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legitlaur · 3 years

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lightweight // harry styles boxer au pt. 1

boxer!harry x reader

Warnings: language, nsfw content (in future parts), violence

word count: 5k

summary: Harry Styles is a notorious boxer in London. He has been in a funk for a while and can’t stay focused in training or matches. One day he sees you. You change his perspective, and however the universe blesses Harry because he keeps bumping into you.

a/n: this is a disclaimer if anything. All boxing and medical references are sourced from google. I don’t know much about either. But please enjoy some boxer!harry because he is currently my favorite harry

Sweat was dripping down my face, my hair was sticking to my forehead and my head wasn’t in the right mindset. I kept my hands up, I was playing defense this morning.

“Harry!” My coach, Sam, barked but not fast enough.

A gloved fist swung around and smacked me in the face.

I grunted in pain but stood my ground.

“Get over here man.” Sam shook his head in disappointment.

I walked across the ring to the broody man. I rested my arms on the ropes and opened my mouth wide. I was about to get a lecture and I wasn’t in the mood.

Sam took my mouthguard out and started pouring water down my throat. “What’s your problem today? You’re not hitting a single combination, and even on defense you’re getting the shit beaten out of you.”

A lecture.

“I know.” I panted, “I can’t focus today, something is going on. I, I. I just don’t know what.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you take a 15-minute break? Go outside, hopefully, the fresh air will do you good.” Sam untied my gloves and pulled them off.

I ducked under the ropes back onto the carpet of the gym. Even with my back turned to him I knew Sam was shaking his head in disappointment, but I didn’t care. I didn’t have any big fights lined up for the next few months, I was just training for the off-season. He must have noticed there was definitely something going on because he never let me have anything more than a quick water break.

A few people were in the bathroom when I walked in, but they left without saying a word once I made eye contact with them.

They feared me, as they should.

I was Harry Styles, one of the best boxers in London.

Some people liked to call it fear, others liked to call it respect. I didn’t care what it was, so long as I was in the ring winning.

I looked in the mirror of the rusted bathroom. My hair was getting too long, Sam was going to start getting on me to go to the barbers. I took out the little ponytail that rested at the crown of my head, it was coming apart and this was a shit practice anyway. A few curls landed in front of my eyes, I ran my hands through my sweat-soaked hair trying to push it out of my eyes.

“Make yourself worth it!” I repeated to myself.

I stared at my opponent. His hair covering half his face, his eyes had less determination in them. The bruise on his right cheek was finally healing. He looked tired, sad, and weak. Nothing like a champion.

I was staring at myself.

Somehow, I had become my biggest competition. My mindset was all wrong. I didn’t have the motivation and drive I had when I put on my first set of boxing gloves. The spark burned out. Something was missing.

I slapped my face and shook my head. After bouncing around a few times I left the bathroom and went straight to the front door of the building. I could hear the busy London streets before I pushed the door open.

A cool breeze hit my bare chest. I walked a few feet away from the gym to clear my head. I had my hands resting behind my head as I inhaled and exhaled the polluted London air.

I looked around at the people walking past. Most of them were either giving me a weird look because I was walking around shirtless in the street with both hands wrapped. Others knew who I was and were nodding at me.

My head was spinning, I wasn’t sure what was happening. I felt like I was overheating but freezing at the same time. The sounds of traffic were making me panic, I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. Something was wrong with me.

When my eyes landed on you, it left like the biggest fist to the gut I’d ever taken. The air that I couldn’t inhale was somehow knocked out of me.

You were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen before. When you walked past me, it wasn’t the confusion, fear, or respect that you gave me. No, you gave me pity.

I looked into your eyes and felt peace and passion all at once. There was a mutual understanding of what I was going through. Even if I wasn’t sure what it was. I felt like we were staring into each other’s souls.

I turned around as you walked right past me. Not even giving me a second thought. Why would you?

I tried to keep my eyes on you for as long as possible, but you turned the corner before you could blend into the crowd. I was pretty certain a woman with your beauty and confidence would never blend into a crowd.

I pinched the bridge of my nose when you disappeared. I knew the chances of me seeing you again were slim to none. I never had much luck in my life, except maybe boxing.

You. The bizarre angel sent from heaven above to show me pity.

I didn’t even realize pity was what I needed until you showed it to me. I wasn’t sure how you’d shown it to me, there had been nothing but eye contact.

A dreary man in a suit bumped into me. “Watch where you’re going, man.” He gave me a disgusted look. It was probably deserved after my sweat got all over his blue blazer.

“Sorry," I muttered as I walked back into the gym. Sam was sitting at the front desk with his hand covering his face. He was getting more and more frustrated with me. My practices hadn’t been great recently, and neither of us knew how to fix whatever problem I was clearly having.

I didn’t know what came over me or why the next words came out of my mouth, but I had a feeling I would regret them soon enough.

“Schedule me for a fight.”

Sam's head popped up. His eyes were wide. “What?”

We both knew me getting in the ring for an actual fight right now would end with me in the hospital. I didn’t care, if anything I hoped it would inspire me to find some form of inspiration.

“I want to fight someone! Anyone!” I reiterated as I walked up to my coach.

“Are you sure you wanna do that? We both know you’re not ready for a real fight.” Sam offered.

I wasn’t sure, hell maybe this was suicide. I shrugged, “Why not? I haven’t had a real fight in months and it’s starting to show. The fans are losing interest.”

Sam nodded, “That’s true. Maybe this will get you out of the funk you’ve been in.”

“So you’ll schedule me for something soon?” I was getting a little too eager.

“Yes, but if I don’t think you’re ready for it I’m pulling you out.” He was already on his phone, probably trying to find me a decent opponent that wouldn’t ruin my title.

A week later I was in the locker room of the York Hall. I was getting my hands wrapped in preparation for my match that evening. I could hear the audience through the cinder block walls. Word had spread that Harry Styles was going to be back in the ring tonight. People from all over London were coming to see me fight. I had an audience, now all I needed was to put on a show.

Once Sam gave me a quick pep talk and I was in my gloves I threw on my robe. I waited for my walk-out song to start. It was my cue to head out to the ring.

The song “Death May Die” began, dramatic violin blasted through the speakers I stood up straight and walked out into the arena. The crowd erupted into cheers when they saw me. I kept my stoic face and didn’t interact with the fans at all. It was part of my act. Harry Styles was someone to fear after all.

Once I climbed up into the ring my team took off my robe and tried to get my adrenaline pumping. They pushed my mouthguard up against my teeth and climbed out of the ring.

“In the middle.” The ref called out.

I turned to face my opponent. Jack ‘JawBreaker’ Jones. He walked out to Machine Gun Kelly’s ‘Jawbreaker’ a little too pretentious if you ask me.

He was 6’1 and 150 pounds. His long blonde was tied back into a bun, I wasn’t sure how he managed to have such long hair while boxing. It was nearly impossible for me. I had long hair for a few years, but when I got serious about my boxing career I had to chop it off. Jones was rather tan for a Londoner, and he was chiseled out. From what I’d seen and heard he was a good boxer too. This would be an interesting match.

The plan to win was simple. Sam and I knew I had the better cardio, so we strategized that I would go with defense and tire Jones out. When he started getting too tired to keep trying for the offense I would knock him out.

We made eye contact, tapped gloves, and started the match. There were five rounds, each for three minutes.

Once the bell rang Jones and I started dancing around each other. Waiting to see who would make the first move. I did my best to keep my distance and not let him back me into the ropes. I had a longer wingspan than him, which meant I could be further away and still land a punch.

Finally, Jones threw a punch. I ducked and spun out of the way, keeping myself away from the ropes. He got closer again and jabbed me in the ribs. I fought back, swinging an uppercut to his face, and landing it right on his nose. Blood started dripping down his nose. I knew I didn’t break it, but I’d had a similar injury and I knew his head was pounding right now.

The bell rang through the arena. I finally heard the crowd again, realizing they were there watching. Just as fast as the round started, it ended and I was back in my corner on my stool guzzling water and listening to Sam tell me to go for Jones’ jaw.

Once the break was over, Jones and I were staring into each other’s eyes to start round two. So far he wasn’t wearing down as we anticipated. His cardio was pretty decent. The round started and Jones immediately landed three punches to my side. I groaned in pain but kept standing. I couldn’t let this wanna-be boxer beat me.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, my torso ached as the oxygen reached my lungs. I landed three or four punches to his side and arms, but Jones kept his hands up to guard his face the entire time.

We were in the fourth of five rounds, and I was out of it. I barely made it through the third round. I was up against the ropes getting the shit beat out of me. All I could do was keep my hands up to try and protect my face.

I had a busted-up lip, slip-open eye brown, and definitely a bruised rib. I had to take the defensive side this round. Jones had landed enough blows for the ref to call the match and the judges to easily declare him the winner.

I threw a few here and there as we bounced around the ring, but he was landing just as many punches. Before I knew it, I was back up against the ropes. My eyes were hardly open, I was trying to keep my gloves up but my arms were so tired and sore I couldn’t raise them high enough to keep my face out of the line of fire. My knees were beginning to wobble, I was going to blackout any second.

I turned my head slightly, that’s when I saw you again. In a crowd of hundreds of people, I saw you. Everyone else was a blur, you lit up like a Christmas tree. Your eyes caught my attention like a firework in the middle of a blizzard. You looked frightened but the concern and pity were screaming at me through your dilated pupils.

I don’t know how, but I felt an adrenaline rush kick in. I threw punch after punch right into Jones’s face.

Make yourself worth it!

With my mantra in my head, and you in the crowd I knew I had to finish off ‘Jawbreaker’. I flipped us, he was backed up into the corner against the ropes and I was slamming my gloves into his face, really going hard on his jaw again and again. The ref stepped in and pushed me off Jones.

I gave them a little space while the ref gave him his eight-second stand. When the ref yelled six, Jones fell to the floor. His knees gave out and his head crashed against the mat.

The crowd went wild and started screaming. There were chants of my name and boos from every corner. I went back to Sam, he took out my mouthguard and untied my gloves. Once my hands were free he had me follow a pen with my eyes. It was harder to stay focused on the pen than I cared to admit, but it wasn’t because my head was pounding from the beating I’d endured. It was because you were somewhere in the audience and I had to find you.

I’d won. Even in my darkest months I still had some grit in me. Perhaps it was only because my eyes somehow found yours in my weakest moment, or maybe it was the fighter in me finally resurfacing. The moment I thought I would end up on the mat with a concussion I ended up getting my arm lifted into the air and called a champion.

The title ‘Best Boxer in London’ still rang true.

I ran into the locker room, not bothering with any post-fight interviews or fan interactions. I wanted to get okayed by the paramedics, get showered, and get into the crowd to find you. I had to find you.

My legs were bouncing up and down while the paramedics cleaned up my cuts, and stitched me up. They took a look at my ribs and told me to take it easy for the next few days. My eyes were fine but I did have a gnarly black eye forming on my right eye.

The paramedics finally left, it had taken everything in me to let them take their time with the stitches and checking for a concussion. I flexed my hand muscles and frowned at the light purple bruising on my knuckles. Once I was alone in the locker room I stripped and limped into the shower. The hot water seared against my aching muscles, but I had a feeling this would be the only warm shower I had until I was able to get back into the gym.

Once the water ran clear again and was no longer slightly red, I hopped out of the shower and dried myself in record time. I was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, and back in the arena before Jones left the ring. He still had doctors looking at him.

The number of people still in the arena dwindled significantly from when I had won. I could only pray that you hadn’t left yet. Maybe with some grace from God, you would be waiting out the traffic of leaving York Hall.

I scrambled through the groups of people congregating together. I couldn’t describe you to anyone, I didn’t know your distinct features. All I knew was that when I saw you, I would know it was you.

I looked and looked, but you were nowhere to be found. I sighed through my nose and dragged my feet back into the locker room to grab my bag.

“Awesome job Harry, I don’t know how you managed to pull through in that last round. I was certain Jones was going to knock you out.” Sam pulled me in for a hug.

I wrapped my arms around him and patted his back then released him. I went to my locker and grabbed my duffle bag. “I had a random burst of energy I guess.” I shrugged and left the room before Sam could ask me any more questions.

I’d won a fight when I was at my weakest. Normally all I wanted to do was go get my earnings and spend most of it at the bar or club to celebrate. Today, I just wanted to find you. I wasn’t sure why you were so important, or why you had such an impact on me, but I needed to find out. I was determined to find out.

I went to the back office where I found myself at the end of every match. The bright lights in there burned my sensitive eyes. Inside the ring, the light was bright but the rest of the arena was pretty dark. I only ever focused on my opponent, the light was never an issue.

“Styles! Congrats man, that was an epic fight.” Jeremy, the owner of York Hall (and also the guy who organized all these matches) greeted me as I opened the office door.

I nodded, “Thanks, Jeremy.”

The tall skinny man stood up from his desk, “You know you brought in quite a fanbase tonight.” He picked up a thick white envelope and handed it to me, “There’s your cut. $1500.”

“$1500? I fucking won man, that fight was worth $2000 easy.” I threw my only good hand up in the air, “I knocked out ‘Jawbreaker’!” I raised my voice but added a sarcastic flare to Jones’ stage name.

Jeremy only shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you, Harry. The business has been slow lately. Maybe it’s time to find some other way to make money if this isn’t enough for you.”

I grabbed the envelope, stuffed it into my hoodie pocket, and left the office before I did something I would regret.

I was fuming when I went down the stairs. I needed to get out of York Hall. This day had been a complete shit show, and on top of it all, I was getting paid absolutely nothing. Not to mention I had rent due, and Sam was expecting his next paycheck soon. $1500 wasn’t going to cut it.

I huffed as I pushed the doors open and walked out into the dark and muggy London nightlife.

“Took ya long enough.” A voice called out.

“Excuse -” I began to yell but clamped my mouth shut when I turned and saw who spoke. It was you.

You were leaning against the street lamp post on the corner. You were wrapped up in an oversized black trench coat, and your hair fell perfectly at your shoulders.

“Excuse me?” I finished the phrase and started walking closer to you.

“Knocking him out in the fourth round, when you should have knocked him out at the beginning of the third. Your head is out of the game, Lightweight.” You stated matter-of-factly.

“Lightweight? Is that meant to be some kind of insult?” I mused.

You shrugged, “What do you think?”

What did I think?

Only that the universe really thought I deserved something good in my life right now, because I was standing less than a foot away from the girl that had been stuck in my mind since the day I first laid my eyes on you.

I cleared my throat, “Have we met before?” It was a trick question, one you shouldn’t know the answer to. I wasn’t even sure if I knew the answer. We’d never officially met, I’d just been seeing you in my mind over and over again.

“Not officially.” You shook your head. “I’m y/n, y/l/n and I already know who you are. The infamous Harry Styles ‘Best Boxer in London’.” You used finger quotes on the last half of my name.

“What’s with the finger quotes?” I mimicked your actions.

“The best boxer in London should have knocked ‘Jawbreaker’ out in the third round. Not gotten his ass handed to him before a weak knockout at the end of the fourth.” You explained.

My lips formed a thin line, as much as I hated to admit it (even to myself) you were right. Sam worked hard to make sure I was guaranteed a win, but I almost lost.

“How do you know so much about boxing, y/n?” I tried out your name for the first time. It felt good rolling off my tongue. It was a beautiful and eloquent name for a beautiful and graceful woman. Very fitting.

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, “I’ve been in the ring here and there.”

You’d boxed.

“I’d love to see you in action sometime,” I smirked.

“I suppose something could be arranged.” You stepped out into the street and lifted your arm in the air. Hailing a taxi. When a small black taxi pulled off and stopped you opened the door. “If we meet again, Lightweight.”

The taxi door slammed after you climbed in. I had a pit in my stomach when I watched the taxi drive off into the night. My initial thoughts were that I’d never see you again, but I’d thought the same the first time I saw you. Then against all odds, I somehow spotted you in the crowd at my weakest moment in the match; and I bumped into you while you were waiting for a taxi. I had a feeling I would see you again when I least expected it.

I didn’t see you again. Not for a long time. The morning after my fight with Jawbreaker every headline read something along the lines of:

JawBreaker gets his Jaw Broken by Harry Styles the Best Boxer in London

Sam called me and was freaking out. Apparently, I broke Jones’ jaw during the knockout. The media went crazy, and I was blowing up on the internet. I took the next two weeks off to recover - doctor's orders.

When I finally was able to go back to the gym Sam had me doing press and interviews instead of training. He kept telling me I had to have a name in the media to have fights to train for. I understood what he meant, but I had become a local celebrity overnight. I couldn’t even go into a local coffee shop without someone asking for a photo or autograph.

I’d come up with the tough scary guy persona to avoid this. I didn’t want to interact with people. I absolutely loved my fans, but most of these people weren’t boxing fans. They saw my knockout on social media somewhere and thought it was cool. They were not real fans, they were the trend followers.

After a month of not being in the gym, I finally had to sit Sam down and tell him he had to start doing what I paid him to do. Train me. He agreed and got me in the gym the next morning.

I spent another few months doing the most intense training of my life. Not to mention I now had a fight every other week. These random guys kept showing up at York Hall telling Jeremy that they could beat me.

They were easy fights, and they kept the cash coming in. I hadn’t had this many zeros in my bank account since I went bankrupt in college. Only this time, there was no negative sign.

I was in the best shape of my life, and my head was finally getting back in the game. I did everything I could to keep myself busy. When I wasn’t busy, I would start to think and get in my own head. That’s how I got to my dark place only months before.

Today I was finishing up my last set of weights before ending my workout with a quick sparking session with one of the gym’s trainers.

Once I put all the weights away properly and wiped the sweat off my neck and hands I went upstairs to the ring. When I got up there I heard a sparring match in progress.

Two women were in the ring. I couldn’t see much of their faces. Only what they were wearing and their skill. The faster and more agile girl wore a black sports bra and matching black shorts. She was able to throw a lot of punches, but the ones she did land were weak.

I started watching her opponent. She wore a white sports bra and lavender shorts. She was stronger and preferred to throw perfect punches. She landed every punch she threw. Overall the two of them were good boxers. I was impressed with what I’d seen.

Sam was a few feet in front of me watching. I closed the distance between us and crossed my arms across my chest. “Who are they?” I asked.

“Hannah Lee, and y/n y/l/n. They’ve been practicing here once or twice a week for a month now. They said it was just a fun workout, but I think with some serious training they could really be something.” Sam explained as he watched the match.

y/n y/l/n. There was no way. I knew you mentioned you’d been in the ring before, but seeing this sparring match. This was different.

“Did you say y/n y/l/n?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but the chances of someone with the exact same name as you sparring in the same gym as me were almost 50/50.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, you know her or something?”

“Not really. We met once, at the ‘Jawbreaker’ match. She called me Lightweight.” I smiled as the memory of you insulting me ran through my head.

“Sounds like y/n.” Sam chuckled.

Did he know you? Had you been right under my nose all these months and I’d been too self-centered to notice? Would you even want to talk to me? Was I worthy of you?

Make yourself worth it!

I reminded myself of my mantra.

Sam and I watched in silence as you and Hannah finished up your session. You ducked under the ropes, someone I didn’t recognize untied your gloves. Once your hands were free you grabbed a water bottle and downed it.

Sam walked up to you and started making a conversion, I stayed by the stairs. There was a pit in my stomach from just thinking about talking to you again. I wasn’t sure how it would go, I didn’t even know what I would say.

“Lightweight.” Your voice could bring me out of trance, but your voice calling me - even if it was that horrible nickname - was enough to end my life.

“Really? You coulda picked any name and you went with that one.” I quickly shook my head in disappointment while trying to keep my cool. I blinked a few times and refocused on reality.

You were standing in front of me, unwrapping your hands. This was the closest I’d been to you in decent lighting. Your eyes were still as electrifying as the last two times I’d stared into them. You had the kind of eyes that made people feel like you were peering into their souls.

Your eyes remained focused on the white tape you were unwrapping as you spoke, “Lightweight suits you,” you shrugged your shoulders.

“Long time no see. Looks like you finally got to see me in action.” You quoted my eager words to watch you in the ring months ago. “I figured I’d be running into you soon enough. This is where you train, no?”

“Yeah, it is.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, I was still stunned that you were here and even more so speechless that you were more than decent at boxing.

Words started tumbling out of my mouth before I could filter them. “When you said you’d been in the ring here and there I didn’t realize you really knew your way around the ring.”

You kept your head down but I could still see the small smile that grew on your face. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy being a hotshot media magnet you would get your ass back in the ring and train with the rookies.”

You’d noticed that I had been properly training in the last little while. Maybe you’d be able to convince Sam that I needed time working on combinations for matches, instead of working in front of cameras for the press.

I threw my hands up in the air dramatically, “You hear that Sam? I need to get back into the ring with the rookies!”

“Cut him some slack, you’re not his only client ya know.” You defended my coach.

“Wait, is- is Sam training you for a match?” I asked with a little too much enthusiasm.

You nodded, “I have a really small one this weekend, if you’re not too busy being ‘the Best Boxer in London’ you should swing by.” You used finger quotes for my title again. “It would be really motivating to have a ‘pro’ there.”

“What is it with you and your finger quotes when it comes to my skill?” I rolled my eyes.

You picked up a small duffle bag from the floor and walked past me towards the stairwell. “Buy me a smoothie and maybe I’ll tell you.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanficton #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #one direction #fanfiction #harry styles boxer #legitlaur #lightweight #harry styles x reader #boxer harry styles x boxer reader #harry styles x y/n

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frickyeahfanfic · 4 years

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Need some hux and reader smut/fluff pls!! Love your writing ❤️

i am aLL for that fluff

and even more so for that ANGST

*sweats nervously*

not so much for that smut

#maybe one day #actually probably never #my friend would disown me #yeah im looking at you legitlaur #ok but i am down to write spicy fics

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legitlaur · 5 years

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Deception 2 // Mysterio

(I know he doesn’t have a beard, but his gif basically inspired this whole part so...)

pairing: Quentin Beck/Mysterio x Reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none

Summary: You’re a SHIELD agent with a dark past. Quentin helps you open up, and reminds you that it's ok to trust people.

<<<<Previous Next>>>>

____________________

“A friend is a gift you give yourself”

“y/n I didn’t want to wake you, it’s just Fury keeps messaging and calling you.”

The voice sounded so distance but so loud all at once. You sat up. Quentin Beck was standing beside you, and you were lying in a hotel bed. But Fury never told you where your hotel was, he also didn’t tell you that you’d be rooming with Quentin.

As if he could read your mind, maybe he could. You didn't even know what his powers were. If he could read your mind you were in deep shit. “You passed out on my shoulder last night, I didn’t want to interrupt Fury and Peter so I just brought you to my hotel. I slept on the pullout bed.” he gestured to the thin mattress coming out of the couch.

You felt so guilty. First, laying all of your depression and dark past on this stranger. Second, sleeping in his bed while he’s on the couch. You wouldn’t let this continue, you met this stranger less than 24 hours ago. Yet he understood and respected you more than anyone you know.

“Thank you, Quentin. I’m so sorry about last night, I made my problems yours. I didn’t mean to be of any inconvenience.” You hopped out of bed, only now aware of what you were wearing. A men' grey t-shirt. This wasn’t yours. “You’ve been so kind to me, can I repay you somehow? I feel like I took advantage of you last night.” Third, he gave you his shirt.

With one large step, Quentin’s face was inches from yours, he took your hand. You saw him asking if it was ok with his eyes, you only nodded. He squeezed your hand tightly

“You didn’t take advantage of me. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re an inconvenience. I saw what was happening to you, I’m going to help you. You can repay me by accompanying me to breakfast. We need to get some nutrients in you.” He let go of your hand. You felt so refreshed, even though most days you laid in bed for far too many hours, you hardly slept. A full night of rest was rare but extremely needed. Quentin must have given you a sleeping pill.

“Here,” He was back with your clothes from yesterday folded up nicely in his arms.

“You’re really too kind,” you took the clothes and changed in the bathroom.

Taking your hand again, Quentin led you through the hotel and out into the city of Venice. His smile was so wide and genuine, something that reminded you of your ex. You were seated across from each other at a cafe.

“No coffee, just water for us.” His hand blocked your coffee mug. The waiter shrugged and walked off.

“No coffee?” You questioned.

“You’re sick y/n. You shouldn’t be putting caffeine into your system. Sleep is important, even if you have nightmares.”

He must have heard you screaming in your sleep. You felt so embarrassed.

“You need water and fruits. When was the last time you ate?”

You couldn’t remember. “On the plane yesterday.” You lied.

Quentin sighed, “Please don't lie to me. I’m only trying to help you, remember.”

He really could read your mind.

“Honestly, I don’t know the time I ate.”

After he watched you get some food and water in your system, he suggested you call Fury.

“Where are you and Beck, we have to leave.” He barked through the phone.

“We’re coming.”

Beck paid the bill, you protested the entire time you were walking back to the tunnels.

“Quentin, I need to tell you something.” Your voice turned into a whisper.

He squeezes your hand, you let go.

“I lost trust in the world. I don’t know why you’re helping me, but I don’t trust you. You’re a stranger. Why would you be so kind to me, what's in it for you.” you turned to face him, he stared at you with such a gentle face, “Tell me there is nothing in it for you, that I can trust you. That you’re not lying about everything. Please,” you were blinking back tears, “Beck, I can’t handle any more lies.”

He took your hands again, “y/n y/l/n I am not lying to you. I swear it. I’m helping you because I want to be your friend.”

“I didn’t come here to make friends, my mission is to help stop the elementals. That's what yours should be too,” You had to start shutting him out, he was getting too comfortable around you. You were finding peace in him. “We can’t be friends, only, coworkers.”

He smiled, “A friend is a gift you give yourself.” He lifted your intertwined hands into your view, “I think we both need to give ourselves something. I feel this urge to keep you safe y/n, I can’t stop now. Not when I know everything that you’ve been through.” He let go of your hands, “I’m giving you a choice, but please, I beg of you. Let me help you.”

You wanted him to help you, you wanted him to keep you safe. He didn’t judge you for your past, he didn’t judge you when you screamed through the night because of your nightmares. Quentin Beck truly wanted to help you, be your friend. There was no real reason for you not to trust this man, he was so understanding, almost like he knew. Like he knew what it was like.

“Last night, you told me about your wife. That she died because of the elementals. Was it your fault? Did you watch her die?” If he answered yes to both of these questions, then you would take him up on his offer. He could help you.

“I was the last warrior on my Earth. My wife was a fighter, she would travel with me wherever the Elementals were. She always wanted to be there, to help me if something went wrong. One night I was fighting the elementals, all of them. I thought I was destroying them, I thought I was saving the world, I got severely injured. My wife,” he looked down at the ring on his finger, he hadn’t stopped playing with it, “My wife ran out to help me, but when her back was turned to the creatures they burned her. She couldn’t be saved, so I laid down next to my dying wife. I watched my world burn.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” You continued walking to the tunnels.

“Wait,” he ran to catch up, grabbing your hand, “Friends?”

You looked down at your intertwined hands again, then up at his glistening blue eyes, “I’m giving myself a gift. A friend. Thank you, Quentin.”

#quentin beck x reader #quentin beck imagine #mysterio fanfiction #mysterio imagine #mysterio x reader #mysterio x you #quentin beck x you #quentin beck fanficton #mcu #spiderman far from home #peter parker #spiderman #jake gyllenhaal #marvel #multiverse #au #deception #legitlaur

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legitlaur · 5 years

Text

Golden Hour part 5 // p.p

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Cheesy, awkward social encounters, the occasional swears, not edited (very well)

Summary: You didn’t think having photography with Peter Parker would be of any significance to your life, that is until you found yourself alone with him at golden hour

PART 4

not my gif and it doesn’t have to do with the story lol

Quickly you got ready for bed and texted Peter.

Everything okay? Also I’ve got news!

Plugging your phone in you slid into bed, then texted Mimi. She immediately called you, you gave her a full play by play until falling asleep.

Peter told you he’d explain in person. You got to school and found him in the common area.

“What happened?” You barked.

Peters face went white, “Y/n I’m so sorry. I never meant to leave you in the city alone at night. That was never my intention. I, I had. I had an emergency at home.”

When it came to emergency’s at home you’d found it easier to just go with it, no questions asked.

“It’s okay, Jonah came and got me,” you inched closer to Peter.

“Good. I felt so horrible, it. It was an emergency, I’m glad you got home sa- wait Jonah.” Peter rubbed his neck.

“I get it, don’t worry about it. Yes, isn’t it great?”

“So are you and him like, like a thing?” He asked.

You thought for a minute, “Well,” you jumped up and down, “he kissed me last night.”

Peters smile turned into a grimace, “Oh,” he put his hands in his pockets, “I told you everything would work out,” Peter smiled, “and well he, he seems nice,” there was an awkward silence, “you still coming over tomorrow?”

The movie marathon completely slipped your mind. You weren’t sure if your date with Jonah was tonight or tomorrow, and you didn’t know what time. Quickly you thought up a decent cover.

You wrinkled your nose, “I haven’t asked my mom yet. I’ll let you know when she tells me though.”

Peters head dropped,, “Ok cool. So about the photography assignment,”

The tardy bell interrupted him, he swore under his breath, “Can’t be late again. I’ll talk, talk to you later,” Peter ran off to the science hall.

You giggled and pranced off to math. You had a good feeling about this weekend. You texted Jonah and asked about the date. He said either day worked. You planned for friday so you could go to the movie marathon.

In photography you told Peter the good news, “I can come on saturday,” you rose your hand.

Peter smacked it, “Awesome. We can take photos in my apartment too, the lighting isn’t amazing but we are kinda behind.”

Your knees touched his, he didn’t move though.

“We could skip class next time to take photos,” You shrugged.

Peters face went pale, “Oh no. Mr. Stark sees my attendance.”

Your head flung back, laughter filled the air.

“You and your grades. Don’t worry we’ll get caught up.”

Peter blushed, “Quiet down y/n. We are still in class.”

Friday came before you knew it. You facetimed Peter while getting ready, there was something about his company that made you feel so happy even it was through a screen.

“This dress? Are you certain?” You asked.

Peter was messing with his watch, “Mmm.”

“Peter,” you barked, “Come on. He’s gonna be here in like 10 minutes.”

Finally he sat up and gave you his attention, “It doesn’t matter what you wear, you will always look beautiful. If Jonah can’t see that, well. Well then he’s definitely not the guy for you.”

Your heart swelled, “That’s so sweet, what would I do without you Parker?”

He chucked, “Not be in a relationship.”

The doorbell rang, “Okay he’s here. I gotta go. I’ll call you after,” you picked up your phone, “Love you bye,” after hanging up you realized what you’d said.

You told Peter Parker you love him. Before you could put much more thought into that you went to the door.

Jonah's luscious locks were covering his face, “Hey,” shaking his head his hair fell perfectly, framing his face.

Your heart skipped a beat, “Hey.”

He wrapped his arm around you as you walked, the two of you went to a movie. One of those places with the big reclining seats. You weren’t sure if Jonah was planning on watching the movie so you popped in a mint. He led you up to the back corner, you sat down and smiled nervously. He practically sat on you, “You pumped for the movie?”

Swallowing hard you nodded, “Yup.”

The lights dimmed, your heart was racing. You were still on a high from your kiss last night but you weren’t ready for a major makeout session.

Rather than kiss you Jonah snuggled up next to you, you could finally breathe. Getting close you laid your head on his shoulder. The two of you stayed that way the whole movie. When he parked in front of your building he leaned in. You smiled and kissed him, unlike last nights peck you opened your mouth. The whole time thinking you were doing it wrong, Jonah seemed to be into it. He pulled back, “Wanna get in the back seat?”

You nearly jumped over your seat, “Woah, ok.”

When you finally went inside you felt like you could conquer the world. You were on cloud nine. Obviously you called Mimi, her screeching nearly rubchared your eardrums.

“Y/n do you know what this means?” She squealed.

You wiped off your makeup, “No?”

“You’ve almost caught up to me.”

“What,” you pumped lotion into your hand, “Mimi we didn’t even go that far. Frankly I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Mmm they all say that until they meet the one.”

You talked until you fell asleep.

You texted Peter the next morning telling him you were leaving soon. He replied almost instantly.

Sorry I had to cancel, Mr. Stark gave me a huge assignment. Reschedule?

You sat down on your couch disheartened. You were looking forward to the movie marathon. Seeing Peter in his pajamas, watching some of your favorite movies, not to mention possibly cuddling with him.

You turned on the tv, the news was raving about some big fight that Iron Man and Spiderman were having in Pennsylvania with some dude with advanced weapons you’d never heard of.

You hoped Spiderman would be okay, you’d been meaning to find him and tell him thanks for looking out for you.

Peter wasn’t in class on Monday, which meant you actually could get your work done. You planned some places to take photos with him for your projects. You were beginning a huge project within the next week, you had only turned in your solo assignments. Anything with Peter was barely started, both of you were always so busy. Not to mention he was always sleeping in class. You were still trying to figure the kid out, there wasn’t a lot you knew about him. You’d never even been to his house. He didn’t talk about himself often.

After school you went out to take some more photos, then to the library. You had a major essay to write. As you typed away you couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. So you looked at the news.

You gasped.

Spiderman had been severely injured during his most recent fight. There were quotes from Tony Stark but only snippets because no one knows who spiderman is.

You texted Peter.

Missed you today.

TO BE CONTINUED

tag list: @vicorianmycroft @irxnspxder @sassybisquit @laurrenhawker

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland #fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #i larb you guys #mcu #marvel #avengers endgame #avengers #holy crap lets talk about Endgame #quackson #tom holland fanficton #golden hour #photography #camera #legitlaur

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frickyeahfanfic · 4 years

Text

THE CAPTIVE (part 9)

(part 8) (part 10)

(part 1)

Armitage Hux x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: spicy mami,,, nothing y’all can’t handle

Summary: hux is bipolar and you are hashtag worried

author’s note: long wait who? also no spoilers for tros

________________

After about a week, you were able to walk on your leg. The healing process was unusually quick, thanks to the technology the First Order had. You guessed it was only to benefit the armies of troopers they had, to get them back on their feet and ready for combat quickly.

Hux hadn’t returned since his last visit and the time between was like waiting for grass to grow. You waited for the droids to finally release you, and after the last scan on your leg, you got all dressed in uniform and marched to Hux’s office. A few passing officers eyed you suspiciously, perhaps they had caught wind of the current scandal between you and the General, but none stopped you in your path.

Before you could punch in the security code and march through the door, a hiss sent you stumbling back and you were face to face with a less tired-looking Hux. He was startled that anyone was at his office without permission and even more startled that it was you, standing up perfectly fine on your feet.

“Kriff, get inside,” he tugged your wrists and pulled you into his office, ignoring the yelp that escaped from your lips. The door shut behind you with a loud hiss, locking the two of you in the room together.

“Language, General!” You scoffed.

“I didn’t expect you to be healed so soon,” he defended himself.

You rolled your eyes. “We need to talk.”

“You need to get back to work. You’re behind.”

You furrowed your brow. “Hux.”

He stood hovering over you, eyes locked with yours. You were quite damaged after the crash on Hoth, but now after you had some food in your system, your hair was brushed out and your wounds were patched up, Hux could only think about how beautiful you were. Take away your past affiliations with the rebel scum, and you were perfect in his eyes.

“The kiss? Did you forget about that? And what about the whole ‘father’ thing you went on about? I certainly didn’t forget that,” you rambled, trying to snap him out of his trance.

“I’m sorry,” Hux interjected.

This put your ramblings to a halt. “For… what?”

He placed a gloved hand on your shoulder. “For the confusion. I should have made it more clear.”

You opened your mouth tried to clarify what he was saying, but his hand on your shoulder tugged you in fast and he cut you off with his lips, using his other hand to brace himself against the door behind you. You closed your eyes in pleasure, slipping your hands around his neck. He stepped closer, effectively pinning you against the door.

You had longed for this moment, maybe even had fantasized it a few times, but never in a million lightyears thought it would come to pass.

His lips moved down along your jawline and around to your neck, finding a sweet spot right below your ear, kissing hard.

“Isn’t this,” you gasped when he bit down harder, “strictly against protocol?”

He muttered into your ear slowly. “If you’re a lower-ranking officer, then yes, but no one has to know.”

Your hands clenched his greatcoat tightly as he went back to your neck, his hips pressing ever so harder towards you. “Are you sure no one knows? What if they’ve put security cameras in your office?”

He stopped abruptly and removed his hands from your now tousled hair. “They would face severe punishments. And besides, they don’t have the code to my office and they could never have the code to my chambers.”

You blinked and your eyes went wide. “Chambers? Who ever said anything about chambers?”

His lips hovered just above yours. “I did. But we’ll get to that later. You’re behind on your work as of late.”

He stepped away and pointed to your desk, which you hadn’t seen in weeks. The computer inside was turned off and your datapad rested at the top corner, as if someone had placed it there carefully for your arrival.

As you walked around the table, the general sat at his own desk, but his eyes lingered on you as if he had something to say.

You caught his gaze and blushed slightly, if your face could get anymore flushed than it had before from your heated moment. “What?”

He smiled softly to himself, a rare sight. “It’s good to have you back, Lieutenant.”

“Good to be back, General.”

There was a knock at the door and you hurriedly turned on your datapad and clicked on the latest document, ignoring the general as he got up from his seat and answered the door. The chrome glint of Captain Phasma’s armor illuminated Hux’s face and you lifted your eyes cautiously to watch them mutter words between themselves. He nodded at something she said and as she turned to leave, the dark slits in her helmet lingered dangerously on you.

He saw you watching her and he shook his head. “It’s nothing. I have a meeting with Snoke in a few minutes.”

“Does she know?”

Hux knew you were referring to the romance. “Does it matter? I don’t understand why you are so stressed about it. Return to your work. If anything happens, I will deal with it.”

You blew a puff of frustrated air. “I’m stressed about it because I’m ex-resistance and I can assume anything about the First Order, it’s that this sort of mischief would not be tolerated!”

General Hux stomped over to your desk and slammed his gloved fist down on the table. This story was all too familiar with him. His father, having an affair with a lowly kitchen woman, thus creating Armitage Hux. But he wasn’t married and you were no kitchen lady. There was a murky parallel, but he could worry about it. There was no need for you to, after everything that you had been through.

You slid a similarly gloved hand over his and watched the gears turn in his head. “I’m assuming this is what you meant when you mentioned your father.”

He drew his hand away and clamored back into his chair, leg bouncing uncontrollably as he tried to get his work done. You couldn’t help but stare at the man, trying to understand his somewhat bipolar behavior. You wanted to help him, but you didn’t know how to go about it. It was like skipping through a minefield.

A chime emitted from both of your datapads and you leaned over to see what it was.

“Meeting!” you both exclaimed, and he leaped out of his chair, throwing his greatcoat over his shoulders.

You cleared your throat just as he was about to exit the door. His head darted back to you, waiting for instructions.

“The meeting will probably go to 2300 hours, so I expect you to work until 2100 hours and meet me at my quarters promptly after my meeting.”

“Yes sir,” you replied, but he was already out of the room. You swallowed dryly at the thought of being in the General’s quarters so late at night. You had been there before, but under different circumstances.

Very different circumstances.

_____________

MASTERLIST

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#general hux x reader #general hux #hux x you #the captive #hux #tros #star wars tros #sw tros #general hux x you #hux x reader #general hux fanfiction #armitage hux x you #general armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #general hux fanfic #star wars

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frickyeahfanfic · 5 years

Text

REALITY CHECK // PART 4

p r e v i o u s n e x t

pairing: Quentin Beck/Mysterio X Reader

word count: 1.2K (LONG PART COMING UP)

warnings: none

summary: bro can you keep a secret??? beck wonders...

__________

Quentin stood up quickly. “Let me show you everything,” he reached out his hand and you took it, lifting you off the bench. He pointed to a car just a ways away and you got in it with him. After a few minutes, you arrived at an abandoned warehouse where he took you inside.

Drones were scattered lifeless around the room, waiting for a signal to lift them to life. You recognized a pattern they were laying in. You never saw more than a few drones when you would program with Quentin, here there were almost hundreds.

“Here, let me show you what I’ve been working on,” Quentin called, his voice distant from the balcony he was currently on. There was a computer screen by him and he typed some lines of code and the drones ascended, beams of light illuminated the center of the room. You stumbled backward as plumes of fire and smoke rose up, warping into a creature that roared and shook its fists. To the untrained eye, it was exactly what Quentin wanted the audience to see, an Elemental of fire. But to you, it was just some perfect programming with loads of tech.

Suddenly the program ended and the light faded away, revealing the sinking drones. Quentin watched you, pleased with the expression of astonishment that was stained on your face. This was a dream come to life for him, you, standing in his midst admiring the work that he had sacrificed so much for.

You were the cherry on top of his plan, and he didn’t even ask for it.

“This is the second to last… demonstration I will have in Europe. Once Fury enlists me as an Avenger, I’ll be set to use all of Stark’s drones.”

“All?” You questioned. You didn’t even know that there were more than ten.

“Stark gave the kid access to all of his tech. The glasses that Parker has allows access to the whole mainframe system of the drone satellites. I have a plan to get him to give me the glasses, maybe you can help,” Quentin paused, looking for a response on your face.

“Mm-hmm,” you only mumbled before a, “I don’t know if Fury would let me go,”

He inhaled sharply at the statement and shook his head. “It’s alright, don’t worry about that. Fury won’t have to know your gone. I could really use your help Y/n-”

You continued to watch the hologram as the flames circled higher. The light illuminated your face and Quentin couldn’t read your expression. Were you fascinated? Were you angry?

Quentin descended the stairs rapidly and stood across the room, waiting to step around all the drones to get to you. “Well?”

You blinked at him and folded your arms. “It’s amazing, Beck.”

He started towards you, stepping over cords and drones like he used to in the workspace at Stark Industries. It reminded you too strongly of how things used to be.

His hands were on your shoulders now, and his neck was craned down to look at you. You refused to look up.

“Y/n, we can accomplish so much together, just come with me.”

“You’re lying to everyone, how do I know to trust you?”

Quentin shook his head. “I’m… covering up for the greater good. You can trust me because-”

He paused and sighed, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes.

“Because I still love you, Y/n. I never stopped loving you. I didn’t know when to come back to you, it was always in the plan though.”

You bit your lip, fighting back the urge to blow up in his face about everything.

“I got scared. Worried that you would reject me. I didn’t want that to happen again,” he took a breath, letting his thoughts fully gather, “but it was foolish of me to do that. And fate gave me a second chance when you walked in S.H.I.E.L.D’s base. I knew that wasn’t an accident.”

Of all things that Quentin Beck was, and currently, he was never a liar to you. You knew that these emotions were genuine.

But you weren’t going to give yourself to him that quickly. He’d have to work his way up until you could finally forgive him. You shrugged his hands off of your shoulders and stepped back.

“Beck, this is going to take time. And you know that. I came for a mission, not to see you,” you said, turning to leave the warehouse.

He caught your arm. “If you tell Fury about the technology, if you tell anyone, it will ruin everything.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So?”

“Y/n, please just keep this secret for me. I trust you.”

You grumble under your breath and try to pull away from his grip, but he squeezed on your forearm tighter.

“Quentin,” you whine, tilting your head.

“Promise?”

You lean towards him, face just inches away. “Fine. Promise.”

He wanted to just yank you towards himself and kiss you right then but now wasn’t the time. You were in on the plan, and he barely had to explain anything.

Just then, your phone rang.

Quentin let you go and you pulled the device out of your pocket.

Unknown Number, it read.

“It’s Fury, I gotta go.” You start heading for the door again, but this time, Quentin didn’t stop you.

“Come back tonight. I’ll show you everything.”

You turn back and look at him, answer the phone, and leave the warehouse.

“Fury,” you say quickly into the phone.

“Agent, where are you?” The director snapped back.

“Geez Fury, it’s still seven in the morning.” You check your back to see if anyone is watching you. The streets were still empty and the sunlight was just filtering in through the horizon and the clouds.

“I got a ping on your location and you weren’t at the hotel. Is everything alright?”

Damn. Fury was tracking your position?”

“Fury, I’m fine. I just needed some air,” you took a breath, trying to not sound suspicious, “I had a bad dream. I’ll be fine.”

He sighed. “Agent Y/l/n, please let me know when you do things like this. You worry me. I thought you had been kidnapped or something.”

Felt like I’d been kidnapped, right in the middle of my beauty sleep, you think to yourself.

“You can’t trust anyone these days,” he added.

If only you knew, Fury.

He had a liar right under his nose and was putting full trust in him.

“I’ll go back to the hotel. We’re meeting underground later today, right?”

“Actually, we’re moving bases. You are going to be helping Parker’s field trip get turned around so that he can stick with us.”

“Ok let me know what the plan is. I’m going back to bed. It’s way too early for all of this.”

The phone clicks off on the other line and you start back towards the hotel.

_______________

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(a. n. sorry this part took so freaking long... I HAVE A LONG PART COMING UP AS AN APOLOGY)

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