Hiiiiii, so tonight I thought it would be a great idea to write a little au oneshot to prep myself for the new au I’m writing. In the process I remembered this postand the light bulb turned on. so fromherlips and alwaysinstylesfics , here is your semi smutty, personal trainer Harry au one shot. You’re welcome and enjoy!
Work Hard, Play Harder (a personal trainer au)
She rolled up her mat and tucked it underneath her arm. “No legs today?”
Harry shook his head. “I want to focus on abs and arms.” They walked over to an empty area where two boxing gloves sat as well as two hand pads. “We’re gonna work on your strength and speed with a bit of sparring.”
Ella’s eyes widened and her brows furrowed. “You want me to punch you?”
“Well not literally. Like I’ll be wearing these and you punch them.” he laughed
“So I can’t punch your face?”
“No you can not.” Ella tsk’d and set her mat and water down, replacing them with the black boxing gloves.
You were always proud to show your husband off as a hard-worker. Luke worked six days a week from 8am until 6.30pm to provide for you, and that’s something you were beyond thankful for. Luke worked at a local garage filling up people’s cars and doing odd repairs when someone needed it.
Today you’d spent the entire day cleaning your small home. You’d been on hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom tiles, the wood floors and dusting forgotten corners. You washed the window panes, inside and out, and swept up dirt and dust trampled in by Luke on his heavy boots after working all day.
You’d spent most of your afternoon peeling carrots and potatoes picked from the vegetable patch and seasoning meat to perfection so that Luke could come home to a well cooked warm meal. Luke never expected you to cook him food, unlike how your friend’s husbands expected them to fully cater for them, and always was thankful.
The hours of work wasn’t for nothing, and recently Luke came home day in day out in a miserable mood. Most evenings involved him coming through the door and going straight to bed, leaving your meal untouched on the table and leaving you alone. The extra hardwork you’d put in today was to try to show Luke that although at work he was treated like a slave to the rich, here, at home, he was loved and that love was unconditional.
The banging and distressed moans from Luke’s truck clambered down the driveway just as you put the potatoes in the oven to finish off roasting. You wiped your grease smothered hands on a tea towel before folding it and placing it on the counter.
Luke swung the door open and you smiled, looking at your husband. His blonde hair was tousled thoughlessly and his blue shirt had the first few buttons undone. His dark blue trousers had oil stains and grease plastered over them and his black gloves poked out his trouser pocket.
“Welcome home Mr Hemmings.” You grinned, trying to lighten the mood. You sauntered over to Luke and wrapped your arms around his shoulders in order to peck him on his lips.
“Not right now, Y/N.” Luke grumbled, and gently unwrapped your arms from him. “I’m going to lie down.”
Luke began walking into the bedroom when you snapped.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You sneered. Luke turned around and sighed.
“Please not tonight, Y/N. I spend all day working with assholes and dealing with uptight snobs, I don’t want to come home and feel like I’m still at work.”
Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets and your mouth was left opening and closing like a fish.
“No right of course not.” You snickered. “You come home to a spotless house, a warm home made meal, a wife who adores you and your whiskey already poured into a glass; but you still feel like you’re at god damn work!” Your voice rose with every word, your patience wearing thin.
“I work for you to have silky pajamas and cotton dresses! I work day in and out for you to feel loved and looked after! Not for you to act like a pathetic spoiled brat Y/N!” Luke’s fist slammed down onto the wooden table. “You don’t deal with assholes who throw their money at you after you’ve done their dirty work!”
“I do deal with an asshole who throws my love for him back in my face once I’ve done his dirty work.” You recoiled after you said that, the harshness spitting out of your mouth shocked you.
“Then go find someone who doesn’t do that.” Luke jeered.
That was the final straw and tears leaked from your eyes. You ran to the front door and straight out of it, across the small wooden porch and out into the night. Shouts from Luke were heard behind you but you kept running.
You slowed down once you reached a bench a mile or so away from your house; a frequent spot where you and Luke would watch the sunset across the lake. You panted as you sat on the bench and pull your knees to your chest. You hadn’t realised the harshness of the air when you were running but now you could feel it on you bare arms. Your skirt came to your knees and left your shins open to the whips of the wind.
Tears escaped your eyes as you shivered in the dark. The words replayed in your head, the evilness in both your words and your husbands.
A few minutes passed before you heard the familiar spluttering from Luke’s old truck. The sound of it’s engine became louder the closer it got to you and before long, it’s headlights beamed over you. As the truck stopped, the headlights flickered off and the creaks of the driver’s door echoed into the air. Footsteps of Luke pounded the ground until he was next to the bench.
“Stand up, baby.” His voice mumbled, you looked up to see blue eyes and a warm smile, and in the hands of the man you loved, was a red blanket. You stood up and Luke bundled the blanket around you to try and warm you up.
“I’m sorry.” He said, pulling you in for a hug. Your head rested on his shoulder as his strong arms held you. “I shouldn’t have said those things Y/N, and I meant none of them. I am beyond grateful for everything you do for me and I’ve been so grumpy and that’s no excuse but I just haven’t been myself and-”
You reached up and connected your lips to his in an attempt to stop his rambling. Your lips moved rhythmically with his and your hands held his face.
“I forgive you Luke.” You whisper. “But we have to get home for the potatoes.” You chuckle.
“God forbid, those darn potatoes.” He laughs and leads you back to the truck to drive you home.
Request: Sorry if this is like waaaaaaay too specific but could you write a drabble where the reader works at a museum and evil Barry comes in and won’t stop touching stuff and maybe some smutty smut ensues? ;)
a/n: he is an asshat but….
It is just a normal, boring day at the Central City museum. You greet people who come in and flick through a book in your spare time. It isn’t that fun. When the big brown wood door swings open, you look up. “Hi, welcome to the Central C- Hey, don’t touch that!” you scold, standing up from your office chair.
Completely ignoring your request, he smirks, fingerless black glove reaching out to touch the glass display case that holds a sparkling diamond. This dude is really getting on your nerves. Stomping over to the lanky brown haired man, you cross your arms over your blue polo, eyeing him. “I love history, don’t you?” he smirks, strolling towards a polished vase, picking it up.
“Put that down!” you grunt, ripping it out of his hands. He sighs, fixing his gray hoodie while he steps toward another display. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on that!” you warn, squinting at the young man.
His green eyes twinkle in mischief, quickly glancing to you then the precious jewel necklace. “Hmm… what about-” his hands grab your breasts, “these? Can I touch these?” he bats his long eyelashes, fingers twitching over your shirt. Oh. Oh, that’s such a dick move.
Your face flushes and you growl slightly. Peering around, you curl your fingers in his baggy black t-shirt, leading him into the supply closet. A sly smirk remains on his lips as he leans forward, sucking on your neck. “Oh…” Wait, what’s his name again?
“Barry.” he mutters, pushing your work shirt up, revealing your smooth violet bra. A moan escapes your lips while he unbuttons your blue jeans, slowly pulling them down. “Mmm, baby…” he hums, fingers dipping in your underwear.
You gasp, grabbing the wall as you feel his long fingers enter your pussy. “Barry…please.” you beg, hands flying to his light brown locks, tugging it roughly.
A struggled groan passes through his pink lips and he makes a ‘come here’ motion inside you. “You’re so hot… You sure I can’t touch the stuff?” he whispers, pumping his long fingers in you. His hoodie falls off one of his shoulder as he pants slightly, a Cheshire Cat smile stretching across his face.
Breathless, you tug at his hair again, feeling a knot in your lower stomach form. Biting your lip, you peek down at him; Y/C/E eyes finding his hazel ones. “I…I’m close.” you warn, swallowing.
He nods, pumping his fingers faster, making you throw your head back. You groan, feeling yourself cum on his digits. “Mmm…so responsive.” he purrs, slowly pulling his wet fingers out. You watch his swollen lips wrap around his pointer and middle finger, sucking off your juices; eyelids fluttering closed. A whimper leaves you and he hums, lips vibrating his fingers while he pulls them out with a pop. “Still don’t want me to touch anything?” he smirks.
can you do one about bucky showing reader around New York? i think that would be so cute and you would write it so well :) +
Hii could I ask a smutty imagine with bucky? Maybe one where the reader is natasha’s younger sister and has a huge crush on him but its very shy about it and one day they get left alone in the tower?! Plus Nat is overprotective and catches them sleeping and makes a scene? Thanks love your blog!
a/n: I’m combing these two because I got a lot of Bucky requests and I want to get them out for you guys!! If you’re not interested in smut I’ll put *** before it starts so you don’t have to read it :)
Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (ive seen this warning on other fics and it’s v important!! wrap it in real life people )
You stepped into the elevator at the bottom floor of Stark Tower, unable to hide the smile on your face.
“Welcome. Miss Romanoff, everyone is so excited to see you,” the AI voice spoke to you. You were excited too, to say the least. You hadn’t seen your sister Natasha in what felt like forever and you were finally getting to visit New York. You found yourself bouncing eagerly as the elevator brought you higher and higher. The city unfolded below you and you stared in awe, feeling like you were floating on top of the builds that were sprawled our before you.
“Brrrr!” Every part of Junkrat clinked as he shivered. He wrapped his arms around himself and attempted to stop the shakes, but the freezing temp of his prosthetic arm made him squeak and immediately remove it from his frigid skin. Through the glass of the bay door of the hovercraft he could see the snow, only swirling white for miles, or maybe that was just the glass becoming iced over. Just staring at it made his teeth chatter, this very different part of the world.
He was sure he would soon turn blue like that scary sheila with the sniper. At least he knew what colors to wear when it finally happened. If he survived it, which he didn’t think he would.
“What’s wrong with you?” Hana climbed down from the top of her mech, somehow landing gracefully. Shouldn’t she shatter from the landing in this temperature? Or what it just him who was freezing to death?
“This is not my kind of weather,” he whined, his shoulders shaking some. Even with the bombs and the tire on his back, he was still so cold. He was dying for a sweat from carrying the weight. It wasn’t happening.
She placed a hand on her jutted hip. “You knew where we were going. Why didn’t you pack something warm?”
WARNINGS: Violence, murder & blood (terrible writing and not proof read)
You rest your head against the window of Dan’s car, watching everything that caught the brightness of his headlights in the dark suburban neighbourhood. You had been driving for at least 40 minutes now, the silence of 2am almost haunting. You craned your neck to look behind the headrest, Dan’s duffle bag had been thrown onto the backseat carelessly, a pair of black gloves sat on top accompanied by a roll of duct tape.
You released a breath you didn’t know you had been holding once the car came to a stop, pulling over to the side of the road. The car and headlights were shut off, darkness consuming the once visible road. Dan turned to face you, and even though it was 2am, the moon provided just enough light for you to see his serious expression.
“The house is just around the corner, you are to remain silent, completely and utterly soundless. You are going to stay right by my side this whole time, I don’t want you any more than one metre away from me at anytime. Do you understand?” Dan questions, or more like commanded.
You simply nod your head in reply, eyes wide as you hope that he trusts you. You noticed a slight change in his demeanour, his stone face relaxing a little as he breathes in deeply through his nose.
“If you get frightened or just don’t want to watch, face the other way. Hold onto my jacket or something.” Dan spoke quietly as he said this, getting back to work after one more quick look at you. He opens up his door, climbing out and shutting it behind him before opening the back seat door. You watch as Dan stuffs the gloves into one of his jean pockets, then picking up the bag and swinging it over his shoulder. Dan walks around the car and opens up your door, holding out a hand to help you. The gesture is small but still appreciated.
You both walk side by side along the pavement, Dan whistling a spine-chilling tune. Eventually you both end up stood at the front door of a well kept house. You watch in awe as Dan continues whistling, pulling out the black gloves from his pocket and sliding them onto his hands before pulling out what looked to be a credit card. As if he’s done it a million times, Dan slides the card down the gap between the door and frame, bending the card away from the door handle. He stops whistling just as you here a click, the door then opening silently. Dan walks inside the house and you follow closely behind. Dan points to the door, indicating that he wants you to shut it. You do as told while Dan places his bag next to the door, only taking the duct tape out.
You both headed up the stairs, not making a single sound. Dan seems to know exactly where to go, which makes you wonder if he has been in this house before. He sops in front of a shut door, pressing his index finger to his lips as a reminder to keep hushed as he slowly opens the door.
There wasn’t much inside the room to indicate that it was a family home, simply a queen size bed where a middle aged man was fast asleep. You stood slightly back from Dan and watched the scene unravel before you.
Everything went so quickly. Dan tearing tape from the roll, placing it over the mans mouth. The mans eyes shot open wide, fear instantly evident in his body.
“Good morning sunshine” Dan says, his voice sounding almost joyful as his features are taken over by a large grin. Dan takes a fistful of the mans hair, pulling harshly to get him standing up. Mumbles and whines escape as the man tries to yell through the tape.
“You know what I like to do when I wake up? Clean my face” As Dan speaks, he continues to hold the mans hair, forcing him to look into Dan’s dark eyes.
Dan quickly spins the man around, taking hold of the mans arms behind his back. Your stomach twists in a sickly way as you make eye contact with this stranger. Dan suddenly shoves the guy forward, forcing him to walk out of the room. You follow behind Dan as he leads the man into the bathroom, forcing him to stand in front of the porcelain sink. The man looks into the mirror, staring at Dan’s reflection that is stood behind him.
“Now, lets get you freshened up” Dan says to him. The mans eyes are wider than should be possible, he knows this is the end.
Dan turns the tap on in the sink, the water flowing quickly. You begin to figure that Dan is going to drown him. But there is not plug in the sink? There’s not enough water… With unnatural speed, Dan holds tightly onto the mans hair and shoves his head forwards, his face making harsh contact with the white porcelain. The sound is sickening, and as Dan lift his head back up, you soon learn that the view is too.
The man is still conscious, but sporting an obviously broken nose and a new shade of crimson red. As Dan looks in the mirror at the mans face, he releases an evil smile.
“Now don’t you look pretty”
And with that, Dan is slamming the mans face against the porcelain again, and again, and again. Blood is everywhere and you can her the sink breaking with the force. Dan’s lips are pursed and his core attention being his dark actions. You can’t stop your body from jumping each time the mans face makes contact with the hard surface.
Eventually Dan’s actions slow down and he lets go of the mans hair. The body collapses to the floor, blood pooling around his body.
“Do you want to get something to eat on the way home?” Dan questions. WHAT!?
You look up at him, a thousand emotions rushing through you at once. Dan lets out a sigh before speaking again.
“Lets get going”
Once Dan has his bag and you are both out of the house, he removes his gloves and shoves them deep in his bag. As if realization suddenly hits you, your body stops moving. You cant walk, you cant think. You knew Dan was a murderer, you just never expected that.
Dan notices you stop and quickly rushes to you.
“Hey, Hey… Look, It’s okay. He was a bad guy… I’m sorry… It was a bad idea for me to bring you. Lets just.. Lets go home” Dan wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lead you back to his car. He opened your door and helped you in. He buckled your seat belt. He paused as he was standing back up, wiping a tear from your cheek.
How can he change into a totally different person within 5 minutes… How can you still find him attractive when he could kill you at any moment?
A short Ladynoir drabble inspired by @i-wadako‘s lovely art here.
also posted on AO3 – under “Spot of Love Square Drabbles”: a collection of all the ficlets I write :)
“Je t’aime…je t’aime…je t’aime…”
His voice echoed in her ears and the words pounded in her heart as she stood there with wide eyes gazing at him, breath barely leaving her lungs. Having just finished helping out at a crime scene, they stood at the center of the Eiffel Tower, the moonlight reflecting golden specks in his hair as his head shifted to look away from her. She was about to reach for the yo-yo around her waist, wondering if she ought to bug out and avoid the difficult conversation altogether, when gut instinct held her back. No, she couldn’t leave her cat like this without a word.
It wasn’t as though she didn’t know he had a little crush on her, but to hear his confession so boldly at the end of such an intense night…that was certainly something else.
“You’re speechless, I see,” he teased, trying but failing to keep the pain out of his voice. At this point, she couldn’t tell if his ragged breathing was due to the open cut beneath his cracked ribs or to her silence. Leaning against the cool metal of the Tower, she shifted the weight over from her wounded leg to her good one.
“Chat, you know we can’t know who each other’s identities are,” she said, wincing. There was a bruise throbbing in her lower back.
“How is that in any way relevant?” he asked, extending his arm to hold onto a bar for support. “Or are you trying to avoid the topic?”
“N-no, I’m not,” she said, refusing to let her weary legs crumple in this crucial moment. She knew if she fell down to her knees he would try to help her up, and the last thing she needed was for him to be in close proximity during an emotionally heavy talk like this. “I just—I just don’t think it’s realistic for you to tell me you love me when you don’t even know who I am.”
“I knew you’d say that,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips, “and you know what that implies?”
“Phil, seriously man, what’s going on?” Dan questioned, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, as they headed back to the headquarters. He glanced over at a silent Phil, his eyes glued to the window.
“Hmm?” Phil glanced at Dan briefly before looking out the window. “Nothing,” Phil answered and shook his head.
“Okay,” Dan replied, pursing his lips together into a firm line. He reached forward and turned the music up. He hummed and tapped his fingers along to the rhythm of the song. Phil tugged his lip between his teeth as he watched the cars pass. He realized that they were, in fact, parked in an empty parking lot. “Okay,” Dan repeated and turned towards Phil.
“Why are we in an empty parking lot?” Phil scratched the back of his neck and curiously glanced at Dan.
“We’re gonna talk.” Dan affirmed and turned the engine off, not permitting Phil to leave until they finished talking.
“Why?” Phil questioned and leaned back into the car seat, his eyes staying on the side window.
The streets of Gotham are finally quiet, the buzz of midnight traffic long gone, the patrol almost over. Stephanie sits on one of the taller rooftops above crime alley and stares west towards where the sun will eventually break over the horizon.
“I missed you,” she says, and Steph doesn’t have to turn around to notice Black Bat peeling out of the shadows behind her. She fiddles with the end of her cape as Black Bat settles cross-legged next to her. The hood she wears is terrifying, Steph notes. She can’t even tell if Black Bat is breathing. Steph shifts, and their knees press together, a small comfort in the hazy two am light. She and Cass work better like this, speaking in small touches during patrols, Black Bat striking out of the shadows when Batgirl forgets to watch her own back.
Somewhere closer to central Gotham, a car honks. Black Bat reaches out, her gloved hand palm-up on Stephanie’s knee. I missed you too.
Stephanie drops her hand gingerly into Cass’ own, and their fingers grip tight automatically. God, she’d missed this. Missed her. Steph scuffs her feet against the dirty brick of the building and leans her head on her best friend’s shoulder. A block or so down, she can hear the sound of a fight breaking out, a man getting shoved to the ground. Batgirl gets to her feat surely, Black Bat just a moment ahead of her.
“Ready to go fight crime?” She asks, and Stephanie can’t see behind the mask of the costume, but she knows anyway that Cassandra is smiling as she vanishes down the side of the building with barely a flutter of fabric. Batgirl grins, and follows her down.
If I’m going to dive into this trash heap, I might as well dive in head first. I read the novelization of The Force Awakens and really liked it. It didn’t even feel like a novelization in the sense that I was reading a basic description of what I’d seen on screen. I loved hearing the characters’ thoughts (BB8 being a POV character was just lovely) and I’ve accepted it as canon.
I’m a big fan of the Force Bond trope and I do enjoy all of the fanfics that explore them invading the other person’s thoughts or dreams after the events of TFA. However, after reading the novelization, I believe that the two were linked before the events of TFA.
(Bolded text is my emphasis, not the novel’s. The following is under a cut to spare my followers who may not be interested.)
“I’d like to say I’m fighting for justice, but I just want my chocolate back really badly.”
“That’s how you became a superhero? Some bully stole your candy when you were a kid? No badass origin story? Just that? Really?” Violet asked incredulously. She put her hands on her hips, the black gloves standing out nicely against her stylish purple supersuit. “I have to say, you are the strangest superhero I’ve ever met.”
Felicity gently set down the wine glass she was holding and turned. Oliver’s hand was at her elbow. She slid off the barstool and stepped down onto her high heels.
“Let’s do this,” she said, grinning up at him. “Wait, do people still say that?”
“Well,” Oliver said, raising an indulgent eyebrow, “you just said it, and YOU are people, so …”
“Not like you’re the best person to ask,” she said with a giggle.
Oliver huffed and lifted the elbow she was holding, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and giving her a playful tug toward the heavy door of the bar, and they stepped out into the warm night.
“This way,” Oliver said, and they turned left, arm in arm, to head down the city street.
“Oliver, come on,” Felicity said, bouncing a little as they walked. “I can’t believe you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
“I told you, it’s a secret,” he said, smiling in the streetlight glow.
“And the secret has something to do with Tommy? Some kind of hidden talent? We’ve all been … together for nine months now. You know how I feel about mysteries. What can there be that you guys haven’t told me?”
“Oh, Felicity. There are still a few things that you don’t know about me and Tommy.”
How the fight had broken out, Charlie would never know. One moment the bar had been its typical busy Thursday night party and the next, one woman is trying to slam another woman’s skull into a stool. Charlie had murmured a curse to herself before pulling out the black gloves from the back pocket of her black skinny jeans, large studded bows on the back of them when all of her friends had gone out as different versions of Lady Gaga for Halloween. She’s still too paranoid to be comfortable with skin to skin contact and she’d been trying to avoid that as much as possible. But she couldn’t ignore a fight.
Bouncers began making their way over to analyze the commotion, but the redhead had beat them to it, hoisting herself over the bar and putting herself between the two feuding females. The victim had started to spit up blood while the other swung her arms wildly to get at her. Tony, the largest bouncer, hugged her tightly and escorted the volatile and screaming woman outside, Charlie walking along side him and a large crowd following them out. Mostly because another woman was about to seek revenge.
Outside, the commotion hadn’t dulled. The two women screamed in each others faces, something about a man and Charlie could only roll her eyes at the situation. Until the hair pulling starts. “For fuck’s sake,” she murmurs to herself, trying to separate the women once more, long sleeves keeping her arms covered and gloves still covering her hands. One woman swings, a punch landing squarely in the nose, not hard enough to break bone. But with just enough force that blood drips down the redhead’s skin.
Righting her skull upon her spine after hearing a loud, collective ‘ooh’ from the crowd, Charlie momentarily forgets that fear of being touched, hands balling into fists as she jumps on the girl, landing one punch, then another.