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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 8 months ago

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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six

TW: violence, choking, mentions of bdsm, abuse of authority, cops, unfair power dynamics, harassment, body fluids and drug use mentions, mentions of harm/accidents

For California, it’s a bit chilly out this morning. The sun is getting a lazy late start, just beginning to yawn golden orange and fiery yellow over the horizon. Julian’s hair in that light is the high shine of fashion magazine model locs, and you’re, as usual, opening your mouth before you think. “What shampoo and conditioner do you use?”

He seems thoroughly amused. “Honestly? You’re going to be mad about it.”

“Try me,” you prod, slipping inside his little sports car that smells like lemon air freshener and coffee.

He seems a little cramped in the seat, knees bent up and head almost touching the ceiling, and you wonder if he actually even tried to get into this thing before buying it.

“It’s a rental,” he explains.

“Did you get into an accident?”

“A truck hit mine while it was parked.”

“How are you so calm about that? I’d punch someone.”

He looks over at you with a sculpted, raised brow. “I just cannot imagine you hurting a fly, y/n.”

“Flies are innocent, truck drivers are free game.”

He gives you a big laugh that strokes the flame of your ego. “You’re hilarious. I use men’s body wash.”

“What?” Okay, he’s right, you are a little mad. You use shampoo and conditioner that are specifically supposed to soften your hair, but the poof on your head absolutely pales in comparison to his soft, beautiful mane that gets the luxury of â€¦ what? Old spice? Axe body wash?

“I told you,” he sings, turning on the engine.

Genetics is a bitch.

He takes you to a fancy little French inspired coffee shop cuddled into the center of an outlet mall with salt lamps and big ferns and comfy chairs. You settle into a nook closests to the sunned windows so Julian can keep an eye on his rental, which is understandable. No part of LA is good to have a Porsche in, but especially not the inner city.

“This is delicious,” you tell him through a mouthful of warm croissant, covering your lips in embarrassment when you realize that your table manners are less than adequately prepared for a date with a doctor.

“They have the best coffee,” he agrees, taking a sip of his steaming latte.

You don’t have time to stop your brain from comparing Julian to a certain cop you know who prefers his coffee black and bitter, or at least that’s what he told you when he saw you drinking your vanilla cream cold foam at the nurse’s station.

Julian is talking, you think, and you’re only half listening while you remember how Tom had snatched that drink right out of your hands and held it up in the air.

“Give it back!” You hissed, reaching up on tiptoes while he laughed at the pathetic rescue attempt.

“Careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself for this pathetic excuse of caffeine. What is it anyway? Is there even coffee in here?”

After he walked away with his discharge paperwork, your coworkers were understandably curious about the tall, puckish cop who fucked with you any chance he got.

Miguel watched his ass move the whole way down the hallway and out the glass exit doors while literally clutching the rosary under his scrub shirt as if a devil had just walked by, then looked over at you. “What a man.”

“Are you alright?” Julian asks, bringing you back to the present conversation with a hand over your forearm. He does seem concerned, and it makes you feel like a piece of shit. This guy is a gentleman and here you are on a date with him fantasizing about the brute that is Tom Ludlow.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You wave away his concern. “Tell me about you, Julian. What do you do for fun? Doctor-by-night, Violin-player-by-morning?

He chuckles. “Nothing that cultured. I like riding motorcycles.”

“Really?” You ask, genuinely surprised and trying to imagine Julian in a gang of bikers with cracked leather skull and snake jackets.

“I love them.” He nods. “I have three that I take for long rides along the coast. You get lost in it, the wind and salt and sand. The rumble of the engine under you.”

“I’ve never been on one,” you tell him, “and I’m honestly surprised you ride them after what we see in the ER. Don’t you remember that guy that had his calf hanging on by a tendon? Or that woman who had half her face missing?”

“Yes, I do. But I go the speed limit and wear the proper gear. And I like the thrill.”

It’s not just the casual t-shirt and worn jeans or the way the light halos his thick silk nest of hair or the roguish grin that makes you see Julian in an entirely new way, now. “You’re wild, Dr. Mercer.”

He licks spilled cream at the ridge of his coffee cup, rubs at the skin of your forearm with his fingers, and winks. You wonder what he would look like between your legs doing the same thing, except with your fingers gripping that luscious hair.

“You should let me take you for a ride, sometime,” he suggests, and for a minute you forget you’re talking about motorcycles.

“Oh, I don’t know, Julian.”

“C’mon.” He nudges your knee under the table and relaxes back into his seat, now reminding you too much of someone else you know. Same height, same hair color, same facial structure.

Fuck. Really?

“Good boyfriends take their girlfriends on long, romantic motorcycle rides.”

“But you’re not my boyfriend.”

His smile droops a little bit and it makes you feel bad for being so illiterately ignorant. Well, you feel bad until he opens his mouth. “I am, though.”

He paints it playful, but it sounds a little bit pushy-bossy, even. “I don’t know about that, either, Julian.”

He tries a different angle. “You know, believe it or not, most women would consider me quite the catch.”

You hope your face doesn’t betray the little bit of ick you get from him saying something so egotistical. “I don’t doubt it, and you deserve someone that can give you what you’re looking for.”

“You think you can’t give me what I’m looking for?” He leans across the table in sudden intensity, and you balk at the notion.

“No, I honestly don’t.”

“Why?”

You start to say something, but he cuts you off. “And, I really mean why? Why can’t you give me what I’m looking for? Enlighten me.”

“I’m not-I have too much baggage.” You unconsciously lean away from his swelling intensity.

“That’s a little vague.” He frowns.

“I’m not normal, Julian. You seem like you would like normal women.” You cringe at the childish sentiment, but truly have no idea how to get the point across except for basically telling him that you’re a freak with a bad past and worse coping mechanisms. You eat slices of bread for dinner and drink out of the milk carton. Julian probably irons his shirts. This will not work.

“You’re assuming I’m normal?”

“Yes. I guess I am.” You lean back and cross your arms over your chest.

“Well, I’m not. In fact, I’ll prove it to you.” He takes out his wallet, pulls a laminated card from it, and slides it over the table to you.

“What..” It’s a little red card framed in black with big bold letters on the front advertising a BDSM club in the heart of downtown Venice. “What is this?”

“BDSM is bondage, domination-“

“I know what that is,” you interrupt. “I just meant.. You go here?”

“I do.” He nods and takes a drink. “I occasionally engage in scenes.”

You decide that you should coat your suddenly very dry mouth and drink a big gulp of your coffee. “Like with a dominatrix?”

He laughs at you, puts his head in his hand and shakes his head. “No. I prefer to be the dominant one.”

You look at-really, really look at this man for the first time and honestly cannot imagine him taking that role.

He must see the confusion on your face, because his laughter grows. “That’s the usual reaction I get.”

Curiosity killed the cat. Curiosity killed the-you know what, fuck it.

“So, what do you do at the club?”

“A typical play scene, you mean?” How in the hell he can be so casual and relaxed about this you’re not sure. Because you can already feel the cold sweat breaking along your shoulders and neck.

“I guess? Yeah.”

“Well, ideally the woman is tied up in some fashion, and of course there’s a safe word, negotiated limits. Perhaps a punishment scenario with pain play. Are you okay?”

He looks at your table-clutching, white knuckled hands, searches your face, giving you a genuine concerned expression that makes you wonder what actually is going on with you right now. You feel like you're on a tightrope over a ravine of crocodiles and Julian’s on the other end lazily sawing at the rope with dull scissors.

“I’m fine,” you say breathily, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about all that.”

His gentle smile is nothing less than kind, though maybe also, a little disappointed. “I get that a lot too.”

“Is that…the only way you enjoy sex?” you ask quietly, leery of the blue-haired old lady just two tables away.

“No,” he seems happy to tell you. “Though it is…the way I enjoy sex most.”

You blink, digesting this with understandable trepidation. He’s basically telling you that it would be impossible to be in a relationship with him without dipping into this eventually. And you…?

Are definitely intrigued, and you’re not really sure why.

“You said you have baggage,” Julien probes cautiously. You can feel him looking at you, but you’re not quite up to eye contact with him yet. You fix your gaze out the window. “Well, I do too. I haven’t had a perfect life. No one does, and I’m not interested in a perfect girlfriend. I like you, y/n.”

You feel your breath go out in an audible whoosh. It actually makes him smile-you feel it like rays of the sun. How can this man be so warm, and yet have such a dark side?

Well, maybe it’s not a dark side, you reason. Maybe it’s just…a thing he likes, and between consenting adults, what’s the harm?

“Soâ€¦” You can’t help but think about how odd this is, discussing this in this coffee shop filled with mild-mannered caffeine addicts. What you really want to ask, is what happened to him that makes him like this kind of sexual play, but you know it would be too far, and you damn well don’t feel like talking about your own fucked up past. But there is something you do feel you have a right to know. “Is this something you want to do to me?”

Again, he fixes you with that bad boy smirk that gives you chills and utterly ruins your panties. “Since the moment you stood up to me over that patient,” he admits. And maybe that should alarm you, that he wants to tie you up and hurt you for being defiant about something that deserved defiance. It does alarm you, but… It also… It sounds a little thrilling. “In fact-“

Julian and the rest of the world and even your own thoughts disappear when you meet a pair of familiar, sun tinted eyes out the window of the coffee shop. He’s grinning-when is he not grinning at you like he knows what it does to your helpless insides?-and licking his fingers, tearing off a yellow parking ticket to slap it under the windshield of Julian’s rental.

“Uh, Julian-“

“Just let me finish,” Julian insists. His bossy tone irritates you, but Tom brightens the mood by making a jerking off motion towards the doctor, and then winking at you.

You can’t help but laugh. It’s honestly involuntary, the loud wheeze that tears from your chest and makes Julian look outside to see the yellow ticket shining under his wiper as Ludlow’s ass saunters away.

You’re not sure what Julian’s plan is when he storms outside to catch Ludlow by the arm, but you’re definitely following ten strides behind to prevent his untimely death.

“I’m parked legally.” His voice is a menacing growl instead of the smooth honey you’re used to, and yeah, maybe now you can see a little bit of that Dominant Persona he was talking about.

“Not after 9AM,” Tom says, unbothered by Julian’s anger, still grinning like an idiot.

“It’s eight-thirty,” Julian argues, tugging on Tom’s sleeve-that earns him a bent back arm and even the appearance of handcuffs.

“Tom, stop it, fucking really?”

“Sorry, honey, your boyfriend’s going to jail.”

“For what?!” You and Julian both demand at once.

“Putting his pristine fucking hands on what’s mine.” Tom tugs Julian up on his toes and clicks one handcuff into place.

You hope he means his uniform, but you have a feeling he doesn’t.

“That’s way too tight and you know it,” Julian grunts.

“What, someone likes to dish it out but can’t take it? Don’t be a bitch,” Tom muses, grabbing Julian’s other arm and twisting it-not gently-behind his back.

“Tom, you fucking dickhead.”

He looks at you as he’s putting the other cuff on your date. “Oh, I’ll deal with you later.” His grin looks more like a snarl at this point, and you think that Julian could probably take some pretty good Dom pointers from Tom, because your heart is galloping and your clit is pulsing despite the absolute absurdity of the situation. Also-it's a miracle-your sassing mouth has snapped shut.

After Officer Ludlow practically throws Dr. Mercer into the back of his Charger, slamming the door, he turns to you with a smirk and his thumb in his belt. Goddammit, if that fucking look doesn’t go straight to your lady parts.

“Tom…you cannot do this.”

A tow truck has pulled up, and is in process of impounding the sweet little Porsche.

He steps up to you in those big black boots that make him a mile tall.

“You’d be surprised what I can and cannot do, sweetheart.”

“Please.” You hate how desperate you know you sound.

He taps his chin. “Well, I do like the sound of that. But it would be a lot more convincing if you got on your knees and said it.”

“You asshole,” you seethe, even as you can feel the moisture pooling between your legs.

“That kinda language definitely isn’t going to get Doctor Bitch Boy out of my car.”

“What the fuck do you want then?” You know it was a stupid question the moment it flies from your mouth. He’s going to reply with something filthy, and demeaning, and-

“Have dinner with me.”

You’re going to need another tow truck just to get your jaw up off the ground.

“You’re going to get in trouble for this,” you say. “This isn’t harassing a lowly broke-ass nurse. He is going to sue the shit out of you.”

Tom just snorts at that, unimpressed. “Did you know your friend likes to hang out at a BDSM club in Venice Beach? Whips and chains and shit? Bet this asshole has mommy issues from here to Pasadena. Come on, y/n, you don’t need that in your life.”

It almost sounds like he’s…worried about you?

Officer Ludlow has no idea how badly he’s misjudged you, now that he’s pissed you off. “Maybe I like it,” you snipe back, stretching up so you’re almost in his face. “Fact is, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Ludlow just narrows his eyes down at you, those dark orbs glinting like sharp obsidian. “Well, sorry, guess he’s not tying you up tonight, baby. He’s gotta cool down in the tank.”

He makes to go, but you reach out, not grabbing him, per se, but just touching his chest. He freezes, and you can practically feel him vibrating beneath your hand. With excitement, because he fucking lives for being an asshole, or…you hate to think you know the real answer.

His mitt of a hand covers yours, holding it just above his heart.

“Tom….” Caught up in this tension between you, you’re not even sure what you’re asking now.

You expect him to say something dirty, or snide, but instead you swear that just for a moment, his gaze softens as he looks down at you. “Dinner?” he asks again, with a note of hope in his voice that is almost endearing, if he wasn’t being such a class A jerk.

“I can’t.”

His demeanor changes in less than a second, drawing up to his full height, his shoulders squared. He flicks down his sunglasses that were on his head, so you can no longer even see his eyes. His voice changes, drops an octave, something. The authority in it makes you shudder inside. “Wave to Dr. Bitch Boy, y/n, we’re going for a little ride.”

Before you can grab him, or do anything, really, Tom is behind the wheel, speeding off with a very pissed off Julian in the back seat.

Your heart drops to your feet as you are left standing there alone on the sidewalk without a ride, and completely at a loss as to what to do.

***

“I’m going to fucking sue you,” Julian grits, kicking the back of Tom’s seat for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah, with your doctor money,” Tom grumbles, taking a big swig of coffee with one hand and steering recklessly with the other because it’s fun to watch that skinny fuck bounce around helplessly in the seat.

“I’m not getting booked tonight, Officer Ludlow. I’m calling my fucking lawyer.”

“Sorry, Doctor Bitch, your Lawyer’s busy until tomorrow afternoon, didn’t you hear?”

“You son of a-“

Tom gasses the car over a big pothole and it sends Julian flying into the opposite door. It’s a sight he could almost get off to.

Julian, big goose egg swelling up on his temple, gets yanked out of the squad car and tossed on the shit smeared, needle peppered streets of South Central. “They probably need you here more than the hospital, Doctor. Have funâ€“”

“Wait! Fuck. I’m still cuffed for fuck’s sake!” Tom gives the little guy credit for being able to get up on his feet so fast with his hands behind his back and a probable minor concussion. “You can’t leave me here.”

Tom pauses with his hand on the lip of the hot car door, but only to memorize the sight of a sweat-stained, wild eyed, trembling distinguished doctor about to get his shit wrecked on the mean LA Streets. He’s guessing Julian’s never visited much outside of Hollywood, Venice, and Santa Monica, and the cute little horrified expression on his face is testament to that.

Tom taps the hood of his car. “See ya, Doc.”

“You know,” Julian says, “this isn’t going to stop me from seeing her, Tom.”

Well, if he wants a fight.

Tom slams the charger door, whips off his belt, backs Julian up until he falls on his ass into a steaming puddle of unknown origin, and loops the leather around his neck.

He tugs him up by the belt, onto his toes, eliminating that fraction of height difference just so he can see the whites of this prick’s eyes.

He doubles the wrap of the belt in his fist, and Julian sputters something unintelligible through a thick choke.

“What’s wrong? Thought you liked this shit?” Tom pretends to wait for an answer that he prevents. “Oh, that’s right, you like being the one doing the choking. That gets your dick wet, huh? Beating on women?”

He wants nothing more than to choke this fucker unconscious and leave him on the streets for the hepatitis rats to chew on his toes, and, fuck it, if he ends up passing out by the time Tom’s done saying his peace, then so be it.

“You can see her all you want, asshole. Take her on as many dates as you like. But if I see one fuckin’ bruise on her-one red mark on that pretty skin-I’m gonna make the rest of your short life very fucking unpleasant. Comprende?”

#tom ludlow x reader #tom ludlow #street kings #keanuverse fic #keanuverse

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moo-siala · 5 months ago

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I STILL LOVE YOU — MAX VERSTAPPEN

PAIRING: max verstappen x ex-wife fem!reader

SUMMARY: max’s ex wife finds out he’s getting married again

CONTENT: mentions of divorce, angst, sadness, cheating

NOTE: get ready to cry. i did while editing it + this is a repost from my old blog too but this one got slightly revised. some errors got fixed but it’s not 100% proof read.

As y/n sifted through the mail, she noticed a white envelope with "y/n verstappen" written in gold letters. frowning in confusion, she carefully opened it. the moment she saw the contents, she felt her heart shatter. it was a wedding invitation—specifically, an invitation to max’s wedding.

“max and eleanor request the pleasure of your company to celebrate their wedding” was written on the card in gold and black letters.

y/n felt her eyes water and closed the envelope. this could not be happening, she thought. but it’s not like her and max got divorced yesterday.

the divorce was due to his racing career. he wasn't as present as y/n and the children needed him to be, which led to constant arguments, fights, and tears until their marriage ultimately ended. this happened over three years ago, but she still couldn't understand how he had moved on so quickly. perhaps her difficulty in understanding stemmed from her own inability to move on.

she had tried everything, and by everything, she truly meant everything. she had met new people, gone on countless dates, and even ventured into the realm of online dating, hoping to find a connection that might help her move on. but nothing seemed to work. none of those men were him. some were good, hardworking, and loyal, but there was always something missing. each new encounter only served to highlight the void he had left in her life, the irreplaceable presence she couldn't seem to find in anyone else.

"mama, why are you crying?" a soft voice pulled her back to reality. "hey, i’m not crying, i just have an allergy," she chuckled, hugging leon, one of her seven-year-old twins. "julian and i are ready but he is helping emma with her bag," he smiled, hugging her back.

leon and julian were twins—practically mirror images of max. thet shared the same face, the same eyes, and the same cheeky smile that always managed to light up a room. meanwhile, emma was a carbon copy of her mother, with the exception of her blonde hair and blue eyes, inherited from her father.

the twins were only four years old when the divorce happened, and emma was just two. the process was far from easy, but both parents made a concerted effort to minimize the trauma for their children. they navigated the difficult path with as much grace and cooperation as possible, ensuring that their young ones felt loved and secure despite the upheaval. the priority was always the well-being of their children, and they did their best to shield them from the worst of the pain.

“mama! we’re ready!” julian and emma ran out of their rooms with bags in hand, “hey, be careful!” she laughed, “we’re ready!” julian exclaimed and emma giggled, “that’s good, oma will be here in no time” y/n hugged the children, or like max likes to call them, their cubs.

the doorbell rang, signaling sophie’s arrival.

about a week ago, sophie had asked if she could take the kids on a little trip to a lake she had visited with a friend near the city. after looking at the pictures, y/n couldn't say no. the children would love it, and she knew how much they enjoyed spending time with their grandma.

when she got pregnant, max suggested that it would be better to move back to the netherlands so the babies could be surrounded by family. she didn't hesitate and agreed with his proposal. while she loved Monaco, nothing could compare to having her family nearby.

when she looks back at those memories, she’s thankful that she chose to come back. she doesn’t know what could’ve been of her if she had to go through the divorce all alone in monaco.

she walked over and opened the door, smiling warmly. "hey!" she greeted, pulling sophie into a hug.

"how are you doing, sweetheart?" sophie asked, hugging her back as she stepped inside. y/n knew exactly what she meant. "i’m good," she replied softly, her smile gentle. sophie nodded, giving her a sympathetic look just as the three mini verstappens ran over to their grandma, hugging her legs and making her laugh.

"oma!" they exclaimed in unison. "who’s ready to go to the lake?" their oma asked, eyes sparkling. "me!" the cubs chorused excitedly.

they said their goodbyes as she helped sophie put the kids in the car.

“i’ll let you know when we get there” she told y/n, “sounds good, and send pictures, please” y/n smiled in return, “i will. and honey, if you need anything, just give me a call” she pulled her into a tight embrace, “i know, thank you, soph” “no problem”

—

ass the dedicated mother she was, or as max fondly referred to her, the lioness, y/n found herself feeling oddly restless whenever her children were away—simultaneously bored yet remarkably productive. with them gone, she efficiently organized weeks of work and meticulously cleaned the entire house. completing her chores left her with a sense of satisfaction, prompting a leisurely shower before descending to the kitchen to prepare a meal.

while deeply focused on cooking, the doorbell rang unexpectedly. perplexed, since she was only expecting sophie’s visit that day, she set the knife aside, quickly washed her hands, and hastened to answer the door.

“uh, hey?” she said opening the door, “hey, how are you?” max asked, “i’m good. your mom already left with the children so…” “i’m here to talk to you, can i come in?” he asked, “sure…” nodding, she opened the door a bit more for him to come in.

“are you busy?” he asked after you closed the door, “not really. just cooking” she walked back to the kitchen, max followed.

max sat in one of the stools as he watched her wash and chop some vegetables for the salad she was preparing.

“what did you come to talk about?” y/n looked up, his blue orbs finding her beautiful eyes, “i wanted to know if you got the…” “the wedding invitation? i got it today in the mail” she nodded, her tone coming out a bit dry even if she didn’t mean to sound that way.

“are you mad?” he asked, “why would i be? congrats, by the way” she said, adding her favorite vinaigrette to the salad, “don’t be like that…” he sighed, “like what? am i not supposed to congratulate you now?” her eyes found his once again.

“you know exactly what i mean, y/n” he said, “i don’t know what you mean and i’m not in the mood to fight. i’m tired and hungry, so can i please enjoy my salad?” she asked and he scoffed, “i can see it in your eyes, y/n. there’s something you’re not telling me and i want to know what’s going on” he sighed, “we’ve been divorced for almost three years, but remember we were married for four before that”

she felt her eyes water but quickly wiped the tears away.

“i’m okay, max” y/n said while grabbing a glass and pouring some juice in it, “you’re about to cry, tell me what’s going wrong, i want to help” he softly said, and that’s when she broke.

"i don't know max, maybe the fact that once again i'm the one who's going to be all alone?" her voice broke, "the fact i'm the only one who's going to come back to an empty home when the kids are spending time with you? or maybe it's the fact that for some reason i can't move on with my life but everyone else can! you did, why can't i?" by now, she were a crying mess.

move on? he never moved on. his family knew it, his friends knew it, everyone knew it, he knew it.

he was never able to move on from her, the love of his life—the woman who lifted him up when he was feeling down, who cried tears of pride after almost every race, the woman who showed him a new depth of love when he became a father, and the woman he lost because he messed up.

seeing her crying broke his heart, but it also gave him hope. hope that the woman he deeply loves, loved him back still, even if it was just a little bit of it left.

he liked eleanor. she was good with the kids and kind to y/n, but she wasn't her, and she never could be. eleanor, younger than him and eager to settle down, was someone he found comfort in, at least temporarily. he went along with the idea of marriage, thinking he had nothing to lose, until the day she poured her heart out to him. it was then that he realized eleanor could never replace the deep connection he had lost with his former wife.

"i never wanted that divorce," he said softly as he walked over to her. "and you think I did?" she sniffed, wiping away her tears. “you asked for it..." he began. "because I got tired of giving you signals and second chances that were never taken, max," she sighed, her voice heavy with emotion. she looked up at him, hoping he would understand the weight of her words.

max felt like shit, to say the least. hoy could he be so dumb? how could he throw away his family and the love of his life just like that?

“please give me one last chance, i promise i’m not going to fail you and the cubs again”, he sat next to y/n on the couch, grabbing her small hands and squeezing them softly, “max, you’re getting ma-“ “if you don’t want me to get married i won’t. i just need to hear you say it”, he interrupted her.

y/n was in utter shock to say the least. could he really be serious? the gravity of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving her struggling to comprehend the reality of the situation.

“i am serious. you know it” he said, almost as if he could read her mind, “please baby girl, i need to hear you say it”, he pleaded, staring into her eyes.

y/n took a deep breath.

“maxie… please… please don’t get married” she softly said, eyes watering and lips trembling. max sighed in relief and hugged her tightly, “i’m never letting you go, ever again” he grabbed your face and kissed her softly.

“i hope you stick to that promise” “you know i will, schatje”

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagines

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avatar-anna · 2 years ago

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Family Vacation

buckle up, it's a long one!

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader

For reference, here are all the kids' ages:

Simone: 12 Collette: 9 Maeve and Julian: 8 Geneva: 4 Natalia: 3

2025

“All right, here we go. Simone?”

“Here.”

“Colette?”

“She’s helping GiGi put her shoes on upstairs,” Simone replied, standing next to Harry by the front door of the house. She was dressed comfortably in a pair of sweatpants and one of Harry's old crew necks, a pair of leather sneakers on her feet. He'd tried to talk her into a different pair of shoes for the flight, but she was going through a sneaker phase at the moment and wouldn't hear it.

Harry nodded at his oldest child and continued. “Great. Twins?”

There was no answer. Looking up and down the front hall of the house, Harry wondered where two out of his five children were. “Maeve? Jules? Come on, we’re going to be late!”

There was more silence, and Harry silently worried about what his most troublemaking children were up to. But after a minute, he heard the sound of feet running around upstairs, and a few seconds later, the twins bounding down the staircase headed for Harry and Simone. Harry looked them over to make sure they were dressed and ready to go. They were, but had switched shoes again—Julian in his sister’s sparkly pink ones and Marve in his plain black sneakers. Neither Harry nor Y/n knew why they switched their shoes, and sometimes their clothes. It was always a toss up when they came down the stairs dressed for school. Sometimes Jules and Maeve were in their own clothes, sometimes they weren’t, and sometimes they were in some sort of combination. After the first couple times it happened, Harry and Y/n stopped questioning it; as long as they were fully dressed and out the door for school on time, it didn’t really matter to them.

Not even batting an eye at the twins’ shoe switch, he asked them, “Ready?”

“Ready!” they said together, following their older sister out of the house and into the car.

Harry waited for his three remaining children, smiling when Colette and Geneva skipped down the stairs together. GiGi ran over to him and leapt into his arms, and Harry caught her, kissing her cheek and fixing the little hat she was wearing. Five down, one to go.

"Mama! You ready to go?"

"Almost!"

"We're gonna be late!"

"Saying that doesn't make me go any faster!" Y/n called back.

Harry shook his head at his wife, but waited for her patiently by the door all the same, double checking in his head that they had everything in the car—suitcases, iPads, sunblock, passports, chargers, etc. GiGi played with his hair and babbled in his ear while Collette ran off to the car with the rest of the family, curly hair bouncing with each step.

After a couple minutes, Y/n came down the stairs with Natalia in her arms, a tiny backpack resembling a giraffe on his youngest daughter's back. Y/n looked a little frazzled as she went out the door, but Harry didn't comment on it, just took the diaper bag from her and locked up the house once everyone was outside.

"I just spent the last twenty minutes trying to get her into the pull-up," Y/n explained.

"Does she really need it? She wears underwear now."

Y/n looked at him. "Do you want to deal with an accident thousands of feet up in the air?"

"Good point."

They got in the car in silence, and Harry did one last headcount before starting the car. "Does everyone have everything?" Y/n asked one more time, which meant Collette was unbuckling and running back into the house for something, Julian not far behind.

"Are we really doing this?" he muttered to her.

"We're really doing this," she murmured back.

"God help us."

The drive to the airport was full of chatter, the way it always was when Harry drove all six of his children somewhere. Maeve and Julian were off in their own little world, GiGi was singing along to what she thought were the words to the song on the radio, Colette was talking about the science project Y/n helped her finish from the window seat behind him, and Simone was sitting in the backseat with… Daniel, the boy she had asked to invite a couple weeks ago.

Harry remembered the night his daughter came into his and Y/n’s room as the two of them were getting ready for bed with utmost clarity, remembered how Simone switched from foot to foot and didn’t meet either of them in the eye as she asked if she could bring a friend on their family vacation. Of course, Harry told her, not sure why she was acting so nervous. Her friend Melanie was always welcome to join them on their family outings.

But Y/n knew better, as she always did when it came to things like this. She hardly even reacted when Simone clarified that it wasn’t Melanie, but a different friend. Daniel.

Harry immediately wanted to say no once he realized why his daughter was acting so shy about asking if Daniel could come, but his wife subtly pinched his side to keep him quiet while she told Simone yes and that she would call Daniel’s mother in the morning to make sure it was okay. Harry kept his cool while Simone thanked him and Y/n, kissing each of them on the cheek before leaving their bedroom with a wish goodnight over her shoulder. The second Y/n heard the door to her oldest daughter’s room shut with a soft click, she picked up a throw pillow off their bed and whacked him with it.

“Ouch! What the hell was that for?” he asked, giving his wife an incredulous look at her actions.

“You better be on your best behavior,” was all she said, not apologizing for her pillow attack.

Harry rolled his eyes, trying to pretend like he wasn’t freaking out on the inside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said innocently, getting under the covers of their bed after turning the lamp by their bed off.

Y/n turned it back on, not believing him for a second. “I mean it, Harry,” she said, using the same stern voice she often reserved for their kids. Crawling over to him so that she was perched on top of him with her legs on either side of his waist, she poked him in the chest. “Be-have.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” he tried to reason, but he already felt resentment bubbling in the pit of his stomach towards this Daniel person. When his wife gave him a look that told him she still wasn’t convinced, he sighed. “I’m not ready for the boys, or the girls,” he added as an afterthought. Simone never talked about it, but Harry and Y/n always kept an open mind about such things. “She’s too young for dating.”

Y/n raised her eyes heavenward, clearly exasperated by her husband. “Harry, how old were you when you had your first kiss?”

Harry grumbled under his breath, which made Y/n grin just a little. "You're not helping."

“We're so far off from that anyway, love. He's just a friend from school. And a nice boy. I've driven him home from school a few times. He's an only child. He could use a dose of...us.”

Harry kept quiet, crossing his arms and pouting because while he knew his baby was growing up, that didn't mean he had to like it. Knowing he didn’t have any sort of argument for that, Y/n continued. “She needs friends, H. Don’t you notice how she rarely invites anyone over to the house?”

He had noticed, but she was also constantly across the street at her friend Melanie’s house. “I know that, but…She’s my baby.”

Y/n’s eyes softened. She shuffled around on the bed until she had her arms wrapped around him, her fingers as soothing as they always were as they ran through his hair. “She is, and she always will be, so be happy that your baby asked if her friend could come with us on vacation instead of sneaking out of the house to see him.”

That image did nothing to relax Harry’s troubled thoughts in the slightest. He wanted to be comforted by the memories of Simone sleeping between him and Y/n, of when she was so small and only wanted to be in Harry’s arms when they went somewhere, of first steps, first Christmas, first everything. He didn't think they were at the stage of first boy.

“Hey,” Y/n said quietly when Harry remained quiet for a few minutes. She knew her husband had a hard time seeing Simone grow up. He loved all their children equally, but his bond with their oldest daughter was a special one. In a time of uncertainty and chaos, Harry saw their daughter for the first time and she’d become a beacon of light and love. The day he became a father was the best day of his life, and he had been protecting and loving Simone ever since.

"He really is just a friend. You think I would be okay with him joining our vacation if he wasn't? She's twelve, H."

Harry sighed, pouting his lips just a little. "I know. But can you freak out a little with me so I don't feel like the only crazy parent?"

Y/n chuckled and kissed his cheek. "But who would reason with you? Remind you about the beautiful resort we're staying at," she said, planting another kiss, this one closer to his ear. "And the master bedroom that's on a whole separate floor from the other rooms in the suite." Another kiss. "All the alone time we'll have once everyone is asleep."

She continued to whisper in Harry's ear about all the things she wanted to do with him once they were on vacation, one of which made his eyes widen.

"Really?"

"Mmhm."

"You mean it? We can—"

He didn't even want to say it in case he jinxed it, but it didn't seem like his wife was joking. Y/n nodded, tracing his lips with the tip of her finger. "You know I don't joke about that."

He grinned, the reaction almost involuntary. Kissing her once, twice, three times, Harry responded with, “I love you.”

There was silence as Harry and Y/n continued to kiss, long and lazy ones that made Harry nearly forget about Daniel, especially as Y/n’s leg draped over his middle and his hands moved under her sleep shirt. Nearly. “He better not try anything, or I’ll—”

“Your best behavior,” she intoned, hovering just above him as she used her stern voice again. “Think of the alone time.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you enjoy telling me what to do?”

“It gives me a rush,” Y/n said simply, pecking him on the nose. Harry flipped her over so that her back was against the mattress, his lips were just barely touching hers as he told her it was his turn to make demands.

For the next couple weeks, Harry had removed Daniel from his mind. But the time had come to drive to the address Y/n had given him when they got in the car. He hadn’t paid much attention to where each of his children were sitting until he waved at Daniel, then raised his brows slightly as he climbed into the back row to join Simone. He wasn’t a huge fan of that, but then Geneva accused him of not singing along to the song that was playing, and because he could never turn down singing with his daughter, his mind was temporarily occupied.

That didn’t stop his eyes from flicking to the rearview mirror every few minutes to check up on Simone and her friend. He eyed the blonde hair that came down to the boy’s shoulders, the leather cord necklace that peeked out from under his shirt, the warm tan he had from spending time in the sun. Was this her type? Harry thought. She’s too young to have a type. She’s too young for all of this—

“Daddy, where are we going?”

Harry focused back on the road in front of him, making the proper turns that would take him to a more secluded parking lot of the international airport. Harry waited until he parked the car to answer Maeve’s question, helping Valen out of her car seat and resting her on his hip. “The airport, peanut. We're going on our vacation, remember?”

Harry and Y/n didn't take the kids on proper vacations very often. It was hard for the whole family to be in one public place together without being noticed, and it was even harder now ever since the documentary came out and their family was brought into the limelight. People relentlessly tried to get pictures of Harry with any one of the kids, which only pushed them to go out even less or take even more extreme measures to ensure no one knew where they were.

But they all still deserved a vacation. Y/n and Harry researched and researched until they found the right place—somewhere remote enough that they could be left alone, but big enough to fit their family and had the facilities to ensure privacy. And somewhere fun. Everyone needed to have fun.

So they decided on a fancy island resort. There was plenty of activities for the kids, a big villa that accommodated their big family, and a spa for Y/n to relax. In a lot of ways, Harry wanted this to be the honeymoon he and Y/n never got to have. They would be strapped down with six, now seven, kids for most of the time, but they'd be watching them in a very nice resort.

Harry did another headcount when they got to the airport to make sure he had all of his kids and Daniel, then led them all to where a security guard was waiting to take escort them to the airport lounge where they would wait to take off, with Y/n rounding out the back so no one got left behind. As they came into the airport, in public where everyone could see them, Harry looked behind him for Julian, knowing he didn’t love having so many sets of eyes on him. As was the side effect of being their father, all of the Styles children were used to or at least familiar with being photographed in public places or seeing large crowds of people in the most mundane of places. However, Jules was very shy and sometimes had a hard time with the shouting and the phones pointed in his direction.

Harry turned back with Geneva still in his arms to take Julian’s hand. At only four years old, Harry and Y/n tried to keep her and Natalia from having their picture taken the most. They’d done it with all of their children when they were babies, gradually letting them get used to all of the craziness. The documentary sped things up a bit, but outside of the kids' small appearances, Harry and Y/n made sure they were hardly seen in public. It was why Geneva was wearing her little knit hat with daisies on it, the brim wide enough to shield her face should anyone try to nab a picture of the four year old. Y/n pushed Natalia in a stroller with the hood extended low over her face so all one could really see was her little legs.

To Harry’s surprise, Jules was holding the hand of his oldest sister. It wasn’t shocking that Simone was holding her little brother’s hand in a situation like this, she often did so with one or two of her siblings when they went out together. But today she was with a friend, with Daniel. Harry figured she would want to just hang out with him, but there Jules was, laughing at something Simone’s friend had said, not at all bothered by the people pointing their phones in their direction. Smiling, Harry reached out a hand for Maeve to take, and she happily obliged, Colette falling in line next to her.

When they finally got settled in the lounge, there was still a good amount of time before takeoff. The twins were on one side of him and Colette next to them, Simone and Daniel on his other side, and GiGi bouncing up and down in his lap. Julian and Maeve were off in their own little world again, only this time they took Colette with them as they played with a couple of the toys Harry packed for them in a backpack. Y/n was gone, having taken Natalia for one last bathroom trip before they boarded the plane

Trying to heed his wife’s instructions, Harry did his best not to eavesdrop on Simone and Daniel’s conversation, focusing on Geneva, who was more than happy to have all of her father’s attention. She squished his cheeks with her hands, pushing them up and down into various frowns and smiles.

Y/n came back just as Collette began to bicker with the twins. "Harry can you," she said, gesturing vaguely toward the three kids.

"Yep. On it."

By the time he settled the argument, it was time to board. The whole family was up and shuffling toward the gate, Harry leading everyone so he could hand over boarding passes to the woman waiting for them. "Have a wonderful flight, Mr. Styles," she said warmly, smiling at each child as they walked past.

Thankfully, they boarded before everyone else, which gave Y/n and Harry time to get all their kids settled in their seats. "Alright, change of plans. Maeve, sit with Collette, Jules you're with—"

"Daddy!"

"O...Kay. JuJu's sitting with Daddy. Simone and Daniel, you'll sit across from me and Natalia. Daddy, you got Geneva?"

"Yep. Come here, peanut."

Snacks and iPads were passed out, and everyone was quietly waiting for takeoff. At first, Harry and Y/n used to feel bad about using technology to get their kids to quiet down, but now that they were six against two they did whatever they could.

"You have a wonderful family."

Harry was immediately on high alert. He was always hyper aware of strangers around his kids, but especially with Geneva and Natalia. They were so young, they didn't deserve strangers getting in their faces and all that.

But he supposed that having six kids, plus an extra, quietly entertaining themselves on a nonstop flight was something to be proud of. Looking up from where he'd been opening a pouch for Julian, Harry gave a close-lipped smile at the flight attendant who'd spoken. She looked about a few years older than Harry and Y/n, and if she recognized Harry, she didn't let on.

"Thank you. It's our first big vacation."

"That's so fun! It must be hard to travel with all these little ones on your own."

"Um..." Harry wasn't sure what the woman was insinuating. He looked across the aisle, but Y/n was completely occupied with Natalia. Her smile seemed sincere, though, so Harry just politely corrected her. "I'm married, actually."

"Oh! Sorry, I don't know why I—Gosh," she stuttered, a blush on her cheeks. "Sorry. Well, um, can I get you anything?"

"Juice!" Geneva piped in from Harry's left.

Harry gave his daughter a look and said, "How do we ask for things nicely?"

"Can I have some juice please?"

The flight attendant smiled and promised to be back in a moment, then left their section.

"It must be so hard to travel with all these little ones on your own," Y/n said, raising the pitch of her voice. She was still looking at Natalia, but clearly, she'd heard the whole exchange.

"Oh hush. She was just being nice," Harry chided.

Harry never realized how exhausting vacations could be. Between swimming under the sun all day and keeping an eye on seven kids, he crashed on the bed each night completely wiped out. And even though Harry and Y/n were an entire floor above the kids, they could still hear the giggles as Simone, Collette, the twins, and Daniel stayed up past their bedtime playing games. It was fun, it really was, but it was no honeymoon.

He'd have about a thousand pictures by the end of it all, though.

"Daddy, I want a lemonade!"

"Gi, I just asked you if you wanted anything from the restaurant," Harry said, doing his best to give her a stern look.

They were having a relaxing day at the resort's pool. Yesterday they went on a boat and went all around the island, and before that was water sports, and the day before that was—well, today they were just relaxing. The hotel had reserved a cabana that was pretty well removed from the other ones, giving them a bit of privacy, though other guests had kept their distance for the most part.

“Dad, we can take GiGi to get a lemonade. We wanted snacks anyway,” Simone said. At the word “snacks,” both Geneva up, looking to their father for approval.

Harry wanted to say yes, but he didn’t like any of his kids walking around on their own. At twelve, Simone and her friend were more than capable of going to the restaurant on the other side of the pool and coming right back, but there was always a chance of people following or coming up to her, and she thought the idea of walking around with a security guard was embarrassing, but it was usually the only way Harry and Y/n allowed her to go off on her own when they did things like this.

“Erm…You’d have to take Chris with you,” he finally said, nodding to the security guard who was currently sitting next to Natalia and seemed very interested in the water wings the youngest Styles was showing him. Chris was their family bodyguard and had become part of the family by this point. He was patient with the kids and played with them on occasion, but took his job seriously.

Simone didn’t answer right away. She looked at Daniel first, a question in her eyes. Harry knew it couldn’t be easy having to be tailed by a security guard all the time, especially when she seemed to already have a hard time making friends. So when Daniel just shrugged and said he didn’t mind, Harry actually felt a little relieved and hoped that this friendship would stick. Perhaps Daniel was all right after all.

Fishing out cash from his wallet, Harry passed it off to Simone and told her to come straight back and hold GiGi’s hand the whole time. Simone looked like she wanted to roll her eyes at her father’s grave tone, but she refrained and took the money and her sister’s hand. When they were gone, Harry sat back and sighed. His eyes flitted over the pool for a moment as he searched for his wife.

She was in the pool with Maeve and Julian, tossing them up and letting them splash in the shallower end. Harry cleared his throat and slipped on his sunglasses, trying not to stare too obviously.

Y/n wasn't even doing anything. But she just...she never failed to make his heart pound. And the swimsuit she wore wasn't helping. Her body had changed over the years, the same way his had, but he still thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and right now was no different.

Harry was debating joining his wife and kids in the pool or staying until Simone and the rest of his kids came back with Chris. But that decision was made for him when he saw her help the twins out of the pool.

"They put umbrellas in our drinks!"

Harry looked the other way and saw Geneva with a kids cup in her hand, a small cocktail umbrella sticking out of it. Simone and Daniel had their own drinks, and funnily enough, Chris had two.

"I want one!"

"Me too!"

Before Harry could say anything, Chris handed the two drinks over to the twins, who had walked up to the cabana with Y/n. Harry stood up and offered his spot up so all the kids could sit with their drinks without the risk of spilling them. He went over to Y/n, careful not to put his hands on her in front of the kids.

"You were staring," she murmured.

"Was not."

"You were."

Harry leaned forward and kissed the back of her head. "You would've had to be staring at me to notice."

"Mom, can Daniel and I go to the kids club? They have a ping pong table, and we wanted to play."

At the mention of the kids club, Simone's siblings voiced their desire to go too, but Harry could see the look on his oldest daughter's face. She'd been really great about hanging out with her younger siblings, but she deserved to play on her own with her friend.

"Sure, bug. Do you have your phone?"

Simone nodded, then squeezed Harry tight before running off with Daniel. His heart clenched as they left, but there were five other kids all vying for his attention. "Let's go to the water slide, shall we?"

Cheers went around the cabana. As they were all putting their cups down, Y/n came up behind Harry and squeezed his hand. "That was nice of you."

"Chris will check on them in a few minutes," was all he said.

"You're a good dad," she said, pinching his hip affectionately.

"You think so?"

"The best. "I wish we could sneak away so you could be the best husband for a little bit," she mumbled, kissing his bare shoulder.

"We'll have our moment," Harry assured.

"It would be even harder with another baby, you know that right?"

"Mm. We've always managed."

Y/n didn't say anything in reply, but Harry couldn't tell if it was because she didn't have an answer or because Geneva was poking her leg to get her attention.

"Can we go now?"

Conversation cut short, Harry and Y/n took the hands of their little ones and walked toward the waterslide.

"I'm so tired."

"I know."

"And sunburned."

"I know."

"It literally hurts to have my eyes open. I—What are you doing?"

"Shh," Y/n said, her legs on either side of Harry's lower back. "I don't have massage oil or candles, but I have aloe vera. Let me help you."

Harry couldn't have protested even if he wanted to. They'd spent the entire day at the beach, rounding the evening out with a quiet dinner courtesy of room service. All the kids were fast asleep, practically dead to the world, as soon as their pajamas were on, a first since they arrived a few days ago.

Mumbling some kind of assent, he let Y/n give him a massage. The aloe vera was cold on his back, her hands gentle but thorough as she rubbed in the gel and worked on the muscles in his shoulders and worked her way down. Harry groaned, sinking deeper into the bed as she began to apply more pressure.

"You've been such a good Daddy to the kids all week, hm?" she murmured in his ear, thumbs pressing into the muscles in his shoulders. "Planned this whole trip for us, work so hard so we can go to beautiful places like this, been so patient. Thought you deserved something nice."

It wasn't uncommon for Y/n to call Harry "daddy." When they were around the kids, they referred to each other almost exclusively as "mom" or "dad" or something to that effect. They were parents, it was part of their identity, and it certainly wasn't out of the ordinary. Daddy wasn't something that was inherently sexual to them, not when it was a word their children used regularly.

Though the gentle lilt of Y/n's voice and her hands on his back definitely had him turning his head to the side to peek an eye at her.

"Yeah?"

She nodded, still working out all the knots in his back. "Mmhm. So close your eyes. I'm gonna paint a nice picture for us."

Harry did as she said, focusing on her hands and voice.

"Imagine we're...twenty-two years old," Y/n said. "And...we just came back from the courthouse. The boys have finally left us alone for the evening."

The night they got married. They had to sneak out of their hotel rooms to do it, but Harry would do it all again in a heartbeat. "Mm. That was a good night."

"Yep. But this time, instead of putting Simone down and going to bed, we're packing for a trip. Our honeymoon. You planned the whole thing. Your mom agreed to watch Simone for a few days, there happened to be a break in the tour, and everything just fell into place so we could celebrate. Just you and me."

Y/n knew what Harry wanted this trip to be for them. She knew he always felt guilty about the finer details of their marriage. There was just never enough time for a proper honeymoon, and by the time there was, Y/n was pregnant with Collette. There were moments on the trip where they tried to slip away, but it just wasn't possible. Harry and Y/n were more than happy to spend time with their children, but a moment alone wouldn't have hurt, either.

"So we come to this beautiful resort," she continued, working her way along the broad expanse of Harry's back. "We drink too much champagne and sleep in too late because no one is jumping on the bed before sunrise. We kiss by the infinity pool and on the balcony and on top of a mountain after we've hiked to the top."

"Just kiss?"

"Easy. I'm getting to that. Where was I?"

"The top of a mountain."

"Right. And we make love everywhere. In the infinity pool, on the balcony, in that huge hot tub in our bathroom. For those few days, we don't care about getting caught or what people will see or think or say. We're so happy to finally be married, that the only thing that matters is us," Y/n said, leaving a kiss on the back of his neck, her teeth grazing the shell of his ear. "Flip over, baby."

Harry did as she asked, grinning when his eyes landed on her. Y/n normally wore a t-shirt and shorts to bed, but tonight she was in sheer pink, her breasts practically spilling out of the flimsy material, her hair framing her shoulders. She'd changed a lot over the years, and yet she was exactly the same. She still made him feel the same way she always had.

"We're not twenty-two anymore," he said.

"No, we're not," Y/n agreed. "But I still love you."

"I love you too, Mama."

Y/n leaned down and kissed him then, her body flush against Harry's as his leg slotted between hers. Their lips were chapped from spending the last few days in the sun, but that didn't stop either of them from getting more and more intense. Harry's tongue slipped into Y/n's mouth with ease, his hands rucking up her little pink blouse insistently. She lifted her hips to get her underwear off when his hands ventured there next but was quick to slide back against him, a smile forming on her lips when he groaned.

"I'm not feeling so tired anymore," Harry breathed, one hand dipping between her legs.

They could've been quick. After being together for so long, they knew what made the other get to the finish line faster, and had perfected it when free time came in brief, spontaneous moments. But Harry didn't want quick. All the kids were fast asleep, and he didn't think any of them would be waking up for a long time after the day they had. He wanted to take his time, and it seemed Y/n did too.

"Good. For a second there I thought you were an old man at the ripe age of thirty-one."

"You're gonna regret saying that in a minute."

Harry flipped his wife over so that he was hovering over her. Y/n's grin was full of mischief as she looked him over, her gaze fixated below his waist. She loved the moments where she could just admire her husband, and this trip had been full of them. So often she was stuck in full-mom-mode that she didn't appreciate how Harry still looked like he was cut from marble. His tattoos were faded with time, but they stuck out against his newly-tanned skin, there was a little more meat on his hips than when they were kids, but Y/n honestly loved him that way more. She loved his muscly thighs and broad back and his pointed nose and high cheekbones. She loved the smile lines by his eyes and the way his stomach jutted out just a little despite the muscle. She loved the soft parts and the hard planes. She knew every detail, every secret his body held. There was not one thing she didn't know about her husband or his body, and she was in love with every inch.

Y/n had been patient, she'd been a good mom this whole trip by not dragging Harry by the drawstring of his swim trunks and leaving Chris to watch the kids for an hour, she'd waited and waited for the right moment, for this moment. A few minutes ago, she could tell Harry was in the "make love" kind of mood, but she did away with that with a few choice words. She was usually all for it, but right now she really wanted a reason for them to be exhausted. Now, all she had to do was seal the deal.

Hooking a finger around his necklace and gripping him a little tightly between her fingers, she said, "Do your worst."

"Okay. It's our last night on vacation. What was everyone's favorite part?" Harry asked from his seat at the dinner table. "Maevie, you go first."

They were having one last dinner at the resort's outdoor restaurant. Their table was on a raised deck that stood in a shallow pool. The bottom of the pool was lit, making the water a blue-green color. There were lanterns in the palm trees, a warm breeze fluttering the leaves. Everyone was in varying states of tanned and sunburned—peeled noses, harsh tan lines, red shoulders and cheeks. The whole family plus Daniel were tired from days spent running around and swimming under relentless sunlight, but they were happy too. Content to go home tomorrow knowing that everything that could be done had been.

"I liked seeing the dolphins," Maeve said.

Each person at the table said their favorite moment or activity. From the hotel water slide to going tubing behind a speedboat to a whole day dedicated to shopping, all the kids enjoyed something different from the vacation.

"I liked when we took the Jeeps all over the mountains and Mrs. Styles drove really fast!" Daniel said.

Y/n smirked at Harry from across the dinner table as she cut up Geneva's food. He always had something to say about her driving—that she was too fast, that she drove like she was in a hurry when there was no reason to, and so on. Whether that was true or not, Y/n got to put her driving skills to the test with one of their activities. She took Simone, Daniel, and Collette in her car while Harry took the younger kids, and raced over the dirt path with them. It was bumpy, dusty, and full of sharp turns, but she and the older kids had a blast.

"You know, Daniel, I can't help but agree," Y/n said.

"What was your favorite part, Dad?" Simone asked.

"I think..." he said, taking his time to answer the question. "I think just getting to spend time with all of you was my favorite part."

"That doesn't count!"

"We all had to say something!"

"Boo!"

"Yeah, boo!"

"Y/n, really?"

Y/n shrugged when Harry looked over at her exasperatedly. He knew he gave a lame, sappy answer, but it was the truth. He knew his kids would give him grief about it, but he didn't expect his own wife to boo at him.

The night ended with one final walk on the beach. The kids all skipped ahead of Harry and Y/n, who were content to trail behind them and hold hands.

"We did it," Y/n said, twining her arm around her husband's.

"We did. With no trips to the local hospital, either."

"And," she added. "Daniel was a sweetheart. I think the twins are more trouble than he is."

Harry didn't want to be okay with Daniel when the idea of him joining the family on vacation was first proposed, but he couldn't help but agree with Y/n. He was nice, and hung out with all the kids, not just Simone.

"They're gonna give us hell when they're older aren't they?" he asked, referring to Maeve and Julian, who were currently wrestling in the sand.

"Definitely." They walked a few paces in silence while Y/n rested her cheek on Harry's shoulder. He was a linen shirt that was incredibly soft, and she would definitely be wearing it to sleep tonight. Then, as they got further down the beach, she said, "You were right, you know."

"About what?"

"Spending time with all our little monkeys," she said. "I'm glad we could give this to them. A trip with the whole family that's not just traveling with you on tour, you know?"

"I do," Harry agreed, kissing the top of her head. "I think I might have to give Chris a huge Christmas bonus, though."

Y/n chuckled. "He had fun too."

More silence, more walking and listening to the kids laugh and play by the shore. Then, "Our little monkeys aren't so little anymore."

"No, they're not," Y/n said. "But when they can play together far away, I can do this."

She stopped Harry in his tracks and tipped his head down to kiss him. His lips were light against hers, careful not to get too carried away. But it was nice to kiss out in the open, something neither of them would've ever thought was possible a few years ago. Their lives were so different now.

Harry kissed her a couple more times, his thumb tracing delicate patterns on the small strip of skin where Y/n's knitted sweater didn't quite meet her shorts. She looked and felt so cozy. All he wanted to do was get their kids up to bed and—

"Eeeew!" someone shrieked, it was too dark to tell which one of their kids said it. "No kissing!"

Y/n pulled back, but Harry held her close still. "What? You mean like this?" he asked before nuzzling his wife's cheek.

That got everyone going. Simone claimed Harry and Y/n were embarrassing her, Collette told them to stop because kissing was gross, and Maeve and Julian went straight for the tackle, going for Harry's legs until he playfully fell over. Once he was down, Natalia and Geneva joined their brother and sister.

If someone had told a twenty-two-year-old Harry that not only did he have six happy and healthy kids with the love of his life, but that he could hold his wife's hand and kiss her on the beach and play-wrestle with his kids without worrying who might see, he wouldn't have believed them. Hell, he wouldn't have believed them just a few years ago. But things were different now, things were good. Perfect, some might say.

And Harry definitely had to remind himself of that when one of his kids accidentally had him inhaling a mouthful of sand.

#harry styles #young dadrry #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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samiwife · 1 year ago

Note

Could you write a smut with Julian, where he and a fem reader have sex at the music studio? I would really love it!

OMG sure! thanks 4 the request!!!

Studio Antics 𓆩♡𓆪 (Julian Casablancas x Reader)

𓆩♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

TW: Pet names, hair pulling, rough sex, and cussing

(Reader discretion is advised)

You and Julian often spent time together in the studio. Usually, you guys just listened to new projects or listened to new beats Julian made. But, today was different when you visited the studio with him. You two had a little too much to drink that day. As you two walked down the studio, Julian wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you in tight. "Baby, how much longer till we get to the studio?" you asked Julian tugging on his sleeve harshly. Julian looks down at you and smirks. "Just 2 more minutes doll, just wait," Julian says while lifting up your chin and kissing your lips. You kissed back and squeezed his side closer to you. You wanted Julian bad and he wanted you bad too. After walking for two more minutes, you two finally reached the studio and walked inside.

You two walked passed the receptionist and went straight to the studio you and Julian always went to. It was the same studio that Julian and his bandmates used to record albums. Julian took out the studio keys and walked in with you. You plopped on the studio couch and relaxed. You laid stomach first on the soft cushions and snuggled your face in the pillows. Julian looks you up and down. He smiles and chuckles. "You were such in a rush while getting here. Now you're just laying there." Julian said with a smile, you sit up, turn your head over your shoulder, and look at him. You smiled, "Well, I wanted something a little more than an arm wrapped around my waist." You said while slightly biting your bottom lip. Julian smirked and sat next to you. Julian grabs you by the waist and pulls you over his lap.

You land your knees on the cushions next to Julian. Julian looks up at you and traces his finger over your plump lips. You smile and look down at him. Julian slides his hands down your skirt and pulls them off. You giggle and slowly remove his tight black jeans. Julian then takes off your top and you take off his jacket. You stroke Julian's member slowly, Julian gasps and groans. You whisper in his ear, "It's okay baby, you can be as loud as you want." Julian groans louder as you finish your sentence. You stroked his member a few more times. Then Julian looks up at you and smirks. He grabs your waist roughly and pushes you on his member. You scream at the sudden pleasure causing Julian to smirk wider. "That's what I like to hear kitten," Julian said pulling your face closer to his. Julian then starts to move your hips up and down. You gripped Julian's thighs and rolled your head back. Julian loved seeing you moan his name.

Julian moved your hips faster, and you bounced up and down on him. "Agh fuck, Julian! You're hotter than ever." You breathed out. Julian groans and pulls your hair as you ride him. "God, doll right there," Julian growls in a low voice. Julian continued to thrust into you until you felt like you were about to come. "Ugh shit, I'm close." You moaned out. Julian nodded and moved faster than before. "Me too, princess. We can come together." Julian moaned as he gripped your hair harder. After a few minutes of thrusting, you came. You gripped harder on Julian's thighs causing him to come as well. You kissed and sucked Julian's neck, which left a red mark. Julian arches his back and pulls out. Julian takes a minute to catch his breath and wipe the sweat off his face. "God Y/N, you're a fucking devil when you're with me. And I love it." Julian said as you sat in his lap. You smile and giggle. "I'm just a slut for you moaning my name Julian." You said with a wink. Julian smirks and kisses your neck. Julian's kiss turned into a suck which also led to a hickey. Julian pulls away and cradles you in his arms.

#fanfiction #90's bands #90s aesthetic #90s music #90s #the strokes fanfic #the strokes #the strokes smut #julian casablancas imagines #julian casablancas x reader #julian casablancas #julian casablancas smut

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sockslikeautumn · 8 months ago

Text

Julian Peyton

Yandere golden boy beginning

Male original character x gender-neutral reader

SFW, 2.0k+ words, angst, addiction, trauma, reader, and OC are 18+!

Summary: Did you not wish for his suicide to happen due to wanting to offer proper help or because you didn't want to die selfishly?

Trigger warnings: Dead dove, do not eat for all warnings!

Suicide, suicidal thoughts, mentions of self-harm, depression, mentions of bullying, loneliness, academic pressure, guilt, implied addiction, implied turning yandere/obsessed, manipulation, victim blaming, trauma, abuse, implied childhood abuse, childhood trauma, child abandonment, child negligence, drug addiction, drug dealing, alcohol addiction, cigarettes addiction.

The reader has suicidal thoughts and trauma regarding some of these tags. If any of them trigger you, don't read!

As much as it seems, this isn't a self insert from me, Y/N is their own original character.

For any confusion, this is before he went yandere, became a golden boy, and why.

You are entirely responsible for what you consume.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

If you're conscious enough to live, at least at some point in your life you have thought of how quick and easy it would be to bring about your demise.

Grab a knife, cut the neck in half, or take a step off at the edge of a building. Simple and efficient. It's not as painless as some would wish, but it's the most reliable for someone in dire need.

When you have problems you aren't aware of how to solve, suicide just seems like the solution at the moment. Why keep going through the pain when you can just make everything stop and end in black there?

Julian was never one to think of committing suicide. It had crossed his mind before whenever hearing about a self-death headline but never to be the one at the edge of death.

His life was a simple chess game with the Devil to put it generously. He couldn't remember the names of his birth parents, only of the new son they had, he couldn't remember the last time his grandad taught him something but could decipher what drug he was using by the way he acted. It was never too obscure behavior and just made his grandad, Mason, spill honest secrets and opinions. Regardless, it hurt his heart to hear what a failure he was to him.

There never was a time of growing up to him. He was born, abandoned, and then perfected to act depressed for the rest of his life as it should be.

To cope with the loneliness, Julian found comfort in cigarettes. The smell of nicotine brought him back to a time when his grandad was still functioning and meaning someone to him. Someone special, someone valuable, and someone irreplaceable. Despite that, he should've learned from his mistakes that once you aren't meaningful to someone anymore, you become dispensable.

At the age of twelve, he couldn't remember what grades he had in school but could instead remember the various names of alcohol brands his granddad had. They were stored on the top shelf of the pantry and some were in the fridge, all decorated in rainbow colors. Back then, they looked magnificent since Mason always forbade him from touching them. Nowadays they stay piled on the floor of his grandad's bedroom, some empty and some bottles broken never to be cleaned.

Drugs were never an unfamiliar aspect of his life. The minute his grandad was gone, off to drink at a bar, he'd sneak into the basement where they were and gather whatever he could to sell. Julian never found out how his grandad had those, just that they appeared on Monday and were all used by Thursday. Mason was reckless if what he was doing was illegal, as long as the cops or Julian didn't rat him out, he'd be content letting his mind dwell on drugs.

It was no wonder why someone like Julian, who was socially awkward and unpleasant to look at, was bullied all his life in school. People either forgot he existed or made sure Julian knew others would forget if he stopped existing. Any time he made an effort to find new friends, they'd look at him in disgust upon smelling his dark cigarette clothes. There was no direct proof but everyone knew of Julian's addiction to cigars and that he probably used drugs on himself too. His blonde hair was always greasy paired with nerdy glasses that only highlighted his purple eye bags to others. Everyone knew he was a failure and that his life would end in failure no matter what.

You saw yourself as no different than Julian. He was a classmate of yours in school, sharing only a couple of classes. You never spoke with each other and never looked at one another. You doubted he cared anything about you but oddly enough... you seemed to care about him. There was just something pulling you to him, some undeniable force that made you feel emotionally connected to him. Maybe it was the pity, the empathy you felt for him, or... the way you thought he was similar to you.

You were someone who grew up in a rather loving family, unlike Julian. You had three young caring step-sisters, a father you never met, and a mother and stepfather. Although your parents' love was sometimes not present, your childhood wasn't the worst or the best. Your earliest memory was when your first adoring sister was born, when you had to take care of her and the same goes for the rest.

Your parents never were really involved in your life. They had to work plenty of hours to take care of your family tree and you had to take care of your sisters in exchange, watch them evolve, and be their guiding light. You never felt like an older sister, more like a parent who guarded them 24/7.

To make your parents notice you for once, your academics stood second in your biggest priorities. Night and day, day and night spent at your desk, unexpectedly was your friend group of friends small and so was your social life. Painful eye bags staining your face and skin pale as a zombie, people worried if you were dead or alive. The only reassurance you had for continuing was a promise for a better present time than your past in a completely new setting.

Despite always teaching your younger siblings to never bottle their emotions, it was only advice you hoped you could follow yourself. They were too young to understand your problems, the pressure, the loneliness, everything. Your parents weren't the ones you could freely open up to without feeling like a burden to their already busy lives. Your couple of friends looked up to you for advice and without anyone to usher you, who was there to tell you suicide wasn't the choice?

You never earlier put your head on suicide and always reassured your peers never to do it. It wasn't the right decision, there were plenty of other ways to go about it, you'd always say. But with always being the one to comfort, to collect their tears that soon poured into yours, you never thought you needed to feel comforted.

Many indifferent moons passed by your window at your desk, contemplating and crying in fear of losing your place in academics. Once you mustered up the courage to find the time and speak to your parents about your fate, they barely took a glance at your words. You put your heart into explaining what you wanted for your future, why you fought so hard, and that you wanted to make this family proud. Nor did they consider it, your mother took her time to carefully choose where to stab you next, calling you an ungrateful brat for not even thinking about your younger sisters.

That night, the cap broke off the bottle and your tears stained your face for hours. Their words clouded you, their words were becoming a reality to you. It felt childish to cry over nothing, it was childish no matter how you put it. How dare you even cry after acting so selfishly?

When the sun came, it settled in you how much you wanted to break your own rules and punish yourself. If you weren't to have a good destiny, what difference would ending it now have? All you've ever wanted was to be certain you'd have brightness along your path of life, to not end up marrying off to a rich man like your mother had to. All you've ever wanted was gratitude for your achievements from people who should've been giving it to you for free.

Those thoughts stayed long in your mind and long enough to realize how your mother was right. How selfish would you be to dedicate yourself to ending it now of all times? Who would take care of your family? Who else would provide for your own blood?

You were no one to decide on what and when your death would be. To be one would mean your soul would succumb to sinfulness and stay like that by all who knew of your existence.

Being a mother figure all of your life, you immediately knew what was happening with Julian. Over the years, he grew pathetic in trying to go against his bullies' self-harming suggestions. There were no tears smudging his dorky glasses anymore, no guilt on his face, anger, he just looked emotionless and numb. He, to put it simply, took the pain and walked away without trying to heal.

The day you finally decided to befriend him, the day his tormentors came to convince him, was the same day he wanted to make ends meet.

During lunch, you searched for him at his usual spot in school, on the rooftop. The whisper-like wind hugged your body carefully and to no avail, he wasn't staring at absolutely nothing on the bench, his bench you came to view it as. So many times he was caught bawling there he practically claimed it as his own.

Upon spotting his thin form at the edge of the rooftop in front of the railing, looking down at the ground and contemplating his life's choices, your heart felt devastated. To anyone it would be obvious what was going to happen, to you, it was clear who had to prevent it.

You couldn't let this happen to him, he never deserved anything in his life and if there was no one else to help him, it would be you. Either you put an end to his problems or put an end to the selfish life you wouldn't live for too long after.

His name echoed in his ears when you yelled out to him, was it his imagination? He turned his body around, his watery eyes landing on your blurry figure, and for the first time, he felt something other than nothing in his life.

“Listen, I've come here to help you, okay?” Your voice was soft as sunlight behind stormy clouds. Nevertheless, even with the reassurance, looking over your nervous body, he still felt out of place. Like an animal caged behind a railing as you cautiously stepped near him.

It took you slow breaths to at last muster up your words. “I know life may seem tough for you now but..” There was a smile on your face, it was forced and comforting at the same time. “We can both get through this, alright? We can both help one another in passing through this pain.” You were closer to him now, he could tell by seeing the sun reflect your skin golden. You were glowing and through his tears, he couldn't tell if you were an angel or not. “But I can't help you if you end it all now, I can't help you if you can't help yourself in what you truly want.” Julian eyed the ground under him again, a teardrop falling from his eye and landing beneath him.

It took several moments for his quiet sobs and sniffling to be heard by you. “W-why are you doing this?” Scratchy as it was, it felt good to finally hear his voice.

“Because I know what you're going through, I know how hard life has been for you and I want to make it better for you.” Julian's brown eyes couldn't help but wonder where you were standing, your delicate hand put out for him to grab. He felt every worry in his life disappear and could only focus on nothing but you. “Please, Julian, let me help you.”

Medusa's beauty referred to snakes acting as something they were not, would her touch also feel like scales belonging to filthy deceivers? Your hand looked preciously dainty and skinned with thin glass, a couple of visible cuts on the wrists. Your eyes captivated him, desperation or precise manipulation in them. Your aura, your soul, your everything had him infatuated in a matter of seconds.

As much of an alluring snake you seemed, he's learned his way around them and he was going to make sure you would be the last he's ever met. It would be the last time he'd ever wailed for someone and missed them to death.

Julian would certify he has collected every last remaining lie in your shedding skin, morphing it into whatever he wanted to believe, before ensuring you never leave him. Never leave, never abandon, never disappear from his life, and never not be fully dependent on anything except him.

Masterlist for Julian

For any confusion, this is before he went yandere, became a golden boy, and why.

I'm open to all constructive criticism, not bullying!

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sarawritestories · 2 years ago

Text

You're Breathtaking

H.R. Wells X Curvy Fem Reader

Summary: Our reader is having a hard time feeling good in her skin and can't help but compare herself to Iris and Caitlin. Though, with the happy go lucky Earth-19 Wells, he reminds her just how beautiful she is inside and out.

Content Warning ⚠️: 18+ READERS ONLY!mentions of insecurities, including weight and facial features (though very brief). Fluff and a little bit of steam, partial nudity😏

A/N: I wrote this because i was feeling pretty low and wanted a story where A Wells shows the reader how beautiful she is on the inside and out. Just like the person reading this story 😊

Tags: @eonash, @twilightlover2007, @yetanotherwells

Everyone was in the cortex, taking advantage of the quiet afternoon of no meta activity. Barry stretched at his desk and stood Iris following, "I'm calling it a day," he looked at his fiancé and smiled, "I think im gonna' take my beautiful lady on a date." Iris smiled as he scooped her up and sped out of the cortex.

Caitlin smiled as her phone began to ring, and she smiled at her phone, "Julian wants to get dinner, so im heading out as well." She gave everyone a warm smile and a wave, "Have a goodnight."

Cisco and Y/N were the only two left as Wally and Jesse were on a running date. Cisco sighed and faced his friend, "Alright, Y/N, I dont feel like staying here, want to grab a drink?"

Y/N shrugged, "Maybe some other time i don't really feel like going out." Cisco nodded and took his stuff and bowed in front of her as a form of goodbye.

Y/N was left to her thoughts. She looked down at her stomach and crossed her arms around her torso. Feeling insecure, she looked at her reflection on the dark monitor and groaned. She couldn't help but compare her facial features to Caitlin and Iris. She thought those two women were absolutely stunning and felt her features paled in comparrison.

The sound of drum sticks against a desk pulled her out of her stupor. "Hey, H.R." she pushed a smile for her friend.

H.R. who was grinning ear to ear when he walked in, frowned knowing something was off with his friend, "What's wrong, Kitten?"

Y/N tried to smile bigger to ease the worry of his friend, "What are you talking about? I'm fine."

H.R. shook his head, "I may not be a genius, but i can tell when something is bothering someone. Especially if it's someone i care about," Y/N's cheeks began to warm under his gaze, "Talk to me, Y/N."

With a sigh, she began to divulge how she didn't feel as beautiful as Caitlin or Iris and feels like no one finds her attractive. H.R.'s heart broke as she poured her secrets to him, and when she finished, he went around to where she was sitting and engulfed her in a hug.

He pulled away and grabbed her hands, pulling her up. "Meet me in the speed lab in 10 minutes. Okay, Kitten?" She nodded, and he gave her a brief kiss on the cheek as he fled out of the coretex, his big grin returning to his face.

~10 minutes late~

Y/N walked into the speed lab and saw a full lengh mirror in the center. H.R. right next to it. "What's this?"

H.R smiled with mischief in his eyes, "Do you trust me?" Asking as he held out his hand.

She nodded and slid her hand into his. He twirled her, spinning her until her back was flush against his front, and she was forced to look at the mirror. H.R.'s hand splayed against her stomach a smirk on his face. Through the mirror, she saw him lean his head to her hear, " Take your dress off, Kitten."

His whispered command caused chills to ripple off her spine. She placed her hand over his, "Why?"

H.R smiled and looked at her eyes through the mirror, "Well, I want you to see what I see."

Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she grabbed the edge of her dress and lifted it over her head with H.R's help. Her black lace bra and panties on display on instinct she covered her stomach with her arms. H.R. grabbed her arms and pulled them from her, his breath hot on her ear, "Don't hide from me, Kitten."

Y/N shuddered a breath as his hands grazed her arms up and down, "What do you see?"

Y/N sighed, "I see someone who is plain, boring, unattractive."

H.R. began to leave a trail of kisses from her cheek to her shoulder blades, causing Y/N to moan. "That's not what I see." He paused and turned her to face him. He stared into her beautiful eyes and cupped her cheek, "I see a strong, beautiful, smart woman. That has big dreams and life goals. I see someone with passion." He lays his hand on her waist and pulls her closer to him. "I see a goddess of a woman. One who i am in awe of every day." He brought his face closer to hers, "someone who lied to me today."

That broke Y/N from her stupor, "How?" She questioned her voice above a whisper.

He smiled, resting his other hand on her hip, his thumb making small circles, "You said no one found you attractive. That was a lie. Because I believe you are the most beautiful woman i've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You just need to believe that yourself. You don't need me to tell you how amazing you are. The truth is life is brighter and happier with you in it, Kitten. You just need to see it for yourself."

A small tear fell against her cheek as she crashed her lips to his. As he pressed her against the mirror, they spent the rest of the evening with H.R. showing her just how much he loved her.

#harrison wells #the flash cw #the flash #hr wells #hr wells x reader #the flash fanfiction #happy ending

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neodracunyan · 2 years ago

Text

The Perfect One|Yandere!Wednesday's Infidelity AUs x Male!Human-ish!Reader

Bio + Reader Info

Reader Info

Y/n - Your Name

L/n - Last Name

N/n - Nickname

E/c - E/c Name

F/c - Favorite (Fur) Color

F/f - Favorite Food

F/d - Favorite Drink

F/s - Favorite Sweets

M/n - Mom Name

D/n - Dad Name

Reader Bio

Name: Y/n L/n

Alias: The Perfect Child, Mouse Freak, Rabbit Boy, Cat Face, N/n

Age: 7

Sex: Male

Species: Human/Toon Hybrid (Mouse, Rabbit, Cat Toons)

Personality: (Normal & When he's around friends) Sweet, Caring, Friendly, Polite, Happy, Supportive, Kind-Hearted, Comforting

(When he is stressed out or depressed): Suicidal (Not all of the time), Upset, Livid, Depressed, Lonely

Friends: Michael Theodore (Freakazoid Mouse), Oscar Reynolds (Weirdo Rabbit), Helix Fang (Bad-Luck Kitty), Marcus Mouse (Vs. Mouse Mod), Marko Mouse (Vs. Mouse Mod), Epic Mickey, Epic Oswald, W.I. BF, D-Side W.I. BF, W.I. GF, D-Side W.I. GF, Photo-Negative Mickey (FNATI), Oswald (FNATI), Oliver the Lucky Rabbit (D-Side Marcus Mouse), Owen (D-Side Marko Mouse), Suicidemouse.avi (SNS), Outtaluckrabbit.mov (SNS D-Side Suicidemouse.avi), Julian (Puppet Mickey) etc, Mickey (Original), Oswald the Lucky Rabbit (Original), Minnie Mouse (Original), Felix the Cat (Original), Ortensia (Original), D-Side Ortensia (D-Side Vs. Mouse), Among Us Crewmate Mickey (Mickey's Miserable Night), Mokey, The Mother (FNATI), etc.

Enemies: W.I. Mickey Mouse, W.I. Oswald the Lucky Rabbit (EuthanasiaRabbit.mov), W.I. Felix the Cat (Kill Them All Felix), W.I. Minnie Mouse (W.I. Swap AU), W.I. Ortensia (W.I. Swap AU), Psycho (Secret History) Tails (W.I. AU), Needle Mouse (Among Us Imposter W.I. Mickey), Cheddar (Sculpture Mickey), Satan (Wednesday's Infidelity), Waton (D-Side Wednesday's Infidelity), The Demoness (B3 Remix Satan), Carrots (D-Side Cheddar), Labrat Mickey, etc.

History: Y/n L/n was just a 7-year-old boy, but a special young boy as he is also part toon as his ears somehow look similar to Mickey Mouse, Oswald the Lucky Rabbit and Felix the Cat as he can shift his ears into either one of them like modeling clay.

However, he was sent the orphanage from his neglectful parents because of his appearance that make him look like a toon and he was soon picked on by the other kids at the orphanage as well as the caretakers that treated him like trash.

Then one night, Y/n had enough of being bullied at the orphanage and decided to escape the place that he called, "Home" and runs through the town of Noir City at the dead of night.

Eventually, he does his best to go through life as a Toon Hybrid that soon made him feel lonely that he has no family that would even love and care for him. Until one night, when he ran into someone that he recognized on TV, it was none other than Mickey Mouse himself as he's been dealing with some problems of his own and surprised to see someone like Y/n that is half human and half toon as he suddenly has some plans for the young child that the boy can never refuse as he plans to adopt the young toon boy as his own.

Unaware, that some of the other toons like Oswald and Felix in the black and white world want the boy as well as they planned to capture him and keep him for themselves.

What will Y/n do when he is trapped in a never-ending nightmare full of toons that wanted him as the Perfect Child to have as their own?

#fandom #fnfmods #fridaynightfunkin #horror #fanfiction #creepypasta #suicidemouse.avi #wednesday's infidelity #oswald the lucky rabbit #oswald disney #mickey mouse

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brownandblackpearls · 3 years ago

Text

📜 🖋 𝒞ourting with 𝒟r. 𝒟evorak (Julian x BlackReader) Pt.4

PART 4 SUMMARY:

You are a reputable, young beauty of means in Vesuvia, enjoying the winter courting season. An odd letter from an odd doctor finds its way to your door. You are on the final segment of your first date, dining in a lively establishment deep in Vesuvia’s snowy burrows.

─── Julian x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── regency/historical/fantasy, courtship rituals, wealthy! MC, love letters, drama, handsome redheads

☾ previous. next

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

You thought that the play could be the highlight of the evening.

The rest of the night still had to happen, of course, but that fact held little sway over your rising opinion of the performance before you.

The drama was entrenching; the plot thick and delightfully conflicted with emotions of all sorts interwoven into the fabric of it. The actors were riveting; their faces full of contortion, expression, and range. The costumes and set designs were otherworldly; everything from the smallest trim to the boldest detail was painstakingly planned and executed to perfection.

You found yourself very pleased with the choice of play Julian had picked. The story was a rollercoaster of intense love triangles and by the time the curtains drew to a close, you couldn’t help but stand and applaud with the rest of the audience in the atrium.

“Bravo, magnificent!” Julian cries out, impassioned and forgetting himself. His eyes shine with feeling and intrigue, a far cry from the nervous man you’d met only hours before.

It is a sight to see him fill with energy like that over the theater. He seems to be an even bigger fan of it than you are. Perhaps that is why he was there at the theater, that fateful day when he first laid eyes on you...?

You call out approval and join him in his reverie, singing your own praises to the actors bowing below. They look into the audience past the bouquets of roses and flowers being thrown onto the stage, and for a moment, you even make eye contact with one of the younger, upstart actors. You are gifted a sly wink before the actor turns back to the crowd, bowing again and again.

As the theater lights come back on and the crowd compiles together amongst themselves down below between the aisles, you turn to face your date in the private box.

“Some show, right?” Julian beams, watching the crowds disperse towards the exits. There is still enough people inside that the hubbub nearly drowns both of your voices out.

“Yes,” you agree. “What a twist, at the end.”

“I know, right?” Julian nods, looking off into the distance, deep in his memories. “I couldn’t have ever predicted it.”

You raise your binoculars to your eyes, spying on the passerby below. As you rove over the many faces, you speak to your date casually.

“I think you are a drama enthusiast like me. You enjoy plays very much?”

Julian’s voice bounces back with vigor.

“Certainly. Good ones, especially. I used to attend the smaller local ones, once upon a time. I am glad we share that interest. I noted your interest during the finale.”

Your brows lift, but you do not take your eyes from behind the binoculars.

“Yes, it was very good. I am surprised you are not a thespian yourself, Julian.”

He sighs softly, and you can almost feel him nodding next to you.

“I…I was, once. I decided to pursue a different passion that I held a bit more talent for. Medicine. But…we all live many lives, don’t we?”

You look to him and think of yourself, and all the lives you’ve lived up until now.

“We do,” you agree. “See, your theory is proven. Take a look.”

You slide over the binoculars and watch as Julian peers down into the crowd for himself. A smirk plays at his lips and you find yourself mirroring it. You both begin to share insights on the crowd below, leaning in close together against the banister and passing the binoculars back and forth between yourselves.

“Goodness, that fur looks ravishing on her!”

“So ‘ravishing’ that the fox could hop off her shoulders and run away, if I didn’t know any better!”

You laugh, doing poorly to hide your teeth behind your gloved hand. Julian smiles wider, clearly happy to have won humor from you. He carries on with the silliest of impressions based on the unsuspecting people below and you can hardly contain yourself, noticeably drawing some looks as both of your joy echoes around the emptying atrium.

A group of posh gentleman look up at you both in annoyance, and Julian and you retreat from the banister out of sight into your theater box. Giving each other a knowing grin, you both gather your belongings and carry yourselves out of the box with decorum and grace.

“We’re decent folk,” Julian jests, loud enough for only your ears as you both step over the velevet carpet of the theater. “Us? Bothering the well-to-do? Making charades of their lives? Impossible. I am a doctor, not a clown.”

You giggle at his antics, shaking your head.

“And I, sir, am a lady. I do not associate with such poor manner.”

“Quite!”

“Well…only sometimes, when I am with doctors.”

Julian chuckles himself, his smile widening. To anyone else, you both would seem as if you’re engaging in normal conversation expected to come from two of the upper crust attendees.

Only you know better.

Together, the two of you joke and laugh all the way out of the theater and to carriage waiting outside. Once you leave the breadth of the theater’s shelter, the winter chill grips you and you realize snow has begun to fall once more. The sun has long hidden away and the night stars twinkle above.

Julian pulls you closer, and hurries his steps to the carriage. You shiver as you take in his warmth, letting him draw you.

“After you, Lady _________,” Julian states formally, opening the door and offering a gloved hand to help you in.

You pause momentarily, looking from his hand and back to him. You glance around at all of the people drawing to their own carriages and horses. Many of them are with their partners and families, laughing and arguing and regaling tales of times from long ago.

You look back into Julian’s face, wondering if he will be at your side like that one day. It is a moment too soon to wonder on, yes.

But the wonder remains.

He looks back to you with a note of concern before you soothe it away with a nod and carry yourself into the carriage. He follows in soon after, with a resounding shut of the door, blocking away all outside noise and chill.

“So,” Julian poses, glancing your way. “Hungry?”

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

The restaurant he ends up taking you to is splendid. You can see the dazzling lights coming from within the dull building before the carriage even pulls to a full stop outside the establishment. The outside is nothing to write home about, but you’ve found in your time as a lady that some of the best places are well-hidden in mediocrity.

Julian seems to understand a similar concept.

“You’ll like it! Trust me,” he assures.

“I’m sure I will,” you agree. “I’ve liked everything else so far. I trust you.”

Those words seem to throw Julian off momentarily, as if he is not quite sure what to say or think.

“Well-I…well then!” He surmises, turning away with a finger pulling at his collar and a funny look.

He escorts you both into the restaurant. You are taken aback by the boisterous manner of the patrons inside. They are dressed well and are dining fine, but they are laughing louder than any crowds you’ve mingled in before and some are even dancing out in what looks like a dance floor.

Waiters rush past with heavy trays, topped in silver domes and bright drinks. A host gestures you and your escort through the fray, before greeting you and seating you.

‘Reservations yet again, you note to yourself pleasantly. The doctor is a meticulous man when he desires it, you think. How long has he been planning this evening, you wonder?

Following after the server host, Julian guides you through the tables and diners to your own table, lit by chandelier’s gleam and candlelight. You seat yourself after he pulls out your chair.

You both put in your order with the attentive waiter before turning to one another, taking it all in.

“It’s energetic here,” you begin.

“If that’s code for, ‘so loud that I we can barely hear each other’, then you’d be right!”

You chuckle, shrugging your shoulders. That wasn’t too far off the mark, but you liked the atmosphere. Your home and the places you roamed often held far more reservedness, so it was nice to be in a partying kind of place for once.

“Well, it’s definitely that. Is it always this way?”

“Usually! It used to a smaller affair. But the owner has done well over the years. Now anyone can come and have a good time. This used to be a rougher part of town, believe it or not. But the people never were. Just their circumstances. With a little finagling of political allies, and a few investments to infrastructure…this place thrives now. It’s better now that there’s more opportunity. Sometimes I don’t know if I miss the rough and tough days more, though. More fun that way.”

He winks, looking away to the crowds.

‘Rough and tough is more fun, hm? This one has an interesting story to tell, I’ll bet. And I wonder if that applies elsewhere...’

You are pulled out of your thoughts once you catch Julian staring intensely at you. He seemed to have thought you wouldn’t look his way and had been taking full advantage ogling you until he realized suddenly, and turned away. He turns back not even seconds later, clearly wanting to say something, but stuck on you.

‘Funny man.’

You almost speak until Julian beats you to the chase.

“Are you enjoying yourself? Tired, perhaps? It is no concern at all if you would like to draw the night to a close. I’m aware I packed in quite a bit into our first engagement. I just...erh...I want you to enjoy our time together. I’d like it very much if you remembered this night...”

‘...Or me,’ is left unsaid. But both of you seem to hear it loud and clear.

“I do not wish to retire,” you say. “I am content here with you.”

Julian smiles.

“Good.”

He begins to inquire about you, your likes, your dislikes, your past, your aspirations. You find the conversation flowing easily, and there is less pressure to answer as Julian clearly knows how to embellish humility in order to take the focus off of whoever he’s talking to. It’s easier to tell him something of a more sensitive nature when he's being vulnerable, himself.

You think to yourself as you converse.

Julian has taken you to a restaurant that he’s spent much time in before, it seems. He’s taken you to a theater he’s spent much time in. He’s taken you to a medical gala that he’s likely attended in a similar essence prior. All these places are pieces of him in a way, and yet he made sure that with each event, he attempted to upscale the experience for something to your liking. Julian is no lord, yet he knew he was dealing with a lady, and acted accordingly, even if his choices weren’t what some would call choices of propriety.

It’s not that you sought lavish things from him, necessarily, though those were certainly nice and of no harm. It’s how…he blended the two. How he blended what you may like and what he may like. It’s his clear consideration for you that shows throughout the evening.

You enjoyed that he wanted to show pieces of himself to you while still thinking of you. You liked how attentive and thoughtful he had been today. He was well-mannered, initiative, conversational, of good humor, and so on.

‘I would like to see him again,’ you decide resolutely. Of course, you had already known this back when you first laid eyes on him in your foyer. Yet after spending time with him, the desire has only cemented itself further in you.

You leave your thoughts and begin to observe the dancing and live band across the room, smiling at all the joy.

Julian notices, smirking.

“You dance?” he asks.

You glance over at him, a little awed. He’s such a tall, broad fellow. You find it hard to picture him dancing at all.

“Do you?”

He nods to the side.

“I can show you better than I could tell you.”

“Well in that case,” you say, setting aside your things. “let's see your best!”

Julian watches you stand before smiling, taking your hand, and leading you onto the dance floor.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

Plenty of dishes, steps, laughs, and locked gazes later, you are finally home in front of your abode.

Julian helps you out of the carriage, his hair in a flurry underneath his hat from all the dancing. You’re certain you haven’t fared much better, indulging in the vigor yourself back at the restaurant.

That hadn’t been the only thing that worked you up, either. Julian’s hands glancing off your body, his eyes piercing into you, the warmth of the collective crowds surrounding you and pressing you close...

...For a moment, you thought he might kiss you on the dance floor.

You feel a similar inkling now, watching him on your grand steps as you both stand before the door. He is watching you watch him, and time seems to hold under the soft, snowy sky.

‘Could I chance it?’

You look around. The carriage driver pretends to busy himself with fixing the horses’ saddles, and you pretend you didn’t notice one of your servants peeking through the curtains only to dash away in a flash.

‘Ugh. Maybe propriety and proper manner can be forgotten, just this once.’

As you fight to decide on what to do, Julian offers a hand and you grace him your own. He lifts your knuckles to his lips and kisses them smoothly before releasing you gently.

“May I have your favor, Lady ______?” he asks.

‘Ah, so he will do it the gentleman’s way.’

That saved you some trouble of deciding whether or not to have him take you away in his carriage into the night, away from good manner and courting ritual.

“You may,” you respond.

You reach to your bosom and pull out your engraved, courting handkerchief which had yet to see the light of day...until now. You hand it to Julian, and he neatly folds it with barely contained pleasure before placing it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

Now he knew your intentions, and you knew his.

“I will call for you again,” he says. It is not a question this time, it is not wavering. He seems to have found his nerve tonight, receiving your favor. Maybe it was the dancing. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the favor.

Or maybe, it was the moment?

“I will answer,” you say softly. It is not a lie.

Julian slides off his glove, raising the hand you had kissed only hours before. Your mark is still there, and there it remains as he brings it to his own lips. His eyes closed for a moment. The night is silent save for snowfall as he just holds the stance before finally lowering his hand and re-gloving it as if nothing had happened.

He knows he cannot have a kiss tonight. Not if he wants to honor you and the process. Yet, he knows you desire it. And you’ve both found your own, private way to rectify the dilemma.

“I look forward to our correspondence,” he promises. “Keep warm tonight.” The words are formal, but there is something tight and wound up in the tone that makes the hair on your skin stand at attention in the most delicious way.

You let your eyes drag up his frame from the soles of his shoes to the tip of his head before locking eyes with him.

“I surely will. If I can’t manage, well...perhaps I could send for a professional like you to do a house call?” you inquire subtly. You turn and ignore the undignified sound he makes, stepping through your doorway.

“Goodnight, Doctor!”

You close the door without a second glance and smile, sashaying all the way up to your rooms.

If anyone’s having the last laugh, it’s you. You’re looking forward to your future courting.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

AN: Do not copy, repost, translate, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

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clnriswood · 3 years ago

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DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Something Different | Part Seven

a/n: hi friends! back from the dead and soso excited for this part and the future ones! the angst, tension, drama, & smut are only gonna go up so PREPARE hehehe. ;)

tag list: @call-me-banana-bandit @pillowjj @truly-insatiable @natsiboo @justmesadgirl @boredoffmebox @jjjmaybank @jejegu @ superpowereddonut @irritantive @salemlilly @marshmelloyellow02 @puffymints @is-it-really-a-secret @i-mmunity @sebastiansass @hisoldlover @kyobien @averagefangirl21 @inurealiyah @fuzzzwald @lesfleursmonet @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @darkqueennyx-blog @cityintexas-dallas @summerconcerto

The aftermath of Hufflepuff’s victory over Ravenclaw was certainly eventful. After a rowdy end to the match on the field, students took to various parts of the castle; with some heading to the Great Hall for food, others taking residence upon the grass beneath the cloudy skies, and some, like the worn out quidditch players, exhaustedly climbing back to their dormitories for a shower and some well needed rest. When evening came to fall, what followed of course, was a large celebration. As the sun began its orange descent through the puffy white clouds outside the girl’s floor, Hufflepuff’s chattered excitedly and assumed the goods for what would turn into a commotion filled house party. That night, Y/N, Hannah, and some of the other girls had even taken it upon themselves to glue little gold stars and sparkles to their cheeks in honor of the festivities. The girl, now freshly cleaned up, spritzed with perfume, and wearing a short black dress made of satin, had swapped her dark boots out for a bright yellow one, and had curled the long shiny hair which lay over her shoulders. Her girlfriend’s had all whooped in approval upon her descent down into the barrel-shaped Common Room, but none had shown more enthusiasm than Cedric, who had stumbled excitedly over to his girl, thrown an arm around her little shoulders, and announced her as Hufflepuff’s victor, which felt both underserved and embarrassing for her. He himself looked dashing as ever. Sporting a yellow cable-knit over his dark jeans, a head of freshly washed golden-brown locks, and a jovial attitude, the boy practically radiated sunshine through the lantern-lit room. And somehow, he even smelt of warmth and comfort, too. But, facing him then, after previously having made out with him in front of the whole school, the girl’s stomach lurched. Not because she regretted it in the slightest, but because she was unaware of what step followed, as well as suddenly very conscious of the millions of butterflies that bounced around her stomach upon simply looking at him. And so, taking an unusual approach to her normal behavior, Y/N turned happily to any alcohol that was passed her way that night. Where she would normally politely refuse, the girl instead partook in every party game of the evening (most of which she performed miserably in), and filled her belly with so much champagne that she found herself hurriedly rushing into corners to belch. Her now boyfriend, or whatever Cedric was to her, assumed the position of a responsible house Prefect. Remaining relatively sober, he chose instead to focus his attention on his comically drunk girlfriend. As the night drew on, the blaring sounds of wizarding world music dulled, gold and black glitter bombs drained empty, and clusters of students trickled out to go hook up in various parts of the castle as they normally might. Leaving just Y/N, Julian, Ernie, Hannah, and a handful of other stragglers, Cedric had disappeared momentarily to produce large mugs of water for all of his tipsy companions. Upon his return, he was met with the rather strange sight of his friends standing upon various squishy chairs and wooden tables, with their wands in the air and drunken voices bellowing.

“Ced!” the girl barked with a laugh when the brunette rounded the corner with his hands full. “Don’t come here, you’ll step in the lava!”

Cedric snorted with confusion, “excuse me?”

“Ced you’ll DIE!” Julian declared dramatically. “You’ll burn your feet, you see. There’s lava down there!”

Cedric’s huge ocean eyes drifted to the creaky wooden floors of the room, which were very obviously not layered thick with hot lava.

“It’s a muggle game I’ve taught them,” Hannah giggled from atop a cushion on the floor. “If you touch the ground, you lose!”

“Yes,” Ernie mumbled feebly from the ground where he lay flat. “I’ve just died. Your girlfriend pushed me to my death.”

Cedric’s glimmering gaze crinkled happily as he moved his eyes to Y/N, “is this true?”

From atop a sofa, where she was perched precariously on its armrest, the girl shook her head in vigorous denial. In fact, she shook it so violently that she went slipping forward and tumbled face first into the brown squishy fabric with a delayed squeal. Laughing drunkenly, she sat up, untangled her twisted bare legs, and blew a few locks of hair from her lip.

“Alright, alright,” Cedric laughed, setting down a cluster of waters. “All of you, drink a glass.”

His friends collectively groaned in protest.

“C’mon,” he scrunched his nose. “Not an option. Get up now.”

Reluctantly, the group groaned and made their way over to the towering boy, cupping their cold glasses of water to their lips and taking tentative slurps. As she took her own, Y/N felt Cedric’s long fingers latch to her own, catching the glass between the two of them as he pulled her gently forward with a lovingly worried glare.

“And you,” he stopped her. “Let’s get you up to bed, shall we?”

“But--” she opened her mouth defensively.

“No no no,” he pushed the glass to the girl’s lips, silencing her as she swallowed the liquid down in silence. “No buts,” he hummed softly, nodding at her to continue drinking until she’d finished the whole thing. When she did, he mumbled softly, “goog girl. C’mon.”

Taking her little hand in his large one, Cedric addressed the group, “all of you, don’t be fooling about too late, alright? I’ve got to go take care of this one.”

“Yeah, Ced!” the boys clapped and whistled with a wink. “Very sure you’ll be taking great care of her!”

Cedrc’s face flushed furiously red as the oblivious girl behind him slumped sleepily over his arm, clutching it with both of her hands like a child. In front of her, Hannah threw her remaining water on her boy friends, who both cried out in surprise.

“Shut it, boys,” she said cooly, waving Cedric off with a grin.

Giving her a grateful nod, Cedric turned and guided his girl over to the stairs to her floor. Upon seeing them, the girl squinted, her head spinning.

“Ced?” she slurred quietly. “Why are there three sets of stairs?”

“Oh my god,” the boy chuckled with a shake of his head. “Alright, you. Come here.”

Too drunk to question him, the girl responded instantly to the boy’s move to crouch down. Latching her arms around his neck, she climbed aboard Cedric’s strong arms and curled her nose to his cool neck, where she breathed in his delicious aftershave and mumbled incoherently into his skin, making him grin. Effortlessly, Cedric cradled her to his muscular chest and began climbing the stairs, his eyes never moving from her long lashes and parted lips as he went. Finally, reaching her room, he pushed the wooden door open with his knee and stepped into the space with a drawn sigh.

“There you are,” he cooed softly, setting the sluggish girl down upon her golden-yellow quilts.

“Thanks,” she said, her eyes opening as she blearily watched the boy move around the room.

First he closed her open windows, shutting off the chill which ran goosebumps down her thighs. Then he drew his wand, muttering soft spells as he lit the vanilla scented candles around the place before extinguishing the bedroom’s lanterns. Finally, he came back before her again, crouching on his knees beside her bed and slowly pulling the boots off of the feet which she’d hung over the side of her mattress. The girl uttered a feeble thanks as she sat up a little straighter, looking at the boy who sat tentatively beneath her nose. His large blue-green eyes blinked slowly up at her little face as he drew a hand to her skin and pushed her hair back behind her exposed shoulders, the gesture sending currents through the girl’s flesh.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered adoringly.

“Sorry,” she scrunched her nose in self-shame and folded her arms nervously over each other.

“Don't be,” he gave an attractive low chuckle, “you’re adorable.”

The girl felt her smile crack wide, and she gave him a slowish wave of bashfulness, “Ced.”

“It’s true,” he worded, his eyes now darting over her face, sparkling brighter in the candlelight than she’d ever seen them shine before.

The girl indicated at herself with a giggle, “I’m a disaster. Look at me.”

Cedric’s mouth opened, and he let it hang there for a second as he just admired her in silence, “I am.”

There were the butterflies again. No amount of alcohol could rid her of them now, she thought as she sat inches away from the beautiful boy before her. Not when he talked like that. Not when he looked like that.

The girl, unable to contain herself, laughed.

Cedric tilted his head with surprise, “what? What is it?”

Bringing her hand over her mouth, the girl sniggered, hunching over so that her forehead touched the boy’s, and then spoke through her giggle.

“Nothing,” she smiled, her big eyes alert now as she stared down into his.

Making no effort to remove himself of her touch, Cedric adjusted his posture so that she could reach his forehead better. Then he grinned an earth-shatteringly handsome grin, and brought a large hand up to cup her pink flushed cheeks.

“Well,” he ignored her, “what is it?”

The girl’s smile faded until she was left with nothing but sort of a nervous grimace on her lips.

“Well, Cedric Diggory,” she said quietly, tucking her lower lip between her teeth, “I think you’re very pretty.”

This took him off guard. Laughing, the boy threw his head back, his hand dropping to the girl’s knees as he let loose one of those laughs that sent her butterflies charging back to full force speed in her stomach. Letting the initial shock wear off, Cedric hummed lowly and adjusted his hand, letting it run a little down the girl’s sun-kissed thighs. If possible, the number of butterflies doubled.

“I’m pretty?” he worded slowly, tilting his perfectly sculpted jaw up to the girl’s.

As she stared at him now, the inky dark bouncing from the surrounding candle’s flames and illuminating his deathly gorgeous bronze skin and high cheekbones, the girl nodded.

“Yes. I think you are.”

Rather than responding verbally, he let his throat simply rumble in interest.

“I like your big blue and green eyes,” she explained softly, her heart pattering as she fawned over the boy. “And your curly brown hair. It never sits perfectly still over your brow,” she explained. “I like your broad shoulders and golden-soaked skin,” she continued, barely taking notice of his quickly reddening face. “And your lips,” she finished softly, her lashes fluttering as she feasted hungrily open his round pink mouth with her eyes. “I like how they feel.”

Cedric didn’t reply. Sitting in the silence for a moment, the girl went still, her throat hardening as her eyes moved back to his blue stare, which was now wide with surprise like she’d never seen before. His fingers were shaking a little against her thigh, she noticed.

“Sorry,” she breathed awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

Cedirc’s mouth twitched, his head tilting, “no, I enjoyed it.”

“You did?” she giggled, flashing him her teeth.

He let out a breathy laugh, “of course,” he said. “Of course I did. I enjoyed everything today.”

“You did?” she said again, her stomach lurching with excitement.

“I did,” he echoed softly, his voice low. “Though I must admit I was a little taken aback by some of it.”

The girl nodded semi-attentively as she moved a hand over his, letting her fingertips play with the boy’s and nudging him gently up her thighs with encouragement. Cedric swallowed, his jaw pulsating visibly now as he spoke to her mischief.

“A lot of it,” he corrected, his voice lowering further.

“Yeah?” she teased innocently, making a triangle shape over his face with her eyes.

Meeting her wishful gaze again, Cedric’s glittering eyes darkened, and he swallowed a harsh gulp as he let the girl mindlessly work his fingers over her legs.

“Yeah,” he echoed once more, his barely audible croak dripping with desire.

Letting the butterflies steer her, the girl brought her free hand up to the boy’s face. With her right hand over his, and her left perched against his god-like carved cheekbones, she edged the boy forward. Bringing her lips down and his up, she beckoned his mouth to hers, and latched cautiously to him with a gentle hum. She felt him tense momentarily, but upon feeling her smile against his pink lips, the boy softened. Meeting her smile with his own, Cedric grinned into the kiss, his free hand coming up to clutch her face so that she sat perched above him on the bed, the both of them fastened firmly in each other’s steady hold. A little giggle crawled from the girl’s mouth and into his, making the boy release a gentle groan of enthusiasm as she released her right hand from his and used it instead to pull the boy face-first up towards her. He was upright on his knees now, their faces level with one another as the kiss deepened, the two finding themselves working a little faster, and a little harder. Feeling the bundle beneath her legs clench uncomfortably, the girl’s mouth fell open, and she let Cedric collect the little moan which spilled out. Upon receiving it, his mouth opened wholly against hers, and he laughed a laugh of mingled pleasure and frustration, Blushing furiously against his hands, the girl retracted defensively, but he caught her lips on his once more and raised his body, his long and muscular form bending slowly over her as Cedric took the opportunity to trap her flat against her soft sheets, his weight hovering above hers. Now he held the dominating position over her, with the girl caged on her bed beneath him. For a moment, they stopped. He had one leg beneath her opened ones, which she instinctively straddled herself against, and another to the right of her. His long mop of hair fell attractively over his eyes, which she noticed now were a darkish stormy blue, the normal little sparkle contained within them snuffed entirely. The boy stared with wide eyes into those of the drunken girl beneath him, whose lids were heavy with mingled intoxication and lust. Staring at her like he was in disbelief of the situation entirely, the boy released a gentle laugh, and his right hand came up to brush her hair back against her shoulders as he’d done before. Taking a moment to let his awe rest upon her, the boy bent down against his girl, his lips briefly finding the tip of her little nose as he rested a kiss upon it. Smiling, and with a furiously racing heart, the girl snaked her hands into Cedric’s golden-brown locks, and gently eased his neck down, so that he was kissing her once more. Then, pulling him from behind, she rolled her little legs over his waist, and twisted him so that he might be lying under her. With the upper hand now, the two sat upright, with the girl asserting a dominant position as Cedric cradled her in his lap. This time, she was upon him ravenously. She tugged and pulled at his hair, giving his bottom lip a nibble before cautiously creeping her tongue into his mouth. Reciprocating with an audible groan, Cedric’s large hands slipped unsurely down her waist like hot butter, unsure of where he wanted to grasp her first. Eventually, he settled on her waist, where he moved his fingers down her satin fabric and to her bare flesh. Catching his tongue between her teeth, she grinned and held the boy there like that, stopping to let her hands fumble at his waist before going snaking up his sweater. But, she’d barely felt the rippling expanse of muscle beneath his shirt before Cedric was pushing her hands away. Grumbling with confusion, the girl resumed kissing him, but he was slow and unsure this time, and his hands began to slip away from her burning skin.

“Hey.”

The girl pulled her head back, letting her heavy lids open slowly. Cedric looked irresistible before her. His hair was a tousled disaster, and his lips were swollen from her kisses. Only, he wore a look of dejection upon his perfect features.

Stilling, the girl froze against his lap, “hi.”

Cedric’s nostrils flared, and he ran his long fingers through his hair nervously, giving a little awkward laugh before turning his flushed cheeks to the side with embarrassment.

“I think, erm--” he said, pausing to catch his still heaving breath, “I think maybe we should stop.”

Her stomach dropped. Moving her hands quickly to her lap, the girl burned red.

“Oh,” she said through a murmured slur, “why? Do you not… like this?”

Cedric grimaced first, and then laughed. It was strained and forced. Turning his weary ocean eyes to her, he moved his gaze across the girl’s disdainful face with guilt. Breathing in her scent, soft linens and lavender, his shoulders slumped.

“No I--” he began, flustered. “I do. Of course I do. I just… I think we should wait before we do anything we might regret, you know?”

The girl’s eyes narrowed with hurt, and she found herself unable to look at him.

“You’d regret this?” she whispered gently, fixating her stare on a nearby candle.

“No--” he tried unsuccessfully.

“Do you not want this?” she interrupted, pushing her messied hair behind her ears and stopping her lip between her teeth with a strained sigh.

“Y/N,” he sighed frustratedly. “I-- hey. Hey, look at me.”

She did. His head was tilted, and his eyes were filled with frustration. Taking her hand in his own, Cedric ran a thumb across her skin and lowered his eyes so that they were more level with her own.

“Are you kidding?” he chuckled. “Of course I want this.”

The girl blinked disbelievingly at him.

Shaking his head, Cedric groaned in exasperation and shook out his golden hair with a bitter chuckle.

“I want this,” he complained to the ceiling before drawing his eyes upon her again. “I’ve been wanting this,” he corrected, shaking his head with a little laugh.

Still, the girl sat frozen. It wasn’t making sense, then.

“My god, Y/N,” he breathed in defeat, “what more must I say for you to believe me?! Have you even stopped to account for what--” he bit his lip with a chuckle before choosing his next words. He let them come in a sheepish stutter. “Are you feeling me, right now?”

The girl instinctively furrowed her brow. Confused at first, she shifted her hips against Cedric’s lap, only to find herself quite glarily met with the harsh lump beneath his jeans meeting her clothed bundle of nerves. Two things happened. First, feeling a jolt through her core, the girl mechanically adjusted herself to feel more comfortable, so that she was right on top of his prominent erection. It felt better like that, when he was pressed harshly to her heat. Simultaneously, Cedric’s mouth came open, and his hips jerked as he twitched against her with a distraught groan.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he cursed, releasing a short and sharp gasp, his lashes fluttering.

He’d said it as she went to move away, realizing her mistake. Blushing furiously, the girl slid off of Cedric’s lap and covered her mouth shamefully with her fingers.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

But even as she’d said it, the words sounded like a lie. It’s not that it had been intentional, but, well she certainly hadn’t minded the moment. Nor, she thought, had she minded his cursing. Normally quite reserved, it felt odd, but satisfying, to see him like this. Cedric shook his head disbelievingly, moaning to himself as he moved his legs to sit up straight and lean forward on his lap. Eventually, after about a minute, he turned his cheek against his opened palms to stare at his tipsy girlfriend, who was simply blinking back at him innocently.

“So... you do like it?” she tried quietly.

Throwing his hands up in defeat as he stood, Cedric hollered a miserable “YES!”

“Well then,” the girl said, folding her legs together and shrinking against her pillows, “why won’t you have me?”

Cedric sighed, running his hands through his hair again and turning briefly to the starry expanse outside.

“Because,” he explained, “because it shouldn’t be like this.”

“Why?” the girl stood, approaching him.

Placing a palm to his back, and another to his shoulder, the girl attempted to turn the boy towards her. But he was deathly still as he spoke to the wall.

“Because it’s too fast,” he uttered softly. “Because I just got you, and I don’t want to rush things now.”

“Bu--” the girl opened her mouth.

“Because you’re inebriated,” he said seriously, turning to face her now.

He was grim as he towered over her. He was torn over what he wanted, and what was right. But the girl, too drunk and charged to decipher this, grew defensive.

“Ced,” she said flatly. “Alcohol or not, I want this, okay? And I only drank in the first place because you make me so nervous, anyways.”

Cedric’s brows raised with surprise.

“And besides, it shouldn’t matter about timing. We've waited this long, haven’t we?”

His brows lowered slowly. She could see the cogs in his mind whirring as he prepared his next words.

“Y/N,” he breathed quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You haven’t-- you haven’t done this before, have you?”

The girl felt her cheeks burn, and she stuttered wordlessly as she pulled a hand through her long hair.

“No,” she managed after a moment.

It was true. In her many years at Hogwarts, getting around to that had never really been in the cards for the girl. It wasn’t as if it was something she didn’t think about, but more so that there never seemed to be the time, place, or person for it. But now, with him, she found no reason to wait a moment longer.

Cedric’s huge blue-green eyes softened, and he released a gentle sigh.

“Right,” he said softly. “Well, erm-- that’s something very special, you know? The first time, I mean. At least it should be.”

Cedric shook his head gently, bringing his fingertips up to brush the girl’s tousled hair from her eyes.

“And it should be for you as well.”

Warming under his touch, the girl whispered, “but it is. With you, it is.”

He let his hand drop, his face falling as he moved it back into the pocket of his jeans. He looked at her with some sort of expression. Was it pity? She wasn’t sure, but it certainly put her off.

“I’m sorry,” he managed at last, his lashes fluttering, “but I can’t.”

Speechless, the girl just sat. Slowly lowering herself onto the mattress, her eyes began to nervously dart over the room, seeking solace anywhere but on the boy’s face. Who was he to decide what was right for her? Who was he to decide if it was special enough? Her eyes began to burn, and she bit the inside of her cheek anxiously. Not wanting Cedric to see her crying over something so ridiculous, she inhaled sharply and blinked up at him with a faux smile.

“Okay.”

Cedric shifted, his shoulders lifting and his gaze filling with speculation.

“Okay?” he responded.

“Yes,” she said, fighting to hold onto the facade. “Erm. Well. I’m quite tired. I think you should go.”

The brunette surely read through her act, she figured. He knew her too well not to. But he also knew when to respect her peace.

“Okay,” Cedric said again, blankly. “Well, goodnight.”

He stepped forward as if to give her a kiss, but reading her face, decided against it. She could see his fingers moving about restlessly, like he wanted to touch her but couldn’t. Resisting his urges, Cedric gave the girl a stiff smile and a curt nod, lines of worry crossing his forehead as he turned from her and walked wordlessly out of sight. Waiting a moment, the girl sat in silence. Then, with the coast clear, she let herself cry. Not the earth-shattering kind, but one of embarrassment. The tears fell quickly, and stopped soon after. The girl hiccuped softly as she chewed at her lip. Wiping harshly at her eyes, she stood from the bed and drifted past her mirror. She stopped for a moment to look at herself. Her neatly curled hair had fallen into messy waves, her nose burned pink at the end, and a faint smear of black mascara circled her tired eyes. Growing annoyed at the sight of herself, she turned away. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest so loudly that it echoed in her ears. Her throat had closed itself and gone unbearably dry. Pulling her curls into a sloppy ponytail, the girl seized her wand, procured a set of fresh clothes, and bundled them under her arm. Needing to escape the confines of her room, she decided to give herself a much needed bath. Still in her dress, the girl drunkenly wobbled out of the room and down the girl’s staircase. The Common Room, she noticed, was totally empty. With her roommate and friends nowhere to be seen, she assumed they had ignored Cedric’s advice and went about the castle to wreak more havoc. Walking sluggishly slow, the girl stumbled past the room’s entrance and down the halls of the castle. On her way, the occasional student or two would pass her, but they were so engrossed in their own adventures that she passed by them like an invisible apparition. The girl found herself taking many wrong turns as a result of her mental state, and cursed to herself as she went back on her steps. Finally, after a ridiculous amount of time, she reached the Prefect’s bathroom. When she reached the statue of Boris the Bewildered, she slapped her forehead.

“Shit,” she grumbled, struggling to remember the password.

The statue remained unsurprisingly still.

“Fuck,” she threw her head back. “It was pine… something. Pine clean?”

The statue didn’t move.

“Pine scent. Pines. Fresh Pines?”

Still yet, the door remained closed. Grumbling in exasperation, the girl sunk to the floor and just sat. Looking like an utter disaster, and admitting defeat, she crossed her legs on the cobbled floor and just stared at the entrance in thought. Her feet hurt, she thought. And her head swam. So, if she was going to stop and think about this, she might as well get comfortable. Not three seconds later, the password came to her.

“Pine fresh.”

She raised her head in surprise. She’d thought it, surely. But she hadn’t said it, she realized. Her eyes widening in horror, the girl turned her head to the right, where a shadowy figure emerged from the bathroom’s entrance. He was tall, slender, and even his silhouette looked deathly attractive.

“It’s pine fresh,” said Draco Malfoy, stepping into the light of the hall.

The girl felt her mouth hang. He towered above her, having just finished his own bath, she figured. His white hair was wet and devastatingly handsome upon his forehead, where little crystal droplets clung to his skin. He wore a pair of gray sweatpants, and rather than wearing a shirt, had one tossed over his shoulder. Clutching his emerald green towel to his chest, the boy ran the fabric against his head before reaching for the shirt, which he threw on so quickly that she’d barely had time to take sight of the definite ripples of muscles he sported, as well as the sharp V shape created by his pale and definite torso. Grimacing, the boy threw the towel over his left forearm, an intentional move which the girl failed to notice. She’d never in her life seen him looking so… normal. But it suited him frustratingly well. Moving to stand, and embarrassed beyond belief, the girl tried a half smile.

“Hullo,” she muttered nervously, her lashes fluttering as she stared at the boy.

Ignoring her greeting, the boy huffed, “you’re welcome.”

Feeling her cheeks redden, she protested, “I was going to get it.”

Draco laughed bitterly, his attitude unreasonably cool, “sure you were.”

“I was,” the girl hissed through her teeth, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to control her swimming vision.

Draco opened his mouth retort, but seeing her struggle, relaxed his shoulders. Then, unable to control himself, his thin lips split into a sick smile.

“You’re drunk,” he stated, moving his long fingers into his pockets with a low chuckle.

“No I’m not,” the girl tried unconvincingly. “How would you know?”

“Y/N,” he phrased, wearing a very know-it-all expression, “where are your shoes?”

Stilling, the girl looked down. He was right, she realized. In her delirious escape from her room, she’d completely abandoned her boots and gone trotting down the halls of the school completely barefoot. Feeling her blood grow hot, she raised her wide eyes in shock.

“Erm--” she tried.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Draco shook his head coldly, and brushed past her, his shoulder giving hers a good thump.

“Hey,” she snapped, turning.

Draco barely moved his head as his feet drew to a stop, “what?”

“You’re--” the girl stammered with vexation, “you’re being rude.”

This got his attention. Turning slowly, the snow-white boy came to face her, and leaned lazily back against his heels.

“What?” he challenged coldly.

“You’re being off,” she tried again, trying her best to make her words sound coherent and non slurred. “You’re acting like Malfoy and not Draco.”

She realized how stupid it had sounded immediately. Blushing, she folded her arms over her chest. No matter, Draco seemed to understand her point anyways.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked rather loudly.

He shook his head, rubbing his right hand to his mouth with a bitter chuckle as his icy eyes travelled to a nearby wall.

“No,” he settled quietly.

“You’re lying,” she snapped back, making the boy’s eyes narrow with dislike.

“Why would I be upset with you?” he replied flatly.

“I--” she tried, her chest lifting, “I… don’t know. But you are.”

Draco’s lips settled into a hard smile, “right.”

He waited for her to respond cleverly, but she didn’t. At first it looked like she was going to. Straightening, the girl opened her mouth. Then, quickly, she shut it. Her eyes doubling in size, the girl clapped a hand to her lips, her skin going sickly green as she stared at the boy in horror. Panicking, and feeling vile climb her throat, she whipped around, abandoning her confrontation of Draco Malfoy and flying into the bathroom.

The bathroom was stunning. The huge tall stone walls hugged tightly to the interior’s mosaic-like glass windows, and a large portrait of a graceful mermaid hung in its centre. In the centre of the room hung a splendid golden chandelier, filled to its cusp with glittering flames. Beneath it of course, was the grand marble bathtub. The floors were marble too, as were the large cylindrical pillars which towered to the roof. Surrounding the in-ground tub were about a hundred gold faucets, which the girl knew to spew marvelous colors and fantastic scents. But she hardly had her mind on that now. As she stumbled towards the centre of the room, seeing about three of everything, the girl tripped and scuttled. Coming to the ground near the edge of the tub, she lay curled against its frame, her hot cheek to the cold surface. Her chest heaving, the girl groaned in disgust and swallowed down whatever was trying to come up. For about a minute, she just lay there, waiting for the nausea to pass. When it did, she folded herself upright and leaned against her knees, too inebriated to find strength.

“My god, you’re a wreck.”

Draco Malfoy’s footsteps sounded from behind her, the footfalls clacking loudly against the hard floors as he approached the girl from behind. With her eyes closed, she paid him no mind. Not in the mood to hear him gloat, she dismissed the boy. Eventually he came to a stop behind her, his voice sounding from behind her ear.

“Y/N,” he commanded softly.

Her lashes fluttering, the girl blinked blearily up at the boy, his perfectly hollowed cheeks, and his intense crystalline stare. Seeing her in this state, his shoulders relaxed. Dropping whatever frustration he’d assumed, the boy sighed, tilting his head to the right and looking at her like she was a wounded creature.

“This doesn’t mean I’m happy with you,” he mumbled at last. “But I’m going to help you get into this bath.”

Sitting up, the girl tilted her jaw up to the crouched Slytherin.

“So you are mad at me,” she stated with a short sigh of defeat.

The slender boy’s lips twitched a little, “that’s what you took away from what I said?”

“Yes,” she mumbled and clutched her hands to the bath. “I don’t need your help anyways.”

There it was again. That beautiful but pitiful laugh. Draco’s cheek creased with a dimple as he smirked in disbelief at the defiant Hufflepuff.

“I’m helping,” he ignored her.

Growing annoyed, the girl bit her cheek and threw her towel to the side, her hands unsteady as she moved them to the back of her dress. Aiming to prove a point, she tried to unzip it herself. Failing of course, she dropped her little arms in defeat and hung her head. Seeing this, Draco pulled his lower lip between his teeth, suppressing laughter.

“Here,” he said, fighting off her waving hands as he leaned forward.

Settling onto his knees, the boy slapped the girl’s hand away and bent forward. He smelt deliciously of mint and dark cologne, and his skin sparkled where water still clung to its smooth and flawless surface. Sighing, he brought his long fingers to the girl’s back. As if he’d done it a million times before, without even looking, he tugged at her zipper. Feeling the dress loosen around her shoulders, the girl clutched at her chest so as to stop the satin fabric from revealing any more than the expanse of her back which was invisible to the boy. As he moved back, his cold and ring-clad fingers brushed the ridges of her protruding back bones, sending a wave of cold electricity through her flesh, and making her adjust nervously. Still sitting, the girl shifted, holding the dress to her body and following Draco’s eyes. Icy blue as ever, they swept down her neck, around her shoulders, and to her still-covered chest. Then they were back on hers. She was finding it oddly hard to breathe, but Draco didn’t seem to pay her faltered breath any attention.

“Which soap would you like?” he asked flatly, folding his long arms over one another and resting them over his sweats.

She just stared at him, still a little taken aback by his promptness. When she didn’t reply, he sighed with exasperation.

“Lavender,” he spoke quietly. “You use lavender.”

Carrying an I’ll-do-it-myself attitude, the boy reached swiftly over the girl’s leg, and wrenched at a golden knob. His body was nearly touching hers as his slender frame made no effort to avoid her feminine one. Immediately, a stream of light purple liquid poured from its tip. Then turning the water on to a scalding hot temperature, the boy watched mindlessly as hot jets of fluid crashed into the large bath, meeting the soap and frothing itself together into a wonderfully pleasant concoction of smells and giant bubbles. As the tub filled, he retracted his arm, letting his skin touch the girl’s again, very briefly. Stunning her further, the girl felt her mouth dry. He was incredibly assertive, and maddeningly attractive.

“How do you know I use lavender?” she said after a moment.

For perhaps the first time ever, his confident demeanor wavered. The boy’s lips bent into a frown, and his intense eyes blinked quickly as he cleared his throat and sat back against his heels.

“I don’t,” he lied at last. “I just picked whichever one I’d thought of.”

Accepting this lie, the girl nodded slowly, “oh.”

Desperate for a change of topic, and waiting for the bath to fill, Draco turned back to her. His eyes did their incredibly annoying scrutinization scan, wherein they moved over her every facial feature. Settling at last on her eyes, the boy spoke.

“You’ve been crying,” he said.

Finding it hard to hold his dominating stare, the girl shook her head.

Draco grimaced, “you lie to me so frequently.”

The girl’s mouth opened. It did seem to be the case. But only because she wanted to spare herself the task of recounting her embarrassing misfortunes. Not knowing how to reply, she sat in silence, making no move to recoil when Draco brought his right hand up to her face. First, he quickly sucked the corner of his thumb. Then, as if it were nothing, he brought it to her cheek, and rubbed its moist edge under her eyes, taking away with it the black smudges which she sported. The girl froze under his touch, her breath cemented to her throat as he did the same to her other eye. When he was done, calmly, he reclined, but only a little. His hand dropped to the space between their bodies, and he nonchalantly rested his long white fingers ever so slightly over the girl’s exposed thighs.

“I like your little stars,” he indicated at her cheeks.

The girl released a raspy and unsure “thanks.”

He nodded, drawing back to his previous statement.

“Why were you crying?” he asked. “You single handedly won your house a quidditch match today. And you snogged Diggory, which you seemed pretty happy about.”

He’d said it like it was nothing, but she detected a pang of jealousy in his tone.

“You should be celebrating,” he continued. “So why this?”

The girl shook her head, “Draco.”

“Tell me,” he persisted.

“Draco it’s embarrassing--” she clenched her teeth.

“Was it Diggory?” he tried blindly.

Seeing her tense at the words, Draco stiffened. It was apparent from her reaction that his shot in the dark was correct. As if a switch went off, his face grew angry and resentful. His nostrils flared and he blinked a few times, his teeth coming together and making his hard jaw pulsate with rage.

“What did he do?” Draco said, so quietly it frightened her.

Moving her eyes nervously to where the edges of his knuckles touched her thigh, the girl shook her head.

“What did he do?” Draco said again, demanding her reply.

“It’s nothing, alright? It’s shameful. And besides, it's my own fault,” she muttered.

“No,” he decided at once. “Tell me.”

She raised her eyes back up to his unblinking icy ones.

“Tell me,” he said again, more gently this time. “Please?”

Oh, Draco Malfoy. There was simply no fighting that beautiful blue glare.

“I tried to sleep with him,” she admitted all at once, ripping the bandaid off.

His face dropped further. Swallowing, Draco huffed a short breath and tore his little touch from her flesh. He threw his emerald towel over his forearms and bit at his lip, his eyes darting around as he gathered himself.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. “And then what?”

“Well we didn’t actually--” she sighed in embarrassment and brought her fingers up to her brow. “We didn’t actually do anything.”

His eyes were back on hers at once. Like melting ice, the boy’s body relaxed, and he released a long sigh.

“Oh,” he said, masking his relief with a purse of his lips.

“Yeah,” she voiced, pulling her hair nervously behind her ears. “He didn’t want to.”

Malfoy’s mouth fell open.

“What?” he gaped.

It was simply unbelievable to him. The mere concept was outer-worldly.

“Y-- yeah,” she stammered in continuation. “He erm-- didn’t like that I was drunk, I guess.”

Draco stifled a chuckle, “how admirable of him.”

“And also,” she slumped. “He said it was too fast. Said he just got me or something.”

Draco was dumbfounded once more.

“What?” his pale brows came together.

“And,” she continued, on a roll now, “had some thing about needing my first time to be special.”

This made Draco stiffen. His blue eyes darkened, and she watched as he ran his tongue over his teeth with frustration.

“Your first time?” he said back to her, his voice a little lower. “You’ve never--”

“Yes,” she admitted, laying it all out for him, and oblivious to his demeanor. “I know. Laugh if you please.”

Draco did, but it was one of confusion, “and why would I do that?”

Toying with the edges of her dress, she mumbled, “dunno. Since you’re well… you. You know?”

Draco tilted his head smugly to the side, his lips twitching in fascination.

“Hm?” his throat rumbled gently. “Because I’m me?”

Seeing this, meaning him playing smart, the girl shook her head.

“Never mind,” she grumbled, turning her head.

“Y/N.”

His index and middle fingers were under her chin, and with them alone he forced her jaw back to his. He leaned in a little, so that there was a dangerously small gap of space between their faces. His glorious crystal eyes were gentle as he held hers, and his scent hit her lungs full force, making her melt nervously against his cautious touch.

“Diggory is an idiot,” he whispered softly, giving her one of his rare and genuine smiles.

Her brows knitted, “what?”

“He’s a fool,” Draco said again, letting his hand drop.

His eyes moved to her hands, and then back to her face. Holding her gaze in wordless question, he reached a hand out, and extended his long fingers to the hands the girl had bundled against her breasts. Ever so slowly, he spread his cool fingers over her own, clutching her small hand against his. She could feel his rings pressed flush to her flesh. He sat in silence, staring at her as if to ask if it was alright. When she didn’t retract, he ran his tongue over his lip.

“Any man,” he murmured quietly, “who denies a woman of something she so clearly wants as cause of his own insecurities, is an idiot.”

Her hands were frozen to his, her lips agape as she blinked at him in surprise.

“And any man,” he breathed through a deep sigh, “who denies you?”

The girl felt her lashes fluttering, Draco speaking to her mouth now.

“Well,” he shook his head, “they’d be the most foolish yet.”

Even in her non-sober state, the girl could make out the intent behind his voice. At this, a wall of tension, which was the distance between their bodies, formed. The girl felt her breath catch in her throat once more, and her heart thrummed hard in her chest. Her fingers shaking, she found her eyes involuntarily drawn to Draco’s mouth.

“Draco,” she said, so softly it was barely heard.

He was silent as he released her hands, his right one coming up to her cheek. It started with his fingertips. They gently touched her skin for permission. At first she flinched a little, making him draw back for a moment. Then, leaning back into the tips of his touch, she relaxed. When she didn’t recoil, he flattened his cold fingers, letting his hand, which was the size of her face, cup her flush to his will. Moving his glittering eyes to hers, the boy hummed, his throat rumbling in satisfaction. And that was it. They didn’t do anything but sit there, the girl in a trance she could neither place nor defend. She’d never felt him so close, but the mere simplicity of his fingers to her cheek sent her into shock. As the realization set in, so did her guilt. She was drunk. That was the only reason she’d let it happen, if only for a moment, she thought as she pulled away with a clear of her throat.

“Draco,” she said again, embarrassingly this time.

His cool hand fell, her cheek burning from where he’d cradled it a moment ago.

“What?” his voice was low as feigned ignorance of his will.

Her eyes glued to the floor, she rubbed her fingers nervously over her lips, “you mustn’t.”

Again, he failed to hesitate.

“And why not?”

Her eyes came up to his frosty ones, whose lids were heavy as he stared her down. The girl felt her throat harden as she found herself unable to meet his energy. It was just a touch, she defended drunkenly in her mind. But a charged one. Charged with something she had never expected from him. And what was that? What did he want of it? Likely nothing but to toy with her. It was expected behaviour from Draco Malfoy, yet the unexpected nature had simply thrown her off. So it was the surprise, she concluded. It was him catching her off guard that made her hesitate.

“Well, why would you?” she muttered in desperate defeat.

“Because it’s what I want,” he stated simply. “And typically, I get that.”

His cheek made her only all the more frustrated. What on earth was he implying? She had grown used to his temerity and games by now, but never before had he played one like this. Her cheeks flooding crimson now, the girl forced her teeth against each other.

“What one desires isn’t always what’s right,” she retorted vaguely.

Draco bit his tongue. His thin and pale brows raised as he pondered uttering his dangerous next few words.

“Is that what Cedric told you?” his voice lowered perilously.

Her lips fell agape, lashes fluttering as she turned her nose down in mingled frustration and anger. How cruel of him to console her and then use her misfortunes against her only a mere minute later.

“You ought to go,” she said through a strangled whisper.

She didn’t bother looking to see how he’d reacted, but if she had, she would have seen the pang of regret that hung tight to the corners of his downturned lips.

“Right,” he grumbled softly, standing swiftly and turning a cold shoulder to the girl who sat beneath him.

But, as the water stopped sloshing about, a quiet silence fell. There were no echoes of footsteps as Draco Malfoy stood painfully still behind her. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, the girl turned her head. He was faced the other way, but his strong jaw was clenched tight as he turned it towards her.

“What?” she sighed softly.

Draco’s voice was deathly low as he muttered in soft reply.

“Can I still see you?”

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco x reader #draco x cedric #cedric x reader #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory imagines #cedric diggory #draco malfoy #cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory fluff #cedric x draco #cedric diggory fic #harry potter fic #harry potter imagines #fanfiction

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yutopia-eleftheria · 2 years ago

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ABC Fanart

I decided to do a little challenge called “ABC Fanart”, but I added an extra rule : I can’t do more than one character from a distinct universe. Like I can’t do both Anya and Yor from Spy X Family. This also means that all other stuff coming from that same universe are scrapped too.

For example, if I do a character from Inazuma Eleven, I can’t do a character from Inazuma Eleven Go, etc...

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A - Adaman from Pokémon Legends Arceus

B - Beidou from Genshin Impact

C - Clémentine from Telltale’s The Walking Dead Game Series, more specifically Season 4 a.k.a. The Final Season

D - Draken from Tokyo Revengers

E - Edgar Partinus/Valtinas from Inazuma Eleven Original Series (Season 3)

F - Funtime Bonnie from Five Nights At Freddy’s (Although they deserved to be canon, especially in Fnaf Sister Location or Pizzeria Simulator. Also you can choose weither it’s a boy or a girl ; I made the design ambiguous on purpose).

G - Grell Sutcliff from Black Butler

H - Hyakkimaru from Dororo

I - Isai from Monster Hunter Riders

J - Julian Konzern from Beyblade Metal Series (Metal Masters & Metal Fury)

K - Kaecilius from Doctor Strange

L - Lola Loud & her Genderbend Counterpart Lexx Loud from The Loud House (They’re in their Superhero Cosplay)

M - Miku Nakano from The Quintessential Quintuplets

N - Nijika from Nijika/Nijiro Prism Girl

O - Otto Kessel from the Criminal Case Game Series, more specifically Season 5 a.k.a The Conspiracy (in his pre-teen form (12 y.o.))

P - Pear Butter from My Little Pony Generation 4

Q - Quiche from Tokyo Mew Mew

R - Rui from Demon Slayer

S - Shadow Young from Xiaolin Showdown/Xiaolin Chronicles

T - Therion from Octopath Traveler

U - Unity from Saint Seiya The Lost Canvas

V - Vladimir Van Herzen from the Professor Layton Game Series (Pandora Box)

W - Wendy Marvell from Fairy Tail (Dragon Force)

X - Xayah from League of Legends (Arcana Skin)

Y - Yamato from One Piece

Z - Zane from Redakai

Time taken : More than 28 Hours

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 8 months ago

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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

TW: NSFW, bondage, uncomfy situations

The next time you see Dr. Julian, (which isn’t at the jail, because you fucking tried to go bail him out and they just looked at you like you were crazy when you kept insisting Dr. Julian Mercer had to be in there) he has a red mark around his neck, a black eye, and a bump on his temple that’s almost the size of a chicken egg.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you hiss, rushing over to him. He takes your elbow and ducks the two of you into a supply closet. You think he just wants to have a private conversation, until he backs you into the shelves with a tonsil-inspecting, toe-curling kiss, his big hands digging into your waist. You grab fistfuls of his lab coat, you are so surprised it doesn’t even occur to you to fight him. When he finally pulls back you are breathless—and in shock.

He seems to find this adorable, reaching up to caress your face. “Now all that was worth it,” he says cheekily.

You blink up at him, stupid as a lamb. “Did he hurt you?” you demand, trying to inspect the mark around his neck.

“We reached an understanding,” Julian assures you with a dark look, taking your hands in his own.

“But—“

“Don’t worry about it, y/n. Really.” It comes out like an order, and you don’t really like it when he talks to you that way, but you guess you understand that he doesn’t want to talk about Ludlow anymore.

“Ok.”

You are so going to worry about it. You also know there’s no way in hell that he’s going to want to see you anymore.

He looks down at you with that soft expression that warms your insides. “When’s your next day off?”

You blink again. “Friday?”

“Can I make you dinner?”

“You want…to cook for me?”

“At my place. Around seven. I’ll text you the address.”

You’re still not sure if that was a request or an order, but you’re so dumbfounded that it doesn’t even occur to you to offer an opinion.

“But what about…?”

“I’m not scared of him, y/n.” The marks on his face indicate that maybe he should be, but the set of this man’s jaw indicates that maybe Ludlow has met his match.

“I’m really sorry. About all of this.”

“I already told you, it’s not your fault.” There’s a flinty note in his voice, and you can tell he just wants you to drop it. Inwardly you flinch a little, but you nod.

***

You suppose because he’s banned from being treated by you at the hospital, pulling you over in the dead of night after your shift becomes his go-to game. Maybe you should have started taking a different route home, but the highway was the fastest (and usually safest) way to go, and the thought of changing your personal day-to-day just for this asshole makes you see red. You refuse, and so you keep getting pulled over, four more times for weaker and weaker excuses. Not signaling when changing lanes. Using your phone (you weren’t). An obstruction to vision hanging from your rearview. And the cherry on top—too dim fucking blinkers?

He even has the gall to check up on you, going so far as to inspect your wrists one evening, and turning your head from side to side with an authoritative finger hooked under your chin. “What do you think you’re doing?” you demand.

“Just making sure Dr. Bitch is behaving himself.”

“That is none of your business.”

“If he hurts you I’ll make it my business.” He just says it so casually. Water is wet, the sun is hot, and Tom Ludlow will fuck up Dr. Mercer’s day if he hurts you, even with consensual rough play. No one has ever stuck their neck out for you like that, and it is not helpful, what this misplaced concern does to your insides. This guy is 300% Pure Asshole. You should not be warming to him.

Truth be told, you are nervous about your date with Julian tomorrow night. Maybe he’s being sweet and cooking for you—but it will also be on his home turf, like meeting a wolf in his den. You don’t really think Julian would hurt you. In fact, the thought seems absurd. But then again…people never cease to surprise you. You see the result of mankind’s insatiable bloodthirst every day at work.

Despite your completely misplaced feelings for Officer Tom Ludlow, the fact stands that he is absolutely harassing you, and what he did to Julian outside the coffee shop was totally unacceptable. Maybe you don’t have any money to sue the LAPD like Julian does, but you’re not totally without a voice. The next morning you find yourself going downtown to the Police Headquarters to file a complaint.

The place is bustling, filled with uniforms and plainclothes and people from every walk of life. It reminds you of the hospital in a way, and a wisp of a thought occurs to you that it’s interesting that you and Officer Ludlow engage in the two professions that truly hold together the fabric of society. Politicians like to think what they do is important, but the two of you do the real dirty work to help people survive through their day to day. There could have been something to that between you—if he wasn’t such a fucking creeper in his off hours.

You follow the signs and the directions from various people behind desks to the Complaints Department. It’s a cordoned off area enclosed by glass. With your hand on the door handle you see who is sitting there behind a cheap mdf wood desk, looking unfairly handsome in his black beat uniform.

You freeze.

How the fuck is he everywhere at once? It dawns on you that if he’s working his shift here during the day—he’s fucking with you on his own time at night. It simultaneously creeps you out and thrills you to your toes, and you know you are one sick puppy.

You know you don’t have the guts to march in there and face him, so you decide to bounce. Of course, not before he turns his head at just the right moment. It’s like this man has a radar for your very presence, and your eyes meet through the glass.

He knows exactly why you’re here, of course, and he smirks at you as though to say, ‘Tell me all about it.’

Bastard.

You turn on your heel, and pray he doesn’t follow you.

***

Later that night, you find yourself seated at the island with a glass of white wine in Dr. Mercer’s Spanish Revival style home in Santa Monica, watching him cook for you. He’s utterly edible, in a pressed light blue button down and khakis that should look dorky but somehow he just makes them look GQ worthy. He’s even worn a tie for you. He’s also wearing an apron, and it’s not so corny as to say Kiss The Cook but you did anyway first thing upon walking through the door. You’d asked if you could help with the meal, and he’d declined with a gracious smile.

Now, you’re pretty sure he parked you here so you could get a view of his tight little rear end as he works at the stove.

You take another big sip of wine. It’s really not fair in the least.

He serves up chicken piccata with fresh vegetables out on the patio, complete with candlelight. The warm night breeze is like the breath of angels, and it’s possibly the most romantic dinner anyone has ever treated you to, and it makes you almost uncomfortable inside, how nice all this is. You know he’d said that he liked you, and he didn’t want a perfect girlfriend…but you can’t help but feel like an imposter here.

There were no candlelit dinners with homemade Italian food and fine wine back in Kansas. There were bonfires in someone’s daddy’s back farm field, copious amounts of beer, and you were lucky if you didn’t get knocked up on the bench seat of someone’s rusty old pickup truck before the night was out. Yee fuckin’ haw.

“You alright?” he asks, reaching across the table to touch your hand.

You realize that you have zoned out, while he was talking, again.

“Fine,” you answer quickly, bolstering yourself with another sip of wine. You’re on your second glass now—you should probably slow down, but it’s so good. “I was just thinking…about how nice, all this is. Thank you, Julian. You’re so sweet.”

He smiles at you from across the table, a winsome and heart-squeezing curl of lips, and he’s so handsome even with the now healing black eye.

“I’m maybe sensing some anxiety stemming from Imposter Syndrome,” he says gently.

“Is that your official diagnosis, Doctor?”

You can tell he likes it when you talk this way to him, even outside of the hospital. You can see it in the sparkle of his lovely mocha-brown eyes. “Something like that.” He leans in towards you, his elbows on the little bistro-style table, pinning you with that acute stare. “I don’t know what happened to you, where you came from, y/n. Maybe you’ll trust me enough to tell me later. But I do know that it’s in the past, and it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve something nice for yourself now. Does that make sense?”

It hits way too close to home, and with a sigh you lean back in your chair, unable to meet his eyes again.

“It sounds so easy, when you put it that way.”

He tilts his head as he examines you, and you’re afraid that attentive stare misses nothing. “I could make it easy, for you,” he offers quietly. Something about that soft but oh-so-sure tone lifts every little fine hair on your body, a wave of gooseflesh erupting across your skin. You feel like a rabbit flicking its ears at the sound of danger, not quite sure which direction it’s coming from.

“What do you mean?” you dare ask.

“It’s part of the appeal of submission for some people, to hand over complete control to someone you trust, to let them make you feel good. It can be an almost…therapeutic release. I think I could do that for you.”

Your heart chooses that moment to lodge itself in your throat, and it takes an embarrassingly long few seconds for you to find your voice again. As usual when you feel wildly uncomfortable, you opt for humor. “Wow, do you subscribe this to your patients often?”

He chuckles, and it is dark and rich as bitter chocolate. “No, though maybe I should.”

You can’t help but notice you haven’t even made it through the main course, before he is bringing this up again. It must be something he really wants from you—and a part of you still finds that so hard to believe. He’d said your defiance on that patient’s discharge triggered this need in him. You wonder if there are other things about you, that has made him zero you out. It’s happened to you before. Narcissists just seem to sniff you out like they’re fucking bloodhounds.

Is Julian like that, underneath all the good looks, the pleasantness, the charm?

Does he think you’d be easy to control? Or does he want a challenge because your dumb ass is stubborn as a mule?

Does he know that if things go badly, you have no one here to offer recourse?

Unless, of course, you count Officer Tom Ludlow, but dear lord that is not the backup plan you want to rely on.

“Well…I’m still thinking about all that,” you deflect, throwing your attention into coiling pasta around your fork, trying not to appear like a complete philistine.

He has the grace not to appear disappointed, though there is a certain sharpness in his look now, and you have a feeling Dr. Mercer is not used to not getting his way, eventually.

***

Julian does let you help with the dishes, and pours you yet another glass of wine. “Digestivo,” he says with a perfect accent and a little smile to himself. He explains it’s the word for the “after dinner drink” in Italy. Apparently it’s usually a liquor, but it seems he doesn’t want you that drunk.

At least, not yet.

He asks if you want to watch a movie or listen to some music? You agree, ask him to pick something out, and excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. When you return he is stretched out on the couch, looking utterly handsome, and you find yourself just staring while his head is turned towards the massive TV.

“I know you’re there,” he finally says with a little smile, turning to look at you knowingly. Cautiously you approach, glad for some reason that the tall back of the leather couch is between you. Perhaps the soft little woodland creature that will forever live inside you senses the wolf nearby, even if it’s wearing Brooks Brothers.

“Sorry,” you say apologetically, soft-pawing further into the room. You dare to lean on the back of the couch to look down at him, not quite ready to join him on his level. He seems to understand all too well, and is completely amused by it.

“That’s ok. I can’t keep my eyes off you either. You’re so beautiful.”

You let out a long breath through your nose, never comfortable with what to say to it. You’d been assured by so many people in your early life, that you were in fact an ugly little toad worth less than nothing. Later, those that told you that you were pretty, hurt you in different ways. You wish you could just…take it at face value, and say thanks, without overanalyzing it six hundred ways from Sunday.

“You don’t think so?” He asks, looking up at you with curious eyes. Since you walked through his door tonight, you’ve felt like he’s been studying you, and you sincerely hope it’s not to find your weaknesses and exploit them but rather understand them.

It would be so nice to be understood by a man like Julian, even if he is chaining you to a wall and whipping you while doing it. The thought makes you giggle, and this seems to perplex and amuse him.

“Well?” He asks, reaching up to boldly smooth your cheekbone. “You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

You try to blame your honesty on the wine when you answer truthfully: “not really.”

Most men don’t want to hear about insecurities and flaws; they want self actualized, confident women who carry themselves in a way you’ll never be able to. It's hard to have self esteem, especially when you’ve spent the majority of your life getting told you shouldn’t have any.

“Hmm.” His thumb rests lightly on your chin, and he parts your mouth a little like he means to kiss you, although he makes no actual move to do so. “That’s another thing I could help you with.”

You're a little lost in the white capped crash of your thoughts, of the pleasant heat in his long, skilled fingers, of the endless dark in his blown black eyes. It takes you a full thirty seconds to think about the conversation, and even then you have to stupidly ask: “what?”

“Feeling beautiful, because you are.” Maybe you don’t mind the bossy, matter of fact tone as much when it’s demanding that you’re worthy and pretty.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” You ask, because you can’t stop thinking about how good his mouth feels on your face.

“Ask me nicely.” That big thumb runs a torturous line over your parted bottom lip.

“You ask me,” you challenge, giggling at your own insolence.

Oh, he loves that, when you push back. The wicked, lazy grin says it all. “How about I make you?”

You press your tummy against the soft, worn leather of his couch to lift yourself up and over, cupping his cheeks and pecking a little kiss to his silky lips. “I’d like to see you try.”

Apparently this is the absolute wrong thing—or absolute right thing—to say to this man, to make him spring up and over the couch, lithe as a panther in his pursuit of you, a feral grin in place. You are not proud, but your first instinct is to bolt, a little scream escaping your lips.

Which is stupid, of course, because he has the body of a runner and legs that are a mile long. You have no idea where you are going, down a convenient hallway. You make it three steps before this man has you grabbed up in his long arms, and he is kissing you as though he means to inhale you. He presses you into the wall, his solid weight so delicious against you, and you know there is no escape unless he decides to let you go.

Somehow, you don’t forsee that happening any time soon.

You surge up on tiptoe to meet him with a moan, your hands sliding over the trim muscles of his chest. He easily grasps both your wrists in his one, obscenely big paw, pinning them above your head.

He pulls back to assess what you think about this, his dark eyes blown wide with desire. You can barely breathe past your heart thundering in your chest, your thighs pressed tightly in a sad attempt to relieve some of the ache between them. You lips are kiss-swollen and moist with his saliva, and you lick them, tasting him. His gaze fixes on your mouth hungrily, before lifting to your eyes again.

When you give the barest nod, he leans in to kiss you again, slower this time, but no less claiming. His lips are soft, and clever, and wreak havoc with your ability to think coherently. And when he slips his lean thigh between your legs so that you might get some relief, you think you might just expire from the pent up desire threatening to burst you at your seams.

It’s not good, you know, when you can’t help but think about Detective Tom Ludlow, and how part of this aching madness in your loins is built up from his brash brand of torture, and you can’t help but imagine what it might be like to feel his rough hands pinning you to the wall like a butterfly. Maybe it’s just the wine, but these distracted thoughts are not good at all.

Julian half carries you, half guides you in a halting walk further down the hallway, opening a door and ushering you inside. It’s a bedroom, though if its his room, you can’t really tell at a glance. It’s nicely decorated, fairly normal, no chains hanging from the ceilings or racks on the walls, and the bed is soft as he presses you back into it with another bone-melting kiss.

He props himself on his elbows so he can look down at you with a mischievous warm smile that lights up your insides. “You really are beautiful,” he tells you gently, tracing your hairline at your temple.

God. If he keeps telling you like this, maybe you will start believing him.

You tug on his tie to bring him back to you, craving another of his sweet kisses. He narrows his eyes at you playfully, and you watch with fascination as he reaches up to loosen the silk noose around his neck.

“Wait.” You halt him, hand on his chest, and he stops the little show.

“What? You okay?” It doesn’t occur to you that this man is just as needy as you are until you hear the heavy pant in his voice, the gravelly scratch of desire polluting his usual smooth pitch that reminds you way too much of someone else that you’re trying not to think about—and failing miserably at.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for all of that,” you say honestly, opening up raw in exchange for the concern on his pretty, angled face.

“Being tied up?” He asks, smoothing your hair off your temple.

“No, I’ve been tied up before.” Although that’s a story for a different day, it’s not like you’re the Virgin Mary, and you don’t want to be—you don’t want him to think that you are—a prude.

“Was it…a bad experience for you?” As he asks this he strokes your hair, petting you like soothing an animal with his light touch.

You hate to say, it’s working.

“Kind of.”

“Maybe…they didn’t stop something you didn’t like when you asked them to?”

That was the understatement of the century.

You close your eyes against the sinking feeling that overcomes you, when you even slightly crack the lockbox that is your stockpile of unpleasant memories from your youth.

“No,” you answer simply, but you know he can hear it all in the roughness of your voice in that one small word.

“What if we have a safeword? If I do anything you don’t like, you say the word, and I promise you I will stop.”

You freeze like a rabbit that's been spotted by a predator, as you mull this over. You know that’s how these things are supposed to go. But once a man has you tied up and at his mercy…he can do anything he wants with you. And men can be so awful, when they feel like they have all the power in their hands.

Is this man awful? It certainly doesn’t seem so. But dear god, you have been so wrong before.

“Maybe….” You roll your eyes up to the ceiling, searching for the right words, determined, for once, not to hide your own needs in favor of someone else’s. “Maybe if you help me understand why this is something you need so much?”

You know it’s possible you’re killing the vibe with such a demand—but maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to slow down and talk.

He blinks down at you, undoubtedly not used to being inquisitioned like this by anyone. “That’s…a big question.”

A surge of annoyance rises in you—as if dating isn’t dangerous enough for women as it is—he’s literally asking you to trust him with your life.

“Oh my god. Ok, get off.” You start to squirm beneath him, pushing at his chest. For a moment you panic, because he is big, and you know he’s not going anywhere, unless he wants to.

To his credit, and your great surpriseâ€“he actually does. He seems disappointed, and his breathing is heavy, his beautiful hair disheveled, but he’s not angry. At least, as far as you can tell. He shoves his hands in his pockets, maybe to keep them off of you.

It is hard not to stare at the sizeable bulge in his preppy khakis.

He blows a long breath out of his nostrils, closing his eyes. “I like to be in charge,” he tells you quietly, not opening his eyes, “Because when I was far too young, my stepmother groomed me to be her pretty plaything. I thought I was getting revenge on my father, because I was angry at him for divorcing my mother. But the joke was on me. I did…anything she asked, and she asked a lot. I didn’t even realize how fucked up it was, until I went away to college. When she sensed she was losing her hold on me, she actually tried to get me to drop out, then she tried to get me expelled. She was a fucking piece of work, and that’s why I am the way I am.”

When at last he works up the courage to look at you, he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed in your pretty dress like a rumpled flower, with tears in your eyes for him. “I’m so sorry, Julian…” You reach for him, even though you’re unsure he even wants to be held.

“And I like to bind my partners’ hands, because sometimes being touched during what should be the most wonderful act a man can enjoy reminds me of her, and I can’t stand it. Even…when I’m with someone who I want to touch me.” He gives you a pointed look then, and you understand, and you don’t think he’s trying to manipulate you. He’s just telling you an ugly truth.

Now, it seems you’re both agitated, and what had promised to be a lovely evening is now spiraling down into the abyss. You can’t help but feel responsible for that.

Julian shakes himself, and shakes his head. You feel him drawing away from you, even before he’s moved his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I promise, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Then he does start to retreat, but you reach out to him. “Julian, wait…”

He freezes in his tracks, looking up at you through the curtain of his silky hair.

“Pineapple.”

He lifts an eyebrow, genuinely confused. “Excuse me?”

“That’s my safe word.”

To be honest, you’re not entirely sure if you’re doing this because you want to, or because as usual, you sense someone needs a part of you for their own wellbeing, more than you think you do.

His mouth twists in a smile seemingly involuntarily. “I suppose that isn’t something one usually hears in the throes of passion.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Yes.” His look sharpens upon you then, and you feel a fresh gush of moisture between your legs, your bare toes curling. Suddenly, he seems taller, somehow, as though he’s taking up more space in the room than before. “Are you sure about this, y/n?”

Not really, but this won’t be the first time you jump in head first to something you don’t know if you can handle. “Yeah. I believe you, when you say you won’t hurt me.”

Maybe you’re not sure exactly where the whole punishment thing fits in he was talking about earlier, but you assume you’ll get to that later.

He nods, his nostrils flaring as he looks you over again. You watch as his chest rises and falls with deep breaths. And then he returns to loosening that shining blue silk tie from his neck, sliding the fine fabric between his long fingers. “I picked this color tonight because I thought it would look so pretty on you,” he admits.

“How…thoughtful?” You can’t help but tease him, even if your heart is suddenly hammering in your chest.

“Hmm. Someone always has something smart to say.” He strides across the room to you, boldly standing between your legs at the edge of the bed.

“I think you like it?” You can’t help the squeak in your voice, and it makes him smirk down at you. It’s unnervingly similar to someone else who likes to throw around an insouciant half smile, and your fingers curl in the bedspread by your thighs.

Do not think about Tom right now.

It’s too late, of course.

“Give me your hands.” There is that authoritative tone again, that makes everyone at the hospital and out in the real world stand at attention. Everyone, but Tom Ludlow, of course. Unbidden, the image of Tom’s fist making that irreverent gesture out the window enters your head—and like the idiot you are, you smile.

It causes Julian to look at you strangely, searching you out. “What’s so funny?”

You sigh, closing your eyes against that probing stare. “I don’t know,” you deflect, master of the witty riposte as always. Hoping to distract him, you offer up your wrists. “Like this?” you ask, and golly if your ploy doesn’t work.

“That’s my good girl.” A damning warmth spreads through you from his praise, and you watch with fascination as he loops your wrists with the blue silk, tying it off with a beautiful bow that does look pretty against your skin. “We’ll start with this,” he tells you. “If you really want, you can undo it with your teeth.”

Biting your lip, you nod up at him, appreciating the gesture.

“Tell me the safeword?” He asks, lifting your hands up above your head, looking absolutely feral, ready to eat you alive.

“Pineapple,” you tell him, flexing your hands above your head and pushing your tits out for him. God, it’s been forever since you’ve had anything inside you besides your own boring fingers, and you’re more than ready for him to take the straining bulge out of his pants and slip it into your perpetually aching cunt.

“Keep your hands above your head for me?” You can tell by his tone that it’s more of a demand than an ask, but at least he's trying to be sweet despite wrestling internally with some beast that wants to bind you immobile and shove a gag in your mouth.

Every hair stands on end at just the thrill of having his silky, non committed tie around your wrists, so you wonder how you’d fair in something stricter. Apparently, your vagina likes the theory of it, because she pulses insistently for some kind of attention—Jesus, any kind of attention that’s not just from you.

You and her may argue sometimes—much more now that Ludlow has kicked the imaginary door of your life down and stormed in for a raid—but you still share the same brain, and both of you agree that Julian is very fucking hot while he takes off his upper attire to reveal toned, tight, thin muscle and perfect golden skin.

“Is there, um, anything you want me to call you?” You ask, little toes curling and flexing on his comforter.

“You want to properly address me?” His teeth peek out of the wayward grin, hands slipping the belt out of his pants and filling you with Tom thoughts again.

“Yeah, I do.”

“How about Doctor? Something familiar?”

“Something tells me you’ve thought of this scenario before,” you muse, toying with the wrought iron post of his bed. You have to admit, Doctor isn’t your favorite term of endearment, but you suppose that if it makes him fuck you sooner it doesn’t really matter.

Sans pants, his cock tents and fills his briefs, and that tiny creature living inside you comes out of her burrow to remind you that she’s very, very hungry. He really is a gorgeous specimen of a man. You could probably find his mimic in a museum statue or erotic magazine with only one huge, girthy difference.

How the fuck is that monster not going to hurt you after years of only having your own little fingers for comparison?

“Jesus,” you breathe, unaware that you say it out loud at first.

He pumps his hand once or twice over the silk coated shaft, showing off that big, beautiful cock and rubbing a bead of pearly cum over the tip. “Hands above your head, y/n, and don’t make me say it a third time.”

You bite your lip hard to keep from groaning in protest and place those conniving, sneaky limbs up above you again. “Yes, Doctor.” It would sound strange to you if you had any common sense right now—if your brain wasn’t currently leaking out of your cunt.

A little piece of you—actually and worryingly it’s more than just a little piece—wants to challenge him to see exactly what he’ll do.

“Do you want me to tell you what I wanted to do to you when you disobeyed my orders?”

“Spank me?” You ask, words too bold for how you’re feeling—how your whole body is overflowing with burning, bashful blood and sinking into the cushion of his bed to hide.

He laughs, low and wicked, and shakes his head. At least you get a little needy grumble from him, although you’re not sure if that’s because he’s stroking his cock or not. “No, not spank you. I think you’d enjoy that too much.”

“Then what?” You raise your chin a little bit, and the look he pins you with reminds you of what wild horses must see in the person’s eyes that wants to ride and break and domesticate them. A little panic alarm lights up your brain, and it gets louder the more he talks.

“Instead of rubbing these tired, sore feet, I would have gotten a thin piece of finished wood and whipped them with it.”

Your toes instantly curl and tuck in defense, heels digging into the bed to shy away from his mean words. “I don’t know if I’d like that,” you admit.

“That’s the point of a punishment, little girl. You’re not supposed to like it.” Julian transforms into something scary for the first time, and you think this might be that dominant side of him coming to bat again. You don’t really like it when he’s all business no play, void of jokes and grins, snarling like a rabid jaguar.

“Julian, I don’t think I’m comfortable with that. It scares me.”

His ferocity goes limp right along with his dick, and the sight of that makes you want to scream and cry and pound your fists on the floor like a tantrum throwing child. Your vagina, who was just minutes ago getting along with you, once again wants you dead.

Dr. Jekyll sits beside you on the bed and puts a soothing, heating pad hand on your belly. “I’m sorry, are you alright? I shouldn’t have gone into that so fast. I got carried away. It’s been a while.”

Although his apology is warranted, and what he says is true about going too far, that caretaker in your blood wants nothing more than to soothe him while he has a mini existential crisis about making you feel uncomfortable. You sit up and rub his shoulders with bound hands.

“Julian, it’s okay. I get it. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” he replies, combing a hand through his soft hair. “We should have discussed details before jumping in. I just”—he cups your cheek and kisses your head—“I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

The thought of having to go through a detailed discussion before having sex with your partner every time has the opposite effect of Tom Ludlow’s—fuck, here he is again—spontaneity and makes your pussy dry up.

As though he senses you’re about to take your teeth to his very nice silk tie, he turns to unbind your hands with one deft pull. You feel fine, but you can’t stop yourself from rubbing your wrists. You sit there in the quiet together for what feels like a long time, your head resting lightly on his shoulder.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” He takes your hand, kissing your palm. “That thing I told you? It’s not something I offer up freely to anyone. Not even my playmates.”

You nod against him. “I understand.”

“I just…wanted you to know me.”

The human need to lay yourself bare in the hopes of acceptance is something you understand all too well—and something you never do anymore, because it just always ends badly. That he wanted you that much squeezes your heart in a merciless fist, because the healer in you wants to help him, but you’re not sure you can give this man what he really needs.

“Did you…want me before I talked back to you?” Suddenly the question is burning in your brain and you have to know.

Julian smirks at that. “You’ve always talked back to me, y/n.” With that he kisses your forehead, and starts to get dressed again.

What a goddamned shame.

It’s totally not helpful, but you can’t stop yourself from thinking that if Tom had you in this position tonight, you wouldn’t be able to walk right, and not because you’d said the wrong thing and got yourself punished with a sliver of wood or whatever the fuck Julian kept in his closet.

You wouldn’t be going home feeling even emptier than when you arrived.

Maybe, you wouldn’t be going home at all.

Julian asks you to stay with him a while longer to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie—some cheap new thriller that makes you both jump and gasp. It’s sort of funny, to watch the man that was just spouting off his desire to use ancient torture methods on you get scared at a guy with a shiny knife popping out of bushes.

At one point, while you’re laying on his bare chest and inhaling the citrusy sweat of his skin and becoming increasingly warm to the idea of giving his discarded silky tie another try, you start tracing your fingers down the hard line of his stomach, flicking over the elastic of his thin sweatpants.

He stalls your movement, and looks down at you apologetically. “Not tonight, honey.”

You know he was just fiending for your bound form with his dick in his hand, so you’re not sure why he’s stopping you, but your woe-is-me brain immediately, and as usual, jumps to the conclusion that he never wanted you in the first place.

You will not be the giving tree anymore. You will not be the obsessed, lovesick girl willing to do anything just to get that same love back. You won’t—you can’t—do it again.

“It’s late,” you sigh, sitting up. You’ve long sobered from dinner, and you’re tired, and you kind of want to be alone so you can go home and cry. “Thank you for dinner.” You’re not so sure about the rest, and in the rueful curl of Julian’s lips you can tell he’s well aware how disappointing all this was. For both of you, you suppose. He kisses you goodnight at the door, and you get in your car to drive home.

#tom ludlow x reader #street kings #tom ludlow #keanuverse fic #keanuverse

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dreamwritesimagines · 4 years ago

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Burn The Witch 12 - Bad Surprise [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Sometimes plans have to change.

Series Masterlist

Every job required something from people, and your job was no different.

Being a spy was not a conventional profession, everyone knew that. You were expected to be on the move all the time, be a good liar, be a good fighter, be whatever the job told you to.

And most important of all; never show fear, which you were usually fine with. You had learned long ago how to keep your calm in times of crisis. You had even managed to keep your calm facade when your last mission required you to play Russian Roulette with a target in order to keep your cover.

But this? This was something else.

Bucky cleared his throat to stifle a laugh as he looked down at you.

“Is it just me or are you using me as a human shield against a peacock right now?”

Your eyes snapped up at his for a moment before you turned your gaze to the peacock again, taking a subtle step to Bucky’s right to keep him between you and the animal.

Coming to the zoo was his idea, and you thought it could be a fun experience. You had never been to a zoo before, and it would count as one of the old times dates, so you were almost giggly by the time you got there.

Right until now.

“I think peacocks don’t have souls.”

“Alright.” Bucky sipped his coffee while you tried to ignore the fear bubbling at the pit of your stomach, eyeing the peacock that walked around the area behind the fences.

“I’m serious,” you insisted “What if it attacks me?”

“It’s not going to attack you Y/N.”

“It could,” you said, “It looks like it wants to attack me.”

The peacock fanned out its feathers all of a sudden and let out a squawk, making you jump out of your skin.

“Fuck!” the curse left your lips and Bucky’s eyebrows rose, an amused grin pulling at his lips.

“Sorry!” you said quickly, “Sorry, I…I don’t trust peacocks.”

“You got mugged in a dark alley and got shot, and a bird is where you draw the line?”

Correction, you were once held at gunpoint by the Italian mafia and peacocks were still where you drew the line.

“That’s not a bird.”

“….Peacocks are birds.”

“No, that’s the devil looking like a bird,” you said, “In-in bird shape. Bird shaped demon.”

“Okay, how about we see some other less threatening animal?”

“Let me check—oh my God Bucky they have sharks, I love sharks!” you said, waving the brochure in his face and he pulled his brows together.

“Sharks fall under the less threatening animal category?”

“Of course they do!” you said, looking at the brochure before looking around, “I think the aquarium is over there, let’s go.”

You grabbed his hand to entwine your fingers with his as you both started walking towards the huge blue structure.

“So I feel like I shouldn’t ask because I know you can’t exactly tell me the details,” you said, “But you’re not going on another mission soon, are you? This week?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, “Why?”

“I’m kind of planning something.”

He tilted his head, “What are you planning?”

“Not a club, relax.” you said, “Although I find it quite ironic that you’re this unstoppable brave superhero with super strength who gets intimidated by dancing.”

“I’m not intimidated…” he grumbled under his breath, making you giggle.

“Whatever you say,” you sang, and reached the entrance of the huge building and you pulled your hand out of his.

“Excuse me sir, is the aquarium still open?” you asked the security guard by the door and a small smirk appeared on his lips.

“Yes but it is closing in ten minutes sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

Jesus Christ….

You smiled politely at him, batting your lashes.

“Oh—“ you took a look at the sign, “I just want to see the killer shark and we’ll be out. In five minutes. Please?”

He eyed you up and down but seemed to snap out of it when Bucky cleared his throat behind you as if warning him, making the guy gawk between you two.

Even you had to admit you seemed like a quite unusual couple. You were wearing a short white sundress with ruffled sleeves and sweetheart neckline with your hair loose while Bucky looked as if he was there to kill someone, a complete opposite of you with his dark jeans and black leather jacket as well as leather gloves.

You didn’t even have to turn your head to know that he was glaring at the guard before the guy shifted his weight, then stepped aside.

“Enjoy.”

“Thank you!” you said, grabbing Bucky’s hand as you led him inside. He followed you without any objections whatsoever, in complete silence as the sight of blue filled your vision along with many fish swimming behind the glass.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” he asked softly and you pulled your brows together.

“Hm?”

“Does anyone ever say no to you?”

You approached the label by the glass, “You do.”

“Do I?”

“All the time,” you nodded, still reading the label but your head shot up when you felt him tug you by the hand. A giggle escaped from your lips as he turned you around so that you could look up at him, then wrapped his arm around you to scoop you up, making you squeal.

“Bucky!”

“All the time?”

“Put me down!” you said, your laughter echoing in the empty aquarium halls and he tilted his head.

“Not until you explain yourself,” he teased you, “All the time?”

“Sometimes, sometimes!” you said quickly, “Very rare times I might add!”

“Mm hm, I thought so.”

“If you drop me, I swear to God—“ you started but was cut off when he pulled you into a kiss, making you wrap your arms around his neck. He took a step with you still in his embrace and you gasped as you felt your back hit the thick glass, but every single protest you could think of seemed to disappear from your mind as you lost yourself in the kiss. You raked your fingernails over the nape of his neck, making his grip around you tighter-

Then someone coughed.

Bucky pulled back instantly and you turned your head to see another rather annoyed technician leaning on her hip, watching you with her brows raised.

“Aquarium is about to close,” she said, pointing at you, “Take it elsewhere.”

Bucky put you down and you tried to fix the skirt of your dress, trying to look presentable.

“Sorry!” you said as Bucky mumbled an apology beside you as well, and the technician shook her head and walked away, talking about how she wasn’t getting paid enough for this. You covered your face and let out a whine but Bucky chuckled, causing you to lower your hands to stare up at him.

“Why is this entertaining for you?” you exclaimed and he held your wrist, gently steering you to the exit.

“Come on.”

“We can never come here again, ever.” you insisted as you followed him outside. It didn’t escape your notice that he bumped his shoulder into the security guard’s quite hard, almost knocking him over on your way out and your jaw dropped.

“That was mean!”

“Nah, he had it coming. Are you hungry?”

“But you could get in trouble. Besides, he was a nice guy—“

“Uh huh, a nice guy who was ogling you.”

You pulled your brows together, pretending to be confused, “Oh I’m sure you misunderstood.”

He tilted his head and pulled you closer to wrap his arm around your waist, then brushed his lips against yours, making you sigh.

“Bucky, it was mean and you can’t just kiss me to distract me—”

“I can try,” he murmured to your lips before kissing you again and you looked up at him when he pulled back with a grin.

“Fine,” you admitted, still pouting. “I’m hungry. Starving actually, let’s eat something.”

***

You were finding it harder and harder to convince yourself it was time to go home after every date with Bucky.

Scratch that, you were finding it harder and harder not to invite him upstairs.

But of course, you would have to report it back to the General and discuss the further strategies with him and for some reason, it felt more of a betrayal than this whole thing.

Surprisingly enough, it was something you wanted and not something you would will yourself to do because of the mission. There was no denying it, he was an attractive guy and you really liked spending time with him and you kept having dreams about him and whenever you were with him you had this lightness in your mind, as if you were a different person.

A better person, maybe.

You shook your head at your thoughts and left your apartment to knock on Keith’s door.

“It’s me, open up.”

You heard footsteps before he opened the door and a boyish smile pulled at his lips at the sight of milkshakes in your hand.

“Jesus, finally!”

“I made it at home, can’t promise it’s good,” you said as you walked past him into his apartment and stepped into the living room, “What are you watching?”

“James Bond,” he grinned at you, “Hey, have you ever tried milkshake with gin?”

“No?”

“Me neither, let’s try it.” He said, taking the big glasses from you to pour gin into them. You sat on the couch and took a look at the screen.

“How many times have you watched this again?”

“Like a hundred,” he handed you your glass and you took a sip.

“Not bad,” you commented, putting your feet up on the coffee table. He sat beside you, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“What did you do today?”

“Had a date.”

“With Barnes?”

“Yeah. At the zoo.”

“He took you to the zoo?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And peacocks are fucking scary,” you muttered, “And hey, we learned that Bucky is the jealous type.”

“The guy was dating people back at 40s, I could tell you that much myself.” He snorted, “Chloe says you went on a mission with Julian?”

You slipped a little on the couch, “He’s an asshole.”

“I know. Is he really that bad in bed?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Nah as much as I hate to admit, he’s pretty good. Unfortunately.”

“So top or bottom?”

“He goes either way to be honest, that comment was more about me.”

“About you?”

“Yeah, I like to be on top.”

“Suddenly everything about you makes sense,” he murmured and you took another sip of your milkshake.

“Don’t try that with Barnes though, the guy is from 1940s. He’s probably used to missionary only, you don’t want to give him a heart attack,” he wiggled his brows, making you scoff.

“Shut up.”

“Chloe is right, maybe you should go full on vintage on that when the time comes.”

You turned to look at him.

“Speaking of Chloe,” you said, “Anything you would like to tell me?”

Keith’s grin faded slightly and he shifted his weight, “Like what?”

“Bringing her coffee, taking her out to the field…” you trailed off, “What gives, man? I thought we had a deal.”

“We never had a deal,” he defended himself, “You slammed me back during training years ago at the academy and told me not to even think about it when you saw me looking at her.”

“No,” you shook your head, “Five years ago, in Ireland. That undercover job, the one that almost got you killed? We made a deal.”

He swallowed thickly, looking down at the milkshake before taking a sip. “Y/N…”

“Keith, you can’t,” you insisted, “She deserves a normal life, a normal family and kids and a dog and stuff.”

“I know,” he ran a hand over his face, “I know.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re a spy,” you said, “You said it yourself, spies die like flies.”

“Not all of them,” he said, “General is still alive. He has a family.”

“Yeah, one in a hundred,” you said, “Face it. That’s a very low possibility for us.”

“You don’t think you’ll get to grow old and have a family and all that?”

You pulled your brows together.

“No,” you said, “Of course not. I’m probably going to die in one of these missions.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“Keith, I can’t have any of those,” you said, “I can’t. I…it’s impossible.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you muttered, “I made my choice ages ago.”

“Y/N,” he sat up straighter, “Do you want to?”

With a very bad timing, your imagination went overdrive and a strange scene flashed before your eyes. You laughing in Bucky’s arms, watching two kids playing in the garden-

You shook your head, trying to shake off the thoughts.

“I could never have that,” you stated simply, “You might love Chloe and you might also be lucky enough to have her love you but…it’s not the same with me.”

“I’d say Barnes loves you.”

A bitter smile pulled at your lips and you bit inside your cheek, taking another sip of your milkshake.

“He loves someone who doesn’t exist,” you managed to croak out, “He loves my cover. He could never love me.”

***

Spending the night at Keith’s and drowning your sorrows in gin and milkshake meant that you would have a killer hangover the next day. Unlike Keith, you didn’t have the luxury to sleep until the noon, seeing that you had a cover job to keep so for the whole day until noon, you walked around like a zombie.

Coffee helped though. Just a little.

Thankfully it was a slow day at the shop. After serving a couple of people, you had nothing to do other than seriously considering sticking your head in the freezer to get rid of the hangover.

“Long night?” Tara asked as she walked past you to put the straws into the cup and you nodded, groaning.

“Remind me not to drink, ever.”

“I make that promise to myself every Monday, does not seem to work.”

You chuckled, “Have you ever tried to mix gin into milkshakes?”

“No?”

“Don’t,” you shook your head as you helped her to move an empty milkshake container into the kitchen. “It’s a terrible idea and I’m experiencing the consequences of that mistake right now.”

“That sounds like a fun night though.”

“Fun night, terrible morning,” you let out a laugh as you walked out of the kitchen but as soon as you did, your eyes caught the sight of the man in the shop. Your smile was wiped off your face as the familiar anger filled your system.

Jesus Christ, this day sucks.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked and Julian had the audacity to shoot you a grin.

“Whoa cute outfit,” he said, eyeing you up and down, “Holy shit I didn’t even know I was into this whole thing, I’m having an epiphany.”

You looked over your shoulder to see if Tara was still in the kitchen, then turned to Julian.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was craving milkshakes,” he stated, “Hey, would you recommend Lavender Macaron?”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“I think I’m gonna go with Lavender Macaron, makes me think of France,” he said, “Fun times.”

“Fun for you maybe.”

He shot you a look, “Come on Y/N, we didn’t leave the honeymoon suite for two days. That was the greatest-“ he lowered his voice, “Mission I’ve ever had.”

“You’re putting this entire operation in—“ you started but stopped talking as soon as Tara walked out of the kitchen. Julian raised his brows for a moment before smiling at her and you went under the counter to grab his arm.

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

“Just peachy,” you said as you dragged him out of the shop, and he heaved a sigh, following you.

“No I’m serious…” he said with a chuckle as soon as you both stepped outside, then motioned at the uniform, “This is something else.”

“Why are you here?”

“I heard that it was good, I did not think it was this good.”

“I’m seriously two seconds away from punching you.”

“How come you never dressed up like this for me when we were dating?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you insisted and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I was around.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Believe whatever you want,” he said, “Your shop has good rating, although I’m beginning to believe it has less to do with milkshakes and more about the waitresses.”

“Julian I swear to God—“ you started but you were cut off when someone cleared his throat, making both you and Julian turn your heads. Your stomach dropped as soon as you saw Bucky watching you two with a frown and you withdrew your hand from Julian’s arm.

“Bucky,” you breathed out, “Um-hi.”

“Hi,” he said without taking his eyes off Julian, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

He was trying to decide whether he was a threat to you.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I figured I could drop by,” he said, crossing his arms, “What’s going on?”

Fuck.

Fuck, you had no idea how to turn this around. Thankfully neither of you had said anything about the mission, so it was more than likely that Bucky just knew you knew each other, but other than that, your cover wasn’t blown.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, he’s just—“ you stammered, trying to come up with an explanation, “He’s um—“

“Oh come on Y/N, don’t be one of those secretive people,” Julian said, “You hate secrets. You’re Bucky, right? I heard about you.”

Bucky just raised his brows, his glare on him unwavering but even if it was quite chilling, Julian was a trained assassin just like you were, so he was used to it. Instead he curled his lips, looking between you before offering him his hand.

“I’m Julian,” he introduced himself, shooting you a grin as if you two shared an inside joke “The evil ex-boyfriend who’s gonna take her from you.”

Chapter 13

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #bucky barnes x you #the falcon and the winter soldier

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dipitagain · 3 years ago

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Imagine checking Fanny out when you come to see your old friend Alison

Fanny x f!reader

The Ghosts were all congregated near the door when the doorbell rang. Alison came running down the stairs, straightening her shirt. "Fair Alison, who may that be?" Thomas asked in confusion. "My old friend, Y/N, she can see you as well so all of you need to behave". "A she" Julian mumbled " Is she fit?". Alison nodded absent-mindedly. "Yeah she's hot we dated in school". Everyone watched as the doors opened to reveal a tall woman with long h/c hair that swayed lightly when she walked. Her eyes were shining as she pulled the shorter women into a tight hug. "Alison, my love it has been so long". Her accent was slightly French and she pulled back to survey the group in front of her. "Ally you didn't tell me that you had guests". "Ghosts, Y/N, they're Ghosts". Her smile grew even more. "Well Ally why don't you introduce me". "Y/N this is Julian-". A wave and a wink. "Pat, Mary, Robin, Kitty, Thomas, Humphrey's head is somewhere around here and the Captain". The girl looked at the military man with unfounded softness. "You fought in the war?". He looked at her startled. "Yes Miss". Her smile softened even more. "I commend you for your bravery sir". He stood a little straighter". "It was an honour Miss". The lady turned to look at her friend again. "Ally ,darling, I thought you said there was 9 of them, are we missing one or can you still not count babes". Both of their laughter mingled. "We're only missing-". Alison was cut off by an angry shout. "What is this racket". The woman on the stairs immediately attracted Y/N's attention and her eyes flickered up to the descending figure. "Who is that?" She murmured softly. "That is Lady B " Alison whispered in her ear. Her eyes caught on the beautiful woman in front of you. "Lady Button". Her voice was breathy and soft. Your smile turned rather quickly into a sweet smirk. "She's beautiful, absolutely gorgeous". She straightened her black trousers and the cuffs of her shirt. Alison's eyes twinkled. "I thought you would like her-" her voice rose "Fanny this is Y/N one of my old school friends". That was when their eyes connected. "It is wonderful to meet such a gorgeous woman such as yourself, cara". Her eyes very obviously looked her up and down. "Well it is lovely to meet you to" the Grey Lady said with a genuine smile "I think we will get along fine". The two of them stayed looking at the other. "Why don't I get the fit ones" Julian whisper shouted from across the room.

#bbc ghosts incorrect quotes #BBC Ghosts #Fanny Button x reader #BBC ghosts x reader #The Captain #Julian Fawcett #Thomas Thorne #x reader

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samiwife · 1 year ago

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Hi, could you write a smut with Julian Casablancas X fem reader X izzy stradlin ... I love my jules & izzy!

Yes, ofc! Thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy it! <3 This is going to be tricky but I'll try!!!

She's Ours 𓆩♡𓆪 (Julian Casablancas x Izzy Stradlin x Reader)

𓆩♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

T/W: Polymerous relationship, threesome, pet names, and cussing

(Reader Discretion is advised)

A polyamorous relationship may seem odd to others but for you, Izzy, and Julian it's something that you all were interested in. The thought of you having multiple partners thrilled you. All three of you would go on dates together, live with each other, and even sometimes have sex with each other. Sometimes, Julian and Izzy would get it on while you watched. At first, when you told each of them you wanted a polyamorous relationship, they were both cool with it. They both said they loved you and wanted to make you happy. It made it better knowing that Izzy and Julian were best friends before all three of you became a polyamorous relationship. Tonight was special, it was yours, Izzy's, and Julian's 4-year anniversary. Today was the first day when you guys became official with your polyamorous relationship. Sure it seems odd but all of you guys didn't care. You got ready for the dinner surprise Izzy and Julian planned.

The whole date night was a mystery, both of them refused to tell you where they were taking you so you just went with the flow. You put on a sparkly black short dress and silver heels. You walked downstairs where Izzy and Julian were standing with flowers in their hands. "Hey baby, you look beautiful," Izzy said as he handed you the flowers and kissed your lips. You smiled and walked over to Julian. "Yeah, you're so fucking hot when you wear black," Julian said as he bit his bottom lip. You giggle and Julian kisses your lips. You pull away and smile. "Okay, so what's the surprise you two planned for me." You said smirking. Both of them smiled. "Well, me and Julian decided to take you to the fancy restaurant you always talk about," Izzy explained as he took your hand and led you to the car. Julian opened the car for you and Izzy helped you in. "Yeah, Izzy told me how much you wanted to go but it is always hard to get reservations. So we got them for you." Julian said as he smiled at you in the rearview mirror.

You smiled widely and blushed. "Oh my god, guys this is amazing. Thank you. You two are the best boyfriends ever." You said as you excitedly bounced in your seat. "You're welcome cutie glad you love it," Izzy said as he drove. "Happy anniversary princess," Julian said as he smirked at you from the rearview mirror. After driving for a few minutes, you all arrived at the restaurant. Julian helped you out of the car and both of them took you into the restaurant. During dinner, the guys were drinking and eating their meals. The food was phenomenal and the wine was delicious. Nothing could be better. After the dinner, Izzy and Julian drove you home where the next surprise would be. "Okay princess, this is the next surprise, there's a box under your bed. Me and Izzy would like you to try it on and wait for us." Julian whispers in your ear. You smirked and walked upstairs. You took the box under your bed and opened it. It was lingerie, it was black and had flowers on it. You blushed at it and smiled.

You quickly put it on and waited for Izzy and Julian. After 2 minutes, they both walked in and admired the outfit. "Fuck Y/N, that looks fucking sexy on you," Julian said as he lifted up your chin. Izzy smiles and stares at you. "Yeah, Julian was right. Black is hot on you." Izzy said as he sat next to you. Izzy lays you backward. "Okay baby, now it's our turn," Izzy said in a low tone. Julian slides off your bottom lingerie and then slips off your top. Julian kisses your lips as he rubbed your tits. You moan as you kiss Julian. Izzy smirks and slides off his clothes. And lines up to your clit and thrusts in.

You break from Julian's kiss and moan loudly. Julian chuckles and removes his clothes. Julian strokes his member for a bit. You take your hand and begin jerking Julian's member. Julian moans loudly and soon you wrap your lips around Julian's member and began to suck. You felt yourself about to come because of Izzy's thrusting. You kept sucking and jerking Julian off. You let your lips go and moaned out. "God, guys I'm about to come!" You huffed out. Izzy smirked and huffed out "Then come for us babydoll." You moan as a response and wrap your lips around Julian again. "Agh fuck Y/N, I'm also about to come too!" Julian moaned out. You let go causing a loud pop to come from your lips. "Then come for me Julian and you too Izzy. I want to feel you two come for me!" You moaned out.

Izzy came inside you and Julian came on your face. You moaned out in pleasure as you felt both of them. You licked Julian's come off your lips. Izzy pulled out and smirked. Julian took a minute to catch his breath. "Agh, fuck this is the best anniversary gift ever." You huffed out as you smiled. Julian smiled and so did Izzy. Izzy lifts you up and takes you to the bathroom as Julian searches through your closet for fresh clothes. "I'm glad you loved it babydoll," Izzy said as he laid you in the bathtub. Julian walks into the bathroom with a towel and fresh clothes. "Yeah, you were amazing, princess. Hope you enjoy the bath." Julian said as he kissed your forehead. Then Izzy kissed your forehead as well and the two of them walked out to leave you some privacy.

#fanfiction #80s rock #80s music #julian casablancas smut #julian casablancas imagines #julian casablancas x reader #julian casablancas #the strokes smut #the strokes fanfic #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #izzy stradlin imagines #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin smut #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses smut

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yesimwriting · 4 years ago

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Solace (part 2)

SOLACE (part 2)

A part two but kinda works as a stand alone!!

A/n y’all seemed to like the first one so I thought I’d make a part two :)) This was NOT meant to be a series but now I kind of have an idea to make this a mini series where each part is kind of a blurb that connects to the last part and I think I might do that.

Pairing: General Kirigan/the Darkling x Heartrender! reader

Summary: The day after you go visit General Kirigan at night is also the day he decides he can become more honest about his intentions for you. The softness of it all is starting to get to you but you have a good friend to remind you that it’s okay to feel happy.

The sunlight peers into the room shyly. It stirs me awake into a soft bliss. Warmth. When was the last time I woke up feeling so warm? So rested? I squint my eyes open, still calm. But when my vision finally adjusts, I feel like ice all over again. This is not where I’m supposed to be.

Memories of sneaking here in the darkness of night, speaking to Kirigan so freely, and then letting him convince me to stay. He had seemed to want me here then, in the night when loneliness finds easy prey in even the most hardened individuals...but now, in the morning sunlight--he’ll regret it. We made it clear I’d stay only that night--and that night is now gone. Maybe he expects me to be gone before he rises. I know that’s what most men expect after taking company for the night, but we didn’t exactly partake in activities like that. I think what we did is worse.

Relations like that are about desire, falling asleep with someone else borders on intimacy. One misstep and who knows what I’ll invoke? I shift my gaze upwards, careful to not move in hopes of not disturbing the arms he’s draped across my back, holding me to him. Kirigan seems different in sleep, softer. His features are still sharp, but there’s something gentle about seeing him vulnerable. Something about the way his lashes brush against his cheeks and his lips stay parted just slightly. This moment can never repeat itself. It can never happen again, so I’ll have to hold onto this.

Cautiously, I prepare to slip out of his grasp even though it feels like its the only thing tethering me to this world. I touch his first hand, moving it off of me slowly. I wait a second, and when he remains unstirring I move his other hand.

“What are you so eager for, little wolf?” The raspy, tired quality of his voice leaves my stomach fluttering. His words jar me so much I find myself frozen.

He reaches lazily, placing an arm on the center of my back, trying to ease me back into place. “It’s morning now.”

His thumb brushes up and down my back in a way meant to lull me. “I’m the Shadow Summoner, the night lasts as long as I want it to.” He lets out an easy breath, “And I’m prolonging it.”

Ignoring the warmth the implications of his words bring, I decide to focus on how dramatic he is. “Dramatic even so early in the morning.”

Kirigan’s eyes flutter open, the slightest smile playing at the edge of his lips. “Watch yourself, little wolf.” There is no malice in his voice, only something hinting at teasing too humane for me to trust.

I roll my eyes, letting his fingers brush wherever he wants them to--up and down my back, down the arms I am too aware of. The desire to touch him easily, casually, just to prove that I have that privilege. I stretch, pushing down thoughts of rejection as I place a hand on his chest. He pauses, one hand frozen in place on my back. Slowly, he moves his hand away from me. I tense, preparing to retract my hand. He catches my hand before I can pull it away, moving it towards him easily until my hand is against his cheek.

“Y/n.” He’s called me my name so few times, and the restraint in his voice leaves me unnerved. “Will you wear a black kefta today?”

His color. Perhaps he meant the promise of solace more literally than I thought. Anyone who sees me will think I’ve been claimed by him in one way or another. Perhaps I have been. The thought stirs my chest, moving me in a way I can’t distinguish as a positive or negative. I feel myself being ensnared in a lovely trap, but when I look at him, at the honesty burning in his gaze, it’s almost as if he’s asking me to claim him.

“Yes.” Again the word leaves me as if willed by some outside force.

Kirigan’s intensity dwindles slightly. His hand drops from over mine, but I keep mine on his cheek, running my thumb across his skin. “You’ll do good for me today, little wolf.” His words leave no room for argument. I think speaking like that is a talent of his. “You always do so good for me.” The admiration in his words melt something in me, my entire body warmed in a way I don’t understand. Kirigan brushes his knuckles across my cheek again.

I’ve been silent for too long, each second I waste inflating his ego. “You’re suspiciously nice in the mornings.”

“You’re only skeptical because you never let anyone take care of you.” His words are chiding and the implication of them leaves my face warm. “So much promise,” he muses, hand trailing down my jawline, “So much power,” his fingers skim down my neck and across my collarbone. “I wonder what someone like you could do with an amplifier.”

An amplifier. I’ve seen them in use, and knowing what I could do with something that strengthens my already abrasive abilities. I could be a monster so easily. Kirigan must see some of my concern because he’s quick to sit up a little more in order to close the distance between us the way he did last night. He brushes his lips against my collarbone in a way that leaves me distracted by wanting. A wanting for what, I’m not sure. I ease into his touch.

“Today everyone will know what you are.” His voice is gentle against the base of my neck. “And they will know that we are meant to be equals.”

I feel the need to panic rise in my chest, but it’s dulled by the warmth his lips leave against my skin. “I’m only a Heartrender, I can’t be your equal.”

“You are,” he whispers, so assured, “With a heart as good as yours you may even be more.”

His words are too weighted for so early in the morning, but there is always tension with him. Shadows are meant to be weightless but I think they’re like anything else--carry enough of them and eventually you’ll break.

When he straightens I move to follow him, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. “You’re good, too.” There has to be goodness in him. No one capable of such warmth and gentleness can be made up entirely of wicked things.

“You claimed I was a villain.”

Did my words really impact him so? “My opinion isn’t law.”

Something strange flickers across his features. “It might as well be.”

I swallow back a bundle of nerves. “Sometimes I’m wrong.”

The words crack something vulnerable in me. A part of me thinks he can feel the part of me that’s breaking in hopes of offering him something.

“You really are my solace.” I don’t know how to reciprocate such a gilded sentiment.

I rest my head against his shoulder, taking his hand. “I’m glad to be that.”

He squeezes my hand. “We should go get ready before people start to notice our absence.”

I consider reminding him what he told me last night, but he has a point. There’s a difference between a rumor of me pacing in the night and both of us showing up late at the same time. Still though, a part of me is already grieving this version of Kirigan. Outside of this room his coldness will return. ‘Just for tonight’. We had agreed on that. But when the night ended, and the morning sun colored us both sane again, he had asked me to wear his color.

“I’ll go get dressed,” I stay still.

Kirigan runs his thumb over my knuckles. “I’ll have a black kefta sent to you.”

That has to mean something. Wait--do I want it to mean something? I pull my hand away from his stiffly, standing because I know the longer I’ll wait the worse it will be. “I’ll see you during training.”

“My door will be unlocked after.”

At that, my chest swells. He’s offered me an opening. “Good to know.”

His eyes narrow slightly at my coyness. “Find me after?”

“Only because you’re nicer in here.” He wants me to come back.

The black kefta does not feel like my own. The color is too alluring, too dark and enthralling. It is not meant for someone like me. It feels borrowed, but I’m not entirely uncomfortable. It’s almost like he’s still with me, keeping me from being alone.

When I walk down the halls, I feel the stares of the others sticking to me like tar. They barely tolerated me before--the grisha plucked from the slums after a fateful night in which Kirigan saw the extent of my abilities.

“New clothes, l/n?”

Julian’s words coax an easy smile from me. Always so open, so accepting. Even now he doesn’t pester me about the black kefta. “I barely noticed.”

My lack of real response earns me a playful glare. “Is that the only explanation I get? Moving up the ranks without me?”

I roll my eyes. He’s joking, but he’s drawing more eyes to me. “I’m not leaving you, Julian.” He’s been too good a friend for me to leave. “Nothing’s changed except the color of my clothing.”

“Good.” Julian’s lips twitch upwards, offering me the kind of smile that’s earned him many trysts with many women. “I’d miss you too much.”

And while I doubt that my disappearance would do anything else than up his popularity, I appreciate the sentiment. “Oh I’m sure you’d find a way to find company.”

He half laughs, “What are you implying of my virtue?”

Laughing, I roll my eyes as we continue to walk down the halls. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

Julian reaches for me, touching my forearm. I stall. “In all seriousness, y/n, I really appreciate your friendship.”

Aw. Never did I think I’d have so many people to appreciate here. I think of Kirigan, of the vulnerability in his words and the new facet of him I saw last night that I somehow always knew he had in him. He may be a villain, or just one in the making, but he is more than a dark shadow. I find myself releasing I appreciate Kirigan too. It’s different than the way I care about Julian, more fragile, but it’s still a relationship I’ve created here.

I look down at the space where his hand touches my forearm. “I really appreciate your friendship, too. You’ve gotten me through a lot.”

“You need to give yourself some credit.” He releases my arm, turning to continue to walk forward.

I turn as well, “You should too.”

I look forward, and there, in the near distance is Kirigan. He’s staring at me, eyes lacking everything he had earlier. I offer him a small smile. He does not return it, his drops slowly to the ground. Weird. I guess he’s just turning on his indifference for a day of training. He asked me to wear his color, he asked me to come back.

Does he regret it? Maybe it was a premature request for me to wear his color so publicly. His gaze finds mine again, and with a tilt of his head he gestures for me to follow him.

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