#me now: fuck her she is now my arch enemy and i wish to see her obliterated
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genshin. genshin please. stop giving me fucking mona.
#reed.txt#my last THREE FIVE STARS across my two accounts have been fuCKING MONA#standard and two 50/50 losses#so now i have c1 mona on euro and c2 mona on american#this is the price i pay for winning 2 50/50s in a row for c2 kazuha#me last week: i’m gonna finally build mona for big numbers#me now: fuck her she is now my arch enemy and i wish to see her obliterated#I DONT EVEN HAVE QIQI!!! or tighnari!!!!#stOP GIVING ME CONS#i just wanted my pyro claymore wife 😔#reed plays genshin impact#at least she’s gonna be a standard character but ffs#at this rate i’m going to have c6 mona before any of the others
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ryujin x reader hate sex?
pairing: ryujin x 6th member!reader
summary: ever since your debute, your relationship with ryujin was quite… intense. you hated her and she hated you back, always arguing in private and acting friendly whenever the cameras are on you.
contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. enemies to lovers, hate sex, fingering, dirty talk, jealousy, angry ryujin, swearing, please do not read if sensitive/uncomfortable with such themes!
genres: smut
“fuck, can’t you just stop… pushing me!” you whispered, while you were standing, posing for paparazzi. ryujin only continued to smile and wave, not revealing her, obviously irritated expression. “i’m not doing anything, you dumbass.” she whispered back, obviously lying, as she indeed pushed you away in the back, trying to hide you from cameras.
every single day, she would you piss you off and you would do the same back, making her even furious. arguing over simplest things, and the feel to be always right.
you’ve been practicing alone for almost 30 minutes, when you suddenly heard the practice room’s door open. and you rolled your eyes, when you saw exactly who disturbed you. “what do you want, shin?” you asked, turning away. you could hear her walking somewhere, but what you didn’t noticed was that she walked to you. hot breath on your neck made you immediately turn around, to only find her looking at you, intensely.
“don’t look at me!” you said indignantly, but not moving away from her for a inch. “don’t look at you?” ryujin let out another bitter laugh. “just this morning you said ‘look at me when i’m talking to you!’ and now you don’t want me to?” she said in mocking manner, looking at you. “well, don’t look at me like that.”
“like what?”
“like you wanna fuck me.”
“fuck you?” ryujin let out a real laugh. “that’s the last thing on my mind right now. and, you know, i don’t hate myself enough to put myself through that kind of torture.” she said, making you even furious. “oh, fuck you.” you snapped. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
you and ryujin were now almost nose to nose. you were so angry, you were sure that ryujin could feel it radiating off of you. ryujin was angry too, you could see it in her eyes, waiting to see who would go off first.
you opened your mouth to speak, when ryujin placed a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you to her, and suddenly you were kissing her. her tongue in your mouth, keeping her left hand around your neck, he slowly moved her right hand up to cup your tits. “finally i found the best way to shut you up,” she smirked into the kiss.
“can’t you just shut up too?” you tried to sound like it was a threat, but by your whines ryujin could tell you wanted more. roughly taking off your shirt, while she led you to the couch. ryujin impatiently pulls your shirt up and over your head, and let it fall to the ground. “i still hate you, you know.” you said before letting out a whine as her hands were under your sweatpants. “right, same.” both of you know it’s not true.
rough touches and harsh kisses as both of you try to gain dominance. your hands slipping over her body grabbing and caressing wherever they please. yet, ryujin win control over you, as you were arching your bach, when ryujin thrusted in two fingers. “i hate you, so, so much,” she spoke in a low voice, rubbing her thumb over your clit. “that i’m going to make this the best sex you’ve ever had,” she started speeding up her movements, smirking, as you melted in her hands. “you will spend your life wishing that every woman you fuck, was me.” you hissed, when felt her biting your neck.
“shut up.” ryujin grunted. “you’re wrong, sweetheart.” she said, while you definitely knew she left several hickeys on your neck. “why?” your voice came out a little higher than you intended it to, feeling as if your mind went blank at the sudden pet name. “you’re the one who’s going to be begging for me, no one’s gonna fuck you better than me.”
with her words she added third finger, making you moan her name, despite all you want to do to stop it, you can’t. feeling you’re about to cum, ryujin sucked on your clit, and it was enough to make you chant her name over and over.
“you really like me, don’t you?”
“shut the fuck up, ryujin.”
#itzy#itzy imagines#itzy oneshot#kpop imagines#kpop oneshots#itzy ryujin#itzy smut#ryujin x reader#ryujin x female!reader#ryujin smut
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Tied:The Huntress and The Original' part three
Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Winchester!Reader
Summary: Things gets hot and heavy between Y/N and Elijah and both open up to one another. Asmodeus sent out demons to find the oldest Winchester while Heaven is in a panic when word gets out the prophecy was fulfilled.
Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Simping!Elijah, A bit of angst, Y/N being not good with feelings
Elijah kissed Y/N hungrily as the heat raised between the two and hands roamed one another's bodies. Elijah took off Y/N's bra and his mouth was on her collar bone right away pulling a soft moan from her. Y/N mewled burying her fingers in Elijah's hair as he left bite marks on her as more of their clothes were removed as Y/N let out a breathy moan.
Elijah took one of her breast into his mouth as his hand cupped her other breast and pushed her back against the pillows moving his mouth along her body leaving marks in his wake.
"Elijah." Y/N breathed shivering feeling Elijah's mouth on her thigh leaving a mark there. Y/N mewled burying her fingers in Elijah's hair when mouth finally was where she needed him most. Y/N trembled as Elijah left marks on her thighs then moved to your clit making her moaned loudly.
"Fuck.....so...good." Y/N moaned out trembling as he worked her with his mouth and slip two fingers into her making her arching crying out his name. Elijah added a third finger getting her to arch when he curled his fingers flattening his tongue against her clit.
Elijah raised his head watching Y/N come undone she was shaking gripping the pillows as she came all over Elijah's fingers as the vampire kissed between her breast.
"There we are, beautiful." Elijah says licking his fingers clean after pulling them from her. Y/N pulled Elijah down kissing him tasting herself on his tongue moaning against his mouth as he entered her dripping core. Elijah groaned burying his face in her neck while her hands moved a long his back feeling his muscles flex while he moved.
"Oh....fuck....why....are...you so....good at this?" Y/N moan out as Elijah raised her leg to the crook of his arm and her mouth latched her mouth on his neck trying to leave marks. Elijah growled fucking her harder and deeper as he reached up pulling her hair tilted her head back placing his mouth on her thoat leaving marks there.
"A 1000+ years of practice, baby." Elijah said moaning when she began moving her hips to meet his thrusts. Y/N cried out when Elijah kissed her roughly as he began to pounded into her. Y/N moaned arching as her chest heaving as the vampire leaned back watching her writhing in pleasure under him.
Y/N's face was flushed her eyes closed tears rolling down her cheeks as she shook arching off the pillows when Elijah rubbed her clit. She cummed as her lover growled leaning down holding her arms above her head thrusting rougher.
"Fuck.....Y/N." Elijah growled as she cummed again and he followed after watching her fall back panting as he peppered her body with kisses. Y/N pulled him into a soft kiss making him hum softly as he pulled out and was about to lay down to pull her into his arms. But Y/N just pulled Elijah against her pulling a sigh from him as he nuzzled between her breast.
"In the morning we should head for New Orleans." Y/N said running her fingers through Elijah's hair making him relax against her as her other hand grabbed a sheet pulling it over their bodies.
"We should but for now sleep, baby." Elijah said softly getting quiet mutters from her. Morning came as the sunlight shined though the window as Elijah woke finding Y/N sitting looking at a map dressed in one of his shirts. It made him smile and moved behind her enjoying how she relaxed against his chest.
"What are you doing beautiful?"
"Looking for an easy way to New Orleans." Y/N answered Elijah marking a rout on the map as he pressed kisses on the back of her neck taking in her scent. Elijah hummed buried his face in her neck as for the first time Elijah felt like his other half and he wasn't going to let her go. It was nearing 12 PM when they got back on the road headed for New Orleans but not before stopping in a town and Elijah decided to spoil the huntress.
"I'm fine Dean. I am headed for New Orleans." Y/N said as Elijah watched her on the phone that he got her earlier as they sat in the back of her truck eating well more like Elijah feeding Y/N a fruit salad as she sat in his lap.
'New Orleans?! Why? We need you to head back to the bunker.'
"No can do. I have a witch to kill also to let Elijah's siblings know he is alive." Y/N tells her younger brother leaning back against Elijah's chest seeing his playful smirk something she had the pleasure of seeing the last few days.
'Wait?! You are with the guy that is the father of your prophecy baby?'
"Yeah for two days now," Y/N tells Dean pausing hearing a sound of wood snapping as Elijah held her tighter, "Dean gotta go. I'll call back later." Y/N said hanging up pulling out her shotgun cocking it with one hand as she got out of Elijah's lap.
When a large pitbull came walking out making Y/N lower her gun smiling crouching down hands out.
"Juliet, sweet baby." Y/N cooed softly as the Hound bounded to her licking and whining at the Huntress as she petted the Hellhound and another Hellhound trotted up whining to be petted too. Elijah blinked as he got out of the truck as a suited man stepped out frowning at Y/N seeing her making kissing faces as she mushed the hound's faces.
"Kitten, I wish you would stop baby my Hellhounds."
"Well Crowley tell them stop being such cute little Hell puppies." Y/N said in a baby voice as she mushed Juliet's face as the Hellhound had a derpy look on her face.
"Only you would find Hell's most feared beast adorable." Crowley says sighing stepping out noticing the Original and was quick to stand straight. Crowley knew of the Original family so to have one of the oldest vampires in front of him was quite imitating.
"What brings you by?"
"Asmodeus is looking for you since you kill his demons." Crowley tells the huntress making her frown.
"So he was the one that had all that set up."
"Of course. Your child is said to be a powerful being rivaling an Nephilim so I am leaving Romeo with you."
"That's sweet of you. If I didn't say any better you are getting soft Crowley." Y/N teased petting Romeo who licked her face leaning his body against her. Crowley smirked shaking his head leaving after telling her that Heaven knows of her being with Elijah.
"So you are friends with a demon." Elijah says as Y/N helped Romeo up into the truck getting a bright smile from the Winchester.
"Crowley is a friend started out as an enemy. He has always been looking out for me no matter what he says."
"And your love for the Hellhounds?" Elijah asked as Y/N closed the back of the truck when Elijah noticed the far off look on her face. Elijah gently cupped her face seeing the pain on her face as she subconsciously covered her abdomen.
"Love? Are you......" Elijah was cut off when Y/N pulled away harshly her eyes walking to the driver side of the truck.
"Let's get going."
"Y/N?"
"I don't want to talk about it." Y/N said lowly as Elijah picked up the pain in her tone one he knew all too well. Elijah made a note to ask later as he didn't want her in pain let alone holding onto it.
"I am here to listen when you want to talk." Elijah says cupping her face leaning in to kiss her but Romeo stuck his face between them. Y/N let out a laugh making Elijah smile enjoying the sound of it while Romeo licked her cheek.
"Alright boys let's get going."
Romeo had his head on Y/N's thigh as she drove with one hand on his head rubbing his ear. Elijah was surprised how comfortable he was with sitting in silence with Y/N.
"What is your family like?" Elijah heard Y/N ask making him look at her smiling.
"Well Niklaus is a headache but I can see good in him along with my younger brother Kol. Rebekah is....well a bit bratty but I know she'll adore you. Freya is my older sister calm trying hard to be a good sister. What of your brothers?"
"Dean is a hardheaded but as a good heart. My baby brother Sammy is too smart for his own good....tried to stay out of this life."
"You didn't grow up hunting?" Elijah asked her looking at her seeing a frown on her beautiful face.
"No....mom was killed by a demon. John train us in hunting and what started out as revenge turned into chasing a ghost." Y/N said remembering the long days of training and how John pushed her harder than her brothers.
"Your father sounds all most like my own."
"Really?" Y/N asked looking at him as the truck stopped at a red light as Elijah chuckled a bit nodding but he did know the difference between the men was the fact John didn't try to kill his own children.
"Mikael was a brutal man. But one thing I can take away that I learned from him is how to be a better father than he was."
"Elijah." Y/N said face turning red at the thought of Elijah holding their child or the three of settled off somewhere away from everything. Y/N tore her green eyes away from his mocha ones and started driving again as Elijah smirked hearing her heart racing.
"We should stop for the night."
"Yeah I'll find a motel."
"Oh love no. We are staying in a hotel." Elijah said having Y/N pull up to the nicest place in the town they were in. The room was nice every nice and Y/N let out a moan when she layed on the bed as it was the most comfortable bed she layed on.
"Comfortable?" Elijah asked smirking moving over Y/N as she reached up cupping his cheek and he leaned down kissing her softly.
"You are spoiling me."
"I am aware. I want to, I find myself adoring you."
"You are a giant sapp aren't you." Y/N teased as Elijah smiled leaning down kissing her then pulled away. Both got ready for bed and Romeo layed on her side of the bed as Elijah got in behind her.
"Night big guy."
"Goodnight baby." Elijah said softly kissing her bare shoulder lacing their fingers together as he held her close. Y/N relaxed against Elijah surprised with how safe he made her feel and was happy that he would be the father of her baby. Sleep came easy for the two unaware that Ketch was on his way toward their hotel along with Sam and Dean.
#L.R writes#elijah mikaelson imagine#elijah mikaelson x reader#elijah mikaelson smut#elijah mikaelson fluff
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Hey! Super happy to see you doing DADWC !!! I went looking through your prompts and - your enemy keeps on smiling when you’ve got them pinned down, and seem to enjoy having a knife against their throat “are you getting off on this?” “i quite enjoy the view.” - is huge Anders energy to me. I was thinking Nate/Fenris/m!Hawke but I trust in whatever pairing you choose!
OOPS, I ACCIDENTALLY WROTE ANGST.
Hope you like it anyway
part of @dadrunkwriting
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“What is wrong with you?” Nathaniel demanded, barging into the barracks.
Anders smirked up from whatever he was drawing. “What isn’t?”
“You told Woolsey she had a ‘nice rack.’”
“No, I told her Oghren said she had a nice rack.”
He sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a scrap of patience. “How is that better?”
“Probably worse, really,” he said impudently.
“She’s a lady and you should be respectful,” Nathaniel insisted.
He made a dismissive noise. “I’m not much in the habit of respecting people just because I’m told to.”
“How about because she controls your bloody pay?”
Anders turned around in the chair to actually look at him. “Healers can always find money if they need it.”
“You’re a Warden; act like one.”
The mage tilted his head to the side as he snorted. “Being a Warden is just another death sentence, Howe. I’ve already had my fill of those.”
His flippant tone made the archer want to shake him. “Damnit, Anders, care about something for once in your life!”
“I care about plenty of things.” He held up a finger. “Not being imprisoned.” Two fingers. “Regular meals.” Three fingers. “The right to shoot lightning at fools.” Four fingers. “And a pretty girl at my side.” He winked. “Well, perhaps not a girl.”
Why was his throat dry? What had he come in here for again? To berate Anders for . . . making terrible jokes? It would be just as effective to complain that the sea was wet, but he was committed now. He lunged forward, catching the mage by the buckles across his chest. “You’re coming with me to apologize.”
Magic sparked between them as Anders shoved him back. “You’re not my fucking keeper, Howe.”
“Someone needs to be.” The archer made a grab for him again, but neither one of them really knew how to wrestle, and once someone’s foot was caught in the robes, they both tumbled to the floor. The scuffle ended with Nate straddling Anders on the floor - not in a sexy way, damnit - and pressing a dagger against his throat. The mage was flushed, eyes wide, but it didn’t look like fear. “Are you getting off on this?” He asked, incredulous.
The mage twitched his shoulders in a faint shrug as he grinned, making the knife break his skin ever so slightly. A hazy blue glow danced across his throat, healing the damage but leaving the smear of blood. “I quite enjoy the view.”
“What is wrong with you?” he hissed again, throwing the knife into the wall. “Why are you - what can you possibl -”
Anders surged up the moment the blade left his skin, grabbing Nate’s collar to pull his mouth in for a kiss. “Stop hating me for being everything you wish you were.”
The archer leaned further away. “I don’t want to be like - like you.”
Anders arched an eyebrow. “If I’m not the naughty mage, what the void are you doing here?”
“I don’t - Anders, I don’t know,” Nate growled as he pushed his hair out of his eyes.
“Stay or go, but don’t drag me down into your own little shitty hate spiral.” Anders said with a glare, and Nate couldn’t tell if it was magic or tears that made his eyes shine dangerously bright. “I have enough of those on my own.”
#nanders#dragon age#fanfic#fanfic writing#da drunk writing circle#prompt fills#anders#nathaniel howe#nathaniel howe x anders
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Five Stages of Starflower
Summary: James is oblivious, Lily is mostly okay with her unrequited love and Sirius has a few plans about this situation.
For @keepingupwithpotters,@sunshine-marauders, @cellularphoneexplosion and @zephyrcove who all gave me the most Jily prompt of all time (“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”) and for @magixbeans (“I refuse to stop irritating you until you give me attention.”). Thanks for helping me celebrate this day ❤
Warning only for a few f-words every now and then (Lily curses when she is upset).
Sirius knows it.
Sirius fucking Black knows it.
Lily had been careful ever since last semester when she started to realize the signs of those things. She’d tried to back away, to avoid more contact despite the fact they had exchanged letters through Summer (just normal conversation, talking about what was going on and their families and discussing their friends – it didn’t mean anything), and that they had seen each other (they just happened to be on Diagon Alley on the same day to shopping, which was smarter and safer—and also didn’t mean anything), and Lily had convinced herself that her feelings for him were entirely friendly and would remain so—if only they hadn’t become Heads together.
There was no way her feelings could remain amicable when she was required to stay together with James Potter for hours at a time, alone in the Prefects Room as they worked and planned, their hands brushing against each other sometimes; or when they would run away to share a hot chocolate at the kitchen, enjoying the fact that as Head Boy and Head Girl they could ignore a little more the curfew, and he’d make her laugh and would help her wipe off the chocolate out of the corner of her mouth.
Lily had fancied someone before, and she knew how to identify the signs, as pale as those previous signs seemed when it came to James. Still, she knew what meant the way she would shiver whenever he’d touched her, or how her heart would skip a beat when their eyes met without planning and he would grin deviously at her or how she would sit closer to him than she needed, just to catch a sniff more of that wonderful scent.
She was falling for James Potter and the worst part was that she’d totally missed the timing in which he fancied her back.
Because all those signs she saw in herself were unfortunately absent from him. James had apparently mastered the art of considering her as nothing more than his friend, because when he’d touched the corner of her mouth—and she had blinked to him, she really had, a blink that said we are alone now and you are touching my mouth can you just kiss me?—James had done nothing but smile nicely, friendly, drawing away.
And she absolutely knew he was treating her as just his friend when the very next week he’d asked her if she didn’t mind changing her Friday patrol rounds with Leanne Diggory. Fridays were the day they patrolled together until late in the night. Fridays were the days where they would go to the kitchen and share a drink and talk about life and it was their moment.
‘Sure,' she had said, acting as if she didn’t understand what his request meant for them. ‘Any particular reason?’
James had flushed then, his hand automatically flying to his hair like he did when he was nervous and after a moment he glanced at Leanne across the Prefects Room. Lily had followed the direction of his gaze; Leanne was smiling back at James and Lily understood even more.
‘Well,’ she said then, keeping her voice carefully light even as a crushing weight had taken residence in her chest. ‘It’s a pretty reason.'
She couldn’t fault James for not being interested in her anymore, but she couldn’t also just stop feeling that thing for him, not since there was no way for her to avoid him completely. So she resigned herself to having a platonic crush on James Potter, one that she administered very well until the day of the first Quidditch game of the season.
Lily had been so diligent that none of her friends had noticed her feelings for him—and she knew that because there was no way Mary or Dorcas would keep it silent if they suspected. She had been careful not to gasp when they were on the grounds and James had been dropped at the lake by Sirius, stepping out of the water and taking off his shirt to dry himself (but she had taken that memory to her heart and lost herself in dreams about him); she had not frowned when she saw James leaving his group at the last Hogsmeade trip to go talk with Leanne, flashing that dangerous grin of his to her (but she had punched her pillow in anger lately, wishing James had come to her).
And then there was the first Quidditch match and Gryffindor had won and in the post-game euphoria, Lily had made the tiny mistake of hugging James and keeping that guilty longing smile on her face when they had broken apart.
That’s when her gaze had met Sirius, and he had widened his eyes in surprise, taking in all that her smile meant—by the time Lily had rearranged her face into a normal expression, Sirius was smirking knowingly, that moron.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He knows. Lily knows he knows. Sirius knows Lily knows he knows.
It could be worse if it were any of other James’ friends, she reasons dismayingly. Remus would have come to talk to her and urge her to share her feelings with James; Peter would spill the word to James, unable to keep a secret from him.
But it doesn’t look like any of these other scenarios is really worse as she sees Sirius’ eyes shining with a predatory look, like a wolf that knows it got his prey.
She considers running away. But Lily is no coward, there is no place for her to go permanently and she believes in keeping her enemies closer, if Sirius could be considered as one, at any chance. That’s why she keeps her ground, pretending everything is nice and not at all bothered when she sees James is near the fireplace talking with Leanne Diggory.
It won’t fool Sirius, but Lily can keep her dignity at least.
And remaining alone at the drinks table allows for him to get closer to her, which is important for her to check how much damage she did today.
‘Enjoying the party, Evans?’
Lily nearly sighs. Nearly one year of friendship with the Marauders told her they only call her by the last name when they are in full teasing mode.
James calls her a lot by Evans, though, but it sounds nice and she rather likes it.
‘Same as always. Nice party.'
‘Oh, I thought you’d be feeling… too crowded.' Sirius throws a glance towards the fireplace and Lily doesn’t need to follow the direction of his gaze to know what he is talking about. ‘Maybe you wish you were at one of those Head meetings.'
Lily pretends to be amused. ‘Heads can enjoy parties too.'
‘One of the Heads is certainly enjoying the party if the party is happening back at the throat of Leanne Diggory—’
She can control her eyes enough to not look in their direction to confirm how literal Sirius is being right now, but she cannot stop the grimace on her face fast enough; it is a spasm of hurt and anger and jealousy, and it becomes obvious that Sirius saw all these emotions when his grin just increases.
Well, too late to still save her dignity.
‘Good for him. Now, if you excuse me—’
‘Oh, I don’t,’ he replies gladly. ‘Why, you seem a little green to me, Evans.'
‘It’s my eyes, maybe you didn’t notice their colour before.'
‘Well, I never particularly cared, but I remember a young bloke reciting that your eyes were pure emerald bestowing grace upon that poor bloke’s heart.'
‘Jade,’ she corrects before she can think better of it. ‘He compared them to jades.'
Sirius’ grin is criminal now. At least, it’s making her want to murder him.
‘My, Evans, for someone that threw a hex at him you seem to have memorized his words.'
‘He kneeled to recite that poem to me in the middle of the Common Room, what else could I do?’
‘Snogged him?’ Sirius suggests, arching one eyebrow when Lily shakes her head. ‘Just imagine, if you had snogged him back then, he might not be snogging someone else right now.'
It’s a fair assumption, but this time Lily doesn’t have to disguise any particular emotion. She doesn’t regret not going out with James before; they were far too different back then. He matured a lot since those days when he would ask her out when he would be so infatuated with her that it was annoying mostly…
Unfortunately, in the list of things he changed since growing up, his feelings for her were included.
That makes her frown.
‘He is free to do whatever he wants,’ she says, a safe mid-term.
‘Or whoever he wants.’
She closes her fists, wanting to punch something; most likely Sirius’ face, though she will settle for her pillow too.
‘Are you here for any reason or you just want to piss me, Black?’
‘Mentioning that James’ hands are all over Diggory’s bum would piss you?’
‘Ah, fuck off, Sirius,’ she says, not bothering anymore to pretend anything.
He laughs—a loud carefree sound that seems like a dog’s bark to warn that something is happening; in this case, that Lily Evans is making a fool of herself.
‘I will leave you alone—if you just admit it.’
‘Admit what?’
'Are we really playing this game, Evans? Let's not go through the five stages of Lily Evans' acceptance of her undying love for James Potter, shall we?'
Lily blinks, fighting not to splurge over her drink.
'I have no idea what you are talking about, Sirius.'
'Have it your way then. I just thought you should know, I was kidding. James' tongue is carefully kept inside his mouth.'
And he indicates the fireplace. Lily looks at it now and, sure enough, though James is still talking to Leanne, he is fairly apart from her, hands untouching, in a friendly stance.
When she looks back, Sirius is not there anymore, but wherever he is she knows he is smirking, that prat.
Continue reading on AO3 :)
#Jily#Jily Fanfiction#Canon Jily#Sirius Black supports Jily#sirius and lily#this is all self-indulgent#written as a love statement to Sirius and Lily's friendship#And also because Sirius was the original Jily shipper#and he called them Lames no question about it#posted now because somewhere in the pacific is already my birthday#and since I am half-japanese I can post in Japan Time#it is known
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What Would An Angel Say, The Devil Wants to Know Part Four (Lena Luthor x Reader)
(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)
Summary: Why can’t you learn to control your emotions?
Words: 1576
Warnings: Language, angst, talks of violence.
Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife @natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @username23345 @xjiasx @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @onlyafewfindtheway @captain-josslett @hayleyokami @aznblossom
A/N: So I did a thing. And here we are.
-X-
Planning a demise wasn't terribly time consuming when someone like Lockwood was helping. Dastardly and vile, his ideas were straight to the point as you discussed your options. While you couldn't outright end the human's life with your own hands, he was quick to point out the most effective options that even a great angel like Lena couldn't stop. Cars were too uncertain and, while the elevator had been a good touch, something like that was too preventable.
"You need quick. Abrupt. No possible room for survival," Ben advised, sunglasses obscuring his face despite having no need for them as he eyed the blonde strolling briskly past you, none the wiser of your existences.
"True, but we have to be smart," you added, glancing around in search of Lena's tell: her "heavenly" glimmer.
"Yes, yes, I know. Your little angel is cunning but I think you give her too much credit," Ben replied, his eyes undoubtedly rolling as he sneered at the humans walking along.
Snorting, you jabbed your dagger into his side, ignoring his hiss of pain or the way he swatted at your hand. "No, I'm just not arrogant enough to underestimate her."
Your eyes strayed back to Kara as she slipped back into her office building and then - only then - did you seem the shine of the angel that often haunted your thoughts. The cretins of the earth couldn't see her but you could, her dark locks fluttering in the wind as she gazed back at you pleadingly.
Pieces of you hated her. Truly. Deeply. You would bear marks for the rest of eternity because of her.
But in the same token, you couldn't deny that your memories with her often left your stomach twisted in knots as you reminisced over the smile that made your heart ache. It hurt, remembering how things had once been. Before you were forced to fight with her; fight for your life.
You could see Lena's expression shift the moment it dawned on her who was standing beside you. The way her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, defiantly glaring at the smug demon beside you.
"Uh oh. I think your little angel recognizes me," Ben cackled, fingers curled into a taunting wave.
Snarling your lip, you growled, "She's not my angel, you ass. Now shut up before I cut your fucking tongue out."
Ben clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Testy, testy, (Y/N). Such a killjoy."
Cutting your eyes at him, your grip tightened on your dagger. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up."
You glanced back over to the building, but Lena was nowhere to be seen.
-X-
Querl studied his ward curiously, occasionally reading whatever Nia was writing though his stare always returned to the woman he was sent to protect. She was so entrancing and for once in his existence, Querl wished to be human again. If only for a day.
So enthralled by Nia, he didn't notice Lena's presence until her voice startled him off the desk he'd been perched on.
"Gods, Lena, you scared me!" he yelped, clutching his chest as he stared at the openly bothered woman.
"Maybe if you had been paying attention to your surroundings and not gawking, you would've noticed me," Lena scolded, though her words held no real bite to them.
"You seem troubled." Querl's brows furrowed together worriedly. "Are you okay?"
Shaking her head, Lena snagged her bottom lip between her teeth before sighing. "No. Complications have arisen and I'm unsure of what's going to happen."
"What complications?"
Peering over at Kara's messy desk, her nostrils flared slightly. "It appears (Y/N) has been given a helper. Lockwood."
Inhaling sharply, Querl's eyes flitted between Nia and Kara. "What should we do?"
"Be watchful. And careful. (Y/N) might have once been a friend but with Lockwood here, we must be vigilant or they'll both be dead before we can stop it."
It was difficult, accepting your new role in her life. Mortal enemies instead of teasing rivals you'd once been. Friends no longer, especially if you were willing to work with him.
A monster in every sense of the word.
"If she's working with him, you need to be careful. This seems way more personal than just an assignment," Querl advised sagely. "I want to believe it isn't but I can't imagine Ben will let this finish without trying to end you. Or having her try to kill you, to prove herself."
Your punishment had been no secret, most of the guardians far too aware of what your friendship with Lena had left you with, the bad blood thick and the scars deep.
"(Y/N) wouldn't..."
"Maybe the old (Y/N) wouldn't but now? Everything is different, Lena. You must accept that. Putting too much faith in her could cost us everything."
Swallowing dryly, the angel nodded. He was right...
She just wished he wasn't.
-X-
"We could always send a helicopter crashing into the building," Ben mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "If that didn't kill the human, surely the building collapsing would."
"That would kill too many others," you argued, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. "We're supposed to be discreet. Dropping a building on a bunch of them definitely wouldn't be discreet."
Lockwood shrugged, completely unbothered by his suggestion. "The human must die. At least we'd know for sure she was dead. Plus Querl's little charge is up there. Two sad, pathetic birds. One mighty stone."
"Not a chance, Woody, pick a new idea."
Ben sneered. He hated that nickname and you knew it, only using it to get under his skin. "Fine."
Smirking at his obvious annoyance, you peered up at the sky absently, noting the darkening clouds. You couldn't remember life as a human (if you'd ever been one to begin with) but you almost wished you could if only to feel the rain on your skin. It seemed like such a peaceful experience, the water trickling over flesh, soaking into clothes instead of rolling off dark wings.
"I'm going to see if I can come up with a better plan," you jeered, heading for the building before he could reply.
Stretching your wings, you kicked off the ground and slowly maneuvered to the floor your mark resided on, eyeing the oblivious blonde through the window. You were well aware you'd be attracting unwanted attention but you couldn't stand being around Ben any longer. If you didn't get a few minutes of space, you were likely to ram your dagger into his throat and send him back to the underworld without his body.
The shift of the air was apparent and you smirked knowingly at Lena's reflection in the glass.
"Stop smirking at me," Lena demanded, arms crossed in frustration.
Snorting, you twisted to face her, brow arching in amusement. "Or what?"
"You're working with Lockwood now?" she questioned, ignoring the challenge hidden in your words. "You hate that spawn of Hell."
You shrugged nonchalantly, peering at the throngs of people below. "He's my ticket to survival."
"He's a slimy coward who wants you dead!"
"Clearly so do you!" you shouted, eyes narrowing into a venomous glare dripping with disdain. "At least he's trying to keep me alive a little longer."
"You're an idiot if you really believe that."
Rolling your eyes, you inched closer to the infuriated woman. "No, I was an idiot thinking you ever cared about me, Lena. At least Lockwood doesn't lie to my face and pretend to be my friend."
"I am your friend!" Lena screamed, the green of her irises dissolving as energy flowed through her. "I don't want you to die!"
As if sensing the tension, the sky went alight with lightning as rain began to flow, startling the humans and hurriedly soaking them to the bone. If only it could wash away the anguish and pain twisting your insides; silence the beasts banging around in your head.
"Bullshit! You pretend to be some pure, precious guardian but you're really just as manipulative and cruel as every other angel. You think that energy of yours makes you above everyone but you're no better than me! And I should've seen that instead of falling in love with some white-winged bitch!" You shoved her, hard, barely containing the want to strangle the guardian who'd ruined you.
Fury washed over you in waves, rendering you heedless of the unwitting admittance that had passed your parted lips, only the sounds of your enraged breathes ringing in your ears. A flurry of emotions crossed Lena's features but you didn't care, simply wanting to either bolt away from the angel or toss her into the sun.
Whichever was easier.
"Y-you're in love with me?" she whispered, the power draining away and leaving behind imploring emeralds that were glassy with something.
The blood drained from your face as you poured through your last words. You had never meant to say that. Because you weren't in love with her. Couldn't be. There was no love in your heart, especially for her.
"I..."
Lena's fingers twitched, the urge to reach out overwhelming as she silently begged you to stay. To help her understand.
"(Y/N)-"
Shaking your head violently, you jerked backward. "No! No, no, no. I don't - I can't - fuck!"
Red lips dipped open but you didn't stay long enough to hear what she had to stay.
Fire erupted...
And then you were gone.
#lena luthor x reader#supergirl imagine#lena luthor imagine#dc comics imagine#arrowverse imagine#lena luthor#dc imagine#supergirl#reader imagine#reader insert
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Where you have to skinny dip with your enemy with tom - 🤠
Winter Break Blurb Week
Prompt #47 - Where you have to skinny dip with your enemy
Pairing - Tom Holland x Reader
Word Count - 929
A/N - TOOK ME TOO LONG, I KNOW. The blurb week is no longer a week because everything went wrong and right at the same time🤡 life keeps surprising me and I had to put Tumblr aside for a while, but I'm back at writing! Hope you enjoy it as much as I did
event’s masterlist | main masterlist | taglist
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“Alright, (Y/N). Your turn.” Your friend, Emma, said to you once the spinning bottle in the centre of your friend’s circle. “Truth or dare?”
You took your summer break from college to do a little camp trip with everyone, including your closest friends and people you hate, like Tom Holland, captain of the college football team and your declared enemy. You’ve hated each other for God knows how long and or the reason why, but you couldn’t stand being in the same room as the other. This trip wasn’t going so different, and you’ve been trying to stay calm for everyone’s sake, but you couldn’t stand his provocation anymore.
So far in this little and stupid truth or dare that started after two empty bottles of vodka throughout the day already made you incredibly mad, including every time Tom sent you some cheeky flirting or low voiced insult towards you. But now it was your turn to reply to another question or drink one more shot, which you definitely weren’t looking forward to anytime soon.
“Truth.” You said and Tom laughed from across the circle.
“Weak.” He cleared his throat and you rolled your eyes but didn’t reply to him. Instead, you nodded for your friend to go on.
“If you had to murder someone, who would it be?” Everyone started to groan with the not so revealing question because they all knew the answer.
“It’s not funny when everyone already knows the answer, Emma.” Harrison, Tom’s all-time best friend, said right after.
“But maybe we can get some confirmation from her.” Emma arched her brows and looked back at you, who was laughing at everyone’s reaction.
“Easy! Tom, of course.” You shrugged and turned to him. “Do you want me to describe how?”
“I’d rather not hear how you’d cut my head off my body.” He scrunched his nose and shook his head in affliction. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a guillotine.”
“No, I’d probably drown you in that lake.” She shrugged and nodded at Harrison because it was his turn to spin the bottle. And almost like magic, or as if someone was pulling the strings, it stopped on Tom.
“Truth or dare, mate.” Haz said and Tom cheekily smiled.
“Watch out, darling.” He winked at you and turned to Harrison after a short gulp of beer. “Dare.”
“Alright, so I kinda want to see (Y/N) drowning you in the lake.” Harrison laughed. “So I dare you two to go skinny dipping together.”
“No way in hell I’m getting naked in front of everyone.” (Y/N) widened her eyes and all of them laughed.
“Nobody’s going to get close to the lake, just enough to see you completing the dare.” Haz assured. “You just need to be naked in front of Tom.”
“Oh, and it gets worse.” She hid her face between her hands and Tom stood up, already taking his shorts off.
“Come on, darling. I know you wanna see this.” He shrugged. “And I’m not getting another shot of vodka or I might puke.”
“Go, (Y/N). And please drown him in the lake.” Emma said and you left with him towards the lake.
“I fucking hate you for accepting this dare.” You mumbled as you walked together in the middle of the night, guided by nothing but a flashlight carried by Tom. “This is just an excuse to see me naked.”
“Of course it is. As much as I hate you, I can’t help but think you’re hot.” He laughed. “And I know you think I’m hot too because there’s no explainable reason for our little feud other than sexual tension.”
“You’re implying that I hate you because I wanna have sex with you?” You stopped for a second just to laugh. “Fuck you, Holland.”
“You wish you could, darling.”
By that time, you’ve reached the limit for the lake. Both of you took all off your clothes, leaving nothing on but your underwear.
“To be respectful, we can both look away and just jump inside.” You suggested and he agreed. “And just get this over with.”
“Fair enough.”
And after you assured that he had turned around, you quickly dropped the rest of your clothes and jumped into the lake, that water’s temperature was perfect for a warm night. Tom jumped with you and quickly swam to you with a grin on his face.
“Hi, gorgeous.”
“Stop fucking flirting with me.” You groaned. “It’s annoying, especially when you’re lying.”
“Oh, I’m not lying. I think you’re gorgeous.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to let you know that before you go ahead and drown me.”
“Wait, you really do?” Your voice softened and even in the dark, you could see Tom hesitating before talking.
“Yeah, I do.” He admitted. “I know that drunk me can be brutally honest, but I was wondering why we simply hate each other. It’s so stupid and I hate it because I think you’re beautiful. Not only on the outside, but I know you’re beautiful on the inside too, deep down.”
“That was very sweet, Tom.” You said with a smile. “But it’s a bit weird when we’re naked.”
“Yeah, very weird.” You laughed together. “Maybe we could talk more when we’re properly dressed. Now I wanna go for a swim. After all, God knows when I’ll be butt naked in a lake with a hot lady again.”
“You’re annoying.” You smiled, but for the first time, you didn’t strongly mean what you said. Tom was annoying in a good way, and you loved it.
#tom holland#tom holland blurb#tom holland fanfic#tom holland imagine#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#winter break blurb week#missnxthingg
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Cass wouldn’t even begrudingly tolerate [the Black Bat], because she’s even less lenient than Bruce on killing and far more willing to throw down.' - THANK YOU for remembering that.
Cass is my favorite Batfam member, the only one really that I have an active interest in reading about. I'd be incredibly ignorant to not bring bring up such a crucial aspect of her characterization. And even if I didn't personally care for her, well, last thing I'd want is to be another source of frustration for Cass fans. Lord knows there's enough of those to go around.
mousebrass also asked: On that note, how do you imagine a meeting between Cass and the Shadow going?
Fair warning: This one took me 6 hours to write, and it became a hell of a lot longer than I imagined. I liked Cass a lot, but I never quite realized I had this many feelings regarding her until I was tasked with writing this, and a lot of things clicked for me regarding my plans for The Shadow thanks to this ask. @mousebrass, thank you. I mean it. I think I may have found something here I've spent years looking for. Hope you enjoy the post.
I'm thankful that this scenario is only really taking place in a hypothetical fanon where both characters can get a fair shot, because I wouldn't trust DC with this premise. I don't trust DC with either of them as is.
There's a lot of ways that this crossover could go on about taking place naturally, initially because Cass is already connected to some of Batman's pulpier elements, due to her connections to Lady Shiva and the League of Assassins, and one could connect Cass to Myra Reldon (who really should just be race swapped if ever brought back so she can stand out as the cool character she is, without the yellowface gimmick holding her back). There's two things I think are crucial to making the most of this idea, and the first of which has to do with the subject of killing. I usually don't like to come up with hypothetical team-ups for The Shadow that focus too much on the fact that he kills, because it's far from the most significant aspect of his character to focus on, much of it is written from a wrong understanding of the character, and it never amounts to anything other than perfunctory. But here, not only is it completely unavoidable to discuss, here there is actually a very, very substantial grounding as to why this has to be such a big part of the story.
The first and foremost thing that's gotta be established to everyone reading that doesn't know already is this: Cassandra Cain, more so than Batman, more so than any other DCU hero, has a tolerance towards murder lower than zero, and this is completely non-negotiable. She will throw herself on the path of an assault rifle to stop men trying to kill her from accidentally killing each other. The defining moment of her incredibly grim backstory is that she was trained from birth to be the world's greatest murderer, and her first kill traumatized her so badly that she has pivoted as far away from that as possible. I stress a lot that the Shadow should not be written as the trigger-happy maniac comics made him into and that the pulp version killed mostly to defend himself and others, generally left criminals to the police if possible, offered plenty of second-chances, had stories dedicated to the rehabilitation of criminals and so on, but none of this would matter to Cass.
Cass has literally chosen suicide over the prospect of living with murder on her hands time and time again, and The Shadow kills. When he kills, he does so without remorse, with unshakeable certainty. He hates death, he doesn't want lives to be at risk in the first place. But people will die if he doesn't do anything, and what he can do, what he exists to do, is turn the tools of evil against evil, and murder is the oldest tool of evil there is. He doesn't kill because a war scarred him, he doesn't kill because he's got a demon in his soul, he doesn't kill because he's mentally off balance, he doesn't kill because he's evil or sadistic or arrogant or anything of the sort. He kills because the men he fights chose death when they sought to harm innocents and fire guns at him. He kills because he is Death itself.
Regardless of how compassionate he is or can be, regardless of the fact that he's motivated by a desire to protect people, regardless of how justified he is, he is still dropping corpses and laughing maniacally doing so. Cass's real arch-enemy isn't Shiva or David Cain, it's Death, it's the thing that she's fundamentally most opposed to. And guess what The Shadow gets compared to often enough? Literally the very first line of the very first book where we get to see him, this is how we are introduced to him:
So the premise here is that we are taking a character who is defined by her fundamental opposition to death with every fiber of her being, who understands death on a level no other human being does, who is traumatized and hard-wired to detest death at all costs and to choose suicide over it, and asking her to team up with The Grim Reaper.
Even if he received the most abject lesson conceivable on the sheer wrongness of murder, even if he does put down the guns around Cass out of respect for her, he cannot protect his agents and others if he cannot shoot or kill those who try to harm them, and the protection of the agents is absolutely non-negotiable and not at all something he's willing to fuck around with by trying out gadget kung fu superhero alternatives. The Shadow has chosen to throw his life away for their sake time and time again, and no matter how appaling or disgusting Cass finds his deeds, even if he concedes that she's right and should be right on all accounts and that he is fundamentally a monster who has no right to judge others, he would not concede on his mission and he would make it very clear she would have to put him down violently to stop him from protecting others this way, and death has not stopped him before.
And to be upfront in case there's anyone who doubts it, Cass would kick The Shadow's ass, if they had to fight. She is the strongest fighter in the DCU, she lives and breathes fighting and combat in a way no one else does. And The Shadow's not one of those characters who is supposed to be invincible and the best at everything all the time always, he can and does lose fights and scrapes to people far less adept at it than Cass. He's a great fighter, obviously, he hauls bigger men than him through doors and was disabling people with Vulcan neck pinches decades before Spock, and he would definitely have an edge in other areas, but he's out of his league here. Frankly, I don't see The Shadow raising a finger against Cass unless she's been brainwashed into killing people by bad writing. Not because she's a woman, that doesn't really stop him from dealing with evil. But because, for one, she's practically a child compared to him age-wise. Two, he'd obviously know beforehand of her capabilities and how futile it would be to fight or even provoke her. And three, the Shadow's whole thing is knowing. The Shadow Knows and all that. Knowing comes with understanding.
He'd understand very quickly that there is no way someone this young could grow so quickly into the world's greatest fighter without horrific treatment that no one should ever be subjected to. He'd see the movements too practiced and quick, the self-control, the strength and speed far beyond even the trained warriors he's seen, the places where she's been scarred and is good at covering it up. Assuming he doesn't already know about her life story, any meeting between the two would lead to him very quickly figuring out that there's something much deeper about her opposition to killing than just moral reservations, something deeper than Bruce's own gun trauma.
Denny O'Neil's 2nd Batman and Shadow story was about The Shadow secretly helping Bruce overcome gun trauma, and Bruce rejecting The Shadow's intentions to hand him a gun. And to make it clear, people tend to assume that The Shadow only helps people for utilitarian reasons, which is not true as I've tried to demonstrate many times now. I don't want to convey that he would want to help Cass overcome her trauma just so she could be more efficient or something, absolutely no, he'd help her because he helps people in any way he can. I think a story with The Shadow and Cass might involve a similar premise, The Shadow understanding that she has been traumatized very deeply by death and refuses to accept it on any terms, trying to help her overcome it, only to learn that she does not want to "learn" anything she doesn't already know, that she has weaponized her trauma into a source of strength, and wishes nothing more than to help others with it.
And here's where we get to the part that allows the two to be on less antagonistic terms, because one thing that also very strongly defines Cass, at least the Cass I like reading most, is her stubborn, almost desperate need to believe in the best of people, that people can and will change for the better. Like The Shadow, her strength too is knowing, it's perception, the things that she knows about people that words cannot convey. Just as there are many things The Shadow would grow to understand about her that others would not, there would be many things that The Shadow would not be able to conceal from her. Things that no one but her would figure out. Things that, despite her age and lack of experience compared to him, he would have to defer to her knowledge on, which reverses the usual dynamic The Shadow has with people. And perhaps one aspect of that reversal, it's that maybe it's she who winds up secretly manipulating The Shadow into overcoming a deeper issue.
Cass's perspective on killing is shaped not just through trauma, but from a painfully intimate understanding of not just what happens to someone at the time of death, but the cost of murder upon the human soul, the ways it warps people into things they never should have been. Killing is a deeply, deeply serious matter, much more so than fiction seems ever willing to go into. Of course we suspend disbelief for fiction, there's nothing wrong with that, but if a story starts asking questions, starts poking holes into fantasies, they should not be disregarded.
And so it begs a question: How has it affected The Shadow? Is he really as remorseless as he appears to be? Is the fact that he's only killing evil people really of that much use? What's the cost of living as someone who has to know so much about so much evil in so many hearts? Knowledge never comes without price, and knowing evil is his tagline. When he enlists Harry Vincent, he makes it very clear that he has lost lives as he has saved them. From when is that regret coming from? What lives did he lose then? Is he saving people by damning his soul or merely prolonging the inevitable by piling corpses on another end of the scale?
If there's a character that could meaningfully start bringing these questions forth, who could ever truly get The Shadow to stop and reveal things to the audience he never would otherwise, maybe Cass could be that character. A girl who was raised to be a monster, who is treated as a monster and an aberration in-universe (and even outside of it), and turned that into a strength she uses to help others, who cares about everyone and refuses to let others be dehumanized as she was. Who better to know what lurks in the Shadow's heart?
Sometimes when I get an ask, I bullshit my way through infodump walls of text until I can structure it into something vaguely resembling a point. And sometimes, and I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I get a very, very clear word on my mind related to it before I start writing, that almost seems to be a beacon pointing where I need to get to, and I work my way into getting there. Once you sent me an ask about crossing over The Shadow with Cassandra Cain, the word that came to mind the very second was Language.
It's an interesting relation the two have with language. Language is of course a very substantial part of Cass's character, who does not process language and linguistic development the way most people do, and instead reads body language to the point of superpower. Many stories revolve around Cass's relation to the concept of language, the help she may require from others in getting around things beyond her upbringing, and ways in which she has mastered beyond anyone's scope. Though she is mute, language is her power, what makes her what she is, and she is someone that Batman freely admits could kick his ass if she ever felt like it.
For The Shadow, language is also his power. He speaks all languages and connects allies all over the world, he is an expert ventriloquist, he is able to project his voice beyond what's physically possible, he can imitate voices perfectly to the point of being able to conduct group conversations single-handedly well enough to fool even the people whose voices he's imitating, much of his presence and terror and manipulation are done through his voice, arguably the very reason he exists in the first place is entirely because a radio actor's voice performance was so good and captivating that it tricked people into thinking the character was a real star and not just a glorified narrator. The man you cannot see, but only hear, the perfect hero for radio. And then of course the laugh, which I have a whole separate post on and which, in many ways, acts as a substitute for language in the novels. He uses the laugh so often as a substitute for statements or words, even to himself, that it's pretty much his own personal language. And language is at the core of how he deals with people, as he knows the right language to use to manipulate and move and help them. He knows what to promise, what to reveal, what to omit. He knows what to say, how to say it, when to say it. Language is the strings by which he puppeteers the world around him (and he can talk to animals, at least of one kind).
The Shadow and Cassandra Cain have mastered two different types of Language as throughly as anyone can possibly master them. The Shadow can talk a group of hardened criminals into killing themselves, Cassandra can punch a heart into stopping without killing it. The Shadow echoes his voice "through everywhere and nowhere at once" to whip crowds of thugs into frenzies, Cassandra outraces missiles and was tanking bullets as a child. The Shadow can lie and usurp lives so masterfully to fool even the families of those he's passing off as, Cassandra is a living lie detector who gleams inner conversations from miniscule reactions. The Shadow can speak every language known, Cassandra is the greatest master of the world's most universal language other than music. The two are supposedly human, but every now and then, something comes along to call that into question because of the things they can achieve. They cannot hide secrets from each other the way they do to everyone else. They are driven by a deep desire to help others, to make something out of the circumstances of their lives. To weaponize that which dictates they should be evil and monstrous into a relentless force of good.
Language is the root of understanding. And if nothing else, as impossible as a conciliation of their approaches to crimefighting may be, I think there could be an unique understanding between the two. Perhaps, and this is a bit crazier a concept but one that seems to be where I might have been heading towards all along, even Cassandra Cain finding a calling away from the frayed dynamics of the Batfamily, away from the Bat's looming presence, to become The Shadow's successor, swearing to uphold a mission of justice through non-lethal tactics while he stays on the backseat guiding her. If The Shadow could trust the safety of his agents and the protection of the innocent at the hands of someone as capable and selfless and good-natured as Cassandra, I think he'd be all too happy to be able to trust someone in such a manner, to no longer be the Master of Darkness, but instead to serve the next generation that's weaponized darkness without submerging in it. To achieve, and perhaps return, to his strongest, highest self: A disembodied voice heard, but not seen. Once again the narrator, not the star.
It's a concept I've thought about very extensively for the years I've been a Shadow fan, but now it occurs to me that, if I had to appoint a successor of The Shadow, someone who could take up the mission but shine on their own right, even improve it with the right guidance and circumstances, it would be Cassandra Cain. The Orphan, The Shadow of the Batgirl. Daughter of the greatest assassins, meant to be the world's most lethal murderer, instead pivoted to being one of it's greatest heroes, but never allowed to shine as she should. But in the darker, less restrictive and wilder world of pulp heroes, in The Shadow's world, a beacon would shine all the harder. Perfect strengths attached to perfect opposites, joined together for a greater good, unstoppable after together having weaponized that which most take for granted: the power of language to move worlds.
#replies tag#pulp heroes#comic books#the shadow#cassandra cain#batgirl#i always had a feeling that a successor to the shadow should not be modeled on batman but someone within that range#i never quite found a character i would be happy with taking that role or a similar role#aw shit i just talked myself into a new favorite character#that just so happens to be another character brimming with potential that's denied them by corporate overlords#who could have seen that coming
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The Sacrifice: Part 8 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)
synopsis: It's the day before you face your arch-enemy, and you're given one last option.
wc: 1k
tw: none
masterlist
One day until you face Gakuganji.
You step off to the side, avoiding a potential blow from Nobara before you feel the lurch of your stomach. “You gotta be kidding me,” the fire goddess mutters, placing her hands on her hips. “This is the second day you’ve been vomiting. Quit eating those fucking pastries, they’re not good for you.”
“Sorry,” you moan, wiping your face with a towel provided by Gojo. “They’re just so delicious.”
“And when you throw up all over Gakuganji, what then? Oops won’t cut it, y/n.” Yuta mumbles, and you shake your head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Let’s go over the plan again while you rest,” Gojo offers, sitting you down in the grass. “First, you go to…?”
“Gakuganji’s home and enter through his backdoor when everyone is asleep.”
“Then?” Gojo ticks up a finger.
“I wake him in his bed, cover his mouth, and urge him to follow me.”
“He’s bound to be…?”
“Terrified, since I’m supposed to be dead, and if he cries out for help, I knock him out and drag his ass up the mountain.”
“No,” Gojo groans, wiping his face. “If he cries out for help, I’ll come to get both of you.”
“Why not do that anyway?” Nobara wonders, frowning.
“It would cause a massive scene if a white dragon swoops out of the sky in the middle of the night and grabs a screaming old man, carries him off to the-- No, wait,” Gojo pauses, thinking. “That’s so crazy, it just might work. Lure him outside, I grab both of you and drop you at the top of the mountain.”
“But what about Toji?” you whisper, and Gojo nods.
“I can fend off Toji for a bit while you get Gakuganji and slit his throat, but you have to be quick about it. Yuta will take his soul, and all’s well that ends well. The only part Geto plays is that it’s done on his domain, and all parties are free and clear to live on since the contract was only broken between Gakuganji and Toji.” The three gods high-five each other, but you begin to worry, hoping your skill is as good as it’s supposed to be to pull all of this off.
_____________________________________________________________
Your last dinner is spent with the three in the dining room, drinking and eating at the same time.
“Y/n, did you ever consider becoming immortal?” Nobara asks, sipping her red wine.
“Long story,” you and Gojo mutter, and you laugh at the coincidence.
“Trust me, she’s come a long way for all of this,” Yuta mentions, smiling at you.
“Just to get revenge on a man who… okay, I can see it.” Nobara grunts and Yuta laughs, shoulders shaking as he bows his head.
When dinner is over, you and Nobara hug, parting ways and saying your goodbyes before Gojo follows her outside, chatting with her heartily. Yuta offers to walk you to your room with a tilt of his head, and you walk alongside him as he clasps his hands behind his back.
“You’re such an impressive woman. You’d do all of this for a town that has not thought of you in over a month… Just think of what you would do for someone who you love?” You smile, heat creeping up your neck.
“I just don’t want another girl to end up like me, even though I’ve had the time of my life here with you all.”
“Will you return to your village once Gakuganji is dead?” The thought had never occurred to you before, but now that you think about it…
“If they need someone to lead them, I would be happy to do it.” Yuta chuckles, dipping his head.
“I knew you would say that.” When he takes your hand and holds it to his chest, your smile falls incrementally, and you wonder what he’s thinking behind those dark blue eyes.
“If you ever need a place to stay, a place to be, or someone to call on, I’ll be there for you. You are a dear friend to me, now, y/n.”
“Thank you, Yuta. I’m grateful for you.” He nods, then lets go of your hand.
“To bed, my Lady. You will need all the rest you can muster for tomorrow.”
_____________________________________________________________
Suguru does not visit you.
Not during the night, not in the morning, not during the hellish hours of noon.
“We will leave at sunset,” Gojo informs you, not armed with a letter for you. If these were your last moments, wouldn’t you want to spend them with Geto? Wouldn’t he want to spend them with you?
“Gojo, where is Geto?”
When he hears your question, his eyes shift away from your face. “He’s… he’ll meet us at the mountain when all is said and done.”
“Does he not want to wish us luck?” Gojo cracks a smile, raising his brow at you and placing a hand on his hip.
“Why do we need luck when we have a reading, fighting, beautiful genius on our side?” You chuckle at Gojo’s words, and then he clears his throat. “I was talking about myself, y/n.” You laugh even harder at his lie, and he smiles at you, his blue eyes shining in the dimming light of the sun. “I’ll be back when it’s time to go.” And the white dragon disappears again, leaving you with only your thoughts and the memories of your parents telling you how proud they are of you. You never needed those words as a child, but you felt like you needed them now more than ever.
“Would you be proud of me?” you ask no one, and a whistle of air blows into the room as if it could answer your question. But no one appears, and you’re left alone until the fateful hour arrives. When Gojo opens your door, you’ve dressed in the black gown and cape provided by Yuta, strapping a small dagger into the chest holster also provided to you.
“Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
_____________________________________________________________
TAGLIST: @sunfloweroranges @jibe-gajima @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something @kontentious@missbonekitty @fyotituti @honouredsatoru @sandyscastle @flare-on @sasahime @ggotgame @just4readingfics
#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen getou#geto suguru#jjk geto#getou x reader#getou suguru#jujutsu kaisen geto#getou suguru x reader#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen
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solitude | a when the sun sets in the east drabble
Hahaha here it is @youwerenevermine and also @aenarsnow since his naughty drabbles inspired the ask for #22. “You can scream if you want.” Enjoy!
“Fascinating,” she murmured, observing the white stone etchings on the dark wall in front of her, lifting her torch higher to get a better look at the drawings the Children of the Forest had done ages before. Her fingers lightly touched the marks, glancing sideways to her husband, who was watching her, eyes hooded and dark. She arched her brow. “I would have wondered if you’d done these, if you had not already gone and fought them.”
He smiled, the barest ghost of it, and reached for her hand, guiding the torch further, to point out some more of the drawings he’d discovered in his island wanderings. “See these?” he asked, showing her more. “Look at that.”
To her surprise, there was a drawing of a beast with wings, with lines coming from its mouth. “Dragons,” she breathed; her lips pulling to a smile. “They must have flown from Valyria over this way…wild dragons.” The idea of it was so foreign. She turned the torch towards the cave, peering deeper inside of it, at the shiny dragonglass that remained, although most of it had been taken to make weapons for the Northerners to use to fight the Others.
She had seen them herself, briefly, when she’d ventured North just once, to confirm what her husband told her. She wanted to see them for her own eyes and she had. Evil, terrible magical beings. They were gone now; the North was safe. She had another war to fight on the southern front now, against Cersei.
“What is back there, do you think?” she wondered. She knew of the hot springs, the volcano that gave Dragonstone its constant fog and mist, the vague sulfuric and ashy smell, and its soft black sand. In her dreams she heard the dragons of old crying out. She wanted to find them. Their skeletons or their eggs, maybe.
“Animals maybe. Come.” He offered his hand, and she took it, noting to explore later. The torchlight bounced off the shimmery cave walls, damp and chilled, but she was warm. Not just from the fire on their torches, but from being in his presence after so long without him. She leaned against his arm, their fingers clutching tight.
They emerged from the cave, to see the sun peeking from behind fading storm clouds, the three dragons wheeling in the sky, elated to be together again. They had not stopped crying out, no doubt Drogon and Viserion telling Rhaegal all that he had missed, and Rhaegal sharing his experiences in the North, fighting Others and burning down Boltons. The stories Jon had told her, of the faces on the Northmen, when he had returned, she wished she could see it. She wanted to see the faces of his enemies when they caught sight of him atop Rhaegal, flying into battle.
Her lips twitched, her skin warming further beneath her black coat dress. It was the most clothing she’d worn in his presence and even beside her, she noted how comfortable he was now in his Northern gambeson, quilted tunic, and thick woolen trousers. “Will you ever wear your Dothraki clothing again?” she mused, walking along with him towards the water’s edge.
“I imagine I will, in Essos. It is a bit too cold here for that.” He smirked. “Or would you have me freeze my stones off?”
Her hand shot down between his legs, grasping the stones in question, as best as she could with all the clothing between them. He gasped, his eyes blackening, and she tossed the torch into the sand at their side. Hands free completely, she murmured, moving them up towards his belt. “No, I would never want that, a travesty it would be. I quite like your stones.” She rubbed her mouth over his, purring. “I like your cock a bit more.”
His breath was hot, mingling with hers, opening his mouth wider over hers, his tongue slipping free to touch hers, the kiss filthy, sloppy. He groaned, her fingers diving between the gambeson and tunic folds, slipping into the breeches. He was hard as steel already, thick, and she moaned into him, giving him a few pumps in her small hand, her fingers slipping over the length and running her thumb over the tip, wishing it was in her mouth. Or cunt, that would be nice too.
He whined, when she flicked her tongue against his, mimicking the motions of her thumb on him. He grappled for her wrist, squeezing gently, warning. “Dany, no, not like this.”
“Please,” she whispered, eyes flicking up to him, her brows arching. “It’s been so long…I need you Jon.”
“Here?”
“Here,” she confirmed. It was secluded; no one would find them. She turned them around, pushing towards the crevices the large, jagged rocks created on the shoreline, spinning and hopping backwards onto one of them, leaning backwards and allowing her legs to fall open, her hand still inside of his trousers, refusing to let go, literally leading him by the cock. “Jon please, I’m fine…it’s been enough time.”
They were normally so exhausted, the last month and a half with their beautiful baby girl rather challenging, but she would never give it up. They were learning to be a family, balancing need for sleep and feeding a newborn with ruling and battle plans. Most evenings she fell asleep before she could say good night, grateful to be in his arms again.
It was just of late she found her fingers wandering over her belly, skimming over her small clothes, late at night as he slept beside her. The war council meetings found her staring at him longer than considered appropriate, her throat parched and her body quivering, wishing she were the wooden figurine he was fiddling with while Tyrion droned.
She needed him, she thought, desperately pulling the leather ties at his neck, loosening the tunic, her skin itching, wanting to touch him, press to him and indent his heart on hers again. “Jon,” she panted, their kisses furious, her legs rising to cradle his pelvis to hers, bringing his length ever closer to her cunt. it pulsed for him, aching, empty. Her fingers tore at his trouser ties. “Hurry.”
He nodded, understanding, and his hands ripping the clasps on her coat apart. The cold wind from the sea stung her blazing skin through the thin material if her underdress. He tweaked her nipples through the materia, lips dropping from hers to wrap around the protruding tips, mouthing them through the material.
Her breasts ached, had been for months now, and she tossed her head against the flat rock ebjnd her, sobbing. “Jon, careful, no…”
Understanding, he pushed up her dress, groaning frustratedly when he found her leather leggings. “Dany,” he warned, his voice thin, barely in control. It was how she wanted him, her Khal Verro, losing himself.
Especially if he was losing himself in her.
She silenced any further hesitation from him in a searing kiss, one that shot adrenaline straight down her spine to her cunt, jerking her hips towards his. He got the point and with a loud grunt, tore down the front seam of her leggings.
It lit the fire already stoking in her and she released a desperate cry, echoed by the dragons above, finally freeing his cock from the many clothing layers. “I hate these clothes,” she complained, about to say something else about them, but then he slipped one long finger between her slit, another joining and she choked, trying to silence a cry in his shoulder.
“You can scream if you want,” he husked, rasping an amused chuckle. “It’s not like you’ve ever stayed quiet before.”
She screamed; a release from deep inside her belly, coiling out of her in the same high pitched cries of her sons flying above. It had been months in the making, missing him, needing him, and worrying if she would ever see him again.
He worked his fingers furiously inside of her; there would be time later for slow teasing, right now she wanted that fiery explosion and he knew it. He coaxed her with breathless whispers, asking her if she wanted more, knowing she could give him everything so why was she holding back? She groaned, one hand trying to clutch the smooth rock under her and the other scraping the back of his neck, latching him against her mouth.
“What do you want?” he asked. “Tell me.”
“Your mouth,” she begged. She laughed and cried out when he pulled his fingers free if her clenching cunt, the emptiness ringing hollow. She did not have long to fret, because he replaced them with his tongue, falling to his knees in the sand, one hand pushing her thigh up to give him greater access, the other returning to slipping along her folds, his thumb roughly circling her clit.
Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, each gasping breath exhaling as a cry. She forced her eyelids open to gaze down at him, his dark head working furiously between her thighs. She lightly pulled on the knotted bun, tilting his head enough so she could meet his eyes. He smiled against her, tongue not stopping, and she shook her head, anxiously crying out. “Now Jon, please, now!”
He tore away, beard damp from her desire, which slipped down her cunt and into her arse cheeks. She pressed her thighs together to keep the pressure going, nodding furiously when he arched his brow to ask if she was sure. Her hands tore at his trousers, returning to his cock and he pushed the waist down enough over his slim hips to free himself.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, head slamming against the rock behind her, the cold jaggedness scraping against her coat, snagging at her dress. He slid his cock through her folds, gathering wetness, and the fat head of it bumping her swollen clit. He chuckled into her neck, finding her hand and squeezing. He knew exactly what he was doing, the bloody tease. “Jon fuck me,” she begged. The heat and pressure built inside her to dangerous levels, threatening to explode. When she did, she wanted him with her.
His hesitation was obvious, his kisses bruising, but his shoulders tensing. Her palm curved on his jaw, her hips rotating up to slide along his length, eliciting a soft groan from him. Whispering, she met his gaze, his pupils wide and drowning the gray. She smiled, lips curving up at the same time she lifted her brows. “You won’t hurt me.”
The only time it had ever hurt to be with him was when he was gone. That had been a necessary pain, one she hoped they would never have to endure again. She lifted against him again, crying out at the tortuous, pleasurable pain. Her cunt pulsed, her muscles quivering, anticipating.
He slammed his mouth on hers, tongue spearing between her teeth to gapple with hers and he grunted at the effort, swallowing her scream when he hooked her knee over his elbow, grasped her thigh, and punched his hips into hers, the force of his thrust so strong it pushed her up on the rock face and tore her leggings further, her free leg flying to the side and knee almost banging her shoulder.
She screamed, Valyrian curses, encouragement and his name. Jon, Jon, Jon, a prayer and a chant, with every thrust of his body into hers. It was tight, his cock splitting her, dragging in and out of her body, her cunt grasping him, refusing to make it easy. The initial pain she’d felt at his first entry eased quickly. It was incredible, she thought, delirious.
She held his face and clutched at his hip, digging her nails into his arse, his muscles bunching and flexing in exertion. “<I> Issa darys, issa zokla,</I>” she sobbed. My king. My wolf.
It took them like the waves crashing to the shore feet away from them. The pleasure in her belly, that pressure finally exploded out, the fire coiling through her and she screamed, body arching into him, squeezing him, and she refused to let go. He was with her again. In the closest possible way, their hearts and bodies finally one again.
He shouted her name, coming not long after her, encouraged by her body still quivering around him, his cock twitching inside of her, filling her with his release. Her eyes fluttered shut, face pressed to his neck, tongue lapping a drop of sweat from his pulse. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She missed this the most.
The way he wouldn’t pull out of her immediately, the way he would always run his hands over her thighs and calves, soothing any roughness he thought he’d exhibited. How he would murmur how he loved her into her shoulder. Sometimes drop his head to her heart. Would tangle his fingers in her braids. Brush his lips over her temple.
And he did just that, his lips nudging near her ear. “I love you,” he breathed.
She nodded, sniffling the tears trickling along her cheeks. “I love you too. I missed you.”
“I’m back, I’m not leaving,” he whispered. He kissed her gently, still holding her legs and pulled free. Her thighs were damp, her body aching pleasurably. There was a tear in her coat from the rock and her leggings were useless.
They took a look at each other, when her boots hit the sand and laughed, the situation absurd. He adjusted his trousers and searched for his belt. “The lengths we go to for privacy,” he chuckled, picking up his sandy, water logged belt from the ground.
She snorted. “I fear it may get worse, we have a newborn. The Dothraki midwives always teased each other of finding time for oneself.” Except she also missed her baby and it had been about an hour. She wanted to get back to the castle urgently.
Jon used his dagger to remove the rest of her leggings and she tossed them towards some of the rocks, for some animal’s use in their den. “What will you say?” he wondered, lifting his gambeson from the sand, brushing it off.
She glanced at her bare legs. When she dropped her dress and her coat, you could not tell. She smirked. “I am the queen. No one will say such things. We were on a walk, enjoying some private time and exploring the island.”
He shrugged and offered his hand. She took it and they shared another gentle kiss, emerging from the rocks and walking back towards the castle. He glanced down at her, brow wrinkling. “Are you sure you are alright? I was…”
“Stop it Jon, you can never be too rough with me.” She snapped her teeth, teasing. “I am a dragon.”
“And so am I,” he replied with a hard kiss.
Ghost joined them near the castle, from where he had been keeping watch along the edges of the small beach. They went up the stairs, several minutes later arriving in their chambers, where Missandei was rocking little Lyella.
She immediately took her daughter into her arms, gazing lovingly after her precious child. Her miracle, she thought, kissing the pale nose, which wrinkled from her touch, a small grunt escaping at being woken early. “My darling,” she cooed in Valyrian. “Muna is here.”
Missandei smiled enigmatically, propping her chin in her palm. “Did you enjoy yourselves on your ah…walk, Your Graces?”
There was something in how she stressed the word walk that alerted Dany. She frowned, drawling. “Yes it was…exhilarating.”
Her best friend smiled again, brows arching. “Did you ah…do much?”
“Many things,” Dany murmured, smirking at her friend, who knew what she meant and nodded. They could chat later. Jon would be mortified. she cleared her throat. “Where are the advisers?”
Unable to keep his hands to himself, Jon took his daughter from her and beamed, cradling her close and walking off towards the overlook on the edge of the room, to point out the dragons.
Missandei smiled again. “They were waiting for you in the Chamber of the Painted Table but there’s a very curious thing…it seems the way the rocks are here that depending on where you are near the beach, the wind carries all manner of sounds.”
Her eyes widened, blood chilling. “Ah…really?”
“Mmmm. Qhono suggested they all take the evening off.” She laughed, in spite of herself. “Said that it was something of a Dothraki tradition. Some time after a baby is born for the parents to ah…return to certain activities.”
She was not aware of such a tradition but suspected Qhono had just wanted to embarrass the prudish Westerosi. Her cheeks paled at the idea that her advisers might have heard what went on down at the rocks. “Oh, well…”
“Lady Olenna said that you were quite lucky Your Grace. That a woman should long to have a husband who makes such sounds come from a woman’s lips.” Missandei stood and chuckled again, murmuring. “I think she plans to ask you later.”
Dany laughed. Or course. “Well…” she licked her lips, watching Jon with their daughter and her heart leaped further in her chest, near to her throat, choking her. “She can ask but it’s really very simple.”
“Oh?”
“Hmm.” She shrugged. “I love him. He loves me.”
Missandei squeezed her hand, quiet. “I am glad His Grace, Khal Verro is back. It seems right.”
She nodded and breathed out slowly through her lips, watching the man who could tear out hearts from his enemies sway back and forth in the archway, the sun set surrounding him in relief, and coo lovingly to the baby in his arms. “Yea,” she agreed. “It’s all right again.”
And she went to join him, because for all the time alone with him she could have now, she wanted the time now with him and their beloved Princess.
#jonerys#jonerys au#my fics#my moodboards#jonerys fanfic#drabble challenge#when the sun sets in the east universe
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My Rumsfeld and Cheney story.
***
I am in my late 20s and have been at my job in the White House for several months. Despite my age, I have been handed the task of helping to organize and arrange the administration’s new initiative to expand the humanities in America’s schools. I have an Ivy League education but I know the real reason I have the job. It is because my father has been lifelong friends with the President and is one of his closest advisors.
But being this is Washington, my father has enemies. At the top of the list are Donald Rumsfeld and his acolyte Dick Cheney — notorious for their scheming, ruthlessness and ways to grab power at the expense of others, and they are eyeing up putting a knife in my father’s back.
I am walking down the hallway. There are two things in my mind. The first is career preservation. If my father is forced out by them, then my career goes down the toilet.
But the main reason is because of something I have finally admitted to myself — that they are both incredibly attractive, and I want to submit to them.
I see Rumsfeld’s hatchet face of a Secretary. She buzzes. I wait for a few minutes, hearing him laughing on the phone. Finally, he has me sent in as he peers over some files and is writing something on a notepad, not paying me any attention, giving me a terse, “How may I help you? I’m not sure I can be of any service to your program.”
I shiver.
“Well, Mr. Rumsfeld,” I say. He perks up a bit hearing the deference in my voice. “I did not come specifically to ask you that. I came today to tell you...” I gulp. “I came to tell you that I know you are coming after my father. And I want to tell you that I know you are going to push him. And that my full loyalty and allegiance is with you.”
He stops writing and looks up.
“I see,” he says, with no emotion at all. “You see, I know my way around Washington. And this is something that I find highly dubious. Some kind of trick. So, you may go, even though you are correct about your father’s fate.”
I knew he would doubt me. So I have him a file.
“Well, in advance of that, I prepared a briefing document for you. It is a lot of information you may find useful to destroy him. Not that you need my assistance.”
He opens the file, adjusts his glasses, and chuckles.
“Well, I know some of this already. But this... I will say, that this could be useful in making my job that much easier.”
He leans back and steeples his fingers.
“Of course, I still do not quite believe you yet.” He swivels his chair. “Come here now and kneel before me. Denounce your father and your entire family and beg me to accept your loyalty.”
I pace around the desk and get on my knees.
“I denounce my father and an ashamed of my family’s name. Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. I beg you. Please accept my allegiance to you. I promise I will serve you in any capacity that you wish, Sir.”
He lets out a Cheshire Cat smile and laughs.
“Very good. That is a good boy.” He then stands and beads to his belt. “Now there is one more chance to show your utmost loyalty. If you do this, and do this well... I will allow you the chance to serve me, as you put it.”
His pants and shorts drop with my assistance. He sits back down kingly, and I begin to take him in my mouth. His hand quickly moves to the back of my head, the weight of his Princeton class ring evident, as he steers me at the pace and depth he wants.
“That’s it. You’re starting to prove your worth to me. I assumed you were as worthless as your old man. But I can see what you think of me. Look up at me and tell me you worship me.”
I pant and look up at his smirking face.
“Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. I worship you like the superior person you are, and have done so since the first time I heard your name, Sir.”
He nods and forced my mouth over his cock again, now gripping my hair snugly and fucking my face. I am moaning as I suck away. Finally, I can hear him gasp a bit. Moaning, and I sense what is coming. He explodes all over my face, and then laughs.
“Let me look at you. The son of my arch-enemy, dripping in my cum.”
I let him look as he smiles at his trophy. Finally, he nods to the tissues, and tells me that I may clean myself up, he will be in touch, and I may take my leave. He then heads right back to his work, paying me no mind.
I head to the door and pause.
“Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. May I please say something before I leave?”
He looks up, nods, and tells me to be quick.
I walk towards his desk and am opposite it. I kneel once again, and this time cup my hands like I am praying.
“Thank you so much for letting me suck your cock, Sir. I know how lucky I am to be able to breath the same air as you, let alone to know I can pleasure you. I hope I have shown my allegiance to you, Sir.”
He looks at me with a stern and serious gaze, pausing as he does.
“You recognized your place and chose wisely to admit it. You’ll be able to rise up the ranks here so long as you remember that you are beneath me and you live to do as I order. Now you may take your leave.”
***
It is a few weeks later and he has finally been in touch. 7 pm. That night. His estate.
I arrive promptly. A maid answers the door. I head him laughing, and I am not sure who. The maid tells him that the guest has arrived.
I walk in and am paralyzed with fear. Flanking him to one side is Dick Cheney. To the other is his wife, Lynne.
“Well, there he is! The ambitious young man who will be a big help to us that I told you about.”
Their mouths drop a bit. Dick just stares at me coldly.
“Surely this is a joke,” Lynne says, hoping it is not the case. Rumsfeld tells her it is not, and then directs me to tell them both what I think about my father, especially in comparison to him, and what I wish for out of my life.
“My father is a pathetic excuse of a man and not even fit to shine your shoes, Mr. Rumsfeld, Sir. The only thing I wish for out of life is to be your faithful servant.”
They both stare at me incredulously, although evil grins cross both of their faces. Rumsfeld smiles widely and orders me to tell them what I did to serve him. So I told them how I sucked his cock and was lucky to wear his cum.
“Now, boy. I want you to know something. It is very hard in DC to find people you can trust and actually respect. Dick and Lynne are the only two people alive I call friends and consider as my equals. And that means that you serve them, too. Do you understand that?”
“Yes. I understand that I also serve Mr. and Mrs. Cheney.”
“Oh, let’s see about that,” Lynne says, grinning as she leans back in her chair.
Lynne and I have crossed paths a few times in my past. I am tasked with the humanities project. She is in charge of the agency that issues our humanities grants. She does not like that I am running this program and let me know about this and has done all she can to prevent me from enacting it unless it meets her goals.
I turn to her.
“Now, I told you that you did not deserve the job you have. You probably thought it is because of your age or who your father is. But that’s not the reason why.” She pauses. “Tell me if you agree with me... but the reason why is because you are an idiot.”
I hear Rumsfeld stifle a laugh. But I have no choice, even though I hesitate.
“You’re right. I’m an idiot, Mrs. Cheney.”
She laughs and nods.
“I am so glad that we cleared that up. I am sure that from now on, you will do as I say. I will tell you the programs I support and how much I want them supported financially. You are going to meet with me once a week with a draft of succinct reasons why you now support exactly as I want, which you will then defend to the president. Of course, I know you lack the intellectual capabilities to perform something like that up to my standards, so you can expect me to red mark your work with a pen like a kindergarten teacher.” She smirks. “And I am sure your father will be in the room, too.”
“Now, there is more than just that. One thing I want you to do — anytime you enter my office, you will show me proper respect by kissing my feet. Why don’t you do that now?”
I steel myself, press my lips to her shoes, and then thank her as she laughs as loud as she ever has in her life. She tells me to stand up and then ask her husband what he thinks.
He just smiles at me. Before I can even say anything, he starts to speak.
“I am so glad that you have recognized this about yourself. It is not easy to admit you are inferior. But I have always seen a lot of potential in you.”
He continues to smile.
“It won’t be too long until your father is back home in Wisconsin where he will be buried. Once that happens, and I inherit his job, I am going to have a need for a chief aide. Usually, this job is in an advisory capacity. But for your role, I envision it more fit for your capabilities. Having me coffee ready. Shining my shoes before any important meetings. Not saying anything beyond ‘Yes, Sir,’ and ‘No, Sir,’ unless I tell you to speak beyond that. Any sort of errand or task me or Lynne or Don want, it gets done. Got that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Now, your peers and people who have worked for your father for a very long time are going to see you hold my coat or wipe off my desk for me. What do you think they will say about this?”
“They’ll mock me, Sir.”
“They will. But deep down inside, they are going to be jealous because each and every single last one of them wants to be in the position you find yourself in — dominated by your superiors.” I can see Rumsfeld not in agreement. “Now, you will also perform the same tasks that Don had you do... only I will not be so gentle. And I will also make sure Don keeps you on his calendar as well so you can continue to serve him as well, being that he made you his toy before sharing you.”
“And don’t worry. I will still find the time and ways for you to correct your work so you can try to come up to even half of our level.”
I meekly say “Thank you.”
Rumsfeld stands up, as does Lynne. He slaps me on the back,
“Just think that your epitaph is going to read about how you were the faithful servant to the most powerful three people who ever lived.” He and Lynne head to the door. “Now get on your knees before Dick.”
I do, and he chuckles and heads to his belt.
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(Re)spite
Summary: Hathe and Emet-Selch needed a break.
For Hathe, it was to preserve her energy and ease her nerves before ascending The Ladder for the daunting task of putting an end of Vauthry.
As for Emet-Selch?
He just needed for the glint of that painfully familiar shard to stop tormenting him so.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: WoL!OC/Emet-Selch
Continuation to “Mea Culpa”
BEEP BEEP SAD GRANDPA SEXINGZ ON THE WAY !!!
THANKS SO MUCH TO MY LOVELY COMMISSIONER FOR THIS BLESSEDLY ANGSTY OPPORTUNITY!!!
----------------
It just wasn’t the same.
There was a time when Emet-Selch set his eyes upon the Warrior of Light as something more than just a pawn in his plan, more than a fascinating subject in his observation of the mortals within the First.
An era long lost, but one he yearned so dearly to return to--it was during those blessed bygone days when he mockingly called out to the savior of the realm as not “hero”, but Azem.
As much as he wanted to deny it, he preferred truth over delusion.
The shard of his beloved Azem was here, lingering within the possession of the Warrior of Light.
Hathe.
But now, as he found himself lingering around the proximity of The Ladder in the mortals’ ongoing efforts to thwart Vauthry’s plans while the Kholusian sun mercilessly bore down upon him, his eyes were not softened with affection as he gazed towards her, but fixed in a scrutinizing stare.
It just wasn’t the same.
Hathe’s aether.
Corrupted cracks had since formed during her adventures in the First, all because of her misplaced faith in the Crystal Exarch.
Honestly, for all the glares and huffs that he received from her, it truly was baffling that she did not do the same to The Crystarium’s leader.
His lips were beginning to form a pout from this biased treatment.
“How are you not boiling in that thing?”
But then his lips curled into a grin as his gaze shifted to the eyes of the inquiring voice.
Lounging beneath the shade of one of the old workshops was Hathe, who retreated to this distant corner of The Ladder to preserve her energy before the ascent up to Mt. Gulg while the other Scions and the Eulmorans worked together to get the Talos running once again.
Clicking his tongue in a tsk, Emet-Selch threw his arms open wide in overexaggerated faux shock as he remarked, “My, my, hero--how brazen of you.”
He approached where she sat in a saunter, crossing between the distinct line on the pavement to where the blazing sunlight treaded no further into the cool shade as he continued, his voice donning a playful innocence, “Did you wish for me to strip for you so badly?” Tilting his head, he pressed a thoughtful finger against his cheek with a smirk as he purred, “Have you missed my warmth in your bed that much?”
A roll of her eye and a sigh out of her painted lips.
“I should have just stayed quiet and enjoyed the peace.” Shaking her head, her arms folded over her chest as she reclined further back against the wall. Her eyes shut, hoping he would take this as cue to leave her alone.
But the sudden presence that appeared right by her side entailed otherwise.
As did him crouching down, a silent affirmation of his intentions to stay.
Not even the sensation of gloved fingertips cradling her chin had her look towards him, let alone fluttering her eyelid open to perceive his existence.
“Oh come now, you act like my presence hasn’t enriched your life for the better--”
He drew closer to her.
“--truly, wouldn’t you prefer I over the Exarch?”
The heat of his breath fanning over her ear never failed to make her shudder, a sensation that she was ever reluctant to enjoy.
She had a feeling as to where this was going. Though her better judgment would have her shoo him away before matters progressed further--especially given their relatively close proximity to the rest of the Scions and the others--it was either indulging in pleasure or quietly stew in thought over both the task of sending Vauthry crashing down while dealing with the Light that was poisoning her aether.
But that didn’t mean she was going to be that compliant with the man who was meant to be her nemesis.
And thus her eye opened, the sight of which made him wish she didn’t have to keep that eyepatch of hers on.
Azem’s eyes were among the features he cherished most about her after all.
But as ever the contrast between his lost love to the fragmented soul who stood before him, she huffed in defiance, “I’d prefer you let me relax before I pick up the pieces of your meddling.”
Her tone was soft, but the irritation laced around each word was as prickly as could be.
Emet-Selch only smirked in response.
“Meddling I object to, but letting you relax--” His thumb traced over her lips, caring little for the smudge of rouge that stained the whites of his glove--if anything, he relished it.
Continuing on, he kept her right in his sights as he tsked haughtily, “--honestly, by now you should know to be more direct with me on with your desires, hero.”
The distance separating them closed further as he drew his thumb away, eliminating the space between his face and hers until their lips were barely an ilm apart as he mused, “Has anything else even come close to having that beautifully battleworn body of yours be at ease like my touch?”
She expected a kiss next.
But ever full of surprises, Emet-Selch only smirked as he teased, “Save for those ruffians who have felt the might of a keg of ale smashed upon their heads during those bratty youthful days of yours, of course.”
Hathe’s eye narrowed with sheer annoyance. “Gods, you really need to shut up.”
And it was with those huffed words that her hands cupped his face as she brought his lips to hers in a kiss.
A kiss for distraction.
Hathe and the tumultuous road that she was due to tread any moment now.
Emet-Selch and a yearning that he never could bring himself to ever relinquish in the days that have passed.
As delightful as it was to indulge in the gorgeously toned physique of the renowned hero during their many trysts in the nights since passed in her personal suite, it was still an utterly peculiar experience for his fingers to roam over physical familiarity with a soul that thought him to be a stranger, an enemy.
Ever more the thorns that had long formed around his heart embedded further and further.
In the end, she was just to be a vessel to enact his life’s work, his purpose to continue and carry on the will of his people.
And yet, he still found himself being so attentive, doting even, to Hathe’s pleasure as he shifted her clothes around--being mindful to not rip, else risk being punched back to The Source as she warned--, his lips kissing over her breasts, his tongue skillfully lapping over her nipples while his gloved fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, seeking to press and caress over her panties.
A warrior like her could handle some roughhousing, as he would often tease while fucking her into the mattress during his numerous late night visits to The Pendants.
But here, in this moment, hidden away in the shade, while she was more eager to peel off his robe, he was more in mind to take his time with her.
Bodies intertwined, an affair meant to exist only in the shadows.
She lied beneath him upon the ground while he eased his cock in and out of her core. Far from pounding but nowhere near delicate, he pumped himself at a lively pace. More kisses than bites were pressed onto her neck, one hand clasped around her waist while the fingers of the other slipped between their bodies to rub slow--and dare he say sweet?--circles against her clit.
It just wasn’t the same.
“What’s with the tenderness?” Hathe murmured breathlessly, her back arching as she continued to find her senses stimulated all the more. Though there was a teasing inflection to her voice, he could hear a layer of pure curiosity at its foundation.
The question genuinely caused Emet-Selch to halt in place.
Even if just for a few seconds.
Only before he snorted, his lips curling into a smirk. “You will never see Ascians as capable of love, do you, hero? Since you insist--”
His hands reinforced their grip on her waist, squeezing tight as he quickened the pace of his thrusts.
She was right, however.
Tenderness, affection, love--those were reserved for Azem.
A shallow copy of the woman he loved most was in no need of such pure and precious joys, especially when she was fated to become a vessel for his plans.
The leading role of his grand theatrical production was to take her place in the showstopping climax of the show, and he was ever so delighted to have front row seats.
And yet, his mouth still sought out to kiss hers nonetheless.
A kiss longing for someone he couldn’t have anymore.
A kiss affectionate for someone he needed for greater purposes.
But as they rode out their orgasms, soon falling into one another in a pleasured heap, he still embraced her close to his chest with a grip that did not want to let go in the slightest, his face hiding into her neck.
So familiar and so far at the same time.
It just wasn’t the same and never would things return to how they would and should have been in a kinder life.
#emet selch#emetwol#emet selch x wol#wol x npc#wol x emet selch#Final Fantasy XIV#FFXIV#Fic#super freaknasty writing
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The Law of Attraction
buckle up my little ballsacks you’re in for a treat. this is pure lawyer harry filth. honestly i’ve got no excuse.
massive massive thank you to @smokeinherperfume for letting me ramble about lawyer harry 24/7 and @for-fucks-sake-h for allllll the knife emojis FGHSHSGSGH ILY 🥺💛
p.s. all of my fics about lawyer harry are standalones so you don’t have to read them in order. but just fyi technically this one happens after Quid Pro Quo. hope you like it! xx
An orgasm crashes through YN’s body, causing her back to arch in her chair and her fingers to tug hard at the hair of the man who’s working his tongue between her legs. It’s half three on a Wednesday, and instead of skimming through stacks of her clients’ contracts trying to find loopholes or go through the first set of Interrogatories once again before she sends it to the opposing counsel later today; she’s got her former-nemesis-turned-best-friend kneeling before her chair, her skirt hiked up around her waist and her knickers haphazardly pulled to the side. She lets out a groan, which only eggs him on, and he lashes his tongue against her even harder.
“Enough,” she mutters weakly, her voice barely audible and she’s not even sure if he even heard it. She pushes his head away from her, but the stubborn sod only swats her hands away while growling and doubles up on his efforts. She can feel him shaking his head as he licks and sucks away, slipping his finger deep inside her the second she closes her eyes and proceeds to bring her to another shattering orgasm in just under two minutes.
She slaps her hand over her mouth as she reaches her high again, and Harry looks at her with a satisfied smile, before licking his shiny wet lips without breaking eye contact. The sight alone is almost enough to make her want to shove his head back to where it was half a minute ago. “Feel better?”
“Mhm,” she hums happily and Harry’s lips quirk into a gentle smirk. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he replies as he stands up, before leaning over to button their lips together in a quick kiss.
“I think the pleasure’s all mine, but let’s rectify that,” she mutters as she pulls away. “What do you want? You tell me and I’ll give it to you. Do you want me to get you off slowly or do you want to fuck my mouth?”
“Fuck,” he groans in frustration. “You’re gonna kill me here. I’ve got a deposition in- shit, two minutes. I’ve got to go now. Catch ya later doll.”
She shakes her head, chuckling as she watches him rushing out of her office. “Later, shithead.”
Isn’t it just funny how the universe works sometimes? Six months ago they couldn’t even be in the same room without having a scream-whisper match, but here they are half a year later, happily handing each other orgasms like sweets on Halloween. Harry didn’t even know exactly what was bothering her today. He just sensed that she was in a real mood when he swung by her office, so instead of splitting a packet of KitKats right on the dot at three o’clock like usual, he closed the door and switched on the panel by the door so the transparent glass wall turned translucent to give them privacy, and then he went down on her without saying another word.
The perks of being friends instead of foes with Harry is that she gets to find out that Harry’s oral skills are not limited to advocacy and sarcasm. And not to mention that he’s a very generous man. Sure, it’s not a trait particularly needed in a best friend and colleague, but fuck if that’s not something that is much appreciated. At first, obviously it wasn’t easy for YN to hang the white flag above her head. Her ego was badly bruised when the firm made Harry Senior Partner instead of her in the beginning of the year, making her feel that all the long hours and the all-nighters she’d pulled were all for nothing. She felt like she gave up her social life for nothing, basically put her life on hold for nothing and gave her all to her firm for nothing. She felt unappreciated, and the easiest target to channel all her anger and frustration was Harry. Because come on, who else was she supposed to be mad at? Her boss? It’d be like being mad at Gandhi.
It definitely got much easier when she finally let the resentment go, the fact that he was the one being promoted. Especially knowing well the reason was only because he came from a bigger law firm, and that he came bearing gifts—the gifts being five huge clients from his old firm—when he came into her firm earlier this year. She’s accepted the fact that him being promoted instead of her doesn’t mean that she’s not a damn good lawyer. Hell, she’s got a hundred percent win record to prove that. It was easier to hate him when she didn’t know him, but as they began working on cases together and she got the chance to get to know him more, she knew he deserved it.
If you ask YN, she’d most likely tell you that having a work husband surely beats having an enemy in the office. She loves having Harry as her best friend, her most trusted legal confidant when she needs to strategise on a case and well, as an occasional lover on a bad day. He is her number one ally and advisor, the person she can laugh with and be stressed with, have politically incorrect conversations with, and give her bone-deep honest opinions to. He supports her and helps her with her cases—not that she needs help because again, she’s one hell of a lawyer, but it’s surely nice to have an extra brain in the case sometimes.
Fuck, she really does owe Harry a good one tonight for giving her a nice distraction.
A ding sound from her phone brings her back to reality. She darts her eyes at her phone for a second, and she lets out a heavy sigh when she reads the name on the screen. It’s a text to confirm the dinner meeting tonight at The Berkeley, definitely one that she can’t avoid since he’s a huge client, but more importantly, one that she dreads to meet.
You see, there’s a large part of life that we call normalcy. Eat, sleep, take a shower. Wearing underwear inside our clothes instead of outside like Batman and Superman. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Most people drink coffee in the morning. Thirty minutes of cardio three times a week.
As pathetic as this may sound, pining for Luke, that said client who also happens to be her ex-boyfriend has been YN’s normalcy for the past two years. Luckily, his company is her client and not the man himself so she got away with keeping contact to a bare minimum. Meeting him only about two to three times a year and only when it’s absolutely necessary and cannot be handled by his General Counsel. But apparently, his step-father decided to retire and pass his hotel business to him—honestly, as if he’s not bloody minted already—and he needs her now more than ever because even though he knows his way around the business world, this whole thing is a new territory for him.
This is the second time in a week that he’s arranged a meeting and only God knows how many more meetings with him she could take. Because, as always, his presence means the absence of her sanity. And she hates it.
Welcome to YN’s fucked up life.
***
“I still don’t know why you want me to go with you,” Harry says, turning to look at her when they stop at a red light. Even though it’s dark outside, the neon-blue lights from the interior electronics cast the angles of his face handsomely.
He’s driving both himself and YN to The Berkeley where they’ll be meeting Luke for a dinner meeting to discuss his new business and his plan to merge with another hotel group. Which is an absolutely terrible idea and YN plans to talk him out of it tonight. It’s probably easier said than done though, because she knows Luke and she’s definitely familiar with how stubborn he can be.
There are a lot of things about Luke that she still remembers. He pretends to hate those mini chocolate muffins but he actually loves them. He drinks his coffee at six thirty sharp every morning, yes, even on the weekends. He loves jogging and sometimes he wishes he’s an athlete so that he can get paid just to run and play football all day long. Even though he’s rich as sin—and God, fit as fuck too—he’s humble and definitely not flashy, so if you see him without his suits, you’d probably never guess that he doesn’t actually need to work a day in his life because he comes from old money. But Luke is different. He never touched his trust fund and he was determined to create his own business from scratch.
He’d just started his business around the same time YN started working in her firm as an associate, so she saw it right before her eyes how hard he worked during those first few years as he nurtured his business. His company was one of the first clients that she’d been assigned to work on, and when she got promoted to Junior Partner, her mentor gave her The White Company as her first official client. The timing couldn’t be more brilliant since she and Luke just broke up two days prior, but she knew there was no way she could turn down such a big business.
Fuck, she’s thinking about him again. She immediately makes a mental note in her head to ask Harry for an extra orgasm tonight to keep him out of her mind. But now she can’t help snickering at the thought because she makes it sounds as if she’s asking for extra ketchup.
“Cat got your tongue?” He asks and she turns to look at him. He gives her a tiny smirk before his eyes get back on the road, but he reaches his hand out to her bare knee to give her a squeeze. “Still haven’t answered me, doll.”
“Sorry- what did you ask?”
“Why did you want me to go with you?” He asks again. “He wants to merge, right? That’s totally your thing. You don’t need me.”
“You helped me with his crisis a few months ago,” she reminds him. “Just thought we could do his business together again. He’ll be happy he’s getting two partners, the firm will be happy because they can charge double. It’s a win-win, really.”
“Bollocks that,” Harry laughs. “Worst bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
“That’s all, honest,” she feigns innocence.
“Honey, I didn’t go through law school for nothing, did I?” He replies without moving his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “You’re using me as a human condom, aren’t you?”
“What the hell does that even mean?” She drops her jaw in shock at the fact that he calls her out on the carpet just like that.
“You’re afraid you’ll catch feelings again if you’re left alone with him, so you bring me as a shield. Am I right?” He asks her with an accusatory eyebrow raise. “You know what, no need to answer that. Of course I’m right.”
“I told you, he’s just a client now,” she insists, trying to ignore her heart pounding in her chest as Harry’s hand inches its way up her thigh. It’s incredibly arousing, but she also finds it a little disturbing since they’re having a conversation about a man she’s head over heels for. She almost want him to stop but fuck if she’s going to ask him.
“Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here,” he says, and it’s really hard for her to concentrate on what he’s saying since he’s squeezing her thigh. His fingers pressing deep into her muscles and she can only wish they’re a few inches higher. “But if in any way you want to get him back, just say the word and I’ll back away, yeah?”
“There’s nothing going on, Harry,” she reassures him. “You’ve got to trust me on this. He’s just a client now.”
“You sure?” Harry asks again. Turning to look at her briefly before he pulls into a parking space and puts the car in park, but she can tell by the tone in his voice that he doesn’t buy a single thing she’s said.
“I’m sure,” she nods reassuringly.
Harry grins as he reaches up and tweaks her on the nose. “You’re cute when you lie.”
“Shut up, shithead,” she mutters as she pulls on the door handle. It opens and she steps out, taking a moment to smooth down her dress. Leaning back down, she looks inside the car to look at Harry and give him a wink. “Now let’s go. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can reciprocate.”
***
“You have it bad for him, don’t you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow at her accusingly, not even bothering to wait until Luke disappears past the lift to take a call.
YN blinks in surprise at his accusation, but instead of denying it for the second time tonight, she finally concedes. “Is it that obvious?”
“Holy shit,” this time, it’s Harry’s turn to look at her in surprise. He definitely wasn’t expecting her to admit it, but fuck if he believed that bullshit she told him in the car. “No, it’s not obvious. But I know you better than anyone in this room.”
She chuckles, before taking a swig of her Chardonnay. “True.”
“I meant what I said earlier in the car,” Harry reminds her. “Just say the word and I’ll back away. He’s probably still into you too.”
She just stares at him for a second. She’s obviously contemplating something, he can tell. He braces, wondering if she’ll finally tell him to back away. He has to remind himself to be cool, to just nod and smile if she actually does say that. They’re not exclusive, and as amazing as this last six months has been, he knows all good things come to an end. He has no absolute reason to be upset, he knows that. And as her best friend he only wants the best for her. If she thinks Luke can make her happy, then so be it.
He’s ready for her to tell him to back away. He does. Not saying that he’ll be happy, but he’ll accept it. So imagine his surprise when she gives him a smirk and says, “let’s go all the way tonight.”
Harry’s head shoots up, and he narrows his eyes at her. “You fucking with me?”
“I was hoping you’d be the one doing all the fucking,” she murmurs, still smiling coyly at him and somehow has the audacity to dip her eyes in a completely fake showing of shyness.
Harry’s eight-inch piece of equipment that had been jumping and twitching like an excited puppy now goes to full mast, pushing hard against his zipper. He drains the rest of his drink in one big gulp, not wanting to waste any time. “Stay here and wait for him to finish that sodding call. Make up an excuse for me and distract him while I go and try to get us a room upstairs.”
“You do realise that my flat is literally ten minutes away from here right? And your place is like, what, twenty minutes tops?”
“Upstairs is closer,” he lowers his voice huskily. “They have beds too.”
Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “Beds, huh?”
“What? Don’t fancy shaggin’ on a bed?” He says with a smirk, sitting straighter as he smooths his tie. “I’ll see if they’ve got anything with a balcony then.”
“You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?” She mocks, rolling her eyes. “Does the word indecent exposure mean anything to you?”
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“I did,” she challenges him with a spark of defiance in her eyes. “And what are you gonna do about it?”
“Do that again and you’ll get the palm of my hand,” he tells her ominously.
“You’re all mouth and no trousers, Styles,” she taunts him.
“Good luck trying to sit tomorrow.”
***
In less than fifteen minutes, YN is standing in a lift with Harry’s lips roaming her neck and his finger sinking deep inside of her.
She didn’t have to make up an excuse when Luke went back to their table after taking the call. Apparently, there was some emergency and he needed to get back to his office as soon as possible for an emergency meeting with the boards. She assured him it was fine and that they could easily arrange another meeting to further talk about his plan to merge with another hotel group.
Harry doesn’t waste much time as he pushes the button to their floor and the doors close. He stalks towards her, cupping her head to bring her mouth to his, and his other hand going directly between her legs. She slips her tongue into his mouth and touches it against his, the vibe of the kiss turning a bit dirty. It’s a thrilling turn on, causing waves of pleasure to pulse through both of them. His tongue ends up dominating hers in the most searing, sexually explosive kiss she’d ever been given.
His hand softly fondles her for a moment, and then he’s inside of her, curling his finger in a way that has her knees buckling. He immediately saves the day by pushing one of his legs in between hers to hold her steady. He knows he doesn’t have time to get her off before they reach their floor, so he breaks the kiss and roams his lips along her neck lightly, moving his finger in and out of her leisurely but so very deeply. Her hips flex against him, trying to demand more, but she’s just going to have to wait.
When the lift starts to slow near their floor, he calmly removes his hand, smoothes her dress down, and gives her a light kiss on the nose.
He’s smiling at her as he closes the door behind them, in a completely relaxed, but thank fuck we’re finally doing this and I’m here to fuck you senseless kind of way, and it manages to show the two dimples he sports on either side of his full lips.
Their lips meet again as he leans in, softly at first, just a taste to whet the appetite. His arms tighten around her, and he increases the pressure, urging her to open up and let him in. He’s a force to be reckoned with in a courtroom, and fuck if she’s not thanking her lucky stars that he’s just the same in the bedroom. He moves his lips against hers, making delicious little thrusts and flicks with his tongue, teasing and tantalising, all while stroking her back in the most incredibly sensual way that makes her tingling from head to toe.
He loves how she just melts against him when he rubs her back, and how adorably dazed she looks just from a kiss. Grinning at her, he reaches a finger out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. The blood in his dick thumps, eagerly demanding to move things along, but he’s determined to take his time with her.
Her mouth waters as her hands work at his belt buckle. His cock is thick and hard when she pulls him free of his boxer briefs, and she drops to her knees with her hand wrapped around his girth. It’s standing straight up before her after she releases it for a second, and she melts at the sight. There’s one perfectly thick vein running straight up the middle, but then it veers off at an angle. And although this is certainly not the first time she sees it, she can’t help but cock her head to the side just to see where it goes.
He palms the side of her head with one hand and holds her hair in a ponytail at the back of her head with the other. Looking up at him, she can see his jaw is locked tight and his chest is rising and falling rapidly.
She squeezes him hard, just the way she knows how he likes, and strokes up and down a few times, making him groan. His head falls back, eyes squeezed shut. “Please, sweetheart.”
“Ssh,” she shushes him before she murmurs low in her throat. “I’ve got you.”
She finally opens her mouth, bares her teeth slightly, and then scrapes them lightly over the tip. A long, deep groan rumbles out of him, his eyes remain shut tight. Exhilaration and victory swells within her, knowing that just that one tiny touch reduced him to utter helplessness.
He opens his eyes, gazing at her. His voice is thickened and gruff when he says, “you’ve got no idea how beautiful you look while on your knees before me.”
She responds to him by leaning in, and without hesitation taking the tip of him into her mouth, making him groan in relief. He grips her lightly, his fingers pressing into her scalp as a means of holding her steady and not to force action. She licks and sucks, squeezing and stroking him with her hand. He’s watching her from above with lust on his face, and she’s savouring every little groan she drags out of this normally stoic man. She flutters her tongue on the sensitive underside just below the head of his cock, her hand gently squeezing his balls as she works his shaft.
“Been dying to get that cherry lipstick on my cock,” he mutters softly, she can barely hear him. He grits his teeth as he slowly pulls out of her mouth. “Knew that red lipstick would look good on me.”
Her eyes slide to his cock, and she has no clue what her mouth looks like, but she’s absolutely sure most of her lipstick is gone since it’s smeared beautifully along the length of his shaft. She tries to take it back into her mouth, determined to bring him into completion that way, but his hand immediately covers her, holding her still while his eyes pin her in place. “Wanna be inside you.”
He helps her stand on her feet, and the next thing she knows, her dress pools around her ankle. His hands come to the back of her bra, flicking it open and pulling it from her. Then he drops to his knees before her. Fingers going under her knickers, he pulls them down just enough to gain access and runs his tongue up her centre.
He had fantasised about her naked before him more times than he could probably admit that he has to blink twice to convince himself that this time is real. And fuck if it isn’t much better than his dreams.
“Bed,” he commands, and she crawls on it with the intent to lay in a sexy pose as she turns over to face him, but he’s on the bed with her, quick as lightning, and flips her to her back.
Her eyes go up to find him staring at her tits, and she can’t help but joke. “They don’t bite, you know.”
His gaze comes up to meet hers, and his lips curve slightly. “But I do. It’s probably going to hurt a little.”
A shudder ripples through her, and her nipples harden. His eyes flick back down to her breasts. She swallows hard at the anticipation, the thought of him getting a little rough with them is thrilling, but there’s something else she wants more right now.
“I’m fucking dying to be inside you right now,” he whispers in her ear. His admission elicits a deep moan to escape from her lips. “Last chance to change your mind, doll.”
“Please just fuck me already,” she whimpers, her hands roaming his body. Every glide of her fingers over his skin fills him with a fullness he’s never experienced before. “I’m losing my mind.”
With one hand pressed into the mattress, Harry uses the other to take his cock in hand. He dips his hips, pressing the tip right into her entrance. Blowing out a breath, he brings his eyes to hers and holds her captive, finally thrusts deeply into her. She screams, not in pain but in pure fucking ecstasy, as he fills her up. Harry bottoms out, his pelvis pressed hard into hers.
Baring his teeth, he mutters, “fuck… that feels good.”
“Would feel better if you move,” she suggests with a smirk.
Harry stays completely still inside of her. He breathes in deeply, closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them up again, he gives her a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid to move. Afraid I might embarrass myself and blow my load in about two nanoseconds.”
She lets out a giggle, pretty sure that’s the one and only time in her life she’s ever done something so girly. Harry laughs huskily and kisses her hard. He doesn’t move an inch from his waist down but just kisses her deeply with thorough possession. When he pulls away, he tentatively circles his hips, grinding into her.
“Fuck,” Harry mutters, and drops his forehead to hers. “Yeah… definitely not gonna last long.”
Her hands go into his hair and she massages his scalp, incredibly touched and turned on over his reaction to her. She tugs on his hair, pulling his face away from hers. “Harry?”
He moves reluctantly and looks down at her with that same abashed look. She tilts her hips, clenches her internal muscles around his cock, and then rubs her thumbs into his scalp.
“Let go,” she commands him softly. “Fuck me hard and come as fast as you want. We’ve got all night.”
***
Harry’s hand reaches out, tapping the screen on his phone to turn the alarm off, laying silently in the predawn gloom pondering about his situation at this very moment.
There’s a naked, beautiful woman on top of him, and fuck if he can remember when was the last time he woke up with someone else in his bed. It’s not that he’s averse to cuddles; if the woman wants a cuddle with him after sex, he’d give it to them. The act of intimacy like that doesn’t scare him whatsoever. But normally he’d be out of their hair long before the sun is up, leaving them to wake up alone and him to start his day as if the night before didn’t happen.
He always tells himself to forget whoever he shags the night before no matter how great of a fuck she was, although he’ll allow himself to bring forth the memories when he jerks off if needed.
YN fell asleep a few hours prior, spread-eagled over his body right after she collapsed from the most recent fuck-fest. She came, he came, then she fell forwards onto his chest and was out like a light. And he left her right there all night. Letting her lie on top of him, calling it a day well completed and went to sleep himself.
His hand slides down from her stomach right between her legs, his fingers swiping through her folds which become slicker with desire the more he plays. She softly moans in her sleep and her lower body starts to squirm. Her breathing hitches, and the second she cracks her eyes open, she gives him that happy, sleepy, please fuck me again smile.
He gently eases her down from the top of his chest to lay beside him, rolling her to the side so her back is facing him. Then he pushes her outer leg up, sliding his body down just a little bit, angling his cock to slip into her from behind.
Harry moves slowly as he’s spooned around her and she moans in pure bliss as he fills her up. The arm that her head is resting on comes up to curve across her chest and hold her tight. His other hand grips the back of her thigh firmly to pin her in place.
“More,” she whispers on a forced exhalation.
“Fuck me,” he mumbles against her hair. “My girl wants more.”
And he gives her more. Fucking her exquisitely and with no doubt that neither of them has ever had it that good. He takes her higher and higher, the sweet words that he’s whispering in her ear is the complete opposite of the kinky shit they did last night.
“Balcony?”
YN didn’t hesitate, following right behind him as he pushed the doors open. A light breeze filters in but it’s still muggy outside. They’re on the seventh floor, and they can still hear the rumble of engines and the honking of horns below them. The quiet darkness of Belgravia stretches out beyond.
Harry walked up to the edge of the balcony, which was made of stone and concrete, sitting about three and a half feet high. He pulled her into his arms and gave her a searing kiss. She moaned, slipping her tongue in his mouth and gripped onto his shoulders. The kiss was deep and wet, and honestly, the best kind of kiss.
He pushed her up against the wall, laying a palm over one breast. Squeezing, plumping, testing the weight in his hand. He rubbed a thumbnail over her nipple, eliciting the softest sigh from her.
He brought his other hand south. Straight shot, right to her centre. Her head dropped to his shoulder as his fingertips continued to circle and rub against her. Within minutes she had his fingers deep inside her and his thumb working her hard. He wanted nothing more than to just line up and push his way in, but he waited. He waited until he saw her trembling became a little fiercer, her body tensed, and when she sucked in a large gulp of air, he knew that was his cue.
He quickly removed his fingers, bracing his hands on her hips and slammed forward. She took him all the way in and he cursed under his breath as he felt her spasm all around him when she came. For a second he thought about hitting it hard, chasing another orgasm, but then he decided against it, wanting to relish the scenery and listen to the sounds of the city.
“Let’s just quit our jobs and fuck all day,” Harry jokes as he drops her leg back down into place.
“Sounds good to me,” she laughs as she reaches around him, grabbing the complimentary bottle of water on the nightstand, taking a sip before she hands it to him and he finishes it in a couple of long swallows.
“Thirsty?”
“Starving too,” he replies in a way that doesn’t make her think he wants some bacon and eggs.
Within seconds, he has her on her back again as he slides down her body, roughly pushing her legs apart. Her hands shoot out, grabbing the sides of his head before he gets the chance to descend even lower. “No.”
“What?”
“Let me get cleaned up first,” she says lamely, pretty sure she’s killed the mood. “I mean… I’m filled with-”
Harry ignores her, cutting her off by dropping his mouth right between her legs and begins sucking. She shrieks from the warm contact, surprised by how sensitive she is, and as he lifts his gaze to hers, he murmurs. “That’s you and me together, and we taste fucking delicious.”
Her body trembles from his words, and through a dry and parched throat she croaks, “then by all means.”
“Thank you,” he says with a wink, then proceeds to bring her to another shattering orgasm that totally wrecks her.
#harry styles smut#harry styles#harry styles fic#harry styles ff#harry styles fanfiction#lawyer!harry#harry styles au#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurbs#harry styles fanfics#harry styles x y/n#harry styles one shot
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Arch Enemies {M.M}
Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era
summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.
word count: 3.4k ish
contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,
a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.
· · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · ·
Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember.
Always at each other’s heads.
Always a competition between the two of you.
Always striving to be better than the other.
The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)
Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.
The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.
This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.
You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.
The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”
“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.
“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.
She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.
Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.
It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.
· · · ∞ · · ·
“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.
The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.
You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.
· · · ∞ · · ·
Marlene’s Pov:
You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.
· · · ∞ · · ·
The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.
The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.
Marlene McKinnon.
Your arch-nemesis?
The one who practically hates you?
Yea… her.
What the fuck.
Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?
You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”
You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”
“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.
“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.
“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.
“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”
“Sorry” you giggled
“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.
“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.
“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.
“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”
You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.
“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.
“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?
“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.
“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.
“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”
“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.
“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.
“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.
“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.
“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.
· · · ∞ · · ·
You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.
“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”
“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.
“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.
“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.
“Wh-What?”
“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.
“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”
“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.
“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”
“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”
“Liar.”
“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.
“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.
“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.
“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.
“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.
After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.
“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”
“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.
· · · ∞ · · ·
“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.
“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”
“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”
“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”
“Nope.” “Promise?”
“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.
Meanwhile…
“Told you so,” he whispered.
“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.
“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”
“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.
#marlene mckinnon#marlene mckinnon x reader#wlw#marlene x dorcas#marlene x mary#marauders#marlene mckinnon angst#angst#one shot#gryffindor#sirius x reader#marlene x y/n#ginny x luna#harry potter#pansy x hermione#luna x ginny#linny#pansmionie#i cant write#my drawing#requests r open ig#madam pomfrey is bae#james potter
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The Princess Diaries
I'm in the princess mood today because I found out that The Princess Diaries are in Disney+. Man, I love this movie SO MUCH!!! Have fun <3
You are the heir of a throne, and you just want to take a break from the monarchy. So, you are in Beacon Hills trying to taste the normal life you always wanted, but in secret! No one knows you are a Princess, but Scott finally finds out. Completely annoyed, you are writing in your diary about how this crap happened.
Word count: 1.366
Pairings: Princess!Reader x Enemy!Derek; Princess!Reader x Platonic!Scott; Princess!Reader x Platonic!Stiles; Princess!Reader x Platonic!Erica;
A/N: Penny is the way you calls your diary
Contain: I think it's pretty fun
Warnings: English is not my main language <3; Inappropriate language
TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST
Dearest Penny,
I'm freaking out. You have no idea how hard to hide so many secrets from so many people! First of all: I need to be discreet not only because of all that supernatural crap I'd got into now. No one can't ever knows that a real princess is hiding in this city. I want just some peace taking a hiatus from the monarchy, and I'll not have this if everyone found out the truth about me. And, trust me, I'd been passing through a lot through those times.
First of all: Despite being trying to be constantly helpful to Scott and Derek's pack, they are suspicious as hell about me. Everyone in both packs knew I'm hiding something. Derek's bet I'm a hunter. Scott thinks I'm something else. Then, I got Lydia always talking things like 'I'm pretty sure I saw you somewhere else'. Stiles agrees with her because 'yeah, you sound pretty familiar'.
Second: I have Mr. Abbott on my back. He is the man responsible for my security in the USA, which means that, despite being far away from home, it seems like my bodyguards and all people from the royal court still think that I'm porcelain. It means that it has been pretty troublesome to keep them away from all the supernatural bullshit.
I was working as a History Teacher, not just because of my disguise, but I want to know what it's like to have an ordinary life. Contrary to my father's wishes, my car was old, and it sucked. My house? Small and single-story, and the entire security team had to stay in plain clothes, staying in neighboring houses.
But dear Penny, I'm not here to talk about my new and temporary commoner life. I'm here to talk about that, yeah, I was finally exposed.
Well, I was parking my damn old car in the parking lot when I saw something that got me in a bad mood instantly. Not too far away from my car, I saw Derek and Scott talking about something. Judging by Scott's face, they were arguing. I took my books and my notebook from the passenger's seat and walked to them.
"Hey, boys. It seems like you both are in such a friendly talk! What's wrong?"
Derek gives me a deadly glare.
"This is not of your business."
I opened my mouth dramatically, faking a happy surprise.
"You're so sweet. Actually, you're so sweet that sometimes I just want to punch you in the face."
Gosh, I hate him so. Fucking. Much.
He narrowed his green eyes for me, and Scott begins to talk.
"I got some pages of a bestiary, and we need a translation."
Derek looks at Scott.
"You will not give the pages to her."
"She's fluent in greek! And French, and Spanish..."
I smiled at him. Scott forgot about Norwegian. Considering I have cousins in the Norway monarchy, I must be able to talk their language.
"She's not trustworthy." Derek says, looking at me. I rolled my eyes.
"I'm not a fucking hunter, okay? If I was one, I'd already cut your head off."
"Derek" Scott looks at the alpha "She's our only chance."
Derek let out a long and angry sigh.
"Fine! But..." He stares at me. If his gaze would be capable of killing, I'd already fallen dead on the floor. "You'll do the translations at my loft, under my sight. If I found out you shared the translations with someone else, I'll rip your throat."
I blinked my eyes a few times, without any reaction. Okay, I was a little bit scary. He was scary. I faked a smile.
"My fear of you is completely bearable."
Derek gives his back for me and walks to his car. Then, Scott looks at me.
"He's right. It will be better if you do the translations at his loft."
My eyes got wider. It was outrageous!
"Come on, Scott! I never let you down. All this suspicious about me is ridiculous."
Scott was serious. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"So, what are you hiding?"
I felt my bones froze. Well, I couldn't simply tell Scott the truth. Yeah, I was taking a temporary break from the monarchy, but it doesn't mean that I can tell Scott whatever I want. I feared it could change things between both of us. I really like Scott, but if he tells someone? The entire city would know who I am, and I would have to come back to my country. Dammit!
"I'm not hiding anything, Scott."
"You can't lie to me, (Y/N). I can listen to your heartbeat."
I let out a long sigh. It was hard to hide things. Then, Scott looks at me. His expression brightened.
"Wait! I know what you're hiding."
My heart failed a beat, and my face gets pale when he took his cell phone out of his pocket. He writes something on it and, then, he looks at me, scared.
"Holy crap, I knew I already saw you! You're a fucking princess!"
Fuck.
"Shhhhh!!!" I gave him a deadly stare "Shut up!! Oh damn, I hate teenagers and their obsession for the royalty!"
As euphoric as he was surprised, Scott spoke lower now but not with less shock.
"What the hell are you doing here?! You're a teacher! And you drive an old car! And your clothes-"
"Watch your words, McCall! Watch your words!"
"It doesn't make any sense! Where your bodyguards?"
"They are in plain clothes around the school, which is ridiculous for me. I have a gun bearing, and I could kick Derek's ass if I want to. I don't need them, but you know, people are neurotic with my safety."
Scott was looking at me in shock.
"This is so crazy. Why are you here?"
"I'm taking a break from the monarchy. My dad wants me to marry a Duke because 'he is an appropriate man'." I faked my dad's voice, and then I rolled my eyes "We are pretty traditional, which sucks. But I don't wanna marry. I took a break from the monarchy and asked to stay here. You know, Beacon Hills is a low-profile city."
"Will you be, like, a queen one day?"
"Yeah buddy, I'm the heir of the throne. But don't worry, I'll invite you to my coronation."
Scott was still looking at me with widening eyes when Stiles and Erica approach us. Stiles arched his eyebrows when he saw Scott's face.
"...What's happening?"
I gave Scott a deadly glare as a silent threat to him to stay quiet. Scott looks at Stiles and Erica. Both of them are pretty suspicious.
"Uh..." Scott cleared his throat "Nothing."
Erica crosses her arms in front of her chest.
"You lie."
I rolled my eyes. On man, come on!
"I'll just translate the pages Scott found, but your alpha is an arse. I'll need to translate it while being watched by that shitbag. So, you will need to see my beautiful eyes more often."
"Well," Erica narrowed her eyes to me "Considering that you definitely are hiding something, this is not a bad idea."
I would reply to her, but I noticed Stiles looking at me. He was trying to recognize me. Dude, it was just a matter of time until Stiles remembers about me. I'm so fucked up! Erica stares at Stiles with arched eyebrows.
"Weirdo..." She said.
"Hey, Stiles" It was my turn to say something "Do you want to make a painting of me?"
"Man... I swear by God that I already saw you before. This is so weird!"
"Maybe it was in a porn."
Stiles looks at me, scared. Erica holds a laugh. Is he really believing this?
"Do you do porn?!"
"Hell, no Stiles! Do you think I look like a porn actress? Jeez!" Completely pissed off, I turn my back for them while Erica laughs. And I didn't stop talking "Stop watching those things, Stilinski. Go talk with some real girls."
I entered the school apparently calm. However, I was freaking out inside of me. I don't even want to think when Stiles finally finds out. Wish me luck, Penny! I'm in need.
#teen wolf imagine#teen wolf imagines#teen wolf fanfics#teen wolf fics#teen wolf fanfic#derek hale imagine#derek hale imagines#derek hale x reader#derek hale fanfics#derek hale x you#derek hale x y/n#scott mccall x you#scott mccall x reader#scott mccall x y/n#scott mccall fanfic#scott mccall fanfics#scott mccall fics#scott mccall imagine#scott mccall imagines
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Posting Date: July 8th, 6:00 PM CT (UTC/GMT-05:00)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers / College!AU / Humor / Smut (as requested in my fundraising initiative for BLM)
Pairing: Jungkook / Reader
Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook had messed with you for the last time. That was what you thought when the hockey team – led by the insufferable Jungkook – kicked your dance team out again from your reserved room at the gym. In retaliation, you planned a prank of epic proportions and were caught in the act by none other than Jungkook himself. Before the rift between you could grow any deeper, you accidentally overheard something you were not meant to hear. Something which overshadowed even your heated rivalry. Faced with the choice between obvious wrong and teaming up with your worst enemy – you reluctantly chose the latter. But what will you do when feelings you once thought of as hatred become something decidedly… not?
Estimated WC: 42K
Rating: 18+
Preview: 1,941
The back of Jeon Jungkook’s head was as infuriating as the rest of him.
In the last row of the classroom, you thought this to yourself while typing into your laptop. Notetaking was part of your official duties as Teacher Assistant for Professor Rosenbarr’s class. This, along with grading homework, proctoring exams, and a variety of other bitchwork.
Despite this, the job of a TA was the best-paying on campus, not to mention that Professor Rosenbarr personally wrote the recommendation which landed your upcoming summer internship. Junior year was stressful enough as it was, with everyone turning twenty-one and realizing with some shock they were halfway through University.
Only one summer remained before entering the real world – everyone you spoke to said that this summer internship was crucial. If there was a blank period between Junior and Senior year of University, you might as well type FUCKED AROUND in the blank section of your resume and be done with it. No, this TA role was worth all the bitchwork, if only because it directly led to your upcoming internship.
The presence of Jungkook in your class though, had you seriously considering the merits of quitting.
Glowering at his messy head three rows before you, you wondered if he had even bothered to shower before coming to class. Probably not, based on the state of his hair and clothes. Both were rumpled, with wrinkles permanently stamped into the fabric of his hoodie. You were so consumed by the state of his appearance that when he stretched, turning around, there was no time to look away.
Jungkook’s eyes locked with yours and he blinked, taken aback by your staring. While you watched, his gaze narrowed.
See something you like? he mouthed over the heads of the people between you.
Stomach plummeting, your gaze snapped back to the screen of your laptop. After a long moment of pause, you slowly looked up and found him still looking. Most infuriating of all was the smirk on his lips, as though you had acted exactly as he predicted.
Once again, you remembered why Jungkook was the worst. It gave him no small amount of pleasure to see you embarrassed. Just as it made your own stomach leap to see his brow furrowed with frustration, lips pressed together as he huffed in annoyance.
The two of you had been at each other’s throats since freshman year, a feud of such epic proportion, it was difficult to remember how it had begun. All you knew was that by now, too much blood had been spilled for you to ever go back. Jungkook hated you and you hated him. That much was certain.
Still looking at you, Jungkook arched a brow.
In response to this, you scowled. Pay attention, you mouthed, gesturing at the board.
Jungkook glanced over his shoulder.
Professor Rosenbarr was so absorbed in his lecture, you doubt he would have noticed if the fire alarm and sprinklers went off. There was a zone he reached while lecturing about statistical anomalies in economic theory which not even you could pull him out of.
More importantly, he definitely did not notice Jungkook’s lack of attention. A girl in the front row was buffing her nails, the guy behind her was paying a bill and the guy to his right was scrolling through Tumblr.
At least Jungkook had his notes open, even if he was not looking at the board.
Making a face in his direction, you shooed a hand forward. With a roll of his eyes, Jungkook finally got the hint and turned around to face front. Pulling his hoodie overhead, he slumped low in his seat.
Unable to stop yourself, you let out a sigh.
The girl next to you frowned. “Shh,” she said.
“Sorry,” you whispered, sinking even lower.
While stewing in your own embarrassment, a ping sounded from your laptop. Looking down, you scowled again at the familiar email address.
From: [email protected]
To: y/[email protected]
Subject: hey TA
Aren’t you supposed to be grading us? Maybe you should pay more attention to the lecture & less to the back of my head
Fury clouding your gaze, it made it difficult to see as you typed.
From: y/[email protected]
Subject: re: hey TA
Maybe if your head weren’t so big, I would be able to see the slides
Pressing send, you looked up and waited for him to respond. From the last row of class, you watched Jungkook open your email, snort and bend forward.
Professor Rosenbarr cleared his throat from the front of the room.
“Something amusing about economic theory, Mr. Jeon?”
Jungkook’s head snapped up; a deer caught in headlights. “Um. No, sir.”
The Professor arched a brow. “While I appreciate your formal language, perhaps you could extend the same respect to your dress code next class. Hood down,” he said, pointedly glancing at Jungkook’s large sweatshirt.
Dejectedly, Jungkook reached up to lower his hood.
Even from your seat, you could see his ears were bright red. A small pang of sympathy went through you before reminding yourself he deserved it. Jungkook should have been paying attention – just like you should have.
Bending forward, you resumed taking notes. Professor Rosenbarr continued his lecture, the class returned normalcy but still, Jungkook failed to respond to your email.
This did not surprise you. Jungkook had always been flaky – one of the many reasons you two did not get along. You preferred things orderly, with everyone following an agreed set of rules and Jungkook had his own expectations.
A message appeared in the corner of your screen. For a moment, your heart skipped and then you realized it was only your groupchat with Seokjin and Gina, your two best friends.
Seokjin: Y/N, stop ignoring meee [10:41 AM]
Gina: lol Seokjin, she’s teaching [10:41 AM]
Seokjin: she’s not the one teaching. Rosenblah is [10:41 AM]
Seokjin: Y/N, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! [10:41 AM]
Y/N: his name is Rosenbarr, Seokjin. What’s the emergency? [10:41 AM]
Seokjin: finally [10:42 AM]
Seokjin: there’s a party this weekend. You in? [10:42 AM]
Gina: what night? [10:42 AM]
Seokjin: Saturday [10:42 AM]
Gina: okay, cool [10:42 AM]
Seokjin: why? What’re you doing Friday? [10:42 AM]
Gina: nothing [10:42 AM]
Seokjin: so, why did you – oh, never mind. Y/N, you in? [10:42 AM]
Y/N: this was the emergency? [10:42 AM]
Y/N: who’s throwing the party? [10:42 AM]
Seokjin: um. A friend [10:42 AM]
Y/N: Seokjin [10:43 AM]
Seokjin: okay, fine, the friend is Taehyung & the party is at hockey house. But Y/N, listen to me [10:43 AM]
Y/N: pass [10:43 AM]
Gina: lol Seokjin, you had to have known that would fail [10:43 AM]
Seokjin: I was hoping that by Junior year, we would have all become rational and mature human beings [10:44 AM]
Seokjin: aka, this feud you have with Jungkook is stupid, Y/N [10:44 AM]
Gina: *gasps* he said the name! [10:44 AM]
Gina: a plague upon your house, Seokjin! [10:44 AM]
Y/N: listen. While yes, I am a rational and mature human being [10:44 AM]
Y/N: his royal douchebaggery is not [10:44 AM]
Y/N: ergo, your wish was doomed to fail, Seokjin [10:44 AM]
Seokjin: sigh [10:44 AM]
Seokjin: well, do you at least want to get pizza with Gina and I after? [10:44 AM]
Y/N: that, I can do [10:45 AM]
Seokjin: okay, fine. It’s a plan [10:45 AM]
“We’ll pick up at the same place on Wednesday,” said Professor Rosenbarr, interrupting your train of thought. Head jerking up, your fingers fell from the keys. “Please read Chapter 4 of the textbook before then and complete the assignment online.”
As soon as he stopped, the class began to pack up, shoving books into backpacks and standing from their seats.
Rereading your notes, you struggled to recall who had last asked a question. Professor Rosenbarr liked to have that information to grant class participation points, but the conversation with Jungkook had thrown you off your game.
Before you could ask someone around you, a shadow fell over your desk. Looking up, you found Jungkook in the aisle, thumbs hooked lazily beneath the straps of his backpack.
Frowning, you glanced past. “You’re blocking the aisle,” you announced, shutting your laptop. Shoving this in your bag, you attempted to stand and found him still standing there. “Not to mention my way out of class.”
“Just came to see if you needed my notes,” Jungkook said, nonchalant. “You seemed pretty distracted.”
Glancing at him, you scowled. “I’m the TA here, not you, Jeon.”
“I know.” His smile widened and you repressed the sudden desire to smack it from his face. “Doesn’t change the fact that you were staring at me.”
“The only reason I was staring at you was because you look like you haven’t showered in days. Is the hockey team really that hard-up for wins? Resorted to repulsing the competition?”
Instantly, his smile disappeared.
Jungkook had recently been made Captain of the University hockey team and it was an endless source of gossip on campus, since usually only Seniors held the coveted title. Word on the street was Jungkook was just that good – or, the hockey team was that bad.
“I showered after practice,” he said, a bit sulky. “And we’re not that bad this year.”
Despite his words, the furrow between his brow deepened and Jungkook aimlessly shoved a hand through his hair. His fingers instantly became tangled, fighting a minute before he worked through.
Staring at him for a moment, you eventually blinked and tore free.
“Whatever,” you said, glancing past him. “Let me leave.”
Professor Rosenbarr was long gone, but he would expect your notes in his office by the end of day. You still needed to format them the way that he preferred, review them for errors and find the name of the last person who spoke.
Jungkook stepped aside and, pushing past him, you entered the aisle. As you climbed the steps, you heard him follow suit. The impending deadline began to weigh on you and – against all better judgement – you turned around.
“Hey,” you exhaled, coming to a stop on the last step.
Jungkook looked up. “What?”
“Did you… hear who asked the last question in class?”
Surprise flickered over his features, though he quickly composed them. “Uh, it was Nelson.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
You lingered for a moment, then turned around and left the room. Shoving open the door to the hall, you did not bother to wait for him to exit. Disappearing into the crowd, you kept your head low and placed distance between you. He had been startled into being nice to you, but you knew from experience this would not last for long.
Jungkook always found a way to have the last word.
Your theory was proven as soon as you entered the quad, phone dinging loudly to announce a new email. Sliding open the app, you finally found his response to your message.
From: [email protected]
To: y/[email protected]
Subject: re: re: hey TA
If you’re still wondering how clean my body is, feel free inspect it yourself. Hate to leave that kind of doubt on your conscience xx
Swallowing, your fingers hovered over the delete button before you gave up and shoved your phone in your pocket. You would not allow Jungkook to get under your skin so easily.
Such a feat was easier said than done, however. Jungkook had nearly two years of practice at pushing your buttons. By this point, you thought he might know your ticks better than your best friends. All it took was a well-placed wink from him to make your blood boil.
Still – you would figure out a way to get Jungkook back. You always did.
After all, you had two years of experience at pressing his buttons as well.
[ TO BE CONTINUED ]
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© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.
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