door, but he was there before her, opening it with a flourish and a small bow.

" After you. "

All the way up the narrow, spotlight staircase, Y/n was aware of the movement of her hips and legs, the breathless difficulty in her chest and, most of all, the steady, inexorable masculine tread that stalked her.

The room at the top of the stairs was shrouded in darkness, relieved by vague glimmering white shapes that made her gasp.

"Afraid of ghosts, too, Y/n? What a timid little thing you're turning out to be…". The murmured words smoked across the small area of vulnerable skin between her shoulder-blades, exposed by the discreet scoop of her gown, whispering across her sensitised nerves. There was a faint click and the room sprang into light.

The white shapes were sheets, draped over bulky objects.

Even the floor was covered by a dark green sheet, and the reason was obvious. The walls were stripped and primed, but had not yet had their first coat.

They were in the kitchen, Y/n guessed from the positioning of the shrouded fittings. Scattered about were cans of paint and rolls of wallpaper, brushes soaking in paint and the odd ladder or two. The only ghosts here were those of the tradesmen.

Yet, Y/n's heart continued to flutter with a deliciously disconcerting fear, an excited apprehension.

Without a word Henry took her by the elbow and ushered her impatiently through several more similarly dust-shrouded rooms with the unswerving instinct of a guided missile, not bothering to turn on any more lights.

The place seemed huge, and as silent and brooding as the explosively primed man beside her.

"You-you're redecorating!" Y/n grabbed at the chance to divert him from his relentless intention. Honestly it surprised her that she had known him for so long and yet had never seen his home, he didn't even talk of it much.

Henry didn't answer and she fell quiet.

He let her resistance slow him but he didn't let his grip ease. He had already been taken by surprise once too often that night.

"Have you been feeling hunted, Y/n?" Her answer was in her uneasy sidelong look. He smiled secretively. "Now you know how I felt this evening: like the helpless prey to your brazen huntress…" Y/n flushed, her whole body heating at his words. She had been brazen, utterly so, and she had enjoyed it far too obviously to try to deny it now.

Henry let her dwell on her folly for a moment before he murmured, "The answer to your question is…" his slow smile drew out the suspense for a wickedly long second "...perhaps."

His eyelids drooped, not quite hiding the predatory gleam that smouldered in the darkness. He was still very, very angry and he wanted her to know it.

"Certainly it turned out to be very convenient for you…"

His free hand came up under her other elbow and he stepped around to face her, forcing her backwards and into the realisation that while he had held her enmeshed with his equivocating words he had been slowly backing her to the wall.

"I'm no one's convenience," she spat, determined not to see the effect his calculated menace was having on her already chaotic nervous system.

"You have to admit you qualify in one or two forms of the dictionary meaning, Y/n," he drawled, driven to foment her the way that she had tormented him. "You're certainly suitable for my purposes and needs and you're close by... but no, I don't suppose you could be considered "easy to use"...

The fear that had inhibited her flared into an open temper at his overt mockery.

"If you think I'll let you-" "-Challenging me, y/n?" he interrupted softly, and watched her hesitate as she realised the certain consequences of goading him from her very vulnerable position.

"Actually," he continued almost kindly, "it's a little late for second thoughts. You've led me this far with your little game. Now it's time to pay the piper…" He dipped his head and to her tingling shock bit her gently on the side of her satiny throat. She reared back, but there was nowhere to go, no escape that didn't involve going through that broad-shouldered, lean-hipped wall of male arrogance!

"led you! You're the one who practically kidnapped me" She was appalled to hear the breathy lightness in her words when she had meant them to be firm.

"Mmm. Exciting, isn't it?" He bit the other side of her throat. "Just think how thoroughly helpless you are right at this minute. You're in a strange house, while I know every nook and cranny. All the exits are deadlocked. Even if you ran, where would you run to? I'm stronger than you are. bigger, harder, faster. You can't get away, no matter how hard you try. I can do anything I want with you. And there's nothing you can do about it, except…"

" Except what?" The mouth skimming her throat was having as violent an effect as his taunting words, arousing the deeply buried desires that she had tried to deny.

" accept what you caused" She felt the curve of his lips against her smooth skin, heard the amusement in the sensuous rumble.

He was laughing at her.

He wasn't content with merely seducing her. No, he wanted to humiliate her, too.

Sudden panic struck and with a fierce surge of strength she shoved at his solid chest. To both their surprise, he staggered back, far enough for her to dart away. With a roaring curse he gave chase.

Y/n's heart hammered as she scuttled from the safety of one covered piece of furniture to the next. She froze, listening for the direction of his pursuit, but Henry had also stilled. He was out there somewhere, crouched and aware, listening, just as she was, waiting to pounce. Her skin prickled hotly and she could feel the blood pulsing heavily through her veins. Y/n shivered with a strangely febrile excitement. She peered around what appeared to be a small table and saw a graduation of the blackness - A doorway!,

Taking a deep breath, she took to a low crouch and ran for it. As she did so she felt a rush of air as close as a blow and a throaty growl. He had only just missed her! She couldn't help letting out a little scream as she abandoned stealth and bolted, darting breathlessly to the darkened room.

Henry was never far behind and at first she was grateful that he didn't switch on the lights, the better to find her, but as his taunting laughter infiltrated the night she realised that he was revelling in the chase...and so was she!

Her inner certainty that Henry would never physically hurt her, even in genuine rage, gave an added piquancy to the situation.

She had challenged him in the most clemental way possible and he was responding in a way that was as different and exciting as he was.

The panic which had precipitated her flight became a delicious terror as the teasing game of hide-and-seek continued.

Sexual tension flourished in the shrouded silence like a living thing. He was no longer in a hurry to catch her, whispering silky-voiced threats into the night that curled her toes and dampened her palms, describing in sensual detail what was going to happen when he found her.

It didn't take Y/n very long to break. When Henry suddenly went quiet her imagination ran riot. She pressed herself even more tightly against the reassuring solidarity of what appeared to be a sideboard and quavered, "Henry?".

There was no answer and she tried hard to sound convincingly calm.

"Henry, this is ridiculous. Why don't you turn on the light and we'll talk about it sensibly?" Sensible was the last thing she felt but she couldn't stand the waiting no longer.

Y/n was just close enough to the edge of her self control to try shameless grovelling.

" All right, so I acted foolishly this evening. Now you've got your revenge and now we're even aren't we?"

Silence

"okay fine , yes, I admit it!" she cried. "I pretended to be drunk to tease you but…"

Silence,

"I did it because... because I didn't expect you to respond." And may God not strike her down for that awful lie!

"I wanted to annoy you, that's all. It was wrong of me. Childish. I'm sorry. I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine. You always seem to have this - control over me. I just wanted to get under your skin for once."

Silence

"Henry? Henry!' Her placatory tone slipped badly.

" Fuck!, stop it. Henry, this isn't funny anymore!"

A soft chuckle floated out of the darkness. Y/n was too disorientated to guess its direction and she whirled a full circle.

" I'm not playing your stupid game any more, Henry, so you may as well come out. I won't try and run away again. I promise."

Silence.

Y/n began to tremble, not from fear but from helpless desire. Dammit, why didn't he come out and finish what she had started already. There was a soft sound to her left, a tiny echoing click that acted like a trigger on her taut nerves, catapulting her automatically to the other wall of the room, where she backed hastily between two tented objects that provided her with a solid sense of security. A false sense, she discovered, when a hand suddenly whipped across her mouth from behind, smothering her scream.

"So much for your promises, Y/n," came the clipped murmur in her ear. "That was only my cuff-link. You ran straight into my arms."

The hand across her mouth tightened as she tried to protest, and an arm lashed around her waist, drawing her back against a hard, familiar body. He hadn't lied in his silken whispers. He was just as aroused as she was by their foolish game.

She stood there for a moment, her head against his shoulder, trembling and breathless. She tried to speak and tasted the sweat of his palm. Instead of dropping his hand he trailed it deliberately across her lips, his fingers curving into her parted mouth, stroking the inner surface of her mouth and fondling her tongue with an intimacy that was far more shocking than any explicit sexual caress.

Her heart thundered in her breast as he softly probed her moistness, scaling the breath from her lungs, as he whispered, "Do you like this, Y/n? Your mouth is like wet satin, wrapping around my fingers. Use your tongue, tell me if you like the taste of me…" The sheer intoxication of his husky plea made her moan and he quickly let his hand drop.

"Am I hurting you?"

She couldn't answer and his hand continued to fall, until it settled on the firm roundness of her left breast, his palm cupping her, feeling the pounding tumult within.

" You...frighten me," she managed to say, her taste buds tingling with each word, drowning in the full flavour of him.

"This isn't fright, Y/n…" His hand tightened and then released, to flatten and move against her in soft rotation, compressing the flesh in a way that made her tremble even more.

"This is excitement. You wanted to be caught, didn't you? You're as curious about me as I am about you, only you wouldn't let yourself admit it. Tell me now if this is not what you want, Y/n, because from here on in I can't guarantee my control…"

As he issued his rough command his hand moved to explore her other breast. The hand around her waist strayed, fingers splaying against her velvet belly, digging into her softness, reaching for the ache that was forming in the pit of her stomach. His mouth was moving against her shining cap of hair, seeking the sensitive hollows at the nape of her neck.

He was handing control to her because she made him feel wildly out of control. She had never driven a man so wild with desire that he didn't know what he was doing...

"Henry, God, -"

"don't say no, Y/n. Not now." He spun her tightly in his arms and she made a discovery that drenched her with sensuous delight.

"Your clothes…"

He had taken off his jacket and tie some time during his dark pursuit and unbuttoned his shirt so that it hung free from his broad shoulders. The hands that she had placed against his chest met with bare skin- hot, damp, satiny skin covered with thick, soft hair. His heart was almost leaping from his chest and he shuddered as she pressed her palm harder against him, marveling at the strength and power rippling beneath the skin.

"I got hot, chasing you," he said. "I still am. Wanting you makes me that way. Hot and so ready that I can hardly stand!"

He made a subtle movement with his hips and groaned as he brushed against the thick velvet folds of her dress. She felt a fresh moisture break out on his skin and in an instinctive gesture of acceptance leaned forward to nuzzle it from his chest, her mouth inadvertently brushing against one of his large, flat nipples in his nest of hair.

He made a choking sound in his throat, arching back to give her free access to his upper body and in the process ground his swollen hardness against the juncture of her thighs

"do it"

Y/n barely heard his ragged plea. Henry was so exquisitely responsive to every tiny movement she made, even to the very breath from her lips upon his skin, that he was soon deep in the toils of a dreamy delirium.

She wasn't aware of the rip he made in the back of her dress when his shaking hands wrenched the zip down, only of the molten sensuality of his gaze as he steered her into a shaft of light near the window and studied her breasts. nestled in their cups of pure white lace.

"Did you wear this for me?" he asked thickly, roughly tracing the outline of the lace across the curving swells. "Did you want me to take off your dress tonight, Y/n? To admire you like this?"

His arousal was so flatteringly intense that she couldn't deny him the truth.

"Yes…"

She closed her eyes, gasping as she felt the stroke of his thumbs across the seams, finding the rigid tips that were evidence of her own desire. He made a sound and she felt him kneel to pull her velvet gown over her hips, revealing the white panties and suspender belt in the same simple lace design as the bra, demure yet sexy in their essential femininity.

He made another sound, this time deep and guttural, his hands running up the backs of her thighs, pulling them closer and parting them slightly.

She opened her eyes, clutching at his naked shoulders as he moved his mouth hotly against the lacy front panel of her panties and pressed a string of kisses from the soft skin at the tops of her stockings to the deep, frantic pulse at the hollow of her hip.

Y/n could feel the cool air along her pussy as warmth settled there. Rough hands sent a shiver through her body as they ran the length of her thighs, kneading her ass before finding their way back to her pussy, and pushing her panties to the side for a better look at what she had to offer. Y/n shook and he purred in approval of her reaction.

Henry pressed forward until Y/n felt his lips along her folds, teasing her before delving deeper. Y/n gasped at the first taste, the tip of his tongue poking at her entrance, her arousal spilling forth. Henry ran the length of her pussy until he flicked her clit, the twitch it brought forth made him snicker into her skin. He dragged his tongue along her clit again, grazing it over and over as her pelvis flinched unwillingly.

“shit,” she hissed, trying not to moan though it felt so good.

Y/n clung onto his shoulders, the buzz she felt in her stomach coming closer to finding its release. Her thighs trembled as he grew more persistent, his tongue agile as it drew forth an orgasm but just before she could relish in the exquisite feeling, he pulled away. It had been almost a year since you had been pleasured by anything other than her own hands and this was starting to drive her mad.

The sight of his dark head moving against her and the sensations he was creating made her cry out in helpless need and he looked up, a dark blush crossing his face when he saw her starlit expression.

He stood and kissed her on the mouth until they were both breathless. Then, still holding her, he reached behind him, dragging the sheet off the nearest object.

It was a smooth, polished mahogany dining table, it's dark surface reflecting the muted lights from the moon.

Y/n imagined him laying her down on that smooth hardness and leaning over her, feeling the melting pleasure of his touch.

Henry turned her, pressing her hips against the carved mahogany edge.

"I've never made love on a table before," she whispered raggedly, hoping that she wouldn't disappoint him with her relative inexperience. No doubt he was used to women who were terribly adventurous and sexually sophisticated. She thrusted the jealous thought away and linked her arms around his neck, reminding herself that she could make him shake with passionate need. She could make up with enthusiasm for what she lacked in experience and he would never know the difference.

He stilled and she was afraid that she had destroyed the moment with her naive little confidence. Henry lifted his head and looked at the table behind her. Then he stopped and swept her off her feet, lifting her into his strong arms.

"No, not here," he said hoarsely. "The first time should be in a bed.." He began to move with Y/n in his arms and she turned her hot face against his broad chest, adoring him for caring enough to make this exactly right for them.

"I don't want to wait." She told him shyly of her need and his arms tightened, the muscles of his shoulders and neck bunching into prominence as his stride quickened.

"You won't have to." He turned into another doorway, dipping an elbow against the wall until twin lamps glowed, their light filtered into a soft, golden delicacy by the cloths that swathed them.

Henry didn't let her go as he removed the covering over the bed and stripped back the dark feather quilt. When he finally put her down it was on to crisp white sheets that released a lavender fragrance to mingle with the heated scent of arousal that perfumed their bodies.

Henry stood by the bedside, looking down at her. Then he spread his hands, revealing the light tremor that shook his hand ever so gently.

"Look what you do to me. You make me weak. No one has ever had that effect on me" Y/n reached out a hand and touched his trident stomach.

"You're the strongest man I know," her hand ran down his stomach and over the muscle underneath as she moved down to his belt. She tugged at it gently

"I want you" she purred.

The knowledge of their mutual desire flared in his hungry eyes, hardening the planes and angles of his face until it looked as rigid as his body under her exploring hand. He caught her wrist before she would have touched him intimately, folding her arm back into the pillow behind her head he knelt beside her.

"Say it again. Say my name."

"I want you to make love to me, Henry." Her words were a promise to give him all that he wanted and more.

"No more running?" he raised his eyebrow jokingly and Y/n shook her head, unable to speak as he unclipped the front fastening of her bra, sensing that he wanted her to lie quiescently as he bared the last secrets of her body.

She felt shy, like a precious gift being gloatingly unwrapped, but she didn't resent his moment of purely masculine triumph. The glory of the moment was also hers, this beautiful man that she had known for so long finally hers. He was giving himself to her and asking nothing but what she was willing to give in return. For tonight and perhaps for many nights to come she would let him satisfy the hunger in her soul, colour the cold grey corners of her world with a warmth and vibrant life that would dispel, at least for a time, the loneliness she had come to accept many years ago.

"I want you, too…" she whispered as she welcomed the joy of his touch.

Henry undressed himself with a fumbling haste that she found inexpressibly exciting and when he came down on to her she gasped at the violent energy of his enthusiasm. Y/n stared up at him, his cock hanging out for all to see.

The controlled, disciplined man she had grown to know vanished completely. In his place was a greedy, intemperate, ardent and impetuous male, urgently intent with plundering each and every lavish pleasure of flesh.

Henry smirked, his hand slowly pumping his dick a few times before he bent down and slid the tip over her slit and pushed inside roughly, allowing her no resistance as he filled her entirely.

This moment when he took her would live vividly in her memory forever.

The shocking reality of his first thrust stilled them both but then he stilled, chest shaking, half across her body, his head buried in the curve of her neck.

'Surely he's not going to stop now,' y/n thought hysterically as her body slowly adjusted to the agonising fullness, and she felt the involuntary ripples of tension begin to absorb him even more deeply into her being.

Y/n dropped her head back as she let out a low growl as he thrusted sharply, allowing a moment between each as they were jolted into the bed. His hands were on her hips, holding her down as he slid in and out.

Relax and enjoy was about all Y/n was capable of doing as his sensual onslaught built towards a fiery climax. He devoured her, feasting on her body with blind hunger, biting lushly into her skin, sipping and suckling the sweetness from her achingly swollen breasts as his hands adjusted her body around his, moaning and shuddering so violently when she even lightly caressed his body with her own that she resorted to merely riding the exquisite storm as he sank deeper than before.

Henry groaned and y/n felt a sudden burst of warmth, his cum leaking down her legs as she let the feeling of her own orgasm near

She plunged a hand into his sweat-drenched hair, and pulled his head back.

"Henry-"

The moan came quickly and she hardly recognised him as she gawked up at him. His mouth was full, reddened, the skin drawn tightly over the bones of his face giving him a lean, hollowed-checked wildness, his deep set eyes open but blank with inner turbulence. He looked almost totally insensate.

Y/n felt shaken by a sudden wave of tenderness as his cock slid over a soft spot inside her, her fingers curling tightly into silky-damp hair.

"Henry--"

The tenderness flooded her being and was just swiftly followed by another wave of intense feeling as Henry stiffened and pulled back slightly, the pupils of his eyes contracting, his jaw clenching as he fought the blind instinct that was relentlessly driving him.

"I hurt you, didn't i." he gritted. "I went too fast for you. I'm sorry." He moved up on his braced arms and tried to withdraw further but she stopped him, almost sobbing.

"No... oh, no"

Henry hesitated and she moaned again, this time a bitter protest, "No, please, no, not yet…"

Y/n's pussy tightened and she murmured in delight as he slowly thrusted against her again, her sensitive walls sending a thrill up her spine.

She was fighting to hold on, and he watched, puzzled and then fascinated, as she moaned, her eyes wide with a strange fear and confusion. Her fingers slid laxly out of his hair to clench and unclench helplessly on the pillow. A deep rosy flush spread up from her damp, heaving breasts to mantle her throat and face. He realised then what was happening to her and waited, afraid to move again for fear of breaking the wondrous spell, watching hotly as the inexorable momentum built swiftly to a flashpoint.

Only when she rolled her flushed cheek sideways into the pillow did he move, cupping her face with his strong hand, forcing her to look at him.

"No, let me see... let me watch it happen to you...I want to watch"

Her eyelids fluttered at his husky command, her blush deepened, but she was too enraptured to feel embarrassed, too stunned by the speed of it all to deny him anything he asked. Her mouth trembled and parted and she began to gasp in light, shallow breaths that made her flushed breasts quiver deliciously, invitingly.

He bent and touched a stiff pink nipple experimentally with his mouth, very gently. She jerked and cried out, exploding beneath him in a series of violent convulsions that almost unseated him. He gripped her thighs and held her steady while she sobbed and moaned and poured herself into him, and then, as she melted lovingly around him he at last began to move, uncertainly echoing her undulating movements until he established his own powerful rhythm, this time driving her with him, until his raw shout of exuberant satisfaction signalled that the whirlwind was spent.

In the morning Y/n was grateful for the resilience of her relative youth. Even after a long hot shower, her muscles ached with the extravagance of her strenuous exercise. She felt as if she had been battered, not by one whirlwind, but several. And she had. If she had thought that Henry's incandescent passion would swiftly burn them both out she discovered, through the ravishing reaches of the night, that she was marvellously mistaken.

His desire, like his curiosity about her body, had proved insatiable. And, although the second and third time they made love it was not with the stunning speed of the first, it was still fiercely, gloriously energetic. He encouraged a boldness in her that she hadn't known she possessed.

He made her feel unutterably sexy, as if she was the only woman in the world who could satisfy his lavish appetite for lovemaking, and he devoted and demanded the same kind of single-minded commitment to creating pleasure that he did to his more worldly objectives. In short, he was every bit the fantastic lover she had imagined he was.

Y/n smiled to herself as she sipped her coffee. Was this a case of being hoist by her own petard? If so, everyone should have such a virile executioner!

"You look quite disgustingly smug."

Henry had showered, brought her coffee and toast in bed and casually dressed in front of her with the ease of a man who was thoroughly satisfied with himself and the world in general.

"You're looking fairly smug yourself," she answered boldly.

"Making love in the morning obviously suits us both and in the evening, and at night. By the way, what are you doing at lunchtime?" Y/n couldn't stop blushing and Henry smirked.

She wasn't that bold - yet.

If she and Henry were lovers for long she didn't doubt that she could become very, very brazen.

"Eating," she said repressively.

Henry refused to be repressed. "you're a wicked, decadent woman." He leaned over and tugged at the sheet that was tucked over her breasts and down to her waist. Y/n squeaked and held out her cup, afraid she would spill some of the hot liquid as he bent to lightly kiss her rosy softness.

" is all of you on the menu, or just selected divine parts?"

"You're a glutton!" Y/n murmured weakly, closing her eyes, shivering at the tingling pleasure his delicately teasing tongue evoked.

"Ouch!" Henry winched, The coffee having splashed onto his cheek as y/n unconsciously let the coffee cup slip.

"Serves you right." She didn't pull up the sheet, sitting primly among the crumbs and cotton sheets, deliciously aware of the contrast between her nudity and his dark, formal suit as he moved away.

He had told her he had an early meeting --one reason for the necessity to rouse her just after dawn by making love to her sleepy, languorous body.

Waking up to find Henry inside her was just one of the new, fresh pleasures of life!

"Will you meet me for lunch? This meeting should be over by then." He straightened his tie in front of the mirror then walked back to her.

"If you want me to…" He cupped her chin, reminding her of the way he had refused to allow her to hide from him last night.

"I want you to. Make no mistake about that, y/n. I have no regrets. None."

"Good." She lifted her chin and tried for a little of the sophistication he was no doubt used to. "I wouldn't like to think that I had disappointed you."

To her annoyance, he laughed. He straightened, letting his fingers trail down her throat. "There wasn't much chance of that, believe me."

"Oh, are you so confident of your prowess?" she snapped defensively, feeling suddenly restless and mentative. "You can turn any woman into your personal love machine?"

He seemed unruffled by her irritable crudity, a strange smile still playing around his lips.

"On the contrary. I'm afraid I have no basis for comparison."

"What?" Y/n stared at him blankly.

He scooped up a slice of toast and bit into it. "Couldn't you tell, Y/n? Was my gift such a paltry thing? I thought one's partner could always tell."

What was he talking about? To her horror, Y/n suddenly realised that, although he had used protection afterwards, that first, rough coming-together had been utterly spontaneous and Henry certainly hadn't held back. Did he purposely try to get her pregnant? Was he not really the man she thought he was? No- that couldn't be it.

"What gift? T-tell- me. what?" she stammered, raising her cup to hide the quiver of her mouth, hoping he wasn't going to prove as selfishly arrogant as she suspected!

" Why, that it was my first time, of course." And, as she continued to stare at him uncomprehendingly over the top of the cup, his smile gentled into a tender warmth. "You were my initiation, Y/n. I gave you my virginity, you gave me my manhood."

And, leaving her gasping and choking with shocked disbelief, a pool of hot coffee soaking into the sheets around her, he calmly turned and walked out of the house, a new found pride in his stomach and so much more to be discovered.

Taglist (added in reblog ❤️)

#Henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill one shot

425 notes · View notes

mercurysstars · 4 years ago

Text

All That Glitters Is Not Gold (part 7)

Summary: Y/n gets hired to be the avengers chief physician and also happens to be an ex assassin.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Needles, swear words, reader getting angry.

A/N: Okay y’all so maybe the reader has slight anger issues.

𝘍𝘪𝘹 𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Y/n suddenly became aware of the very persistent beeping noise in her ear. No matter what she tried she couldn't get it to stop and it was starting to annoy the hell out of her. She cracked her eyes open, the light-flooded her blinding her for a few seconds but her eyes quickly adjusted.

The first thing she noticed was the white plain walls of the Med-Bay. The memories flickered through her head like a flashing light. Y/n looked down to her bandage arm she peeled it back a bit, by looking at her wound she guessed she might have been out a little over a day and a half.

She grabbed the cords attached to her body and yanked them out causing the heart monitor to start flatlining. Wanda shot right up out of a dead sleep at the sound, looking over to make sure her friend was okay. Y/n didn't even know she was there until she spoke up "Oh good you're alive."

Y/n grimaced "Very much so. How long have I been out?"

"A little over a day," Wanda said confirming what she thought. "After FRIDAY alerted us, Barnes got there first to see you all bruised and bloody."

Y/n could tell Wanda was trying to keep the conversation light which she appreciated. She rolled her eyes and chuckled "You should see the other guy."

"Oh trust me I did." Wanda grinned. "I should probably go get bruce though so I'll be right back."

Wanda left her room. Bruce came in and checked her vitals and drew some blood just to make sure there wasn't anything toxic left in her blood. He said that they couldn't use the cradle because it could harm her further so there would be a scar. But Y/n didn't mind much a little bit of meditation and it would be long gone.

Wanda gave Y/n her phone but had to go because Vision needed some help. Y/n was checking some emails and she heard a little sniffle. She looked up to see a red-eyed Peter peaking into her room. She set down her phone and motioned him over. "Hey, Peter what's wrong?"

Peter seemed a little unsure of himself hesitating to speak. He once again sniffles wiping his face with his shirt. In a little voice, he mumbled, "I was scared you were going to die."

Y/n's heart broke into a million little pieces. She didn't know what to say to him. She wanted to comfort him but she didn't know-how. Y/n did the only thing she knew how. Made a joke out of it. "Oh, Pete you know some half-ass assassin can't get the best of me."

Peter chuckled also while hiccuping. He looked down then back at her. He rushed toward Y/n wrapping his arms around her. Y/n slowly wrapped her arm around him the stayed like that for a few seconds. She rubbed his back and patted it. "Can't breathe. Super strength." She choked out.

Peter pulled back standing next to her bed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly "I forgot sorry."

"Don't worry about it. And hey get some sleep I'm the one in the Med-bay and you look worst than me."

Peter promised he would. He gave her a get-well card that he bought with his aunt May. He turned to leave. Bucky was standing in the doorway. Peter told him he could go in and left.

Bucky walked into the room. Y/n's face lit up when she noticed him standing there. "Well look who it is. My savior."

Bucky gave a small chuckle. He looked her over. He can't get the image of her lying limp in his arms out of his head. He doesn't think he's ever been that scared or panicked in his life. It became blurry to him after she passed out. He vaguely remembers carrying her the few feet to the med bay and Bruce ordering someone to get him out. Funny how someone can change your life within a few months of knowing them.

"How are you doing." He breathed out turning serious. He sat in the chair next to her bed setting her clothes on the tabled next to them. He couldn't explain it he felt like it was her fault she was in here. Even if he hasn't done it personally.

"Good, I'm good. How's Alpine? I know she has separation anxiety."

"Well, last night she somehow got into my room again. And right now I think she's with Wanda. I'm pretty sure she sneaks her extra treats."

Y/n and Bucky continued to talk. She genuinely enjoyed his company. There was a feeling that she didn't want to name that started to open up whenever he came around. They decided to watch a movie. Y/n was sitting crisscross applesauce and Bucky had his feet kicked up onto her bed while laying back in the chair.

"You actually liked this movie," Bucky exclaimed. Y/n got to pick the movie and she picked newsies. She thought it was the right thing to choose considering it's about young boys in New York. Though it was a little before his time it was basic Bucky and Steve.

"Yes, it was my favorite movie of my teen years. Believe it or not, I thought their New Yorker accents were really hot."

Bucky laughed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing "No way. They are so bad. They aren't even accurate."

"Hey don't judge. I can't help what my teenage hormones find attractive." She jokingly kicked his feet and he put his arms up defensively.

"I'm not, I'm not. It's just that I don't see you like that type of girl. Back in my day, they use to associate accents with thugs or gangs."

"It's the 21st-century hun. Times are different." She put her non-injured hand on her hip.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and smirked "So I'm seeing."

The buzzing of Y/n phone interrupted their conversation. The caller ID read Anthony Y/n put up a finger to signal to give her a moment. She clicked the accept button and a nervous sounding Tony picked up "Hey Y/n how are you? I heard what happened."

Y/n? He never uses her real. That only means one thing. He did something that could potentially piss her off. She was out for one day and this is what happens. "What did you do Tony."

"Okay look so don't be mad when I tell you. Meet me in the debriefing room in 10." He hung up before she got the chance to object.

Y/n slide to the edge of the bed. She swung her feet over. She attempted to stand up but when she put pressure on her foot she nearly collapsed. Y/n didn't remember hitting her foot or anything but it must have been when she dove over her desk. Bucky put his hands on her waist to steady her. "Woah you okay there doll?"

"Yeah. Can you like?" She made a turning motion with her hand. Bucky immediately stood up and turned around.

Y/n took off her hospital gown. Buck caught a glance of 2 long scars crossing her stomach and what looked like to be a burn on her hip through the reflection of the window. He quickly turned away out of respect. Y/n slide on her pants and cleared her throat. "I'm done."

Bucky turns around and sees her supporting most of her weight on her right foot. "Do you want me to get you crutches or a wheelchair?"

"Why would I do that when I have a perfectly good super soldier right here?"

She hobbled over to Bucky and wrapped her good arm around his waist. He rolled his eyes at her being difficult but put his arm around her. He wouldn't admit it but he secretly liked it and thought it was sweet.

They got down to the debriefing room. Tony was pacing around the front muttering something to himself. Y/n and Bucky took up the last two seats. Y/n's foot was throbbing so she put it on the table to elevate it. They waited a couple of minutes for him to start. Natasha finally decided to speak up getting annoyed "You want to tell us what this was about before you burn a hole in the carpet."

Tony stopped to look at them and started to pace again "Okay so I didn't tell you guys everything. That meeting I had was with the UN. They are trying to get General Ross to be ahead of the Avengers instead of Nick Fury."

He paused to let them take it in. Some were confused, and a couple were mad. "Wait are they just trying to do this since we didn't sign the Sakovia accords?" Steve said what most were thinking.

"See that's what I said but they were talking about some bullshit about us being unorganized and dangerous. And the only way they'd stop it is if someone took a truth serum and I said Y/n would."

Oh, this is why he told her not to get mad. She had to take a deep breath so she wouldn't pull off her shoe and beat him with it. Is he stupid? He's a genius but he can't think before he speaks. "So how does it work?" Clint asked.

"Well, they will hook you up to a lie detector machine and inject you with the truth serum. The way it works is that every time you lie the serum will start to burn and your heart rate will start to accelerate."

"So what all do I have to lie about." Y/n finally questioned. She was chewing her lip in contemplation. She's pulled off worst than this and has had more on the line than this.

"What I know for sure is that I said you've been with us for 2 years, you can't tell them how you got that cut and anything that can potentially get us into trouble. Also, you can't take any strong pain meds."

"So basically she has to have one hell of a poker face," Bucky concluded.

Y/n sighs and rubs her head."How long do I have."

"12 hours until wheels up." Tony better buy me so many boxes of pizza she thinks.

Bucky watched as Y/n sat on the floor crisscross applesauce. Her back is the door and the only light in the room is the light from the hallway in the quinjet. Y/n could hear the soft buzz of Bucky's metal arm with her eyes still close she says "You know you can come in Sarge."

That startles Bucky. He walked into the room and sat on the floor taking up space next to her. He looked at her "I came to tell you we are almost there. Are you nervous?"

Y/n thought for a few seconds. Most people in her position would probably be pissing their pants at this moment. Having to go in front of the United Nations and lie straight to their faces. So she answered truthfully "No, no I'm not."

Bucky was surprised. She was genuine in her answer. If it was him he would be having a near stroke. "Really? Anyway so why do meditate it doesn't actually help with anything."

"Actually it does. It helps with my heart rate and it helps me heal faster."

"Oh?" He looked at her expectingly obviously not believing her.

She kicked out her leg and lifted the pant leg to her suit. The bruise was gone and she rotated her foot and wiggle her toes to prove she wasn't in any pain.

Y/n grabbed his shoulder as a crutch to help her get up and grabbed her heels. Bucky looked up at her. "You know I can't seem to figure you out."

Y/n paused and pursed her lips in thought "Somethings are better off left as mysteries." She patted his shoulder and walked out.

Wanda, Natasha, and Y/n broke off from the rest of the Avengers, having to go to the medical room so she could get a mini medical exam.

The girls walk through security. Natasha dropped all of her weapons in a bin so she could pick them up later. They put a device around Wanda's neck so she couldn't use her powers. Y/n could see how uncomfortable it made her. She walked over to Wanda and whispered "I feel bad you have to wear that. You didn't have to come."

Wanda looked at her and have a small sad smile "What you're about to do is worst than this. It's the least I can do for you helping us."

Y/n nodded to her. Security officers escorted them to the medical room. They had Y/n sit on a bed. They made her pee in a cup, took her blood, and checked her medical history. Natasha was giving her advice. While she knew most things it was still nice having someone coach her through and remind her of it.

When they finished Wanda went to join the rest of the Avengers. Natasha walked her to the door she adjusted Y/n's suit "You've got this. We'll be supporting you in the crowd."

"Thank you Nat for everything really." She hugged her and Natasha gave Y/n's arm a reassuring squeeze.

Y/n took a deep breath. She stepped into the room. The room was a half-circle shape with large windows behind it. In the back were journalists and reporters. And in the front were the UN personnel were located. Y/n walked past the Avengers and took her seat in the middle of the room.

Y/n could feel everyone's eyes on her. She got blinded momentarily from the flashes of the cameras. She looked over to the Avengers. Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Steve at the end. Bucky in the middle. And Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Vision on the other end. Wanda gave her 2 thumbs up and Y/n smiled back at her.

Staff came over and started to unpack and hook her up to the lie detector machine. They took off the jacket to her suit and connected wires to three fingers on her right hand. They put a blood pressure cuff on her left tricep and inflated it. Ross stood up and cleared his throat being the room's attention on him.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I'm General Ross and I will be doing the questioning on the behalf of the UN."

He turned his gaze to Y/n. "We're going to test the lie detector first." Y/n nodded to him and he began.

"Is your legal name Y/n Y/l/n?"

"Yes." Y/n states.

"True." The man in the chair next to her says.

He looked down at the paper he had in his hand looking for his next question. "Very well. Were you born Y/B/D 1995?"

"Yes."

"True."

"Are you nervous?"

Natasha's words come back to Y/n. Lie once. Lie about something small. So they don't get suspicious. Y/n let her heart rate pick up a bit and purposely avoided eye contact. "No."

"Lie."

"It's okay to be nervous. God knows I would." Ross joked a few people chuckled and Y/n had to physically hold back an eye roll. He thinks he got her but in reality, he's right where she wanted.

He nodded to the staff and they walked over to her and began to prep her. They cleaned a small area of her arm with an alcohol pad. "This might hurt a bit." One muttered.

They stuck the needle into her arm and injected the serum. At first, it felt cool but then it hit her all at once it felt like someone poured a pan of grease on her. Y/n's skin was on fire, she bit her cheek so hard it nearly drew blood.

Bucky watched as Y/n closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If it was anything like the Super Soldier serum he knew it burn. She opened her eyes and if he didn't witness it he wouldn't even know it happened seconds ago.

General Ross walked back to the front and began to speak "We are ready to proceed. Did it hurt? I've never tried it."

"Yes." Like a bitch.

"What role do you play for the Avengers? Tony mentioned you've been there for 2 years."

"I'm their Chief Physician." The second part of his sentence was a statement so she missed lying by an inch.

"True."

He asked questions like that for a while or worded them differently. The questions were getting repetitive and Y/n was getting bored and impatient. She hasn't had to lie yet not that she wanted to. Especially not when she has the truth serum from hell injected in her veins.

"Have the Avengers ever put you in any unnecessary danger?" Ross questioned.

"Never." She replied trying not to bounce her leg.

"True."

"Tell me Miss Y/l/n how did you get that cut? It looks pretty deep." He paused seemingly watching for her reaction.

"My cat. She has some pretty mean claws." Y/n stated without missing a beat. She felt the burn of the serum. It wasn't as bad as the injection but damn did it fucking hurt. Despite that Y/n kept a straight face starting to get annoyed with him. She could hear the flutter of the cameras.

"True."

"Would you consider Miss Maximoff unstable in any way, shape, or form?"

Y/n has to stop her eyes from going wide. What the hell kind of question was that besides rude. It's like he wants her to lash out at him. "No."

The man watches the monitor for a few seconds "True." He finally says.

"Would you consider Mr. Barnes dangerous?"

The audacity of this man. You want to see someone dangerous? Let's see how dangerous I am when I choke you out with this cord that's wrapped around my finger- "No"

"True."

"Are you aware of his past?"

"Very much so. And that where it should stay the past. I don't know what you're trying to get at general."

"True."

"Were you aware that we are starting a search for Lilith and anyone with information on her that doesn't come forward will be sent to the raft? And were you aware that if we find her we are ordered to kill on sight?"

Y/n gets a bitter taste in her mouth. This cannot be happening. She can't freak out right now. She clenched her jaw "No I was not aware of either."

"True."

"Very well that's all." Ross returned to his seat among the UN.

The staff came over and unhooked her from the machine. Y/n felt like she could finally breathe. She stood up and walked out without glancing back. The Avengers did the same meanwhile getting swarmed with paparazzi.

Part 8

My mini taglist

@theashlynbarnes @writingonabrokenwall

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes

107 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Frailty, thy name is woman! {2}

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, masturbation, mentions of miscarriage, depression, and suicide.

This is dark!doctor!Steve Rogers and soft!Peter Parker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You have an illness that can’t be seen or named. Doctor Rogers is your last chance at a cure as your loving husband tries to rediscover the woman he married.

Inspired by this ask

Note: It took me a while to find the energy to post this, I’m sorry. It’s been hard since I lost my job to wanna do anything but you guys are so sweet and I appreciate that. It’s set in the 1900s so keep that in mind! I hope you all like the last half.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You slept better with the effects of the medicine but your energy continued to wane. You went for a walk on the two mornings after your second meeting with Dr. Rogers but returned with only the strength to reach your bed. Your chores once more lacked and you forgot to write out your thoughts.

And Peter. Your husband tried so hard to be patient, to be understanding, and yet that cloud of disappointment hung over you. You wanted to be better for him so why was it so hard?

As the date of your next appointment approached, you were little better than you were before the first. You had ceased following the physician’s instructions and instead found yourself hopeless and hazy. Your tears stained the pillow beside your head and tainted your tongue.

“You will be late,” Peter sat beside you on the bed as he held a steaming cup of tea, “please, you’re doing so well.”

You blinked and said nothing. You were doing so well but just as before, it all fell apart. You couldn’t figure out why it always ended up like this. You couldn’t figure out your own mind and why you couldn’t just be what every other woman was.

“Doctor Rogers can help you. He’s been helping you, dear,” Peter cooed as he rubbed your arm, “and I love you, I’ll always love you, even through all this.”

You frowned and covered your face. He heaved and the porcelain cup clinked on the night table. The bed shifted as he bent forward and held his head in his hands.

“I’m out of ideas, dear,” he said, “I don’t know what else I can do.”

You rolled over and hid from him. You sobbed into the pillow. You didn’t know either.

“I have to go to the laboratory. I cannot be late again,” he stood and you listened to his light footsteps, “I will inform the doctor you are unable to attend. Perhaps we might reschedule.”

You stayed silent and he touched your shoulder. He bent and kissed the crown of your head.

“I’m not giving up,” he swore, “I won’t.”

He left, reluctantly, and your body shook without restraint. You cried into the pillow case as you were racked with a pain so deep you weren’t certain it could ever be drawn out. The sense of helplessness was suffocating. It was as if no matter how hard you fought, it would never be enough, you would never be enough.

🩺

You languished as you had. The hours passed as the sunlight shifted on the walls and sent lines through the windows. You sat up and drank the cold tea and stared at the curling metal of the bed frame. You could hear birds outside and smell the pollen of new flowers but it only made the knot in your chest tighten.

Then a knock came, distant but firm. You tilted your head, numb and lost as it came again. You looked down at yourself, the wrinkled front of your sleeping gown and the brown stain from the tea dribbled from the brim of the cup. It sounded again and you winced.

It didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. You got up slowly and stumbled around the room. You went through to the front room and neared the door as another rap shook it. A figure stood on the other side of the frosted glass. You touched the latch and trembled as you thought of turning it.

“It’s Doctor Rogers,” a voice called through the door, “will you let me in, ma’am?”

You closed your eyes and slumped. You shook your head and carefully turned the lock. You tried to stand straight and opened the door. Dr. Rogers’ smile fell as he saw you. His fingers clutched the handle of his leather bag and he pushed his shoulders up.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Why are you here, doctor?”

“Well, you did not come to the office,” he said bluntly, “it did give me concern.”

“I have a headache,” you lied, “did my husband not make another appointment?”

“A headache?” he wondered doubtfully, “you might try mint or willow bark for the ailment but I do not think it effective on a conjured malady.”

“Doctor,” you fluttered your lashes guiltily.

“You might assuage my doubts and my concerns if you let me attend to you,” he said, “just to be certain you aren’t in dire condition.”

You looked down and stepped back. “Come in, doctor,” you murmured, “I apologize I did not come--”

“And what have you done these last weeks?” he ignored your apology, “have you been taking exercise? How have you been eating? Have you attended any of your chores?”

Your silence was an admission but he did not show the disappointment he expected. Instead his face softened with empathy as he set his bag down on a round table beside the upholstered chair and opened it.

“You have not even dressed yourself, I can guess at how you fare,” he said, “so I think we might take a different approach to your treatment. We should build to your independent healing although I do expect you to still attempt to adhere to my prescriptions.”

“Doctor?”

“Many contemporary physicians and psychologist suggest that hypnosis might be beneficial to those with your affliction,” he brought out his pocket watch and looked to you, “if you would lay on your back,” he pointed to the sofa.

“Hypnosis?” you drew your brows together, “I don’t think, well, I don’t know much about it.”

“It is nothing, it is like sleep. I think it will help with your nerves,” he looked at the watch, “you trust me? I am a doctor and I would not do anything but to help you. Why, I came all this way just to see that you were well.”

You felt a pang and realised how inconvenient your negligence was. You went to the couch and did as he said. He pulled the chair to the edge and sat. He held up the watch and let it dangle.

“All you have to do is focus on this,” he tapped the golden front, “and count and breath in time with it.” He began to swing it back and forth as your head was propped up against the arm of the couch, “think of nothing but the watch.”

Your lips parted and you grimaced.

“I know how it seems but haven’t you ever wanted to just not think? Perhaps that is the issue, that you never stop,” he said, “so, humour me.”

He kept on and you followed the watch with your eyes, back and forth, breathing in and out, one, two, three, four, five… Soon your vision blurred and your head felt light and then all your worries were gone. You laid there, blank and bleary, but free.

His voice was distant and the click of the watch as he set it down was almost indiscernible. “That’s it, you just relax,” you felt a tickle over your knees.

You didn’t move, you realised you couldn’t, and that the tickle was your sleeping gown. The fabric was drawn above your knees and a warmth glided up your calf. You were moved down so that you laid entirely flat, your leg slipped over the side of the couch.

“You must stay relaxed and breathe,” Dr. Rogers said as you felt his hand creep higher on your leg, “isn’t it nice?”

He pushed between your thighs and turned his hand. His flesh was hot against yours.

“We must relieve the tension,” he purred and slid his fingers along your cunt. Your eyes rolled back and you purred at the riling sensation. He poked between your folds and you felt a flush spread across your body, “just breathe.”

He rubbed along your opening and over your bud. His motion was steady as he swirled his fingertips and you felt yourself growing slick. You could think of nothing but your breath, but the burning in your core as he stoked it. You gasped and your heart beat faster as he played with your clit. It never felt so good.

He pressed a finger to your opening again and slowly dipped inside. He drew in and out several times and added another, bending both as he kept his thumb to your bud. He rocked his hand and your entire body with it. Your voice was loud and yet it was beyond your control.

“Let it go, let it all go,” he cooed, “come on.”

You moaned and it grew to shrill cry as a strike of lightning shot through you. Your body contorted as your core bloomed and fire swept through your veins. He guided you through the paralysing pleasure and stilled his hand only as the ripples faded.

Slowly he drew his hand from your cunt and sat back. He hummed and your skirt was pulled back down your legs. He took a deep breath and snapped his fingers. Your eyes shot open and suddenly the room was clear again.

You sat up, startled, as if awaking from a dream. He caught your shoulder and eased you back against the arm.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to answer but didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t explain how you felt.

“What I just did, you can do, you should do, at least once a day,” he leaned back and rubbed the wool of his trousers, “it is perfectly scientific. There’s have been a slew of recent studies which find that the female orgasm can be very impactful for woman who suffer so.”

“But, isn’t it--”

“What is wrong about it? It is human nature and if God made humans with that nature, it cannot be so bad. You have not spent seed without fruition, you have only used what creation gifted you,” he said, “but consider how you feel right now. You feel better, am I correct?”

You stared at him and bit your lip. You did feel lighter, you felt more awake, and you felt peaceful.

“Yes,” you whispered, “I suppose I do.”

“Great,” he clapped his hands and stood. He took the watch and returned it to his bag, “should I remain a time? We might talk?”

“No, no, you should go,” you stood unsteadily, “you have other patients and I’ve kept you so long.”

“It was not so long,” he said as he closed his bag, “but if you would that I go, I will.”

You nodded and saw him to the door with a frantic farewell. You locked it behind and turned to lean against it. Your heart was racing again. You thought of Peter, of his dismay that morning, of all those times you’d been unable to hold him.

🩺

You were hesitant at first and you resisted the doctor’s suggestion. Several days passed but the writing, the tea, the walking, none of it helped and you were so inconsistent, it was as if you hadn’t changed at all.

Then one morning, Peter left, again after a hopeless plea for you to get up, and you laid under your shroud of self-loathing and longing. You thought of it for a while, debated it in your head, and as you felt beneath your sleeping gown, the guilt nipped at your neck.

You tried to recall what Dr. Rogers did and tried to mimic him. As you played with your bud, your fingers were soon guided instead by the delightful stirring in your core. You shuddered as you slickened and you kept on twirling and twirling. Your breaths grew harried and you gulped as your voice spilled forth in weak moans.

Your toes curled as your hand moved faster and you came in a tangle of linen and wool. You pressed your hand flat to your pelvis and went limp over the mattress. You were floating, flying, and you felt as if you might do anything.

After a moment, you sat up and glanced around. You wiped your wet fingers on your nightgown as you stood and made the bed carefully. Then you went to the armoire and pulled an outfit from its depths. You dressed one piece at a time and looked at yourself in the mirror. That was something.

The hours before Peter’s return had you anxious but not deflated. You felt lost in the kitchen as you prepared the evening meal and when your husband returned, he smiled and searched as if in disbelief.

“Dear,” he kissed your cheek and you latched onto him to kiss his lips instead.

“Peter,” you said breathily, “I’m so sorry.”

His cheek twitched and he caressed your cheek, “don’t be.”

“I don’t know if I’m better but… I’m trying,” you said.

“I know,” he wrapped his arms around you and drew you close. His eyes flitted down to the bodice of your dress, “I am such a fool, I didn’t even say how wonderful you look.”

You laughed softly and cradled his face between your hands, “Truly?”

“How could you ever marry me? You’re so beautiful.”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, “I wouldn’t any other.”

🩺

The tentative touching became a ritual. You were both pleasantly surprised and confused by the effects. You never would have thought of the act, you never would have attempted it after years of being forbidden from it. You felt even your marital bed was restrained by the laws of propriety.

But as you toyed with yourself, you wanted more. You wanted your husband again, just as you had on your wedding night. So you waited again with dinner cooking in the oven and greeted him in a dress you hadn’t worn since before you married.

After he ate, you tidied up and read a newspaper in the upholstered chair. For a moment you stared at him and felt a twinge. Dr. Rogers had sat there and he had… you had let another man… but he was a physician and it was only treatment. At least, he made it seem so.

You went to the bedchamber and undressed. It was a tedious process and by the time you wore nothing but your chemise, you were ready to snap the laces of your bodice. You set aside all your layers and checked your reflection. Did he still want you like that?

You peeked outside the door and called to him. He looked over his shoulder and folded his paper as he stood.

“What is it, dear?” he neared and stopped short as you stepped out from behind the door frame, “oh.”

“Husband,” you stepped closer and bit his lip.

“Are you certain?” he asked as he touched your chemise.

“Certain. I love you,” you said.

“Sweetheart,” he crashed his lips into yours and snaked his hands around your body.

He ran his hands down to your bottom and scooped you up. You cried out as you parted from his lips and he carried you backward into the room. He dropped you on the mattress and tore off vest. You got to your knees and reached to unbutton his shirt. You helped him undress eagerly, adding your chemise to the pile as he climbed up after you.

He rolled you onto your back as he leaned over you and kissed you again. His hand ventured over your chest and he felt your breasts with a purr. You grabbed his hand and guided it lower, pushing his fingers between your legs. He hummed into your mouth and let you lead his fingers, taking the motion on his own as you opened up to him.

You clung to him and brushed your hand against his cock. He groaned and teased you more eagerly. Your thighs clamped around his hand and you came as your body jittered against his.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed as he slowed his fingers, “are you alright?”

“I’m wonderful,” you gripped his cock and stroked him, “I want you.”

He moved between your legs and bent over you. He felt along your folds and spread you as he found your entrance. He pushed inside you slowly and you leaned your head back with a sigh. He sheathed himself entirely and stopped as he bent to kiss your neck.

“I love you,” he uttered as he tilted his hips.

“I love you, too,” you grasped his biceps, wiry but thick, as he rocked into you.

He nuzzled along your throat and jaw and nibbled at your lip as he sped up. He growled as writhed against you, hungry and desperate. You clung to him and moved your hips in time with his. You wanted all of him.

Your bud rubbed against his pelvis and you urged him on with breathy pleas. You hooked your legs around his as you chased another ascent and came as your nails sank into his shoulders. He kept his motion and lifted himself to look you in the eye. He watched your dazed delight as he began to tremble.

“Oh, oh, oh,” he stammered and closed his eyes as he hung his head. He gave several short thrusts before he collapsed and rested atop you out of breath.

“Peter,” you played with his hair as he tickled along your side.

“You can’t,” he said, “you can’t love me as much as I love you.”

🩺

For the first time, as you sat in the waiting room, you didn’t feel nervous. You were anxious to speak to the doctor but you didn’t dread it. Those last weeks had seen so much change, they could have been years. When your name was called, you stood and crossed to the nurse. You were shown to the room and you sat on the couch.

Dr. Rogers entered shortly and greeted you with his usual manner. He stopped however before he sat and considered you. He squinted and smirked.

“You’re well?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said with a smile.

“Things have… changed,” his lips straightened and he sat slowly.

“Some,” you said, “and I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ve followed my advice?”

“Yes, I’ve been doing more around the house and even writing here and there. I went for a walk--”

“You’ve been touching yourself regularly?” he asked abruptly.

You blanched and gave a nervous chuckle. You didn’t expect him to be so forward.

“Well, yes, I have a little,” you admitted, “as you bid.”

“Mhmm,” he poked his cheek with his tongue, “and it’s helped?”

“It’s not the only thing but--”

“Does it feel as good when you do it alone?” he interrupted.

You shook your head and blinked at him. You were confused. His methods were different than any other doctor you’d seen but his questions, that look, it was off.

“What do you-- I don’t understand,” you pouted, “I… it was part of the hypnosis. You were showing me what to do.”

He shifted on the stool and sighed. He tapped his heel on the floor. His gaze was discerning and crippling. You couldn’t read his expression but it wasn’t his usual smile.

“I asked you if it felt better when I did it,” he intoned tersely.

You were quiet. You looked at the door and swallowed. You stood and he did too.

“We’re not done. We’ve barely begun and you’re being evasive. Should I be concerned?”

“I don’t… understand. You’re angry with me?” you asked.

“I’m asking you questions that you won’t answer. As your doctor, I need to know these things,” he insisted, “now sit down.”

You lowered yourself slowly and stared at him. He strode over to the sofa and sat beside you.

“Did it feel better?” he asked.

You had tried to forget that afternoon, even as it forced itself into your mind whenever you let your hand wander. You were afraid to mention it aloud. Afraid to admit that you felt guilty for it.

“I… I suppose it did,” you said quietly.

“Mmm, and your husband, how are you getting along with him?”

“Well, I think, we have been… closer.”

“You’ve engaged intimately?”

“Uh, yes, he is my husband so yes,” you sputtered.

“But you hadn’t before,” he prodded.

“It was different before,” you said, “I am doing everything you’ve said.”

“I didn’t tell you to fuck him,” he snarled.

“I am married to him,” you scoffed, “what did I do wrong?”

“You’re not ready. I am your doctor, you need to consult with me,” he glared at you as your eyes settled on your lap.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t realise.”

“If your treatment is to be effective, you must follow my advisory,” he huffed, “how many times?”

“How many-- not more than five?”

“You’re uncertain?”

“I don’t keep count, doctor, I… I’m very confused.”

He pushed his head back and tilted it side to side as he cracked his neck. He jutted out his jaw and blew out air.

“When you came to me, you were broken,” he sneered, “but now you think you know better than me. Remind me again of your credentials.”

“I didn’t…” you stood and he caught your arm, “Doctor, I do not think this is appropriate and I cannot understand your anger.”

“Why have you come to me?”

“Pardon?”

“Why have you come to me?” he repeated.

“I, um, to get better. To treat my sickness, as you have and I am so grateful--”

“This is your fourth visit and you think yourself healed?” he snorted as he rose and loomed over you. He faced you as his nostrils flared, “you came to me so that I might help you conceive a child after you failed so many times.”

“I--” your voice caught in your throat and your eyes burned, “Doctor, that is unkind.”

“In my professional opinion, you are not the reason for your miscarriages,” he pulled you to him and gruffly cradled your head in his large hand, “my examination did show you more than capable of birthing a healthy child.”

“Please, what are you--”

“I think it is the seed that is bad,” He swung you around so your middle hit the examination table, “it is a theory but we can test it.”

“Doctor,” you tried to push yourself away from the table and he caught the back of your neck, “ahh, please--”

“Be quiet,” he hissed, “you make another noise and I’ll have to say you’re hysteric. A woman like you won’t last in the sanitarium.”

You whimpered and hung your head as you slapped your hands on the table. He squeezed your neck and leaned in.

“Don’t move,” he warned, “this is for your own good, for your health. You want a baby, don’t you?”

You sniffed and your vision blurred from your tears. He released you and his hands trailed down your corset and to your skirts. He lifted them and reached beneath to tear down your bloomers. The action jolted you and he stood, untangling them from your ankles with his foot. He kicked your boots apart and pressed himself to your back as he bunched up the layers of your skirts.

He pushed until you bent over the table, leaning on your elbows as his hot breath encircled you. He felt along your bare ass and tickled the top of your thigh. He pinched you and buried his face in your neck. He growled as he held your skirts in place with one hand and unbuckled his belt. You sobbed and his demand that you shut up was muffled against your collar.

He opened the front of his pants and slipped out his hard member. You winced as you felt the tip brush against your bottom and he shuddered. He bent his knees and guided himself down to your folds. He forced you to arch your back as he searched for your entrance and lined himself up.

He pushed until his tip stretched you and you clawed the white sheet across the table. He slid in another inch and you whined. He slapped his hand over your mouth, his other planted beside yours on the table and bucked. He impaled himself completely, thrusting you onto your toes.

He pulled back and rutted again, hard and impatient. Your hips slammed into the edge of the table with each tilt and you cried into his hand as he forced you lower over the sheet. He pinned your shoulder with his other as he turned your head, your cheek against the linen as he rocked into you.

He let out thick breaths, withholding grunts as he sped up. He pounded into you and the noise of your flesh filled the small room. You closed your eyes and his fingers crawled down along your back. He bent over you as he reached beneath you and found your bud among the layers.

He rubbed you until your sobs were wild moans. He kept them stifled against his palm and hammered against you. You were close to coming as your walls clenched around him and added to the pressure of his fingertips.

“This is what you want,” he whispered in your ear, “hmm, that’s all you need, a child. You will be a wonderful mother…” his voice fizzled and he barely swallowed a grunt, “so sweet, so sweet.”

He snarled and rammed harder than before. Your body quaked as you succumbed to the ripples flowing from your core and you leaked pleasure around his cock. You mewled into his hand and he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“This is the baby you wanted,” he growled and jerked sharply.

He spasmed in a series of hectic thrusts and slowed. He exhaled and removed his hand from your mouth, wiping it on the sheet as he pushed himself up. He slipped out of you and groaned at the sensation. You felt his cum spill out as he dropped your skirts and left you against the table, his belt clinking loudly in the silence.

“I’ll have you scheduled for another home visit,” he went to his desk and inked his pen as you rose, “and you will track your cycle so that we might be sure. Timing,” he tapped his fingers as he finished scribbling notes and stood straight to face you, “is essential.”

You bent to gather your bloomers and he came close. You cowered and he snatched the cotton from your grasp. He put them to his face and inhaled.

“You smell as sweet as you feel,” he turned and bent to shove your undergarments in his bag, “I will make certain your next appointment isn’t so far away.”

#steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #peter parker #steve rogers x reader #peter parker x reader #fic #au #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #spider-man #1900s #doctor au

349 notes · View notes

the-dream-team · 4 years ago

Text

What You Truly Are

I'd like to dedicate this fic to @thejilyship & my cousin, Alex <3

Years of doubt and confusion about her sexuality were thrown away the instant Lily met James Potter.

Mr. Slughorn had assigned James to partner with her in Chemistry because he was new to Hogwarts Prep and she was top of the class. He had kind, hazel eyes hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses and a curly mop of bangs that immediately grabbed her attention. He was smiley and funny and perfectly content with his own shortcomings when it came to Science, happy to let her take the lead on their lab, something most boys would never set aside their egos to do.

But James wasn’t like most boys. He complimented things like her handwriting or how kind she was to strangers instead of the clothes she wore or the color of her hair. Plus, he seemed unconcerned with appearances and popularity, instead focused almost completely on making the school’s soccer team.

He spoke about soccer constantly, and Lily loved the way he lit up when talking about the training he’d been doing for tryouts and the way he’d managed to complete a bicycle kick for the first time. She’d be lying if she had her doubts whether James would make the team, what with his slight build and short stature. The boys on Hogwarts Prep’s Varsity team were all about a head taller, sixty pounds heavier, and had actually defined muscles, which James lacked.

But that was what drew Lily to him. He was softer, blushed easily, giggled openly. There was a feminine energy to the boy that clicked all the gears into place. All this time, Lily had been straight, it just so happened that she preferred boys that were a bit more effeminate. Boys like James.

When he actually made the soccer team, she was the first person he told, wrapping her in a wonderfully intoxicating hug outside of her dorm room, his smooth, soft hands brushing her neck in a way that sparked an ember of hope that maybe he looked at her the same way she looked at him. They spent the rest of the evening celebrating in the cafeteria with slices of pizza and unlimited soft serve, discussing the team’s first match against Durmstrang High. Lily admitted that she’d always loved playing soccer as a kid and how she wished Hogwarts had a girl’s team. James looked at her with an entire forest fire behind his eyes and said with a surprising level of intensity that it was bullshit that the team wasn’t co-ed.

The next day he showed up to her room, a smile on his lips and a soccer ball under his arm. He took her to the fields and they ran drills and practiced shooting on each other until the sun began to set. She never thought she understood a ‘runner’s high’ until they raced the length of the field as blues and purples chased pinks and oranges in the sky, sprinting against each other until their lungs emptied out and their legs gave in. They tumbled onto the cool, evening grass, shoulder to shoulder, head to head, stealing glances and sharing laughter. She thought he might kiss her when they both turned their heads and parted lips, but instead, he sat up, mumbling something about it “not being fair to her.” Whatever that meant.

She tried to take a step back after that day, a silly effort to protect her heart. Maybe it just wasn’t the right time for her and James. Maybe they were better as friends. Plus, his big first game was in a matter of days and she wanted to support him in every way she could. Distracting him with her feelings wouldn’t be helpful…

And that decision seemed to be for the best when Hogwarts beat Durmstrang handily four to one, with James scoring three of their goals. The bleachers erupted into applause as the buzzer went off at the end of the game, but no one was louder than Lily as she cheered for James, who was lifted up by his teammates like a king on his throne.

Lily found herself running down to the field, searching for James in the crowds of fans, hoping to hug him the way they’d hugged before. When she finally spotted him, he’d been approached by the school’s broadcasting club and his face was blasted onto the jumbotron, his voice carrying over the speaker system.

“James Potter, you’re clearly the breakout star of the game today,” said a student reporter into a microphone. “Any thoughts you’d like to share with us today?”

Lily pushed through the swarms of fans, finally making it to the camera crew, and when James saw her smiling at him, his eyes flashed.

“Yeah, I’ve got some thoughts,” he said, his voice echoing around the field and bleachers. “I think Hogwarts should let girls onto the team because they can be just as good as the boys.” He was met by a chorus of confused chatter and a handful of boos. But Lily’s heart soared. “Sure, boo all you want, but I think you’d be surprised to know a girl was Hogwart’s highest scorer in today’s match!”

The jeering turned to a strange mix of laughter and dismissive shouts, causing James’ face to scrunch up. Lily’s heart pounded through her ears.

“It’s me!” James shouted, flustered frustration lining his (her?) face. “I’m the girl! My name isn’t James, it’s Jamie!”

Lily’s jaw hit the floor and her stomach swooped as James- no, Jamie- reached up to fiddle with her hair, grabbed a hidden bobby pin, and let a mess of wavy curls fall to her shoulders.

The crowd continued their shouting, mostly echoing a strange chant of “prove it, prove it!” until Jamie finally rolled her eyes, sent Lily a smirk and a shrug, and grabbed the hem of her jersey, pulling it up to her nose.

The crowd let out a collective gasp, and Lily quickly came to terms with her sexuality.

Once the cameras turned off, Jamie was immediately in front of her, eyes wide and waiting, lip caught between her teeth with a worry that Lily wanted to immediately wipe off.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” she started, “I didn’t mean to trick you or anything like that, but I didn’t expect to meet someone like you and-”

Lily rushed forward, feeling more secure in her thoughts and feelings than ever before, and grabbed Jamie’s face, pulling the girl down until their lips met in a collision of soft smiles, unwavering happiness, and plenty of giggling.

#jily fic #jily #she's the man #surprise!#fem!jily #also technically #shirtless jp may #(shirtless jamie potter may heyooo)#wlw

110 notes · View notes

keijislove · 4 years ago

Text

Entranced: Ron Weasley X Reader

"I played like a sack of dragon dung," said Ron in a hollow voice when

the changing room door had swung shut behind Ginny.

You had just had Quidditch practice and you, being one of the best Chasers, tried your best not to tell Ron that you’d given him the easiest serves of all

"No, you didn't," you said firmly.

"You're the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves." Harry added.

You both kept up a relentless flow of encouragement all the way back to the castle, and by the time you reached the second floor, Ron was looking marginally more cheerful. When Harry pushed open the tapestry to take their usual shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower, however, they found themselves looking at Dean and Ginny, who were locked in a close embrace and kissing fiercely as though glued together.

You covered your mouth to supress a giggle as Harry’s features set into a scowl of the deepest loathing.

Ron, looking fairly affronted as well, spoke first.

"Oi!"

Dean and Ginny broke apart and looked around. "What?" said Ginny.

"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"

"This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!" said Ginny.

Dean was looking embarrassed. He gave Harry a shifty grin that Harry did not return.

"Er . . . c'mon, Ginny," said Dean, "let's go back to the common room. ..."

"You go!" said Ginny. "I want a word with my dear brother!" Dean left, looking as though he was not sorry to depart the scene.

"Right," said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron --"

"Yeah, it is!" said Ron, just as angrily. "D' you think I want people saying my sister's a --"

"A what?" shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"

"He doesn't mean anything, Ginny --" you coaxingly began.

"Oh yes he does!" she said, flaring up at you. "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel --"

"Shut your mouth!" bellowed Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon.

"No, I will not!" yelled Ginny, beside herself. "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

Ron had pulled out his wand too; Harry stepped swiftly between them.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his arms outstretched. "Just because I don't do it in public --!"

Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the way. “Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?" You –"

A streak of orange light flew under Harrys left arm and missed Ginny by inches; Harry pushed Ron up against the wall.

"Don't be stupid --"

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. "Hermione snogged Viktor Krum! Heck, even Y/N’s nogged Cedric probably once, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

“Hey, you’ve got no business talking to him like that!” you were very red in the face indeed.

“Oh, save it.” Ginny snarled, “You’re just embarrassed I told Ron you snogged Cedric.”

“I didn’t snog him-”

“I’m sorry Y/N, as much of a great friend and elder-sister vibes you have given me... he needs to know.”

And with that, she stormed away. Harry quickly let go of Ron; the look on his face was murderous. They both stood there, breathing heavily, until Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, appeared around the corner, which broke the tension.

"C'mon," said Harry, as the sound of Filch's shuffling feet reached their ears.

They hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. "Oi, out of the way!" Ron barked at a small girl who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of toadspawn.

You hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass; you felt disoriented, dizzy; being struck by a lightning bolt must be something like this. You saw Ron ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like "betrayal of trust" . . . "supposed to be my friend" . . .

"Did you really snog Diggory?" Ron asked abruptly, as you approached the Fat Lady.

You turned around, “Excuse me?”

"Dilligrout," Ron said darkly to the Fat Lady, and they climbed through the portrait hole into the common room.

“I hardly think that’s any of your business, Ronald.” You coldly said.

“Oh, please.” The redhead sneered before trudging upstairs to his dormitory.

--------

Ron had been awful to you since the past few days. He’d try his best to ignore you and even slip in a few snarky comments about you, something which was very un-Ron-like.

You had become so tired of Ron's recent unpleasant behaviour that you had not come down to breakfast with him and Harry since, instead choosing to go with Hermione.

She had initially questioned you, but a few snaps and choked sobs later, she left it and just consolingly rubbed your back as you silently thanked her every night.

She paused on her way up the table.

"How are you both feeling?" she asked tentatively, her eyes on the back of Ron's head.

"I dont know what you're talking about," said Harry, stowing the little bottle hastily in his pocket.

“Thanks.” You gave a weary smile. You felt really bad ignoring Harry, but your pride had gotten on the way tremendously.

“She doesn’t need it.” Ron whispered loud enough for you to hear, “I ‘spose Diggory had already said that a hundred times.”

You were about to open your mouth, but someone interrupted.

"Nearly time.” said Harry blithely.

"Fishy, isn't it?" he said in an undertone to Ron. "Malfoy not playing?"

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

You, Ron and Harry were the last two in the changing room. You were just about to leave when Hermione entered. She was twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looked upset but determined. "I want a word with you, Harry." She took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, its illegal."

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Harry.

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. "You spiked Ron’s juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"

"No, I didn't," said Harry, turning back to face them both.

"Yes, you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"

"I didn't put it in!" said Harry, grinning broadly. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione had seen in his hand that morning. It was full of golden potion and the cork was still tightly sealed with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." He looked at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself."

He pocketed the potion again.

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron said, astounded. "But the weather's good. . . and Vaisey couldn't play. ... I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?"

Harry shook his head. Ron gaped at him for a moment, then rounded on Hermione, imitating her voice. "You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione! Y/N’s bad enough as it is, I don’t need you making my life miserable as well."

You inhaled sharply as Harry guiltily sent you what looked like a consoling stare. You shook your head, trying your best not to scream at Ron.

"I never said you couldn't -- Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!" said Hermione.

But Ron had already strode past her out of the door with his broomstick over his shoulder.

"Er," said Harry into the sudden silence; he had not expected his plan to backfire like this, "shall. . . shall we go up to the party, then?"

"You go!" said Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done. . . ."

And she stormed out of the changing room too.

Which left you and Harry.

You refused to look at him and when he cleared his throat, you wanted to run, screaming.

“Y/N.” he began, “Is there... something I don’t know about?”

“Like what?”

“Like what the hell is going on between you and Ron?”

Harry instantly regretted saying this, as your lip trembled and you glared at him straight in the eye before coldly snapping, “If you haven’t noticed... Ronald has a problem of not knowing the fine line between being upset with someone and being nasty to them. I’m surprised how his broomstick can fly with that fat head on it.

When you arrived, the Gryffindor celebration party, which as in full swing. Renewed cheers and clapping greeted your appearance, and he was soon surrounded by a mob of people congratulating you. What with trying to shake off the Creevey brothers, who wanted a blow-by-blow match analysis, and the large group of girls that encircled Harry, laughing at his least amusing comments and batting their eyelids, it was some time before you could escape.

As you moved, you walked straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.

"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite.”

You looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Y/N."

She patted you on the arm; you felt as if you had forgotten how to breathe, trying not to choke on your spit too severely from the amount of effort it took you not to cry.

You quickly turned away from Ron, who did not look like he would be surfacing soon, and darted out the door out of sight.

---------

"Y/N?" Harry’s voice called five minutes later.

He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. You were sitting on the teacher's desk, next to Hermione, who had a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."

"Yeah . . . they're -- er -- really good. ..." said Harry. “Listen, Y/N...”

He had no idea what to say to you. He was just wondering whether there was any chance that you had not noticed Ron, that you had merely left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, when you said, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

"Er . . . does he?" said Harry.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was -- ?"

The door behind them burst open. To Harry's horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry, you and Hermione.

"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her. There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione was staring at Ron in disapproval and anger, who refused to look at her and the H/C girl, but said with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"

Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.

"Oppugno!" came a shriek from the doorway.

You spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach, and you were not sorry for him in the least.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and pulled you along, before you disappeared through it, choking on a sob.

----------

'Want one?” said Ron thickly, holding out a box of Chocolate Cauldrons.

It was his birthday, and no matter how angry you were, you dropped by to say an awkward hello.

“Suit yourself,” said Ron, stuffing a second Cauldron into his mouth as he slid out of bed to get dressed. 'Come on Harry. If you don't hurry up, you'll have to Apparate on an empty-stomach ... might make it easier, I suppose ..."

Ron looked thoughtfully at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then shrugged and helped himself to a third.

Harry tapped the map with his wand, muttered, 'Mischief managed,”

'Ready?' he said to Ron.

“Excuse me.” You quietly said to make them aware of your presence, “We’re going to be late.”

You and Harry were halfway to the dormitory door when you realised that Ron had not moved, but was leaning on his bedpost, staring out of the rain-washed window with a strangely un-focused look on his face.

'Ron? Breakfast.'

“I'm not hungry,”

You stared ai him. “I thought you just said -?”

“-Well, all right, I'll come down with you,' sighed Ron, 'but I don't want to eat.'

You scrutinised him suspiciously.

'You've just eaten half a box of Chocolate Cauldrons, haven't you?'

'It's not that,' Ron sighed again. 'You ... you wouldn't understand.'

'Fair enough,' said Harry, albeit puzzled, as he turned to open the door.

'Harry!' said Ron suddenly.

'What?'

'Harry, I can't stand it!'

'You can't stand what?' asked Harry; you were now starting to feel definitely alarmed. Ron was rather pale and looked as though he was about to be sick.

'I can't stop thinking about her!' said Ron hoarsely.

You gaped at him. You had not expected this and were not sure you wanted to hear it. ‘Friends’ you might be, but if Ron started calling Lavender 'Lav- Lav', you would have to put your foot down.

'Why does that stop you having breakfast?' Harry asked, trying to inject a note of common sense into the proceedings.

'I don't think she knows I exist,' said Ron with a desperate gesture.

'She definitely knows you exist,' you said angrily. 'She keeps snogging you, doesn't she?'

Ron blinked.

'Who are you talking about?'

Who are you talking about?' said you and Harry together, with an increasing sense that all

reason had dropped out of the conversation.

'Romilda Vane,' said Ron softly, and his whole face seemed to illuminate as he said it, as though hit by a ray of purest sunlight. You stared at each other for almost a whole minute, before Harry said, 'This is a joke, right? You're joking.'

Think ... Harry, I think I love her,' said Ron in a strangled voice.

'OK,' you said, walking up to Ron to get a better look at the glazed eyes and the pallid complexion, 'OK ... say that again with a straight face.'

'I love her,' repeated Ron breathlessly. 'Have you seen her hair, it's all black and shiny and silky ... and her eyes? Her big dark eyes? And her -'

'This is really funny and everything,' said Harry impatiently, 'but joke's over, all right? Drop it.'

He turned to leave; he had got two steps towards the door when a crashing blow hit him on the right ear. Staggering, he looked round. Ron's fist was drawn right back, his face was contorted with rage; he was about to strike again.

Harry reacted instinctively; his wand was out of his pocket and the incantation sprang to mind without conscious thought: Levicorpus!

Ron yelled as his heel was wrenched upwards once more; he dangled helplessly, upside-down, his robes hanging off him.

'What was that for?' you bellowed.

'He insulted her! He said it was a joke!' shouted Ron, who was slowly turning purple in the face as all the blood rushed to his head.

'This is insane!' said Harry. 'What's got into -?'

And then he saw the box lying open on Ron's bed and the truth hit him with the force of a stampeding troll.

'Where did you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?'

'They were a birthday present!' shouted Ron, revolving slowly in midair as he struggled to get free. ‘I offered you one, didn't I?'

'You just picked them up off the floor, didn't you?'

'They'd fallen off my bed, all right? Let me go!'

'They didn't fall off your bed, you prat, don't you understand? They were mine, I chucked them out of my trunk when I was looking for the map. They're the Chocolate Cauldrons Romilda gave me before Christmas and they're all spiked with love potion!'

You gave an outraged cry at this information.

But only one word of this seemed to have registered with Ron.

‘Romilda?' he repeated. 'Did you say Romilda? Harry - do you know her? Can you introduce me?'

Harry stared at the dangling Ron, whose face now looked tremendously hopeful, and fought a strong desire to laugh... Y/N thought that he would deserve another punching if he permitted Ron to declare undying love for Romilda Vane.

'Yeah, I'll introduce you,' said Harry, thinking fast. 'I'm going to let you down now, OK?'

He sent Ron crashing back to the floor (his ear did hurt quite a lot), but

Ron simply bounded to his feet again, grinning.

'She'll be in Slughorn's office.’ said Harry confidently, leading the way to the door.

'Why will she be in there?' asked Ron anxiously, hurrying to keep up.

'Oh, she has extra Potions lessons with him,' you said, inventing wildly.

'Maybe I could ask if I can have them with her?' said Ron eagerly.

'Great idea,' said Harry. Lavender was waiting beside the portrait hole, a complication both you and Harry had not foreseen.

'You're late, Won-Won!' she pouted. 'I've got you a birth-day-'

'Leave me alone,' said Ron impatiently, 'Harry's going to introduce me to Romilda Vane.'

And without another word to her, he pushed his way out of the portrait hole. Harry tried to make an apologetic face to Lavender, but it might have turned out simply amused, because she looked more offended than ever as the Fat Lady swung shut behind them.

You had been slightly worried that Slughorn might be at breakfast, but he answered his office door at the first knock, wearing a green velvet dressing-gown and matching nightcap and looking rather bleary-eyed.

'Harry, Y/N.' he mumbled. 'This is very early for a call ... I generally sleep late on a Saturday ..."

'Professor, I'm really sorry to disturb you,' said Harry as quietly as possible, while Ron stood on tiptoe, attempting to see past Slughorn into his room, 'but my friend Ron's swallowed a love potion by mistake. You couldn't make him an antidote, could you? I'd take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we're not supposed to have anything from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and, you know ... awkward questions ...'

‘I’d have thought you could have whipped him up a remedy, Harry, an expert potioneer like you?' asked Slughorn.

'Er,' said Harry, somewhat distracted by the fact that Ron was now elbowing him in the ribs in an attempt to force his way into the room, and Y/N held him firmly back, 'well, I've never mixed an antidote for a love potion, sir, and by the time I get it right Ron might've done something serious -'

Helpfully, Ron chose this moment to moan, 'I can't see her. Harry - is he hiding her?'

'Was this potion within date?' asked Slughorn, now eyeing Ron with professional interest. 'They can strengthen, you know, the longer they're kept.'

That would explain a lot,' panted Harry, now positively wrestling with Ron to keep him from knocking Slughorn over.

'It's his birthday, Professor,' you added imploringly.

'Oh, all right, come in, then, come in,' said Slughorn, relenting. 'I've got the necessary here in my bag, it's not a difficult antidote ...'

Ron burst through the door into Slughorn's overheated, crowded study, tripped over a tasselled footstool, regained his balance by seizing Harry around the neck and muttered, 'She didn't see that, did she?'

'She's not here yet,' said Harry, watching Slughorn opening his potion kit and adding a few pinches of this and that to a small crystal bottle.

That's good,' said Ron fervently. 'How do I look?'

'Very handsome,' said Slughorn smoothly.

‘It can never be me, can it?’ you asked quietly so only Harry could hear, ‘Even when it’s a mistake...’

‘You have no idea.’ Harry whispered back, patting your hand slightly, handing Ron a glass of clear liquid. 'Now drink that up, it's a tonic for the nerves, keep you calm when she arrives, you know,'

'Brilliant,' said Ron eagerly, and he gulped the antidote down noisily.

Harry, you and Slughorn watched him. For a moment, Ron beamed at you. Then, very slowly, his grin sagged and vanished, to be replaced by an expression of utmost horror.

'Back to normal, then?' said Harry, grinning. Slughorn chuckled. Thanks a lot, Professor.'

'Don't mention it, m'boy, don't mention it,' said Slughorn, as Ron collapsed into a nearby armchair, looking devastated. 'Pick-me-up, that's what he needs,' Slughorn continued, now-bustling over to a table loaded with drinks. 'I've got Butter-beer, I've got wine, I've got one last bottle of this oak-matured mead ... hmm ... meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas ... ah well ...' he shrugged '... he can't miss what he's never had! Why don't we open it now and celebrate Mr Weasley's birthday? Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love ...'

He chortled again and you and Harry joined in.

There you are, then,' said Slughorn, handing Harry, Y/N and Ron a glass of mead each, before raising his own. 'Well, a very happy birthday, Ralph -'

'- Ron -' you whispered.

But Ron, who did not appear to be listening to the toast, had already thrown the mead into his mouth and swallowed it.

There was one second, hardly more than a heartbeat, in which Harry knew there was something terribly wrong and Slughorn, it seemed, did not. '- and may you have many more -

'Ron!' you yelled.

Ron had dropped his glass; he half-rose from his chair and then crumpled, his extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam was dribbling from his mouth and his eyes were bulging from their sockets.

'Professor!' you bellowed. 'Do something!'

But Slughorn seemed paralysed by shock. Ron twitched and choked: his skin was turning blue.

'What - but -' spluttered Slughorn.

‘HARRY, THE STONE!’ you yelled, frightened at the spasming body in front of you.

Harry leapt over a low table and sprinted towards Slughorn's open potion kit, pulling out jars and pouches, while the terrible sound of Ron's gargling breath filled the room. Then he found it - the shrivelled kidney-like stone Slughorn had taken from him in Potions.

He hurtled back to Ron's side, wrenched open his jaw and thrust the bezoar into his mouth. Ron gave a great shudder; a rattling gasp and his body became limp and still.

-----------

“He’s alright, isn’t he?” you asked Madame Pomfrey for about the hundredth time.

“Yes dear, he’s fine,” she consolingly told you.

“Quick thinking on your part, Harry and Y/N. Using a bezoar.” Dumbledore informed you.

“I agree, Potter and L/N’s actions were heroic! Only, why were they necessary?” Professor McGonagall questioned.

As they moved onto a conversation about a plot, you moved Ron’s flaming red hair out of his face, gently stroking his arm. The thought of someone wanting to poison him was too gruesome.

“Where is he? Where is my Won-Won? Has he been asking for me?” a high-pitched voice suddenly asked as you groaned.

“You.” Lavender spat, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” you angrily shot back.

“I happen to be his girlfriend!” Lavender said in a dignified voice.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, “I happen to be his... best friend!”

“Friend.” Lavender scoffed, “Don’t make me laugh. You haven’t spoken in weeks! I suppose you want to patch up with him now that he’s all... interesting!”

“Interesting?!” you shrilly cried, “He’s poisoned, you daft dimbo!”

Ron chose that moment to groan in his sleep, muttering to himself unconsciously.

“Ah.” Lavender said triumphantly, “See? He senses my presence.”

“Ugh.” Ron groaned, still sleeping, “Uhh.... Y/N... Y/N/N...”

Your eyes grew wide as Lavender stifled a sob, running out of the room.

The professors stared after her.

“Oh, to be young.” Professor Dumbledore sighed, “And to feel love’s keen sting. I think we ought to leave, Mr. Weasley is well tended to by Miss L/N.”

“About time.” Ginny whispered as she and Harry shared a smirk, sending heat to your cheeks.

“Oh, shut up.” You huffed, still blushing madly as you stroked Ron’s hand.

-----

Ron had been released from the hospital wing, and was once again seated in the common room with you, Harry and Hermione at late night. The room was deserted.

“I’m leaving, Crookshanks is probably hungry,” Hermione announced, getting up.

The silence was deafening.

“So,” Harry said in an obvious attempt to make conversation, though you could practically feel the smirk in his voice, “Aren’t you curious, Ron? About how we drove Lavender away?”

“Not really.” Ron shrugged, “As long as she’s gone, it’s fine by me.”

The truth was, Ron was very much aware of what had caused the girl to run away from the hospital wing a week ago.

“Right.” Harry was smirking worse than ever, “Y/N. Say, why have you been avoiding Ron for so long?”

“Hmm?” you squeaked. Seeing no possible way out of this, you sighed, “He was being a git.”

“Aren’t I always being a git to you?” Ron teased, causing you to roll your eyes.

“And say, Ron. Why have you been so keen to get rid of Lavender?” Harry asked again.

“She was annoying me.” Ron whined, “All she did was snog me. My lips got chapped! Look!”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Harry grimaced in disgust, “But that can’t be all, can it? Is there someone else? Or are you ready to shag whoever asks you first?”

“Excuse me?” Ron’s ears had turned scarlet, “Of course not! So, what if there was someone else?”

“You like someone?” you asked, trying to make the agony in your voice less obvious.

Ron, who noticed it anyway, felt a small glimmer of hope inside his body, “Uhm, yeah. I do.”

“And who might that be?” you struggled to keep your voice even; it was already two octaves higher than usual.

Taking a deep breath and considering that this could prove to be a disaster, Ron told the truth.

“You. I fancy you.”

“WHAT?” you asked, “Did I hear that right?!”

“I said I fancy you!” Ron yelled in embarrassment and pain, scared that you would burst out laughing.

“Oh,” you said thickly, “Oh, Ron! I... I fancy you too.”

“What?” it was Ron’s turn to ask, “Say that again?”

“I fancy you too.” You clarified, cheeks burning.

Ron leaned into the distance between you and you could feel his breath on your face. Gaze flickering to your lips, he ran his thumb over them before closing the distance between you.

The kiss started out sweet and loving, but soon turned angry and passionate as your lips collided multiple times.

“Um, guys?” Harry asked, reminding you that he was still there, “I got the point, you can stop now.”

Ignoring him, you and Ron continued.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter imagine #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley #ronald weasley #ron weasley x you #ron weasley x yn #ron weasley imagine #angst #fluff

330 notes · View notes

whetstonefires · 5 years ago

Text

in the shadows

hey guess who has two thumbs and just spent 5 hours straight writing another batman AU?

Batman wasn’t a person.

He faked it very well. When the League gathered, the line of his mask against pale skin looked natural and human, a little more perfectly fitted than the Flash’s but not quite as perfect as Green Lantern’s, which was an energy projection and not a real object and thus lay against his face flawlessly, without shift or gap.

His mouth didn’t bend into many expressions and his body language wasn’t voluble, but the emotive gestures that he did make were pretty normal. The rare smile seemed honest. He had a heartbeat, perfectly steady. His shadow (almost) always matched the shape that was blocking the light.

The stories that came out of Gotham, about the Bat—those could be exaggerations, born of terror and manipulated perception. Clark, of all people, knew how much you could convince people to believe things that weren’t real, because they made a better story. Even the scraps of photography and film showing a towering thing of black fog and long fangs could have been some clever trick with projectors.

The fact that Superman couldn’t see through his suit just meant it was well made.

He’d had to pool his observations with Diana and J’onn before he’d been sure he wasn’t imagining things. But Martian Manhunter knew shapeshifting, and said the block against his mind when he tried to touch Batman’s thoughts did not feel quite human. And Superman knew what posing as human looked like. And Wonder Woman knew truth, and its absence.

Batman wasn’t human. Which wasn’t the problem, of course.

The problem was that he was pretending he was. Pretending it rigorously in a situation where there shouldn’t be any need, unless he had something worse to hide. Pretending it in a way that overlaid on a certain inhuman predatory grace began to look very dangerous indeed.

Superman could see both things in him now, watching narrow-eyed through a roof into the room where Batman bent over a child’s bed, cape swirling up larger and darker than he let it get around them. The man and the hungry creature, flipping in and out of focus, neither ever gone but superimposed, like a trick picture that was two things at once.

Knuckles ghosted over the boy’s cheek, claws turned inward, and the child sighed softly, and sunk deeper into sleep. Batman’s heart wasn’t beating, but Clark could monitor the child’s vitals easily from here.

Batman drew his hand back, and tipped his head up—looking back at Superman as though the roof was no more a barrier to his perceptions than to Clark’s. Waited a beat, as if making sure his attention had been noticed, and then passed soundlessly between the other beds to the window, slid it open, and launched himself out through it and up onto the roof.

He didn’t bother to restrain himself to even a plausible approximation of human limits, now. The arm he reached up to the edge of the roof to pivot himself up by was too long, and his shoulder rotated further than it should have been able to, and he landed with impossible soundlessness in a billow of cape that was far, far larger than any cape that only reached to his heels should have managed, and which faded out at the edges into shadow. He knew he was found out.

Superman took the obvious invitation, and sunk down to join him. It was better, sitting like this, facing the same way on the ridgepole of a two-story building. Batman hadn’t hurt that child, that he could tell. There was no need to make this a confrontation.

“I don’t understand why,” he said at last. Out of deference for sleeping children, he kept his voice soft—he would have worried about a human being able to hear it, but now he knew he didn’t have to worry about that with Batman. “Why go to so much trouble to deceive us? We haven’t kept secret what we are. Not from you.”

Alien, alien, user of alien weapon, magical princess…

Batman sighed. He spoke almost as softly as Clark had, and his voice sounded the same as ever, except for the fact that a human voice couldn’t get this quiet without falling into a whisper. “I’m not like you.” He turned.

He’d let some of the details of his human mask fall away—what must have been the exhaustively rendered texture of skin, the flakes of dry skin on chapping lips, a crease at the corner of his mouth that had suggested he scowled or smiled more, outside of his costume. There was no pretense of a jawbone, under the skin, though the jawline externally hadn’t changed. The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.”

“You’ve visited that kid every day for weeks,” Clark said. “Why?”

Batman stared at him. “How long have you known?”

“Batman…”

“You’re confronting me now because you’re worried about my intentions toward Dick. He changed your mind about something. Ergo, you’ve been sitting on this for a while. How long have you known I wasn’t real?”

That was such a bizarre choice of words Clark almost skipped answering the question to chase it down, but he held himself back. This wasn’t a story, and Batman wasn’t even a hostile source so far, if it had been. “Wonder Woman, J’onn and I pooled our observations about four months ago, in April. We were pretty sure by the time we finished comparing notes.” He shrugged. “I suspected something a long time before that, but it’s hard to say when it started to be more than…a feeling.”

“A feeling,” Batman echoed. “Yes, it would start there.”

“So?” Superman prompted. He had liked Batman. He was the last person who could insist that someone hiding the truth of his own nature was reprehensible, though the sting he’d felt about it was an uncomfortable reminder of how much most of his friends would resent him, if they knew the truth. So he’d meant to let it lie, until Batman chose to trust them, or gave them a reason not to trust him. “Why have you been visiting…Dick?”

It wouldn’t be suspicious on its own—well, not very suspicious, all things considered, in context—except that Batman had changed, around the same time. Diana said his presence seemed deeper, Clark thought he seemed to be having trouble staying within the outlines of his human mask. J’onn agreed that he seemed somehow more powerful.

Batman stayed silent a long time. Eighteen heartbeats from the boy below them, slower than those of his peers because he had an athlete’s conditioning already and was more deeply asleep than most of them. At last, the being beside him confessed, “He’s carrying me.”

“What?”

“You noticed I’m stronger now,” Batman said matter-of-factly, in a way that almost managed to cover up emotion. “That’s his doing. I was…fading, when you met me. Not up to capacity. I’m not really meant to exist that way.” He glanced over at Superman again, as though evaluating his reaction, and Clark wondered if he had really needed to do that—if he really only saw out of his eyes. J’onn could make eyes anywhere he wanted some, but he needed them to see. Batman seemed somehow less constrained by biology than that.

“Is it hurting him?”

“No! No. It…shouldn’t.” Batman ghosted a sigh, voiceless, inhuman as the wind. “I don’t know that it’s good for a child to be around me. But I’m not…taking anything from him. I’m not…feeding on him, if that’s what you think.”

It was what Clark had feared. And probably anything that would eat a child would also lie about it, but Batman was his teammate and very nearly his friend. So it was reassuring to have it so firmly denied. He’d come braced for only a little and no lasting damage and he said it was fine.

“Please,” he said. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I suppose I have to.” Batman tipped his head back, to look up at the few stars that smudged themselves visible through the red blanket of light-polluted smog overhead. Clark could make out more of them, even with his ordinary visible-light vision, than a human could have. He wondered what Batman saw. “Will you tell the others for me? Your little conspiracy?”

“Not Green Lantern and Flash?”

“Hal and Barry can figure me out on their own.” That dry sense of humor was the same, even if it was bending amusement onto a mouth that could no longer pass as human.

A breath Clark suspected he didn’t need was drawn. “A different little boy made me up,” Batman said. “Bruce Wayne. You can look the story up in the newspaper archives.

“It was a little over twenty years ago, in Gotham. A mugger shot his parents in front of him.” Another slanted glance, and then he looked away again. He certainly acted like he needed his eyes to see. “It wasn’t more terrible than things that happen to a hundred other people every day, really. But he was the right kind of terrified and angry, in the right place, at the right moment…the police reports all say he tackled the mugger from behind, and got lucky that the man hit his head. But it was me. I took him down.”

He raised his face back toward the smudged stars. “I was such a small thing, then. If that vengeance had been enough—the killer taken in and sentenced, brought to justice—I would have faded away again. Things like me are summoned and dispelled that way all the time. Or he could have taken me back into himself—the danger was past, it wasn’t a chronic part of his existence, so I would have reintegrated, probably, and not hung around rising up to protect him for the rest of his life, and probably disrupting it in the process.”

That amused quirk to the horizontal slash of a mouth, again. “But it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He clung. He brooded. He wanted to protect everyone. And I grew.” Bittersweet and fond. “I grew until I really could help. Until anyone could see me, any time I liked. Until I was solid enough to get in half a dozen fights in one night without my blows starting to go right through the enemy.”

There was no way Batman was letting him know these things about how he worked, when he wasn’t holding back, by accident. They were being given.

“Where’s Bruce now?” Clark asked. Knowing it was probably a painful topic, but hoping to hear it was some rule of magic out of a storybook, that only a child had the right kind of belief to sustain a projection of this nature. That Bruce Wayne had grown up and moved on and had a career and a family, and perhaps didn’t remember that Batman was something he’d made.

Batman’s eyes closed, and vanished completely into the black of his head. He’d kept unspooling all the while he’d been talking, Clark realized, and the gouts and folds and flame-like flickers of his cape now sprawled over more than half the roof, leaving a great circle of open space around Superman himself, and a broad open route away from Batman, as though he couldn’t just go straight up if he wanted to get away. The billows of it had now collapsed in on themselves. His voice, when he spoke, was hushed and solemn, but calm. “He didn’t make it to sixteen. He died tackling a gunman who’d been holding up a corner store where he happened to be, buying junk food he wasn’t supposed to have. The cashier fumbled the register key and bent over to pick it up, and the man panicked and started shooting. Bruce saved lives, that night. But he didn’t survive. Because I wasn’t there. I was away protecting other people, like he’d asked me to.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark said. Inadequate as always, but more so, when he’d pushed for this truth and didn’t even understand enough to know how to offer comfort. He reached out to offer a comforting, boundary-respecting brief pat on the shoulder, like he might have when he had less idea what Batman was, and his hand hung still in the air, as the face Batman turned toward him was human again, so abruptly that even to his accelerated visual perceptions it looked like some sort of glitch.

“This is his face,” Batman told him, and the grief that hadn’t been in his voice before was worn on it, in the pull of the mouth and the bend of pain around the blank white eyes. He looked like he might cry. “The way he would have looked. He never…grew this far, but…”

“In memory of him, then,” Superman said, soothing, and was able to deliver the pat on the shoulder and withdraw. It sounded like Batman was in some ways the only surviving part of Bruce Wayne, and as such had every right to his appearance, but he clearly didn’t think of himself that way, and it wasn’t Clark’s place to try to alter his self-concept, or even make comment when he’d only just been introduced to it. “That seems appropriate.”

Batman shrugged. It looked very human, except for the way the cape parts of him reacted. “I knew it best.”

Had he held the memory of his…creator’s face in his head, updating it carefully to how he would have looked with every year or month that passed? That couldn’t be healthy. It also might be unavoidable, considering Batman’s origins.

“You went on protecting Gotham, afterward?”

“What else would I do?”

“And you joined us. When Starro came.” Batman nodded, as though that was only obvious. Clark supposed it was—when you were a supernatural entity created to protect human beings, why would you not answer a call to band together with other superpowered beings to save the world? “Why did you pretend?” he asked. “To be…”

“Human?” Batman asked. He snorted in derision, either at Clark’s inability to choose a word or his own deceit. “It wasn’t the first time. I talk to the police like this, sometimes. Witnesses. It reassures people, to be talking to a…person.”

That was the same reason J’onn made himself look more human, even in blatant green—it wasn’t entirely unlike why Clark kept his own life as Clark, why Superman didn’t wear a mask. “But why…” He’d gone to such lengths, to maintain the façade. Human jaw and teeth, sculpted solid to catch X-ray vision behind flesh he’d carefully made permeable to it, when even now with the image of Bruce Wayne’s face restored he wasn’t bothering. Consistent physical proportions. Always running close against the edge of normal human limits, of strength and speed and length of jump—not hanging back, but not throwing himself onto the front line either, contributing as much with tactics and analysis as actual combat. “Why try so hard to convince us?”

Batman shrugged. “I wasn’t holding back that much. I told you. I was fading. I was never meant to last. Once it turned out the team wasn’t a one-time thing, I still didn’t want to go through the whole…process of revelation.”

“But you’re doing it now.” Clark found he was grinding his teeth, because he was putting together a picture he didn’t like. “Because. Now you’re expecting to survive.” Batman had been dying. He hadn’t thought it was worth the stress of being honest with them, because he hadn’t expected to exist long enough for their relationships to matter.

Superman glanced down through the roof at the sleeping children, and one child in particular.

“I wasn’t there in time to save his parents, either,” Batman said, and Clark knew that feeling—all this power and yet you could still arrive too late, and be too little. But Batman was defined by that feeling, founded upon it almost, so it probably struck him deeper. “But I was there afterward. I protected him from the followup attacks, meant to stop him testifying about the sabotage he’d witnessed.

“And he clung to me, whenever I came…I do try to comfort them, especially when it’s children, but usually they’re at least a little bit afraid. He wasn’t. And he didn’t have anyone else to cling to. They wouldn’t let his parents’ friends in to see him more than once, and then they left town. And then, after I came to tell him that Zucco and his men were taken care of for good, when I left I felt the distance opening…I realized I was…his, now.”

There was a strange, wondering ache in the way he said it that made it easy for Clark to repress his own discomfort with the idea of anyone belonging to anyone else, and of something that looked like a grown man asserting an intimate personal bond with an unrelated child. Batman was supposed to belong to a child, it was how he’d been made, and he’d expected to die by inches in the absence of the one who’d made him, and now he suddenly wasn’t. This little orphan was the most precious thing in his world, that was plain, and to Clark at least it was equally plain that he felt a deep guilt at replacing the boy who had been his world before.

He wondered, suddenly, if Batman had ever been this honest with anyone in his existence. Had he been this open even with his Bruce, or had his need to protect led him to put on a front, and conceal every uncertainty?

The pale smudge of Batman’s face was still and remote, and his voice was nearly calm, but the darkness of his cape had spilled out over the whole roof now, and it was gently writhing. The route out for Superman, opposite Batman’s main body, had shrunk to the merest footpath. Was that there out of instinct, or a more conscious courtesy?

“You don’t have to leave that,” Superman said quietly, flipping his thumb toward the corridor of open shingle and beam. “I know you aren’t trying to trap me, and it won’t anyway.”

The path snapped shut almost instantaneously, and a little of the strain in the atmosphere faded—Batman had been holding himself back from encircling him completely only with continuous effort. Why? Did he naturally expand to fill the available space? Or was expanding in the form of the cape an expression of emotion that was uncomfortable to suppress, in the same way it was hard to sit still when you felt anxious, or hold your tongue when you got mad?

His teammate’s whole torso was turned away, now, and this too was easy to read—shame at his own inhumanity. In front of Clark, of all people. But then, Clark made it look easy, didn’t he? It even was easy for him, when it came to things like looking like he fit in.

J’onn should have been the one to come. But it disconcerted him not to be able to pick up anything Batman did not intentionally share—Clark didn’t think he’d learned to read human body language yet, beyond the most obvious things—and Batman had been known to use fire.

“It didn’t seem wise to seem to be trying to threaten you,” Batman said flatly, into the night.

“Thank you,” said Superman, because while he didn’t mind at this point, it would definitely have made him uncomfortable earlier, before Batman had made himself so vulnerable. “Could you, do you think?”

A sidelong look. “You’re less invulnerable to magic,” Batman said. “Probably.”

Something to keep in mind. The Flash was the only teammate he had now that he was reasonably sure he could take three falls out of three. Maybe they could start practicing against each other, if they could find somewhere they could risk making a mess on that scale. Sparring—he and Diana had tried it out, gingerly. If Batman wanted to stretch out his re-expanding powers in a secure environment…

“Do you have any plans, going forward?” Now that he had a future to plan for.

“I have someone who helps me,” Batman replied. “Bruce’s guardian, after his parents died. He wanted to leave Gotham, after…but he stayed. To try to help the city, in Bruce’s memory. And to keep an eye on me.” The amusement this time was bitter. “We don’t really get along. He thinks Bruce died because of me—that I made him feel invulnerable, and then didn’t protect him. He’s projecting. But I suppose that’s what I’m for.”

Clark made a face; he didn’t like the idea of people being for purposes. Even people who’d been made. This wasn’t the time to argue about it. “But he helps you?”

“He helps.” Batman glanced down, toward Dick’s bed, as though once again he could see through the roof. “I’m trying to get him to agree to take Dick in. He did a good job with Bruce, even if he doesn’t think so.”

“Will that be the best for Dick?” Clark asked, as neutrally as he could manage. He could tell Batman’s intentions were good, but he didn’t know if putting a child entirely within the influence of a supernatural being that had latched onto him, without an external line of support, was a good idea. On the other hand, putting him in the care of an adult who would know he wasn’t delusional could only help. And Clark could be the outside support, if necessary—not that he wasn’t under Batman’s influence himself, but he wasn’t within his circle of it the way this Alfred seemed to be, resentment or not. The resentment might be the most dangerous part.

What part of this train of thought Batman sensed, he couldn’t tell, as his comrade only retorted, “It can’t be worse than here!”

A group home with four beds to a room certainly wasn’t the best environment, but surely he couldn’t be here much longer. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“He doesn’t get much privacy. He agreed to meet with Alfred last time he ducked into a closet while I was there, so now Alfred’s the focus of the plan.” Batman sighed again. “He’s so brave,” he said fondly. “It worries me. I wish he were somewhere safe.”

The wild impulse rose to offer to step in, to take the role of legal guardian if this Alfred wouldn’t. Clark sat on it. He didn’t want a child, he wasn’t equipped to care for a child, CPS would be able to see that perfectly well in a single reporter in his 20s living in a one-bedroom apartment in a somewhat run-down building. He didn’t even live in the same state, and child placement was handled on a state-by-state basis so even petitioning for custody would be horrifically involved, never mind obtaining it. Also, he had a secret identity to protect.

He couldn’t always help. The hardest lesson in life, and one he had to keep relearning.

“So your plans are…to get Dick into a safe home environment.”

“And keep him alive,” Batman affirmed. Quick, and firm, and almost not obvious about what a vital goal this was to him. Keeping this child alive, the way he’d failed to keep the one before.

“Of course.” Clark nodded. If everything he’d been told was true—and he thought it was, it felt true—then there was no need for the League to intervene. Gotham was probably safer than it had ever been. “Can I meet him, sometime?” Partly to do his part as an outside support network. Partly because he was curious, to meet this child who’d been able to reach his hand into Batman’s chest and close his fingers around his heart.

Batman glanced over, and then seemed to relax. Even the endless piles of his cape seemed suddenly to behave more like ordinary fabric. “I passed, then?”

“What?” Oh. Of course he’d known. Clark had hardly been sneaky. “Yes.”

“Not that I know what you were planning to do if I hadn’t.”

Clark didn’t know either, other than get Dick away of he seemed to need it.

“All of this is off the record, of course,” Batman added. It was a testament to how distracted Superman was by Batman’s problems that it took a long second for him to realize the potential implications of that choice of words, and read in Batman’s posture and the way his cape had developed hooks of tension in some of its folds that they were entirely intentional.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“You attended a press event in Gotham two years ago. You still feel like you, no matter how you dress.”

“Well.” Superman tried to shake the sudden tension out of his shoulders. Batman was a good detective and data analyst, that hadn’t changed with the rest of it. He’d certainly tracked down the name of the gentleman from the Planet. “I guess that’s fair. And of course it’s off the record. I won’t even tell J’onn and Diana anything but the basics without your permission.”

“Oh.” Batman clearly hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

“You have a right to your privacy.” Clark thought back over his own approach to the whole situation and said, with a gentleness born somewhat of guilt, “You are a person, after all.”

“I’m really not,” Batman said, corner of his mouth ticking up just slightly to underline the easy irony in his voice. But the great spread of cape had fallen into easier, more geometric wrinkles, and Clark was beginning to learn to trust that over what he said with his borrowed face. Though he could almost definitely lie with the cape part of himself, too, if he needed to.

“Don’t…” His tongue flickered across the back of his teeth; be brave, Kent. “Don’t talk about my friend that way, huh?”

#hoc est meum #my fic #batman #imaginary friend batman #world's finest #somewhat to my surprise #protective batman #inhuman batman #superman #people talking on roofs

4K notes · View notes

tommodirection · 4 years ago

Text

Little Sister

Harry Styles x Tomlinson! Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, playful mentions of Larry

Masterlist

A/N: Heylo! I hope you enjoy this! I’ve been working on this for about a month now, never being able to finish it, but I decided to sit down and finish it tonight instead of wallowing in self-pity! The Larry mention at the end is meant to be funny and playful, not something to take seriously! Thank you and have a nice day! ❤️💕🥰

—

When your brother went to audition for the X-Factor in 2010, you expected him to come home after, maybe with a signed record deal, maybe not, but home nonetheless.

Instead, he was put into a boy band with four other boys, and moved out. Your mother was proud, of course as anyone would be, but that also meant her oldest child had left the nest.

That left you, now the oldest in the house, and your four younger sisters. Your mum was handling it the best she could, but with Mark out of the house constantly, it got stressful for her.

You didn’t like Mark that much, sure, he was nice, and he treated your mother alright, he just didn’t seem like a commitment kind of guy to you.

You were adopted shortly after your mum left Louis’s father. Mark was accepting of the fact that she already had two kids, but became a bit offended when she took your side in an argument instead of one of their kids.

You loved all your siblings equally, well, Louis a bit more than the other girls, but you still loved them no matter how their father acted.

When Louis left, you were left to help your mother with the other girls, Mark not being much help. You were often left to help them get ready for school, get ready for bed, and you even had to run errands for your mother.

Since you were only 16, and hadn’t gotten a driver’s license, you had to walk almost everywhere, but you didn’t mind, not when you were helping your mother.

Having a brother who had recently become a famous member of a boy band, also meant you had to watch all the girls at your school drool over him. This also meant that a lot more people were trying to be friendly to you.

Most of the girls at your school loved Louis, probably because they thought they had the best chance with him, not that they had any chance.

However, you preferred Harry. You always had a soft spot for sweet boys with curly hair, but this time felt different. It probably was just a silly little crush, you’d obsess for a few weeks and then get over it.

You were so, so wrong.

You watched your brother and his mates smash their way through the charts for the next two years, becoming the best boy band of the generation.

The whole family was immensely proud of him, even Mark. You were particularly proud of Harry, though the rest of your family didn’t really care.

The small crush hadn’t faded, instead it had grown in the past two years, each time you saw him on a photo your brother sent, or on TV, you flushed and your heart started racing.

He was just perfect. Perfect hair, perfect eyes, perfect dimples, perfect smile, perfect lips, perfect everything.

It honestly kind of upset you sometimes.

There you were, the sister of one of his best mates, same age as him too, and yet you had never met him.

That all changed when the band went to Madison Square Garden at the end of the year.

Since you were eighteen and finished with college, you were allowed to go with your mother to go see Louis perform.

As you and your mother approached the stadium, you felt a wave of awe wash over you. Your brother’s face was on the fucking front of Madison Square Garden. He was getting paid to be here.

Where the fuck did you go wrong?

The driver that Louis had hired pulled up in the front, allowing you both to get out along with Liam’s mum, Karen, who was a lovely lady.

You all climbed out of the car onto the busy New York City street, people busling past your trio to file into the large arena.

Your mother grabbed your hand and Karen’s as well, pulling you both into line.

Meanwhile, the boys were sitting in front of the camera, discussing their feelings about the upcoming show. Zayn and Liam were currently in the dressing room, and Niall was finishing his dinner, so Louis and Harry were left to be interviewed.

“You know, this is a big show for us, obviously,” Harry said, trying not to be gesticulative as he spoke, nerves buzzing through his body.

“Yeah, of course it’s big cos it’s MSG, but this is also the only one that all of us have at least one family member in the audience. Liam, Niall, and Zayn have their mums, Harry has his mum and stepdad, and my mum and sister are coming, which is of course rattling, you want them to be proud of you,” Louis said, leaning back on the couch.

Harry paused for a moment, “Wait, which sister?”

“Y/N, she’s finished with school, so mum let her come down, she’s ecstatic,” Louis smiled and Harry nodded, trying to keep a straight face for the camera.

He had never met you, he’s only heard stories from Louis, and seen pictures that his mum always sent him of all the girls.

He thought you were adorable, who wouldn’t? He wouldn’t call it a crush, he hadn’t even met you. However, there was definitely something about you that drew him near you.

Once you had gotten inside, Karen insisted on going to buy something. The concert was starting in a few minutes, so there weren’t many people at the tables, most already in their seats.

She was beaming, looking at all of the stuff with her son’s face on it, your mother bearing a similar smile. Karen spotted the cardboard cutouts of the boys. And her eyes lit up.

She rushed to buy one, your mother chuckling, but you could tell she was contemplating on buying one herself.

The pair began to walk away, the camera crew following them, but you stayed behind, stepping up to the cashier.

Your mother must’ve noticed you weren’t there, as seconds later she was at your side, rubbing your arm lightly.

“Whatcha buying?” She asked, humming as she moved her hand to your upper back.

You felt yourself flush as you ordered the Harry cutout. Your mother was laughing her arse off, clutching her stomach as she doubled over.

You felt embarrassed, but understood her reaction. Karen turned around to see the commotion and saw the cashier handing you the Harry cutout. She gave a light chuckle and waved you both over.

Your mother pretended to wipe a tear from her cheek, smirking at you, “Aw, my baby’s in love!” She teased and you bit your lip.

“Shut up,” you mumbled weakly.

The camera crew saw the interaction, getting the whole thing on tape. As you passed the camera, you gave it a small, awkward smile, stuffing the Harry under your arm.

The show was amazing, you didn’t expect any less.

The boys were energetic, entertaining the audience as they jumped and ran around the stage, clearly enjoying themselves.

You were placed in the front, along with the other mothers and Robin, Harry’s step-father. During Louis’ solos, you and your mother would cheer the loudest, the others doing the same for their respective child.

Each boy came to wave to all of you, grinning as they sang. Louis just made a funny face at you and your mother, almost missing his cue.

The other boys did similar things, running to wave while they were singing, but Harry hadn’t come over yet, something that was clearly disturbing Anne.

During a brief break in between songs, Harry came to sit on the edge of the stage in front of all of you. The fans surrounding you all were screaming, some laughing when he gave a bashful wave.

He brought the microphone to his mouth, interrupting Liam’s monologue.

“That’s my mummy!” He pointed to Anne, making her giggle as he bounced up and down where he sat. “Hi mummy!” He yelled, giving an over enthusiastic wave, the audience loving every second.

A grin spread across your face, watching the interaction warmed your heart. Anne was loving it, she blew Harry a kiss, and he caught it, pressing it to kiss cheek.

“I love you mum,” he said, seriously. The audience and all the boys on stage letting out a sweet ‘aw’.

“I love you, Hazza!” Anne tried to yell above the audience, her voice being drowned out, but Harry understood her perfectly.

He turned his attention to the rest of you, “Hi everyone!” He waved again, his grin still just as wide. His eyes scanned over each of you, and his met yours. “Y/N? You’re Lou’s sister, right?” He asked and you nodded, trying to ignore your mum poking your arm. “Damn!” He yelled and you felt yourself gaping, Louis standing up quickly.

“Excuse me?” He asked, in mock offense.

Harry realized his mistake, “No, no, no! That came out wrong,” he turned to you, “I didn’t mean any disrespect, I just mean that I imagined you being like,” he held up his hand a few feet off the ground, “this tall based on how Lou described you, and that is certainly not the case,” he affirmed and Louis playfully rolled his eyes.

“Sure,” he dragged it out, “I’m sure that’s what you meant,” he joked, and Harry stood, brushing off his bum.

“Anyways! On with the show!”

—

A few months later, the boys sat huddled around a table in the film director’s conference room.

The film was finally completed, and the boys were invited to watch it and suggest changes. The boys were a bit into the film now, mostly taking the piss out of it and teasing each other.

Then came the footage from Madison Square Garden.

The boys stayed silent the whole time that the mothers were speaking, being quiet for the first time since the film started.

After showing the mothers’ thoughts on them performing at MSG, it cut to the interviews backstage. It was mostly just the boys’ preparation. Harry and Louis’ interview showed up, and the teasing started right up again.

“Louis, did you see the way his face lit up when you mentioned Y/N?” Liam said through laughter, Zayn and Niall laughing with him.

Harry was glaring at the boys, trying to avoid looking at Louis, a furious blush coating his cheeks. Louis was trying to hide his smile, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye.

Truth was, he didn’t mind at all. Sure, it was a little weird, but he knew Harry, and Louis knew about your little crush on him, your mum had told him about it and had even sent pictures of the Harry cutout, now set up in your room. He would rather you date Harry than some random kid from Doncaster. You and Harry would work well together, he may even dare to say you were perfect for each other. There was only one problem; you hadn’t met.

The boys had finally calmed down and the rest of the film continued. While Liam and Niall were talking about the time they had to be smuggled through a bread van, Louis took his chance. He leaned over, catching Harry’s attention, “Don’t listen to them, if I’m being honest with you, I wouldn’t mind if you dated my sister,” he whispered, Harry immediately getting flustered.

“I, what? I don’t know what you’re talking about, you’re mad,” Harry mumbled and Louis chuckled, patting Harry’s knee.

“It’s alright lad, no need to explain yourself.”

The topic wasn’t brought up again until the movie came out.

Well, it technically hadn’t come out yet. Each boy was allowed to stream it at their home, they were sent digital copies. Louis had invited you over to watch it a week before it officially came out, and of course you had said yes.

You decided to spend the week with him, needing a break from managing the house with your mother. You had felt guilty, seeing as it was now her alone, Mark had left early on in your brother’s departure. Although, Dan, her new fiancé, was there to help out a bit.

You pulled up outside his apartment building, parking and grabbing your bag from the passenger’s seat. You made your way into the apartment, keeping your head down as you knocked on the door.

Louis opened it, throwing his arms open with a large grin on his face. You set your bag down, giggling as you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

“I missed you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I missed you too,” he said, swaying with you in the doorway for a moment. He pulled away, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited someone else over too!”

“I don’t mind,” you said, squinting at your brother, why was he being so cheeky about it?

“Great! Alright, come on in! Harry’s on the couch, and before we watch the film, we’re gonna watch interviews!” He ushered you inside, grabbing your bag.

You stopped once you had entered the house, turning back to Louis, “Hold, go back there for a second, did you say Harry’s here?” You asked, quickly panicking.

You were answered by a voice behind you, “Louis, is your guest…” Harry trailed off as you turned around. He gaped for a moment, clearing his throat quickly, “Oh, uhm, hi Y/N, Louis didn’t say you were coming,” his eyes left you to quickly glance at Louis.

“Hi,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek.

It was quiet for a few moments, and Louis interjected, “Ready to watch the interviews?” He asked, not even waiting for an answer as he dragged both of you to the living room.

He sat down on the couch, pulling you and Harry on either side of him. “They sent me a weird version they made that has the interviews first, and the movie immediately after,” he leaned over and picked up a napkin he had set on the table.

On it were two times stamps, one that was pretty early on, and one that was presumably later in the film. He scrolled on the TV for a moment, getting the setting right and pressing start once the DVD was processed.

He began to fast forward through most of the interviews, you were a bit confused when he came to a stop in the middle of the interviews. You were about to say something, but he turned the volume all the way up, pressing play.

“If you had to set up your sister with one of the band, and you could trust them, who would it be?” The interviewer asked, leaning forwards as she spoke.

Liam and Zayn erupted, “None, none of them!” They both chided, clear looks of disgust on their face.

Louis sat contemplating for a moment, both Liam and Zayn looking at him with knowing smiles, “I have an ideal pair in mind, I’m not going to verify who, the lads already know who it is, my sister doesn’t, but I’ve got a plan,” he smirked, nodding enthusiastically.

The Louis next to you looked at his napkin again, fast forwarding it again, this time you were sat for a little bit longer, the tension in the room growing thicker. Both you and Harry had a feeling that he was talking about you guys, but neither of you dared say anything.

He unpaused it again, this time it was the actual film, iit showed you and your mum, along with Karen, it was the MSG footage.

You began panicking, trying to grab the remote from Louis, “Louis, Louis, turn it off, turn it off!” You yelled as you tackled him, reaching for the remote he was holding high.

He ducked to his side, quickly stuffing the remote down his trousers as the film continued playing. He gave you a triumphant smirk, but you narrowed your eyes, “don’t think I won’t look in there,” you threatened, and he shot up, running to the washroom, giggling the whole way.

You let out a grunt of defeat, collapsing on the couch and shrinking in on yourself, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh god, ‘m so so sorry Harry,” you grumbled, sinking further into the couch.

Harry let out a low chuckle, “It’s alright, love. I’ve already seen the movie,” he admitted and you let out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit,” you mumbled.

“Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assured, you felt him put his hand on your knee, making you flush even further. “In fact, if the roles were reversed, I probably would’ve bought a cutout of you too,” he began rubbing a small circle on your knee.

You removed your hands from your face at his confession, looking at him in confusion, “Wait, really?”

“Of course! When we first got together as a band, you called Louis, and he stepped outside for a minute to talk to you, when he got back, he had the biggest smile on his face. At first we thought that it was a girl he’d been talking to, but then he told us it was his sister, and I just had to know more about the girl who made him smile that big. He began talking about you, and about your other family of course, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how he described you, then he showed me pictures, and you just blew me away, as cheeky as it sounds,” he laughed lightly, your eyes traced his profile, “then I saw you at MSG, and I was even more shocked, you were much more mature than the last picture Louis had showed us. I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl who smiled brighter than sun, the one who loved her family more than anything, the one who could make anyone laugh just by speaking, and I hadn’t even met you! But now I’ve actually met you, and even seeing you wrestled with Louis earlier, it confirmed everything I already thought.” He paused, his eyes opening quickly, “I-Uhm, if you don’t like any of that, you can just ignore all of it.”

You sat in disbelief, joy overwhelming you, “Wait, so you like me?”

“I mean, yeah, if that whole speech wasn’t convincing enough, I can show you my diary,” he offered, and you put a finger to his lips.

“As tempting as that is, I really want to kiss you right now, is that alright?” You asked, scooting closer to him on the couch.

“Yeah, that would be amazing,” he giggled, placing his hand on your cheek as your lips met.

It was awkward at first, you were both angled on the couch, neither position comfortable. You shifted closer, slowly crawling onto his lap, quickly pulling away to make sure it was okay with him. When he gave you a subtle nod, you connected your lips again, his sweet, oddly sugary, plush lips. You ran your fingers through his curls, quickly tangling them. He put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him as you continued to kiss. It was heavenly, everything you had ever dreamed of. Of course, your paradise had to be interrupted by something.

“Oi Oi!” Louis yelled from the hallway, “I get you like each other and all, but this is my couch, come on lads!” He complained, causing you to hurry off of Harry’s lap, taking a seat beside him. He playfully scoffed, pointing a finger at you, “Now, I’m going to get some food from the kitchen, no snogging while I’m gone!” He demanded as he walked out of the room.

You and Harry giggle to yourself, he turned to you, a playful smile adorning his face, “y’know, now that I’m dating a Tomlinson, maybe the Larries will finally back off,” he joked, earning a chuckle from you.

“Oh darling, you’re forgetting one thing,” you chided, he turned to you, obviously confused. “I’m the biggest Larrie of them all,” you teased.

“Oh shut it!” Both he and Louis yelled.

Permanent Taglist (If you want to be added just let me know!): @notsosmexy @ladytommomomoa @franchesca-791 @alwayshave-faith @bxtchboy69

#louis tomlinson #one direction #one direction x reader #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

220 notes · View notes