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joelsgreys · 18 days

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a safe haven l ten

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze.

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #tw dv #tw domestic violence #tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction

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alisonfelixwrites · 9 days

Text

one shot: something blue (*) [harry styles au]

summary: in which harry & lavender are best man and maid of honor at their best friend's wedding and don't get along whatsoever - which makes planning this wedding very interesting

word count: 20,613

warnings: enemies to lovers, lavender's 'best friend' being a huge bitch, smut! (fingering (female receiving), oral (f & m receiving), semi-public sex, unprotected sex)

author's note: another repost from my wattpad :)) this isn't new, but i still love it so much!!

“Oh my god, Serena…” Lavender could hardly contain her tears as she looked through her blurry eyes, her best friend in a pearly white gown beaming at her.

“Do you like it?” Serena checked and Lavender burst out in something between laughing and crying, “Of course I like it!” Lavender cried, getting up her feet to quickly hug her friend.

“Wait!” Serena pushed against her shoulders, “God, you almost got make-up on my dress.” She giggled. Lavender wiped her tears and smiled too, shaking her head in disbelief, “You look incredible.” She whispered, “Honestly, the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

Serena grinned, “You’re only saying that because you’re my maid of honour.” She teased and Lavender shook her head while still smiling, “Absolutely not. Tristan is going to die when he sees you.”

Serena turned around to inspect herself in the large mirror in the bridal shop. Lavender stood back with a glass of champagne in her hand, ready to take a sip until Serena tutted her, “Weren’t you supposed to call the florist and the caterer later today?”

Lavender raised her brows, “Uh – yes?”

“Well,” Serena turned around and gently took the flute from Lavender’s hand to put it down, “then you should stay sober.”

Lavender rolled her eyes, “One glass is not going to get me plastered.” She muttered.

“God, I can’t believe the wedding is in two weeks.” Serena sighed. Lavender smiled along, although her heart slightly ached. It was only June and the wedding being next week also meant she took up her final vacation days at her job to spend the time preparing for Serena’s wedding.

She’d have to go the remainder of the year without paid leave. No holidays for her this year but at least she – hopefully – gave her friend a kickass wedding. Lavender stared at Serena’s slender body with the white, silky dress now completely fit to her size. They had done the final measurements a while back and now the finished product was here.

“Hey, try on your bridesmaid dress now that you’re here?” Serena suggested, looking at Lavender through the mirror, “Brit and Jackie already did so through the weekend but you weren’t here.”

It sounded like a bit of a jab, and Lavender swallowed. Throughout the weekend she had actually been doing some work which she was falling behind on due to the preparations of this wedding.

Besides, she had a love-hate relationship with the bridesmaid dress she was supposed to wear and no matter how much she loved Serena, she felt teeny tiny standing next to her in a dress.

Serena decided on picking a lavender colour for her bridesmaids. Lavender cried all night when she got that news. It had always been her dream to get married in a lavender-shaded dress one day because – well, it was her name and it was fitting. Ever since birth, she somehow had the feeling she was the only person allowed to own the colour lavender.

Serena thought differently and picked that shade for the bridesmaids gowns, making Lavender feel like she’d be copying her if she ever chose that for her wedding dress. She forced Serena a smile through the mirror, “Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“It’s not.” Serena frowned, “Lav, we had to get it redone because you gained weight. It needs to be perfect, it can’t be like… too tight or anything.”

Lavender’s cheeks heated a bit at the comment and she eventually nodded, “Yeah, okay. ‘M not wearing heels though.”

Serena clacked her tongue, “Number one mistake when visiting a shop like this. Always wear heels.”

Lavender rolled her eyes and contained her frustration. She loved Serena to bits. They met in the sorority where Lavender only stayed for about a week before she dropped out because of how crazy it was. Her and Serena stayed friends all throughout college and after. Even if Serena always overshadowed Lavender, there was a lot of love there.

So much, that Lavender was the reason Tristan and Serena met. The story was funny but also slightly terrible. Lavender and Tristan matched on Tinder and went on one date. It was quite clear they weren’t meant to be and when he went to drop her off at her front door, he met up with her then-roommate which was Serena at the time. They met and instantly hit it off, which is how Lavender’s best friend was now engaged to be married to the man she once went on a date with.

It came as no huge surprise when Serena asked Lavender to be her maid of honour. And Lavender was honoured to say the least, until Serena apparently also wanted her to do the entire wedding planning.

And if that wasn’t horrible enough, she had to do it with the best man. Who was a pain in her ass to put it lightly. He was snibby, arrogant and a complete asshole.

Harry Styles.

Lavender shuddered just thinking about him and bile rose up in her throat. When they first met, her heart skipped a beat because he was downright gorgeous. But the moment he opened his mouth and started talking, she was turned off. He was a jackass, kind of like Tristan turned out to be and kind of how Serena could also be every once in a while.

Harry and Lavender had spent a lot of time together in the past six months, but it usually ended up in screaming matches and slamming doors. They didn’t seem to see eye to eye on anything and it had fucked up the wedding planning tremendously. Harry also always found a way to blame Lavender for everything that went wrong and then she got the full of it from Serena.

Lavender locked herself in a dressing room to try on her gown. She wasn’t wearing the right underwear for the dress either, something Serena would definitely comment on.

Her red hair was in curls and she quickly took a clip to get it out of the way while hoisting herself in the lavender dress. It had thin straps over her shoulders and a rather low back. Lavender tugged on the dress a bit as she inspected herself and then walked out of the dressing room. Serena still stood in front of the mirror to admire herself and a smile graced her face when she laid eyes on Lavender, “Oh, you look stunning.”

“Thanks.” Lavender breathed as she stood next to Serena, pushing up on her toes to see how the dress would look once she wore heels.

“Did you lose weight again?” Serena checked, eyes glued to Lavender’s chest where the dress fell a little wide. Lavender glanced down, “Uh – yeah. I think so.”

“God, Lav… I can’t keep adjusting this dress for you.” Serena complained and Lavender shook her head, “No, I’ll – uh… I’ll just wear a push-up bra.”

“You can’t wear a bra, it’s an open back.”

“Well, then I’ll find a stick-on bra or something.” Lavender shrugged, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.”

“And please, don’t forget nipple covers. I don’t need Tristan to look at anyone’s tits but mine that day.”

Lavender chuckled, “Right. Okay, noted.”

Serena nibbled her lip, “You seriously think he’ll like it? I mean, we aren’t getting married too fast, are we?”

Lavender frowned and placed a hand on her best friend’s shoulders, “What are you talking about? Of course not. Who said that?”

Serena avoided her eyes and Lavender exhaled, “Was it your mum?” She guessed. It came as no surprise that Serena wasn’t always the nicest person to be around. Lavender forgave her the moment she got to know her parents. They were horrible, to say the least. Serena swallowed, “Well, we’d only been dating a year before he proposed a-“

“And what?” Lavender frowned, “S., if it feels good, you don’t necessarily have to wait.” She shrugged, “You two love each other, right?”

“Yeah.” Serena sighed before she pressed her lips together. Lavender tilted her head to the side, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Serena, come on. Don’t lie to me, I know you better than that.” Lavender pushed. Serena crossed her arms, “It’s just – what if I meet someone else one day?”

Lavender blinked and continued frowning, “Like… Meet someone else in a romantic way?”

“Yes.” Serena whispered and Lavender needed a second before she spoke, “Well – you’re in love. I-I’d imagine you’d only have eyes for Tristan so it won’t even matter.”

Serena rolled her eyes, “Clearly, you don’t know what it’s like.”

Lavender ignored the dig and swallowed, “Do you not feel like he’s your soulmate?”

“I don’t know.” Serena sighed, “Just – forget I said anything.” Her eyes dropped to Lavender’s chest anymore, “I truly can’t alter this dress anymore, Lav. Try to keep your weight stable the next two weeks before you flash everyone at my wedding.”

Serena taking that tone and being the mean girl was her defence mechanism and Lavender tried to not take it to heart. She simply nodded and headed back to change out of her dress once more. It was Saturday and the afternoon would be spent with calling everyone up to check for the wedding. She also had another appointment at the venue with Harry.

They had to put something together as best man and maid of honour and couldn’t agree what it was for the life of them. The moment Harry suggested a stripper – at a wedding – Lavender knew it’d be a hard task to find a middle ground.

“Serena, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Lavender called as she was dressed again and her phone was blowing up, the caterer calling her for the third time. Serena said something back from behind the curtain of her dressing room and Lavender took it as her cue to leave.

She was on the phone the moment she stepped outside and ran towards her car. It was hot and warm in the UK but the rain was coming down. Her curls would explode once more and Lavender quickly found shelter in her car as she started the drive up to the wedding venue.

Of course, Tristan and Serena decided to get married in the middle of nowhere, booking an entire hotel with the venue next to it so all the guests could sleep over and join them for breakfast the next morning.

It did mean it was a car drive of a few hours to actually get there. Lavender decided to take that time to call the florist and the caterer. The florist had been a pain in the ass because Lavender had specifically asked for dried flowers to use in the venue so they wouldn’t have to all be thrown out. Guests could maybe take a little dry flower bouquet with them as a reminder of the day.

Serena did want a bouquet of fresh flowers and apparently that’s where it got hard. The communication wasn’t amazing and Lavender called them from her car to set the mistake straight. Next was the caterer, who didn’t understand how many vegetarian plates they had to make. Lavender tried to pay attention to traffic and her conversations as the drive continued.

The moment she exhaled a sigh once the call with the caterer had ended, the devil himself called her up.

Lavender rolled her eyes to herself, harshly gripping the steering wheel as she answered the call through Bluetooth, “Yes?” She questioned.

“Hello to you too.” Harry’s deep voice echoed through her car and Lavender exhaled a short breath, “What do you want?”

He huffed out a breath, “Sounds like you’re having a good Saturday. I’m at the venue, where the hell are you?”

“I’m on my way.” Lavender frowned, checking the time, “We said to meet at three.”

“No, we said to meet at two.” Harry sounded frustrated, “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

Lavender closed her eyes for a split second as she swallowed, “Look, I’m actually almost there. In like… twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?!” He exclaimed, “You’re fucking late, Lav. What the hell.”

“I’m sorry! Look, I swear I thought we said three.” She groaned, “I-I can’t check right now, I’m driving. I’m sorry, okay? I-I’ve had a million things going on this morning. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, promise.”

“It’s pouring rain and I’m hungry.”

She rolled her eyes once more, “Then wait in your car.”

“You’re such a b-“ She ended the call before he could finish his sentence.

“Fucking dick.” Lavender mumbled. She definitely didn’t look forward to seeing Harry. He got on her nerves like nothing else and she felt like he’d been against her from the start. They didn’t agree on a single thing about this wedding. Every little surprise Lavender wanted to put in for Serena, he called corny. Every surprise he wanted for Tristan, she called disgusting.

Harry sat brooding in his car in front of the venue. The sun was shining in his eyes but there was so much rain too, near blinding him as the sun reflected on the street he was parked on.

He checked the time again, realizing he had been sitting here for nearly half an hour waiting for Lav. He hated that about her. She was usually late but then made it a point to plan their agenda so strictly. Harry was the one on time, she was always late.

He stifled a yawn and shifted in his car seat, near falling asleep until he saw a car approaching. Lavender’s grey Peugeot slowed down until coming to a stop in front of him, parallel parking like a pro in one swift movement before she got out. Her red hair was wild and untamed and her eyes were storming tornados as she glared at him through the car window, “Well?!” She gestured, shaking her head to herself as she marched up to the venue.

Harry huffed and exited the car, braving the rain as he hurried behind Lavender to the front entrance of the venue.

It came as no surprise to Harry that he disliked Lavender. After all, he disliked Serena and Lav was her best friend. Tristan was blinded but Harry wasn’t. Serena was a huge bitch who changed Tristan a lot. He was lovesick for her and jumped into this marriage way too quickly. To Harry, Serena was the devil. She was a rich, mean, spoiled girl and Lavender was no different.

So he took every opportunity to be a bother to Lavender and get on her nerves. It was the only pleasure he had these days, coming to terms with the fact that he was losing his best friend. Him and Tristan had been close since they were toddlers so Harry wasn’t too shocked when asked to be his best man. In two weeks, he’d lose him forever and he had no plans in striking up a friendship with Serena nor Lavender.

Lavender wore blue jeans, old trainers and a black shirt as she hurried into the venue, unlocking the little key box with the code she received from the owners. Harry shivered once he was also inside, glancing around the space now that he was out of the rain.

Lavender closed the thick, wooden door behind them as she stood in the entryway of the venue.

“Okay, so… there’s a huge chance it’s going to rain on their wedding so we need to take a look at how we can do this if that’s the case.” Lavender spoke, looking around the entryway.

Harry yawned and followed her eyes with little interest, “They could stand there for pictures.” He pointed.

“The light is off.” Lavender commented, “It’s going to be a little later than it is right now so the light will be coming from there. I think the other wall is better suited.”

Harry simply shrugged and Lavender took her phone to take a few pictures and then typed something in her notes-app. She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, “By the way, I fixed things with the florist and the caterer.”

“There were issues with the florist and the caterer?”

Lavender glared at him, “Yes. It – God, do you even pay attention when I say anything?!”

Harry bit his tongue and didn’t respond. He felt Lavender’s hand nudging his shoulder, “Go stand against that wall.”

He sighed out with little enthusiasm but did as she asked, “Why?”

“I’m going to take a picture to see what’s the best spot.” Lavender held up her phone and then arched up an eyebrow, “You could at least smile. I’m turning this into your contact photo.”

At that, Harry held up his middle finger. Lavender rolled her eyes and snapped the picture, “Now over there.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He mocked and did as she asked, leaning against the other wall as Lavender took another picture. She puckered her lips, “Look,” She turned her phone towards Harry, “if there’s sun, that second option is better. If there’s not, the first wall is better.”

“Okay, so what do we pick?”

“I suppose we’ll see the morning of the wedding. Let’s just hope it doesn’t rain too much. The hotel is like a ten minute walk and we’ll all be soaked if we have to do that in the rain.”

Harry smirked, “Tristan said the bridesmaids wear backless gowns so that means no bra?”

“You’re disgusting.” Lavender muttered, turning to face the space. “We’ll have to rearrange those tables too.”

“Why?” Harry slowly walked behind Lavender, smelling the scent that fit her name perfectly lingering around her as she took in the room, “Because there’s going to be a band and they take up more space than a deejay.” She then turned to face him, “You did contact the band about the number for the first dance, right?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, feeling pride bubble up inside himself when he realized he could rile up Lavender so easily, “Was I supposed to do that?” He faked confusion. He saw the familiar blaze in Lavender’s eyes as her jaw clenched, “Yes.” She tried to stay calm, crossing her arms in front of her chest and making her tits press together, “You were. Serena wants a specific version of that song with just the guitar. Not the regular version.”

“Hm.” Harry slowly nodded, “Yeah, I guess I could give them a call.”

Lavender threw her head back with a groan, “You should’ve already given them a fucking call, Harry.” She hissed, “If they refuse or we don’t get to hear the new version in advance, Serena will kill us.”

“She’ll kill you.” Harry corrected her, “Those long ass nails aren’t coming anywhere near me.”

Lavender stared at him with pure anger radiating from her. He looked so fucking uninterested. His eyes were a little hooded, his jaw clenching with each bite on the gum he no doubt had between his teeth. Harry was always fucking chewing gum. His jaw flexed every time he spoke and it just made her want to claw his fucking eyes out.

He wore a button-up that showed off some of his tattoos, the cross pendant glimmering in the sunlight shining through the large windows as he turned, running a hand through his chestnut curls. He did that thing where he twisted the top part a little bit around his finger, as if hoping it’d stay like that once he let go. His bouncy hair had a mind of its own though and especially today, that one curl continued falling over his forehead no matter how often he pushed it away.

“So if we move those tables.” Lavender sighed, “There’s more room for the band without making the dancefloor smaller.”

“But won’t the tables be too close together?” Harry argued. Lavender tilted her head to the side, “We’ll try. C’mon, help me move that table.”

Harry didn’t seem to jump with joy at the idea but did as she asked nonetheless, moving one of the round tables to sit a little closer to the other.

“So if you sit here, and I sit here.” Lavender pulled back one of the chairs, her back facing Harry’s back who was at the table they just moved, “That’s fine, right?”

He glanced over his shoulder, the backs of their chairs almost touching, “Mhm. But if I need a wee…” He made it a point to scrape his chair back to get up, harshly bumping into the back of Lavender’s head who’s chair scooted up from the sole force he used. She yelped slightly, the cutlery on the table cluttering as Harry bit his lip to stifle his giggle.

Lavender glared at him, “Let’s hope everyone’s polite enough to not need a fucking wee in the middle of dinner then.”

“Right. Sorry, forgot Serena is the queen.” Harry rolled his eyes and got up, pushing the chair back underneath the table. Lavender got up too, “I just want the day to be perfect for her.”

“Lav, there’s bound to be mishaps. No wedding is perfect.” Harry shrugged and Lavender huffed, “Well, Serena wants it to be and I have to task to make sure it is. How’s Tristan, by the way?”

Harry pressed his lips together, keeping his eyes low, “He’s – uh… Yeah, ‘m trying to convince him to blow the entire thing off.”

“What?!” Lavender squeaked and Harry hummed. Lavender took a step closer to him, “Y-You’re kidding me, right?”

“Definitely not. I don’t want those two to get married, Lav. She’s ruining him.”

“Harry.” She shoved at his shoulder in pure shock and he stumbled back a bit with a sputtering laugh, “What are y-“

“Tell me you’re fucking joking!” Lavender spoke in a shrill voice, “Y- What the fuck?! You’re trying to ruin this entire wedding?”

Harry chuckled and shook his head, “Don’t get your panties in a knot, princess. He’s not gonna back out, he’s too much of a wimp for that. But if he does,” His hand curled around her wrist of the hand that was still on his shoulder and he pushed her back, “I’ll find a way to blame it on you.” He teased.

“God – I fucking hate you.” Lavender seethed, “You’d really stand in the way of their happiness?!”

“Happiness?” Harry let out a humourless laugh as he took a step closer to Lavender, “Do you think they’re happy?”

“Yes.” She bit.

Harry arched up an eyebrow and took another step closer, Lavender taking one back until she bumped into one of the chairs. Harry was right in front of her, grabbing her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, “Look me in the eye,” he said, Lavender breathing in the spearmint on his breath as he dropped his eyes to her parted lips for a moment, “look me in the eye and tell me you think they’re happy.”

Lavender swallowed and mustered up the courage to stare into the dark green of Harry’s eyes, “They’re happy.” She spoke. The corner of his lip turned up into a small smile, “You hesitated, Lav.” He tutted.

“Did not.” She shook her head out of his grip, “Now step back and let’s continue.”

“You should really be less tense.” Harry ignored her previous words, “I mean, I know Tristan chose to fuck your friend over you, but I’m sure we can find you someone at the wedding.”

Lavender pushed at his chest and Harry stumbled back again, seeing the angry and hurt look on Lavender’s face. He sighed out while smiling, rolling his eyes, “Lav, I was joking.”

“You’re not fucking funny.” She fumed, “Let’s just continue so I can get the fuck out of here. I’m this close to knocking your teeth out.” She was shaking in anger. Lavender angrily stepped up to the dance floor and looked around, “This is big enough, isn’t it?”

Harry trailed behind a little, “Well, they’ve got a whole routine down with a bunch of steps, so I don’t know. If there’s people watching on the sidelines, it might be a tight squeeze. Serena wouldn’t hesitate to knock someone out if they block her dancing.”

“I hope that’s you.” Lavender muttered before she put her hands on her hips, “Well, we can’t move any more tables, I think. And the band needs to go there.” She pointed to the side.

Harry shrugged, “It’ll be fine. Just relax.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Lavender sneered, “That fixed me.”

Harry rolled his eyes, leaning against one of the tables, “Are you always this fucking uptight? Jesus Christ. No wonder Serena’s such a bitch if she keeps hanging out with you.”

“Well, you’re a coward!” Lavender shouted back. Harry glared at her, “What did you just fucking call me?”

“A coward.” Lavender hissed, taking a step towards him again. Harry clenched his jaw, “Princess, I’d stay there if I were you.”

“Oh yeah?” Lavender taunted, “What are you fucking going to do about it, hm? Cry in a corner, like you’ve been doing for the past six months because your best friend is moving on and taking big steps in his relationships – which you’re way too immature for? You’re just fucking jealous.”

Harry’s hand reached out to grab her chin again, harshly holding her in place, “Shut up.” He hissed.

Lavender felt the pain in her face but hardly cared, even having to fight her smirk, “Hit a nerve, did I? ‘S not my fault you’re not even half the man Tristan is. You’re a fucking child, but it’s very low that you’d stand in the way of your friend’s happiness.”

Harry’s jaw ticked, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Lav. He’s not here. Still hoping he’d drop Serena for you?” His eyes then darted over her figure, “Who would… Seems like he made the right choice. You’re both fucking insufferable but at least she’s hot.”

“Fuck you.” Lavender shoved at his shoulders and Harry took a few steps back. Lavender was panting, everything in her stance screaming that she was ready to actually murder him. Her shoulders were trembling and she turned around briskly to not let him see the tears in her eyes.

“Get out.” Lavender spoke, snatching the key from the table. Harry huffed, “There’s way more we need to check here, Lav.”

She shook her head, “I don’t care. Get out.”

“Seriously? Oh come on, y-“

“Harry, get the fuck out.” She hissed. He didn’t budge and raise his brows before sputtering out a chuckle, “Fuck, you’re so sensitive.” He complained, “And then you call me a child.”

“Fine. You lock up then.” She threw the key at him and turned around, walking out. Harry watched her swaying hips and the bounce in her red curls as Lavender stormed out of the wedding venue. She didn’t seem to mind that it rained, perhaps it dosed some of the angry fire lit within.

He chuckled to himself and took his time locking up. By the time he got to his car, hers was already gone. He shifted in the car seat, running a hand through his slightly wet hair before looking down to the bulge in his pants. He exhaled shakily and shook his head, “Nope. Not doing that again.” He forced his mind to go anywhere but the angry glare in Lavender’s warm eyes as she cursed him out.

Harry disliked her tremendously, but playing with her was fun. Dare he say it was the highlight of his life these days. Lavender made fun of it, but he actually was pretty heartbroken in losing his best friend. He knew Tristan would disappear the second he married Selena. She’d get her manicured claws all over him and keep him at bay, and Harry would be without his best bud.

Lav called him childish, he preferred calling it adapting. And so he put all his anger and stubbornness into arguing with Lavender. She was an easy target, riled up so quickly if he undermined her or went against her schedule surrounding this wedding. Harry secretly enjoyed it, and so did his body.

His cheeks turned red when he remembered the last time they had a heated fight like this. She stormed out the same way after they planned to meet up in his apartment to go over a few things. The picture frames on the walls rattled as Lavender had slammed his door shut on her way out. Only a minute later, Harry laid blissed on his bed with his hands in his boxers and his hand wrapped around his wet, hard cock.

He imagined angry, fast and rough sex. He imagined her red hair wrapped around his fist, her eyes tearing and rolling back as he got her off. He imagined how quickly he’d be able to get her off. He imagined how she’d taste and if she was as feisty in bed as with her words. He imagined her mouth being good for far more than just pissing him off.

He imagined shutting her up and fucking her so hard she couldn’t walk.

Who was he kidding earlier, of course she was hot. Beautiful, actually. And she was right when calling him a coward. It’s why it stung so bad, Harry thought he was hiding that better.

Harry didn’t see her again until the rehearsal dinner, two days before the wedding. He ended up giving into her idea and doing a little interlude in the reception where they’d play a game with Serena and Tristan to check how well they knew each other, as well as show some embarrassing pictures of their childhoods and predict what their kids would look like.

He laid eyes on a visibly tired Lavender. Her red hair was curly and untamed, yet she tried with a claw clip at the back of her head. Just a few little strands of curls came out to frame her face. She wore white linen pants and a dark blue crop top, her hands holding a bunch of bags. Serena trailed behind her in a tight dress, smiling and waving at everyone.

“Hey, mate.” Tristan widely smiled at him as he gave him a hug. Harry hugged him back, “Hey. How was the drive?”

Tristan ran a hand through his blonde hair and sat down, “Good, it was fine. Serena and Lav were talking a bunch about dresses and I sort of zoned out.” He chuckled, “Have you been here long?”

Harry shook his head, “No, like thirty minutes. It’s only my first drink.” He smirked. Tristan hummed and stared at the glass of scotch in Harry’s hand, “Order me one of those, ‘m gonna bring our stuff to the room.”

“Will do!” Harry called as Tristan walked off to head into the direction of the hotel rooms. The close friends and family were staying here for tonight, tomorrow and then on Sunday was the wedding. Harry had left work a little early today to drive up here by himself, needing the time to think a little.

Mostly think of how he’d stay away from Lavender. Option one was not drinking anything and staying sober to keep a clear mind – hoping she did the same – so he could avoid her. Option two was simply finding someone else to obsess over the next few days and to sleep with.

He had these thoughts as he sat with an alcoholic drink in his hand, and the second option was out the window the moment she walked into the bar. She was dressed in the same clothes as before but had no bags on her hands. Harry’s eyes followed her as she stood at the bar, “A cup of coffee, please.” Her voice sounded raspy.

Harry took a sip of scotch, “Hey.” He spoke. Lavender glanced at him over her shoulder, “Hi.” She shortly responded.

His eyes lingered on the curve of her waist before he tore his eyes away. He desperately stared at the entrance door, hoping some hot piece would walk in and he’d be more attracted to her than to Lavender.

She cupped her hands around the steaming cup of coffee and scanned the bar for a free seat until Harry cleared his throat, “You can sit here.”

“Fine. As long as you don’t talk to me.” Lavender grumbled, sitting down. Harry sloshed the drink around in his glass as he leaned to the side in the comfortable seat, “You look tired.”

Lavender burned her tongue on her coffee and ignored him. Harry stared at her for a moment, “By the way, can you come by my room later f-“

“Harry, I swear to god – if you’re going to keep talking I’m going to sit somewhere else.” Lavender sighed. He flicked his eyes up to see her tired gaze and huffed out a chuckle, “Really? Where? Think I’m your best bet here, baby.”

She scrunched up her nose, “Ew. Don’t call me that.” And then Lavender glanced around the space to find an empty seat. Harry smiled in amusement, “How about there? Tristan’s younger brother and his mates. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to have you in their circle.” He teased.

Lavender saw the twenty-one year old group of frat boys hanging around and drinking beers. Tristan was near a decade older than his brother and Lavender quickly decided it wasn’t a good idea.

“Or there? Serena’s mother seems like a delight.” Harry mocked and Lavender huffed, “If you hate Serena, you’re going to want to kill her mother. And I’m not going to sit there because she doesn’t like me either.” She shot Harry a fake smile, “Look at that, I’m surrounded by people who hate me.”

She took another sip and sighed, “I’m just going to go have this in my room.”

“Hey, stop by later.” Harry spoke again, “We need to go over our speeches so we don’t mention the exact same stuff.”

“What room are you in?” Lavender got up. Harry fought his smirk, “302.”

“Alright. I’ll stop by on my way to Serena’s room for the dinner party.”

He nodded, “Okay. See you.”

Lavender didn’t say anything but simply left. Harry downed the rest of his drink and ordered another, feeling like he truly needed alcohol to get through this night.

He was half dressed for the rehearsal dinner when someone knocked the door. With just his slacks on, he took a look at himself in the mirror and flexed his muscles once before going to open the door. Lavender was in a dark red mini dress, clinging to her curves. The neckline was high and her hair was up, a row of simple gold hoops in her ear.

In her hands, she held a creamy dress which Harry suspected belonged to Serena. Lavender closed her eyes and exhaled a breath, “Can you put on a goddamn shirt?”

“Why?” Harry smirked, “Are my abs turning you dizzy?”

Lavender rolled her eyes, “Look, I have my speech here.” She strode into the room, her hips swaying from the height of her heels. She wore a little bit of make-up but not enough to hide the freckles on the bridge of her nose. Harry slipped on a white button-up shirt and took the folded up paper from Lavender’s hand, who went to sit down on his bed.

Harry sat on the chair by the desk to read over her speech, but frowned halfway through, “Lav, this is boring as fuck.”

“What?” She frowned, “No, it’s not. It’s… well – it’s what Serena wanted.”

Harry flicked his eyes up, “She gave you pointers for your speech?”

“Yes.” Lavender shrugged and Harry huffed out a chuckle, “Well, don’t think we need to worry about our speeches being too similar. Mine’s nothing like this.”

“Can I read it?”

“Sure.” Harry took some pieces of paper and handed them to Lavender, who cleared her throat as she straightened it out, “Your handwriting is shit.”

“Shut up.” He mumbled, continuing to read hers.

Lavender exhaled a short breath, “Harry… The start of your speech is literally how Tristan went on a date with me first and then went for Serena.”

“Yeah. That’s what happened, isn’t it? It’s funny.”

“For once, I agree with you.” Lavender humourlessly chuckled, “I thought it’d be funnier though if I mentioned it, a matter of not making myself look like a complete fool. But Serena didn’t want me to mention it so I scrapped it.”

“Well, Tris didn’t ask me to scrap it so I’m leaving it in.” Harry simply shrugged. Lavender pressed her lips together and continued reading, feeling her cheeks flush with each passing second, “Harry, this speech is… I mean, Serena’s going to kill you.”

He snorted, “It’s funny. Yours is fucking boring.”

Lavender got up her feet, “It’s not boring. It’s – it’s clean.”

“It’s safe. Forgettable.”

She rolled her eyes and put Harry’s speech back where he had pulled it from, “Well thanks.”

“I mean, freedom of speech right? If Serena didn’t want you to write your own speech, she shouldn’t have chosen you as a maid of honour.”

Lavender headed for the door, “Wow, you’re full of compliments today.” She sarcastically spoke. Harry got up too, following her to the door, “Hey, ‘m fucking trying to back you up here.”

“Well don’t.” She bit.

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re a fucking asshole anyway a- ow!” Lavender yelped in pain when Harry’s slamming door hit her right in the face. Pain flared through her body as Lavender stumbled back, “What the f- you motherfucker!” She yelled.

Harry quickly yanked the door open again, “Shit! Oh my god – shit, I-I thought you were further away.” He stammered in apology, seeing Lavender with one hand cupping her nose. His eyes went even wider when he saw blood seeping from between her fingers.

“The dress!” Lavender shouted, biting back a wince. Harry was too late when he saw blood drops staining the creamy shade of Serena’s rehearsal dinner dress, snatching it out of Lavender’s hand a split second too late. He threw it into his room behind him, rushing over to Lavender who stood bent over cupping her face.

“Hey – shit, shh.” He grabbed her shoulders, “Stand up for me, are you dizzy?” He helped a trembling Lavender to stand up straight. Tears leaked from her eyes as she tried to blink, losing her footing a little bit. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her up, “Shh, shh, it’s okay. Holy shit.” He pulled her into his room.

“Why did you do that?!” She winced, trusting Harry to not drop her before he sat her down on the side of his bed again. Harry crouched down in front of her, “I-I honestly thought you were further away, I didn’t think the door would hit you.”

“You fucking idiot.” Lavender hissed, her fingers curling into the bedding as she tried to deal with the pain. Harry exhaled, “I know – I fucking know. C’mon, let me have a look.”

“I know you’re a nurse and all but I really think I should go to a doctor. H-How’s Serena’s dress?”

“Shut up.” Harry mumbled, pulling at her hand to expose her face. Blood covered her entirely and Harry quickly grabbed some tissues to stop the stream from running down her throat and staining the dress she was wearing too. His free hand was on her bare knee and he squeezed gently, “Okay, okay, lean back a little.”

“God – fucking hell, Harry.” Lavender groaned, doing as he said.

Harry wiped the tissues over her face to clean up the blood and get a better view. He squinted slightly, “Your nose isn’t crooked. I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Fucking feels like it.”

“Can you scrunch?” Harry questioned, tapping one of her nostrils a little and Lavender took a breath through her mouth before scrunching her nose, “Yeah.” She breathed. Harry hummed, “Okay, that’s good. ‘M gonna try a slight pinch, okay?”

“W-Wait.” Lavender held his wrist that was moving up to pinch her nose. Her eyes were closed as she breathed quickly and then nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

Harry squeezed her knee again and carefully pinched the bridge of her nose, “How’s that feel?”

“It’s – It’s okay.” Lavender croaked. Harry nodded, “Okay, definitely not broken. That’s good. Shit, ‘m so sorry, Lav. Let me get something to clean you up.”

“How’s Serena’s dress?” She questioned again and Harry took a quick glance at the dress that he hastily threw on the floor on his way to the bathroom, “It’s – uh, it’s got some drops on it. Perhaps we can wash it out?”

He didn’t wait for Lavender’s response as he brought a wet towel back to her to start cleaning off the blood. Lavender sniffled a little, “Can you hand me some tissues? I need to stop this bleeding.” She held out her hand and Harry nodded, handing her a few as she rolled them up and stuck them up her nose for a bit.

Lavender’s neck strained from the position but the second she sat up normally again, she felt completely dizzy, “Oh – shit.” She mumbled. Harry sat next to her on the bed, dropping the towel again to wrap his arms around her to hold her up, “Easy.” He murmured, “D’you feel okay? Fuck, I feel so bad.”

“You should.” Lavender sighed, rubbing her temple, “I-I need to go shower, I’m going to be late.”

“No, I’ll just wipe off the blood.”

“I need to re-apply my make-up a-and figure out a way to fix this dress. Fuck – the dress.” She felt a pit of dread in her stomach and Harry sighed, “Fuck the dress, ‘s not important right now.”

Lavender pressed her lips together as Harry continued to clean up her face. He was close to her and she smelled his cologne as he had a concentrated look on his face, “Your nose is a bit swollen but nothing too bad. And you have a small cut in your brow.”

“What?”

“Yeah, but it’s not bleeding much. Won’t scar either.”

Lavender didn’t say much but just sighed out as Harry cleaned up her face. “There you go. All good.”

Lavender opened her eyes and sighed out, “Thanks. Fuck, I can’t believe you threw a door in my face.”

“Really didn’t mean to, I promise.” Harry spoke with remorse in his voice. He dropped the bloodied towel on the floor and Lavender’s eyes glanced to his white shirt, “You’ve got blood on your shirt.”

“’S fine.” He shrugged, “It’s a cool story for the party tonight, y’know? People are going to come ask me about it.”

“Just a head’s up that girls don’t fall for that.”

“Damn, my entire strategy to shit.”

Lavender’s lip twitched up in a small smile but it dropped when her phone rang and it was Serena. She got up her feet, Harry quickly following along as she wobbled a bit and pulled the bloodied bits of tissue out of her nose as she felt like the bleeding had stopped. “I’m gonna go see Serena.” Lavender sighed, picking the stained dress off of the floor.

“Oh, I’m coming along, I don’t want to miss this.” Harry teased, “Serena’s gonna lose her marbles.”

“Please let her know it’s your fault.” Lavender sighed. Harry chuckled, “I will. Oh, this is gonna be so good.”

Lavender was less excited than he was when they walked the halls together. Her head still pounded and she tasted blood in her mouth. Her make-up was wiped off but she hardly cared. Her heart pounded, awaiting Serena’s reaction.

When Lavender knocked on the door of Serena and Tristan’s door, she heard hurried footsteps before the door got yanked open, “Where the hell have you been?!” Serena shrieked, “We’re already late!”

She was in a robe with perfect hair and make-up done. Lavender held her breath and glanced at Harry, who kept his mouth shut. He actually felt a little amused at the pure panic in Serena’s eyes. He noticed Lavender shifting a little uncomfortably on her feet, “Something happened – uh… my nose was bleeding a-and the blood…”

“Lav…” Serena’s voice took a low tone as she seemingly already knew what was about to be said. Lavender swallowed and sheepishly held out the dress, “The blood got on your dress. I-I’m so sorry.”

Serena’s eyes widened and Harry fought his laughter at the shock on her face when she saw the blood contrasting the creamy shade of her gown for the night.

“What’s going on?” Tristan was fiddling with his tie as he joined the group of four. Harry cleared his throat but Serena beat him to it, “What happened…” her voice trembled in anger, “was that my idiot of a maid of honour ruined my dress.”

Harry’s smile quickly disappeared when he realized how real and mean the anger of Serena actually was. He glanced to see Lavender, who had her eyes low. Serena angrily snatched the dress out of her hands and threw it on the floor, “Are you fucking kidding me?! Do you want to see me fail or something? Do you hate me?!”

Lavender pressed her lips together, “No, S… Of course not.” She tried but Serena hardly seemed to listen, “You have been doing every fucking thing to undermine me! Not to mention you ogle my fiancé every chance you get!”

Harry’s eyes widened and Lavender opened her mouth but Serena held up her finger, “Don’t fucking speak right now.” She snapped, “You’re a fucking mess! You can’t do anything right!”

Lavender shrunk and tensed and Harry huffed out a breath, “Look, it’s my fault, okay? Lav didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Oh, it’s never her fault.” Serena bit, her face red as she kept her eyes on Lavender, “Always the same excuse, but you’re just trying to steal my fucking thunder!”

Harry went to open his mouth but Serena glared at him and he quickly shut it again, taking a step back.

“Serena,” Tristan grabbed her hip from behind, “you have other dresses with you, just wear one of those.” Even he seemed scared of her.

“That’s not what it’s about!” Serena yelled, directing her anger back at Lavender and pointing her finger at her, “You always fucking ruin everything!” She screamed before turning around and storming off into the bathroom.

Lavender stood there with wide eyes and tense shoulders. Tristan lowered his eyes and Harry sighed out a sharp breath, “Thanks for nothing, Tris.” He muttered.

“No, thank you for nothing.” Lavender mumbled, flicking her eyes to Harry, “Was that your big defence? Taking the blame? I barely heard you.”

He frowned, “Lav, I d-“

“Save it.” She exhaled, turning around to head back to her room. Harry didn’t follow her. As Lavender walked the halls, her bottom lip trembled. Her head still pounded from the blow, but the anger she felt towards Harry for being such an idiot was overpowered by an extreme sadness and feeling of anxiety. Serena blew up quickly, and Lavender knew it. But this was on a different level.

She could hardly blame her and had to keep Serena’s upbringing in mind – but she had literally been screaming in her face for a dress. If it would’ve been her actual wedding dress, maybe Lavender would’ve understood. But it was a dress for a rehearsal dinner and she had four others with her.

Lavender felt the tears in her eyes and jammed her key card into the door of her hotel room so she could cry without any of the wedding guests seeing her. Once inside, she sobbed loudly.

Serena didn’t know this – or actually she did – but Lavender grew up in a shouting household. Her parents did nothing but yell. At her, at each other. Lavender had craved silence and stability all her life and she had gotten none of it so far.

Friendships that came and went with toxic people. She found those toxic people in relationships too, letting her partners drag her down all the time until she felt insignificant. But Lavender was a stayer and not a leaver. It hardly mattered how shitty people treated her, she tried to find a way to stay and see the best in them. Everyone had a good side, but some people had a far worse bad side than others did.

Lavender didn’t talk about her childhood easily, mostly because she felt traumatized by something she found hard to explain. She was never short on anything and her parents were still together to this day, but the yelling. God, the endless yelling. Lavender couldn’t wait to move out and live by herself and be in the quiet. And perhaps because of that, she wasn’t a yeller.

And Serena screaming in her face pained her more than she cared to admit. Her body had a physical reaction to it, and Lavender was shaking and gasping in the room as she walked around a little bit. She went into the bathroom to splash some water in her face, inspecting the cut in her forehead and taking a painkiller for her headache. Her nose wasn’t even all that swollen, and she blew it a few times to get rid of all the blood.

By the time she had laid in bed for a moment, she felt calmer.

And Lavender honestly wasn’t sure what to do. Her anger and sadness made place for that people-pleasing part of her who just couldn’t imagine missing out on her best friend’s wedding – no matter how shitty she treated her.

So Lavender redid her make-up and fixed her dress before putting on a brave face and heading back downstairs.

The dinner hadn’t formally began yet and Lavender kept her eyes low when she entered the room. She went straight to the bar to order a glass of champagne, hardly standing there for all of two seconds before she felt a presence next to her.

“Lav –“ She heard Harry’s voice and turned her head to the side, a boring look on her face, “What?”

“Look, ‘m sorry, okay?” Harry had a look of sorrow in his eyes. For the past thirty minutes he had contemplated going up to Lavender’s room to apologize thoroughly. Instead of doing that, he had to stay with Tristan and listened as he complained about Serena’s temper. Apparently tensions were running high the days before their wedding. Harry had a flicker of hope that perhaps this entire thing would fall through.

Lavender accepted her glass of champagne, “Good for you. But I got screamed at and you didn’t.” She was about to turn around but Harry grabbed her arm, “Stop, come on… I-I didn’t think she’d react like that. Why are you friends with her anyway? She’s horrible to you.” He sighed, “How can I make it up?”

“I told you before,” Lavender hissed, “save it. We’re not friends.” She shrugged her arm out of his grip and went to find Serena to apologize to her again. She spotted her easily, wearing a dark green dress instead of a cream one. She looked gorgeous and radiant as usual and her eyes softened when she laid eyes Lavender.

They only spoke for about a minute. Serena didn’t have too much time on a night like tonight. She apologized to Lavender for shouting and they hugged, and then it was all good. Lavender sat down at the table with her champagne, the chair next to her scraping back as Harry also took his seat.

She shifted in her chair and flicked her eyes over to him, “Why are you sitting next to me?” She whispered.

“Because I want to apologize.” He spoke in an equally hushed whisper. Lavender rolled her eyes, “Stop. Go sit with Tristan.”

“No. I’m going to sit right here until you forgive me.”

“Well, good luck.” Lavender took another sip and then focussed her attention on Tristan’s father who was giving a little speech. Harry stared at her side profile, Lavender very clearly avoiding him. Throughout dinner she didn’t pay him any attention. She sat turned to the side to chat with the other bridesmaids while Harry was stuck next to Serena’s father.

They sipped some wine as Lavender tried her best to avoid him. Harry’s chair was close to hers and she jumped up in pure surprise when suddenly feeling his thumb on her thigh. “Lav.” He whispered. She zoned out of her conversation with Brit and tried to ignore Harry, crossing her legs over one another as she nodded and hummed at whatever Brit was saying.

“Lav.” Harry whispered again.

Lavender’s hand trembled as she took another sip of her red wine and shifted a little more until the entirety of Harry’s palm was on her thigh.

“Will you stop touching me?” She hissed suddenly, scraping her chair back. She turned her head sharply and Harry’s brows raised, a small, amused smile on his lips as he retrieved his hand, “You wouldn’t listen.”

“Because I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me alone.”

Harry puckered his lips, “You’re talking to me right now.”

“I’m not. I’m telling you I don’t want to talk to you.” Lavender gritted through her teeth.

Harry continued smirking, “Y’know, at the wedding, we’re also sitting next to one another.”

Lavender blinked at him, “No, we’re not.”

“We are.” Harry smirked, “I asked Tristan to change the seating chart.” He held up his phone, showing the text messages between him and Tristan and Lavender hardly looked at it, “Why.”

“Because…” Harry shrugged, “I want you to forgive me.”

“I don’t like you.”

“You will.”

“God – Harry,” Lavender rolled her eyes, “You hate me as much as I hate you.”

“So just tell me you forgive me.” He shrugged. Lavender narrowed her eyes, “You almost broke my nose.”

“Almost.” Harry held up his finger and Lavender scoffed, “Just leave me alone.”

She turned around again to send Brit a smile, “Sorry, please continue.”

Once they were all gone from the tables, Harry mingled a little with Tristan’s family. He knew them ever since he was little and spent a long time talking to his mum.

“So Harry,” She flicked some dust off of his shoulder, “didn’t you bring a date?”

He flashed her a charming smile, “I’m not really the dating type, Andrea.” He chuckled. She took a sip of her wine, “Maybe not, but isn’t it the hype now to bring a date to a wedding? Girlfriend or not?” She checked and Harry raised one of his shoulders, “Nah. I like to…” he puckered his lips, “scope my surroundings.”

Andrea chuckled at the cheekiness she knew so well, “So you’re going to hook up with someone?”

“Andrea.” Harry threw his head back in a laugh and shook his head, “Let’s just see what happens.”

She glanced around the room, “Anyone you’ve got your eyes on? Isn’t it a cliché that the best man hooks up with one of the bridesmaids?”

He followed her gaze to where the bridesmaids were chattering together, one of them being Lavender. The music had gotten louder the past thirty minutes and her hips were softly swaying, a beer in her hand now.

He checked her out thoroughly, scanning the length of her body and the tight dress hugging her figure. The nip in her waist and the width of her hips, the length of her legs and how smooth her skin looked. The dark red looked outstanding on her and Harry wondered why he had never looked at her like this before.

Maybe because he had never before wanted her attention.

He honestly did feel bad about how the evening had gone. Witnessing Serena in all her anger, he realized how tough it had been for Lavender these past few months – basically planning the wedding. Lavender was nice enough to work around Harry’s schedule. As a hospital nurse, he had night shifts and evening shifts all the time, yet she adapted easily.

And he nearly fucking broke her nose. It was a hundred percent his fault that dress had been ruined, but when he heard whatever Serena yelled at Lavender, he had just been frozen. Like… paralyzed. He thought it’d be funny to watch Serena throw a fit, but it was beyond extent. He was surprised at her outburst to say the least, so surprised he could hardly speak.

And now he wanted to apologize, and he wanted Lavender to forgive him.

Any other time, he’d stay as far away from her as possible. They never had anything to talk about and were at each other’s throat, but now he was grovelling.

He knew she didn’t like him, but he needed her to forgive him just for this.

He threw the remainder of his scotch down his throat and excused himself when he noticed Lavender heading towards the restrooms. He put his empty glass down and tucked his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, following after her.

Once in the restrooms, he didn’t hesitate opening the doors to the ladies rooms. Lavender was at the sinks, staring back at him through the mirror with a tube of lipstick in her hand.

Harry stayed by the door, shortly glancing around until he realized they were alone.

“This is the ladies room.” Lavender spoke.

“I know. D’you need to pee?” Harry checked.

“I’m touching up my lipstick.”

He walked over to her until he stood behind her, “Really? ‘S a shame. I’m just going to ruin it again.”

Lavender’s lipstick dropped to the floor when Harry abruptly grabbed her hips and spun her around, holding her around her waist and dipping his head. Their lips brushed together and Lavender’s eyes widened, immediately shoving against his shoulders, “Harry!” She yelped, “What the fuck?!”

He stumbled back, breathless. Lavender frowned deeply as she grabbed the sink behind her. The tension was thick between them, and Lavender didn’t even know why she did it. She pushed herself off the counter, leaving her stuff by the sink as she lunged at Harry and wrapped her arms around him. “Fuck it.” She breathed, crashing their lips together.

He smirked against her lips, immediately responding by holding onto her waist. One hand immediately reached for her ass to pull her into him. He stumbled back with Lavender in his arms, bumping into the mirrored wall behind him. She moaned into his mouth, tasting alcohol on his lips as he engulfed her and pulled her tightly into his chest.

He felt warm. Firm. And Lavender was blinded by lust. Harry was the last man she ever considered being attracted to. She’d always found him hot, from meeting him the first time even. But then his personality showed and she was turned off immediately. Now, she couldn’t even remember why she disliked him in the first place.

Harry turned them around again, pushing Lavender into the wall. His tongue wiggled between her lips, bringing one hand up to cup her jaw and hold her in place. His hips pushed forward to trap her, and he felt himself shuddering as Lavender ran her fingers through the back of his hair, pulling him in further as she arched.

She tasted delicious, red wine on her tongue as Harry used his thumb to push her jaw down and allow him more room to dominate the kiss.

Lavender didn’t have a single thought. Harry’s warm body encaged her, his cologne overwhelmed her and his lips devoured her. She felt dizzy in the best way and her entire body felt on fire, overcome with a sudden lust for a man she used to despise. God he was a skilled kisser.

“Forgive me?” He panted against her lips. Lavender groaned in protest and managed to shake her head before they were caught in another make-out session, “No.” She breathed into his mouth. Harry dug his fingers into her hip and let his other hand slip to her thigh too. Without breaking the kiss, his fingers hiked up Lavender’s tight dress until it sat around her hips, revealing the white lace thong she wore underneath.

Harry sponged kisses over her jaw as he caught his breath and Lavender turned her head to the side to see the entrance door of the women’s bathrooms. Her heart hammered in her chest, “H-Harry, the door.” She gasped as he slipped a hand between her legs. Lavender’s head thudded against the mirror behind her as she trembled, his fingers pressing into her nerves through her thong.

Her fingers involuntary tightened in his hair when he teased her through the underwear, “Someone can walk in.” She stuttered out between shaky breaths and Harry hummed, sucking softly below her ear, “Let them.” He then kissed her again.

One hand steady on her hip, the other between her thighs. Lavender squirmed and he smirked, knowing fully well what he was doing to her. Harry was throbbing in his pants and as he went to sponge kisses over Lavender’s shoulder, he glanced down to see the angelic white on her body.

Lavender was slender and shaped beautifully, and Harry bit his lip, watching as his fingers disappeared into the waistband of her thong as he flattened his hand against her tummy. Right as his fingertips grazed her bare clit, he flicked his eyes back up to stare into Lavender’s.

Her jaw clenched in sensitivity when Harry let two fingertips rest on her budding pearl, drawing the softest, smallest circles. Lavender was tingling, desperately grabbing his hair until she was sure she was hurting his scalp. But Harry only smirked wickedly, enjoying tremendously what he was putting Lavender through.

“Forgive me?” He whispered again, lips brushing over one another. She shook her head, “N-No. Asshole.”

Harry grunted before the two fingers he has used to toy with her clit, slipped lower through her wet slit. Lavender coated his digits immediately in her slick arousal as he spread her pussy lips to work her up. His jaw dropped at the feeling, warm, gooey excitement making the glide easy.

Lavender was panting, her head against the mirror as she checked the door every once in a while. Literally anyone could walk in at any time and see this. Her dress up her hips and Harry’s hand in her underwear. Harry, of all people.

“Look at that,” He cooed teasingly as he dipped the tip of his finger inside of her and Lavender shuddered slightly, “this asshole is about to get you off in less than a minute, get you creaming all over my fingers.”

Lavender pressed her lips together as she tried to hold onto her composure, but her brain was short-circuiting when Harry pushed his finger in a little further, eagerly checking her reactions. She tried to seem unfazed but he could see the rounding of her eyes and the tremble in her bottom lip. Harry’s lip curled up into a half-smirk as he curled his finger up. Lavender’s shoulders tensed and her lips parted wider, inhaling a strangled gasp.

“There we go.” Harry whispered, “Let me tell you how sorry I am, hm?”

Lavender’s heart beat violently as Harry tortured her with one of his long fingers, brushing into her swollen g-spot over and over again to only get her wetter. It was near embarrassing. “I h-hate you.” She managed to croak out.

“Yeah?”

Lavender’s eyes rolled back and she bit her lip hard to stifle a moan when he added a second finger. Harry narrowed his eyes, zeroing in on the way a flush rose up her chest and throat as Lavender fought so hard not to let the pleasure consume her. Harry chuckled out arrogantly when he felt her clenching around his two fingers. She was so fucking warm and wet and his mouth watered, imagining what she’d taste like.

“Still hate me?” Harry checked cockily as he pulled his fingers out halfway and thrusted back in. Lavender jolted up with a stifled whimper, her bottom lip turning white from how harshly she was biting down on it. Her chest heaved up and down as Harry had her in the palm of his hand.

“Lav,” He crooned, “answer me. Still hate me?”

“Uh-h-huh.” She moaned out. Harry chuckled and pressed a kiss to her swollen bottom lip, “’S not very polite when I’ve got my fingers inside you.” He whispered, “’S not very polite when I’m about to make you cum.”

Lavender’s eyes glazed over as she managed to shake her head no. Harry smirked wider, “I’m not?” He checked, and Lavender confirmed by shaking her head. Harry nuzzled his nose with her as he put more force into the thrusting motions of his fingers. The palm of his hand rubbed into Lavender’s clit as her wetness seeped out of her cunt to cover his fingers.

“I beg to differ.” He whispered, “You’re right there, I can feel it. C’mon, Lav, don’t be such a stubborn little bitch.” He hissed the last part, adding a third finger. Lavender cried out in surprise, her eyes bulging as her legs shook. Harry’s eyes blazed fire as his fingers fucked into her and Lavender desperately tried to stave off her orgasm.

It was no use. Harry’s fingers massaged her perfectly and she gasped in a pathetic breath. The smirk returned to his lips, realizing very well he was about to make her cum on his fingers, “Feels so fucking tight.” He whispered against her parted lips, “’M so hard for you, Lav. Wish it was my cock inside your wet cunt.”

Lavender panted harder, shaking on her feet as Harry flicked his eyes between hers, “Just like that,” He urged, “get wet on my fingers, c’mon.” He rubbed her g-spot over and over again and Lavender couldn’t stop it anymore. Her body shivered as she harshly tugged Harry’s hair. Her mouth fell open and her eyes rolled back, face scrunching up in delight. Harry hardly knew where to look first, the sight in front of him so erotic.

A pink flush rose up Lavender’s cheeks as she pinched her eyes shut and stuttered out a breathy cry, “God – Harry.” She whimpered his name in a way it made a shiver run down his spine, his cock twitching in his pants when he felt her wet, sticky release on his fingers. His digits continued to work her through her orgasm as Lavender desperately gasped for oxygen, her brain fried with so much pleasure.

Fuck, she couldn’t believe she had just cum on his fingers. Her body slumped against the mirror as Harry wrapped his arm entirely around her waist to steady her. He shushed her gently as her hips trembled, “Shh, baby…” He crooned, kissing her chin once, “that’s good, that’s so fucking good.”

Lavender blinked as she came back to earth, her eyes focussing on Harry who couldn’t help but smirk arrogantly at her wrecked state. Lavender gasped when his fingers slipped out of her gently, Harry shushing her again, “’S okay.” He whispered, something so arrogant about the way he soothed her, knowing full well she was about to whimper in protest of his touch disappearing. He loved it. God, he thrived on it. “No need to pout.” He added, even though Lavender was a billion percent sure she wasn’t fucking pouting.

Her legs felt like spaghetti when Harry brought up his wet fingers to lick them clean, moaning softly at the taste of her. So sweet, resembling honey in the way it stuck to his tongue and hit his tastebuds. He cupped her chin after to press a lingering kiss to her lips.

Without her having to ask, he fixed her underwear a little and tugged her dress down to cover her up. He bumped his nose into hers, “Forgive me?” He asked again.

Lavender swallowed and put her hands on his shoulders to nudge him back. Harry did so, allowing her the space to stand up on her own. Lavender smoothed her palms over her dress as she cleared her throat, “No.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving Harry flustered and aching in the women’s bathrooms.

***

Harry watched her the next day, sipping his coffee in silence in the hotel bar. It was a Saturday and the day before the wedding.

She avoided him, so much was clear.

After last night, Lavender felt completely embarrassed and a little frustrated. He was the reason her head hurt all the time. He was the reason she had felt like crap for months in a row, preparing this wedding by herself as he did near nothing to help her. He was the reason Serena lashed out at her and made Lavender cry.

So she gathered herself and stuck around the party for a little longer. She had felt Harry’s eyes burning on her as Lavender flirted with one of the groomsmen and played with a strand of her red hair. She felt his eyes when she drank another glass of red wine. She felt his eyes when she said goodnight to Serena and Tristan and headed up to her room.

He hesitated following after her and finishing what they had started in the bathrooms, but Harry too was slightly flustered. Flustered because Lavender had left him high and dry after he made her cum on his fingers. She rejected him very clearly and he wasn’t sure if it was still a game or not.

So he watched her and made mental notes.

Lavender was the girl who woke up early on Saturday morning and went for a run in skimpy shorts and a sport’s bra.

Lavender was the girl who came back from said run about fifty minutes later, hardly looking like she had broken a sweat.

Lavender was the girl who then went up to shower and dressed casually, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt as her red hair was still wet from showering.

Lavender was the kind of girl who ordered black coffee.

Lavender was the kind of girl who sat with her laptop and headphones on, working on a Saturday even if her best friend was getting married the next day.

Lavender was the kind of girl who fucking ignored him as he sat staring at her from across the bar.

For Harry, the day moved too slow. He was stuck with Tristan freaking out about the wedding, rehearsing his vows and his speech about a billion times. Tristan had a dramatic freak-out about the length of his hair and then also the hair in his nose. Harry couldn’t wait for it to be Sunday so Tristan could get off his nerves.

For Lavender, the day moved too fast. She was behind in work and couldn’t get it done with the way Harry was staring at her from across the room and the memory of her orgasm fresh in her brain. She couldn’t face him – she couldn’t. Lavender had never been more fucking confused. Harry called her ugly not two weeks ago and it was basically the first time they had an interaction where they weren’t yelling at each other.

Instead of yelling, it had been moaning and whimpering. The hair on Lavender’s arm stood up just thinking about it. The jog that morning hardly cleared her mind and all she could think of was how she was supposed to sit next to him the next day. All day.

The night before the wedding was rather calm. Serena spent the night in Lavender’s room so her and Tristan could sleep apart and it was filled with plucking her brows, doing a facemask and painting her nails. Lavender kept her mouth shut about Harry and simply nodded and hummed to whatever Serena was talking about.

The morning of the wedding was spent with more preparations and Lavender having to calm Serena down. They took pictures and took hours to get ready, having a little girl-lunch with the bridesmaids. The day itself flew by and before anyone true and well realized it, Serena was waiting at the end of the aisle with Lavender, ready to walk down to her future husband.

“You look so beautiful.” Lavender smiled gently. Serena was near trembling in anxiety. She exhaled a short breath, “I’m scared I’m going to trip.”

Lavender shook her head, “Just hold onto your dad.” Her head flicked to the side when the music started. Lavender pressed her lips together and Serena grabbed her hands harder, giving her a nod, “See you on the other side.”

“I love you.” Lavender pressed a light kiss to her forehead, running her thumb over it after to not leave a lipstick stain. Lavender brushed her hair over her shoulder and smoothed out her lavender dress, grabbing the bouquet of dried flowers she’d hold to walk down the aisle and wait for Serena at the front.

Lavender took a small breath and glanced at Serena over her shoulder, who was grabbing her father’s arm. The doors opened and Lavender was met with rows of people. An officiant was at the front with Tristan and Harry by his side.

Lavender walked the middle of the aisle, the soft music guiding her to the front.

And Harry couldn’t tear his fucking eyes away. He was sure he wouldn’t blink twice if Serena walked down the aisle in her white dress.

But Lavender looked… astonishing.

Harry’s throat ran dry when his eyes focussed completely on her. Everyone else fucking vanished when she walked out of the building. The summer sun shone down on her, turning her hair just slightly lighter than the dark red it usually was. It was in gentle waves, cascading down her back. Her make-up was simple as usual, and he could see her freckles. And then the fucking dress – was just made for her.

It made her look like she was the bride and Harry held his breath. It was a slip dress, clinging to the curves of her hips. Those hips he had held when he had brought her to orgasm with his fingers. He softly cleared his throat and blinked twice, watching the way her hips swayed from left to right as she made her way up front.

Lavender shot a small smile at Tristan and then stood opposite Harry to wait for Serena. Her eyes briefly flicked up to Harry and he looked at her like he had seen a ghost. Lavender diverted her eyes away but not before realizing that Harry wore a lavender-shaded tie.

Her fingers tightened around the bouquet she was holding at the realization that they matched a little bit in some way. Of course Serena was all about the aesthetic and had paid attention to little details like that.

Harry could hardly focus on the ceremony. The officiant had to ask him twice to bring the rings and Lavender bit her lip to stifle her giggle at that. Her eyes were on Serena and Tristan, a soft smile on her lips as she exuded pure happiness for her friend.

But Harry wasn’t even paying attention to that. He was sure Serena looked pretty. He saw flashes of her dress in the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t stop looking at Lavender. And the more he looked at her, the hotter he felt. Harry felt flushed, realizing they had kissed. Realizing he had fingered her. Realizing he had tasted her on his fingers too.

He was a little late in applauding once Serena and Tristan sealed in their marriage with a kiss. After that, things moved quickly. Lavender and Harry were constantly talking to people and dousing little fires in an attempt to make this the perfect day for Serena and Tristan.

It was before dinner that they shared their first conversation.

“The guy said there’s something wrong with the beamer.” Harry breathed as he took hold of Lavender’s forearm. The champagne sloshed around in her glass a bit as her eyes widened, “Shit.” She muttered, earning raised brows from Serena’s grandparents.

Harry offered them a polite smile before shortly tugging on Lavender’s arm to get her away, “C’mon, let’s go have a look.”

Lavender put her feet down as she fought the grip, “Well, can’t you just go and figure something out? I’m not like… a tech person or anything.” She shrugged.

Harry clenched his jaw, “Lav, let’s just go take a look. I’m freaking out here.”

“I didn’t want this stupid PowerPoint presentation in the first place.”

“Fuck, this again?” Harry huffed, “Look, it’s what we decided on, Lavender. We didn’t have time to figure anything else out. And why are you bringing that up now?” He hissed through his teeth, in clear panic of the little situation.

Lavender took another sip of champagne, shrugging her shoulders, “Because I feel like it.” She pulled her arm back when Harry seemingly reached for it again, “You’ve been getting on my nerves throughout the entire planning of this wedding.”

Harry flicked his tongue over his bottom lip as he exhaled a heavy sigh, shaking his head to himself, “You know…” He lowered his voice as he shot Lavender a hard glare, “really thought I fucked that bratty attitude out of you.”

Lavender’s eyes widened, “You little s-“

“Lav!” Serena’s voice sounded urgent and Lavender offered Harry a small smile, “Oops. Maid of honour duty calls.”

“Lav-“ Harry gritted but she was already turned around and walking away. Harry’s eyes dropped to her ass and he pressed his lips together, sharply turning around as frustration coursed through his veins.

The evening was honestly a rollercoaster. Harry figured out the beamer thing, so the PowerPoint worked as planned. Lavender did most of that, which Harry was grateful for. In turn, he left out the part where Tristan went on a date with her first as he made his speech.

Lavender was grateful for that. So when the desert buffet happened and she managed to take the final piece of cheesecake, she instead slid it over to his plate.

Harry swallowed his wine as he glanced at the cheesecake on his plate. His eyes then flicked to Lavender, who glanced back at him from below her lashes.

“This for me?” He questioned.

Lavender softly cleared her throat, “Yes. Thank you for altering your speech and not make this embarrassing for me.”

Harry slowly nodded, “Thank you for handling the PowerPoint presentation.”

“Thank you for fixing the beamer.”

A small smile spread on Harry’s lips, “Thank you for coming up with the idea.”

Lavender hid her smile behind her glass but eventually puckered her lips, “Look at us.”

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” Harry turned a bit more in his chair to face her, his knee bumping into hers, “That we’d agree on something? Or get along?”

“You know…” Lavender flicked her hair over her shoulder and Harry inhaled her perfume, his eyes dropping to the column of her throat and how he had his lips on her the day before. His fingers clenched over the edge of the chair as the memories came to mind.

Warm, wet pulsing walls around his fingers. Harry near drooled. Lavender saw the parting of his lips and felt a sense of pride and arrogance washing over her. Harry’s eyes briefly dropped to her chest before Lavender continued, “if you think about it, we’re both just… passionate best friends, hm?”

“Of course.” Harry nodded, “We did this for our best friends.”

“They’re very important to us. Tristan to you and Serena to me.”

“Obviously.”

Lavender softly smiled, “See? Agreeing again.”

“Must be something in the wine.”

Her giggle made Harry’s heart flutter and he bit his bottom lip, “Perhaps we were dicks to each other just because we’re such passionate friends.”

Lavender raised her brows, “I don’t think I was a dick to you.”

“You were.”

“I beg to differ.”

Harry tilted his head to the side, “So you don’t think I deserve an apology?”

Lavender smirked while shrugging, “Nope. I think I deserve an apology.”

Harry’s skin felt hot, “I tried.” He rasped.

“Perhaps.” Lavender took a sip of wine, “But I think you can try harder.”

Harry scooted even closer and he even dared to let his hand rest on Lavender’s knee. The warmth from him made her tingle and her eyes dropped to the touch, swallowing her red wine that stained her lips a shade similar to her hair. Harry gave her knee a soft squeeze, “How?” He murmured.

Lavender tried to keep the slamming of her heart under control, “Figure it out.” She smiled before turning around again. Harry’s hand slipped off her leg as he watched her turn her shoulder to talk to someone else.

Lavender didn’t necessarily know this about him, but the challenge spurred Harry on tremendously. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her the remainder of the evening. When Tristan and Serena did their first dance, Harry stared at Lavender who was on the other side of the circle watching them. Lavender held her phone up to videotape them even if there were two professional videographers capturing the moment.

She had a soft smile on her lips and held a beer bottle between two fingers while focussing on the newlyweds. Their eyes met and Lavender tipped the bottle of beer back and continued filming their friends. Harry leaned back against the bar and saw his chance a few minutes later.

The first song.

He walked up to her and snatched Lavender before Tristan or anyone else could. His arm slipped around her waist, the slip dress clinging to her curves as Lavender raised her brows at him, “Wh –“

“Dance with me.” Harry smirked, grabbing the bottle out of Lavender’s hand and putting it down somewhere before guiding her hand to his shoulder. Her cheeks flamed quickly and Lavender looked anywhere besides his eyes as Harry tugged her a bit closer to him by the hand he had on her lower back.

“C’mon, Lav.” His nose brushed her cheekbone as he pulled her closer for the slow dance, Perfect by Ed Sheeran sounding through the venue as couples paired up and slow danced. He brought his other hand to her hip to give a soft squeeze, “Relax a little.”

“I hate this song.” She exhaled and Harry chuckled, his chest rumbling a little, “Me too. Look, agreeing again. Perhaps it’s in the beer too.”

Lavender simply swallowed and tried to not completely freak out by Harry’s closeness. She was so aware of where his fingers were placed around the bones of her hips and how his breath hit her forehead. Her hands were on his shoulders and she let him guide her easily, following along the steps he took.

“How’s the nose?” Harry checked to break the silence.

Lavender huffed out a breath and shrugged. Harry had a sly smirk, “Still look pretty.”

“You called me ugly not even two weeks ago.”

“I was an idiot two weeks ago.”

Lavender refrained from rolling her eyes, readjusting her hands a little bit until they linked at the back of Harry’s neck, “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly…” Harry exhaled, “feeling you cum around my fingers was pretty detrimental.” He casually spoke and Lavender’s eyes widened as she peered over his shoulder, hearing him murmur in her ear as they continued slow dancing. Harry’s thumbs stroked over her dress, “Watching you cum, too. You were almost crying, and your eyes rolled back. Your cheeks turned pink and your heart was beating so fast. And fuck,” He lowly spoke, brushing his lips over her jaw briefly, “your pussy felt so warm and wet. So warm.”

Lavender was at a loss for words. Harry’s hand brushed the top of her ass before modestly placing it back on her back. The low cut of the dress on her back made it easy to trace his fingers over her vertebrae, “Tasted so fucking sweet, too.”

Lavender swallowed, “S-So I was ugly until I took off my clothes?” She asked to clarify, keeping her voice from shaking. Harry frowned and pulled back a little, seeing Lavender’s challenging eyes. He quickly glanced around them before using one hand to cup her jaw and placing a delicate kiss on the high of her cheek, “Not at all. Just made me see you differently. Let’s be honest, you were never ugly. Not by a long shot. You’re the most beautiful woman in the room. I-In every room.”

“God, you really want to hook up at this wedding, don’t you?” Lavender had some disgust laced in her voice as she increased the distance between them again, “Guess Serena’s grandmother’s old necklace isn’t the only thing that’s blue in here.” She spoke, referring to Harry’s balls.

He pressed his lips together, “Will you just fucking believe me when I tell you that I’m attracted to you?” He gritted through his teeth and Lavender huffed, “Why would I? You’ve made my life hell the past six months.”

“And I want to make it up to you.” Harry pressed, “Think I would’ve fingered you in that bathroom if I didn’t really want to? Think I didn’t jerk myself off afterwards thinking about it? Think I haven’t done the same thing multiple times in the past few months?”

Lavender’s eyes rounded at the information, and she could imagine Harry sitting at home with his hand down his pants and her on his brain. Her throat ran dry and Harry took another breath, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. And we won’t see each other anymore after today.”

His words held truth and Lavender’s heart actually did sink a little. Harry was a pain in her ass and he had successfully wound her up so badly over the past few months that Lavender felt so much anger and frustration that she hardly knew what to do with it. All she wanted for the past six months was for this wedding to be over already. So she could go back to spending her free time however she saw fit, and so she could go back to not having to interact with Harry so often.

Yet now that the time was close, she actually dreaded it. Their bickering. God, what is wrong with me – Lavender thought. She swallowed and eventually dared flicking her eyes up to see Harry, getting lost in the deep green of his gaze. Maybe fucking him really was the one thing she needed to get rid of that frustration. Maybe it’d even feel good. She could be on top of him, choke him, dominate him a little bit to finally gain the upper hand.

A heat spread over Lavender’s body and she softly nodded, “Okay.” She rasped.

Harry’s lips curled up into a grin, “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” Harry murmured, squeezing her hip again, “And don’t backtrack on me, Lav. We’re doing this. I’m going to make you feel how sorry I am. All night long.” He spoke directly in her ear again, sensing a shudder that ran down her spine at his words. He brushed his lips over the shell of her ear, “If you can handle it.”

“I can handle it.” She spoke in a wavering voice. Harry’s cock twitched in his pants at the way she tried to sound feisty but failed. He hummed, “I know. You’re going to be good to me and I’m going to be good to you.” Harry pulled back and tapped his pointer finger underneath her chin, “Always telling me I’ve got such a big mouth hm? I’ll put it to use real good tonight.” He smirked before tapping her top lip and turning around.

Lavender was a panting mess on the dancefloor and she stared at Harry’s back as he walked away from her. She didn’t have to see his face to know he had a shit eating cocky grin on his face. He knew so well what he was doing, leaving her with the thought of his tongue between her thighs so she wouldn’t change her mind.

Lavender felt sweaty and headed into the bathroom for a bit, her cheeks red as she used some toilet paper to get rid of the arousal between her legs. She swallowed thickly as she tried to calm down, tried to get the jittering of her thighs under control. She flushed the toilet and went outside to wash her hands and join the party again.

It felt like time crawled by as slowly as it could. Harry and Lavender made eyes at one another from across the room as they tried to be polite and talk to some of the guests. Lavender had a dance with Tristan as Harry danced with Serena for a moment. It felt awkward to say the least. Harry truly did dislike Serena a lot and Serena kept her eyes on her new husband and her best friend – still a sense of insecurity there since he went on a date with Lavender first.

Lavender pulled herself out of Tristan’s arms a few seconds before the song ended and forced him a small smile, heading to the bar next to grab another beer.

Harry chuckled at the sight, a beautiful woman in a soft lilac dress, drinking beer from the bottle.

By the time some of the older guests started heading up to their rooms, Harry found Lavender at the bar. He subtly placed his hand on her lower back and she jumped up, flicking her head to the side, “Oh. Hey.”

“Hi.” He breathed. Harry nibbled his lip for a moment as he scanned the room, “Wanna get out of here?”

Lavender’s cheeks heated at his words and her legs felt weak again. She remembered the way he fingered her to an orgasm so mindblowing she nearly passed out. She finished up her beer and nodded, “Okay.”

Harry nodded, “Okay. Let’s go, we can sneak out here.”

“Serena will be looking for me later.” Lavender spoke as Harry pulled her out of the room and towards the back exit, “To help with her dress.”

“Tristan can help with her dress.” Harry argued. Before they made it outside, he pushed her up against the wall. With one hand tangled in her red hair, he pushed his lips on hers urgently. Lavender squealed in surprise but reacted quickly, holding onto Harry’s broad shoulders as his tongue wiggled its way between her lips.

Lavender was putty in his hands, melting into his body and running her fingers through his hair as they made out. His tongue was soft and wet, flicking the tip of it against hers and licking up the roof of her mouth to get Lavender dizzy. She chased him once he pulled back, bringing him in for another kiss.

Harry smirked against her, feeling as she arched her back and pressed her tits into his chest. His hand dropped to her ass to hold her close and they eventually did pull back for air. He nipped on her jaw, tasting the remains of her perfume, “Fuck Serena.” He mumbled, “She doesn’t need you anymore tonight. I do. And besides, you won’t be able to walk once I’m done with you. Gonna keep you in bed all night.”

Lavender’s eyes fluttered at his promise and she hastily nodded, “Y-Yeah. Okay.”

Her body felt cold as Harry pulled back, taking her hand again to pull her outside of the venue and head towards the hotel. The steep, uphill walk proved a bit of a difficulty in the dark. Lavender’s heels got stuck in the grass and she helplessly trailed behind Harry a bit.

“Lav, let’s go.” Harry impatiently tugged at her and she hissed under her breath, “I’m wearing heels.” She bit.

Harry rolled his eyes and they eventually made it towards the entrance of the hotel. They hurried in, Harry’s key card in hand as he pulled her towards the elevator. They were both out of breath, but Lavender grabbed his tie and pulled him into her. His hands kneaded her waist as they grabbed at one another and hotly made out again. He stole the breath out of her lungs and Lavender moaned shakily at the way his thigh pressed between her legs.

“Come on.” Harry panted once the doors opened. His hair was messy and his cheeks were pink. His tie was partly undone from Lavender’s fingers tugging at it earlier and they stumbled towards Harry’s room. Lavender scanned the hallway to make sure no one caught them until Harry finally managed to open the room.

“Fuck, I can’t wait.” He moaned, immediately shoving her on the bed. Lavender gasped in surprise as she thudded on the white sheets, staring up at the ceiling until Harry hovered over her. Lavender’s eyes couldn’t focus as he yanked on the tie to get rid of it. His eyes dragged down her form, lingering on the sight of her hardened nipples through the soft purple shade of her dress.

He kissed her again, a lot slower this time. Lavender’s brain exploded as his tongue expertly roamed around her mouth and his hands touched her waist. He discovered her shape, moving his palm up to cup her breast over her dress. Lavender arched and restlessly kicked her legs for more. Harry kissed down, nipping on her throat and the swells of her breasts as his hands hitched up the dress.

“Gonna make you feel how fucking sorry I am.” He grunted, dropping down the bed to sit on his knees on the side of it. Lavender panted pathetically when she felt his fingers around her ankles, undoing her strappy heels which thudded to the floor.

His hands then slid up her thighs, pulling the dress up with it. He kissed over her shins, her knees and higher up until bunching her dress up around her hips. “Holy fuck – Lav…” Harry breathed at the sight of her soft pink lace thong. He dropped his forehead to her thigh with a whimper, “Shit.”

“I w-wanna –“ Lavender breathed as she pushed up her elbows, her eyes glazed over as they locked with Harry’s, “I wanna be on top.”

“Oh – fuck, gladly.” He quickly responded, getting up again to lay down on the bed next to her. Lavender struggled with her long dress for a bit until Harry played with the strap around her shoulder, “Take it off.” He spoke.

She stared at him for a moment and dragged her eyes over his very clothed body, “If you get naked too.”

Harry smirked and nodded, “Deal.”

“And – uh… I’m going to turn down the lights a little bit.” She got up her feet and stumbled towards the door, locking it and then dimming the lights a little bit. Harry didn’t object, following her body as Lavender then ran a hand through her hair and exhaled a shaky breath. He was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as she grabbed the hem of the dress to slip it off.

Harry’s throat ran dry at the sight of her naked body. She was shaped beautifully, her ribs showing when she lifted her arms high. A little flower tattoo below her right breast and a dip in her waist before the showing of full thighs.

He licked his lips involuntary and Lavender’s heartbeat quickened when she watched the way his hand pressed down on his crotch for a slight bit of relief. It boosted her ego and she approached him, “Lay back.”

Harry did what asked easily, making himself comfortable before urging Lavender to climb on top of him.

“Take off your panties.” He urged and Lavender shook her head, her cheeks a soft pink as insecurity took over. Her thighs were split on each side of Harry’s head as he linked his hands around her legs to grab her ass. Her hands steadied on the headboard and she stared into his eyes. Harry’s breath felt hot on her core and Lavender shuddered softly before carefully lowering herself.

Harry parted his lips to lick up her panties, attempting to taste her through the lace. His fingers dug into her skin as he moaned, “Fuck – Lav, take them off.” He gritted. Lavender shook her head again, her thighs burning as she held herself up and searched for a rhythm. His tongue was wet, pressing into her clit and Lavender moaned softly.

Harry urged her to sit down fully but Lavender fought his grip. He groaned in protest, “Lavender, fucking sit down on my mouth.” He slapped her ass and she squeaked, toes curling into the bedding at the feeling. They locked eyes and he could see the way she hardly knew what to do with herself.

“Fucking brat.” He hissed, grabbing her hip to throw her off. Lavender yelped as she fell back into the bed and Harry was quickly on top of her again, “Too proud to admit you don’t even know what’s good for you.” He grumbled in frustration, yanking her underwear down her thighs to leave her fully naked.

Lavender hardly had the time to blink before his palms spread her thighs for him and he dove in without warning. His tongue slipped between her folds and he locked his lips around her clit to give a harsh suck.

“Harry!” Lavender cried out his name, throwing her head back as her body shook in sudden pleasure. He hummed against her, “There we go, that’s it.” With her arousal on his lips he kissed higher, spitting down on one of her nipples before sucking the bud between his lips too. Lavender couldn’t remember how to breathe when Harry handled her body like he had been fucking her all his life. He knew exactly where to touch her, better than she knew it herself.

Lavender thought she knew what she liked, but Harry touched her like no one had before. Soon, his mouth was back between her legs to salaciously let his tongue do the apologizing for him. He spelled a hidden message on her clit and his lips passionately kissed around her folds before he pushed his tongue inside her.

The sounds leaving Lavender’s lips were filthy to say the least. She moaned and whimpered and gasped as he pleasured her, not caring that the neighbouring rooms could probably hear it all.

“God – Harry… Oh my god.” Lavender breathed as he flexed his tongue inside of her, eating her like it was his last meal. “Like that?” He panted as he sucked in a desperate breath. His fingers prodded around her cunt as he pushed in two at the same time, hooking them up so the tips of his digit massaged her sweet spot.

Lavender’s eyes rolled back and she shuddered, head lolling to the side. Harry watched, licking over her clit, “Lav.” He hissed, “Like that?” He repeated.

“Uh-h-huh.” She stammered, “Fuck, Harry… just like that. R-Right there.” Her fingers tangled in his hair as he flicked his tongue over her pulsing clit, “Right there, hm?” He pushed his fingers in deeper and she gasped, “Y-Yes! I’m gonna cum.” She whimpered.

“I know.” He tutted. His shoulders pushed against her thighs to open her up more and his mouth worked her clit as he fingered her – gently yet purposefully. With each stroke, Lavender tensed up more until he felt a harsh clench around his digits. He flicked his eyes up to see her spasming and whimpering, her mouth open and her fingers clawing at the sheets.

He kept her going a little longer until Lavender crawled away from him with a high whine, “S-Stop – I’m –“ She gasped and Harry hummed, kissing the inside of her thigh before gently pulling his wet fingers out. He used his tongue to clean her up a little bit, avoiding her sensitive clit but needing every drop of her arousal in his mouth.

Lavender laid panting on the bed, her thighs trembling as Harry ate her out. She gasped every time his nose bumped her clit and eventually he hummed, “Sweet little pussy.” He murmured – almost more to himself than to her. He kissed her thighs and then her hips, her waist, her tits and her neck and then her lips. “Good?” He asked between kisses and Lavender simply hummed, “Y-Yeah.”

“How come you don’t know what you like, hm?” Harry took a moment to let her rest even if his dick was fucking suffocating in his pants. Lavender blinked up at him, Harry resting between her thighs as she managed a shrug, “I-I don’t know. No-one has ever – uh… taken the time. I suppose.”

“’S not about time.” Harry shook his head as he kissed her chin, “It’s about paying attention.”

Lavender felt the feeling in her body returning, her fingers lazily playing with Harry’s curls as she hummed, “Well, thank you for paying attention.”

“Gladly. Fuck, that was amazing.” He kissed her pouty lips again, obsessed with the feeling, “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Almost.” Lavender teased, a small smile playing on her lips. Harry breathed out a chuckle and kissed her neck, sighing out, “Lav – I’d love to lay here and chat but I’m really fucking dying over here.” He spoke in a strained voice.

Lavender hummed, running her hands down Harry’s naked back. He was muscular and quite ripped – her fingers tracing his bulging muscles until reaching the waistband of his pants, “Take off your pants.” Lavender spoke.

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed up his knees and quickly undid the button and zipper of his slacks, revealing light grey briefs underneath.

His bulge was rather ginormous and Lavender pressed her thighs together at the sight as Harry got up his feet to rid himself of his clothes completely. “Fuck.” She whimpered when his hard cock slapped up his tummy, leaving a glistening streak of precum on his skin between the two fern tattoos decorating his hips.

Lavender rolled on her tummy and climbed to the edge of the bed where Harry stood. He stared at the length of her back and her plump ass, slightly red from the slap he gave her earlier. Lavender rested on her elbows and stroked her fingers up his thighs, peering up at him.

Harry understood without having to ask. He took hold of his cock around the base and tapped the tip into her bottom lip, “Gonna suck me off, baby?”

“Yes.” Lavender nodded. Harry hummed and brushed her hair away, “Knew you were gonna be a good girl to me. This your way of telling me you’re sorry too?”

Lavender’s thighs clenched again and she quickly nodded, “Yes.” She obediently opened her mouth and Harry groaned, guiding himself in. Her eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, needing a bit of time to adapt to the size of him. She hadn’t done this in a while and relaxed her throat as Harry was careful too.

Her lips wrapped around his shaft as Lavender hummed, wiggling her tongue over the veins of his cock before putting pressure around his tip. Harry’s toes curled into the carpet he was standing on as he threw his head back, “Holy shit – Lav… S-So good. Again.” He grabbed her hair in his fist and Lavender did as told, sucking and hollowing out her cheeks.

One of her hands came to cup his balls and play with him as her mouth tried to take as much as possible of him. His cock was glistening in her spit as Lavender deepthroated him, gagging slightly as Harry thrusted forward.

He moaned out when her throat tightened around the head of his throbbing cock, his thighs trembling at the feeling, “Yes – baby, so fucking tight.”

Lavender hummed in response, giving his balls a squeeze and Harry gasped, quickly yanking her hair and pulling back. Lavender coughed slightly at the feeling, her throat a little sore. Lines of spit webbed between her lips and his twitching cock as Harry panted out harshly. He held her hair tightly and Lavender stared at him until he shook his head, “Gonna finish inside you. Don’t think I’m done apologizing yet.”

Lavender swallowed as Harry pushed at her shoulder, making her tumble back on the sheets until he grabbed her hip and rolled her over. Lavender saw stars from the quick rolling around, her hair flying around as she found herself on her stomach. Harry’s fingers locked around her hips, pulling her up and pushing his knees between hers to spread her.

She was speechless and breathless, her fingers digging into the comforter as Harry scooted in behind her. Lavender swallowed and glanced at him over her shoulder, her cheeks pink from the compromised position she was in, “Do you have –“

“Yes.” Harry cut her off, holding up the condom in his hand. Lavender nodded, “Okay.” She breathed. Harry kneaded her ass, ripping the package with his teeth until rolling the rubber down his shaft. He saw Lavender shivering as he hovered over her, and he placed his hands next to her head to kiss her shoulder, “You okay?”

“Yes.” She nodded, “Please.”

“Please what?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Harry raised his brows, raising up again and placing both palms on her ass, digging his fingers in warning, “Lavender.” He pressed. She kept her lips closed together and Harry raised his hand, slapping her once. Lavender squeaked through her teeth, “Please, fuck me.” She choked out.

He couldn’t fight the smirk on his lips. Harry soothed her reddened skin with his hand as he guided himself to Lavender’s wet pussy. His tip caught with her entrance, “Do you forgive me then?”

Lavender couldn’t think straight, a breath stuck in her throat when Harry inched forward. His thick cock pushed inside her, her walls expanding as his tip popped in. Harry’s fingers tightened around her ass cheeks as he felt her warmth and wetness snugly welcoming him. God she was tight.

“Lav, do you forgive me?” Harry panted. Lavender tensed her shoulders as Harry filled her slowly, “Y-Yes.” She whimpered. Harry clenched his jaw and slammed forward, making Lavender scoot up on the bed, “Can’t hear you.” He gritted. Lavender cried out and dropped her head forward, thighs shaking as Harry’s cock filled her, “Yes!” She sobbed, “Fuck – yes, I-I forgive you.”

“Good girl.” Harry whispered, leaning over her again. Her hair was wrapped around his fist as he cocked her back, making Lavender gasp. Her cheeks were red and her mouth open as Harry started moving. Quick, sharp thrusts into her wetness. He grunted into her shoulder, “Jesus christ.” Harry cursed, “Wet little slut.”

“Oh god.” Lavender croaked as her back arched more. Harry straightened up and held one hand on her hair, the other on her shoulder to push her down and immobilizing her. His hips were relentless as he pounded her into the bedding, the headboard slamming into the wall with each thrust. Lavender moaned, tears streaming down her cheeks, “H-Harry…” She sobbed, “I’ve never…”.

“You’ve never what?” He panted. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her up, her back pressed against his chest as Harry pulled her up on his lap to fuck her like that. Lavender’s head rested on his shoulder as she whimpered out, “I-I’ve never been fucked like this.” She confessed in a daze. Harry kissed her neck and gave her breast a squeeze before venturing his hand more south, between her legs, “I can tell. Are you gonna cum again?”

“Yes.” Lavender breathed and Harry puckered his lips, “C’mon, baby… Let me feel your tight pussy squeezin’ my cock.” His fingers found her clit and Lavender slumped against his chest. Her breathing stuttered as she wrapped her arms around him, leaning back further but needing something to hold onto.

“Good.” Harry panted, continuing the sharp pumps of his hips to fuck into her, “Good, good, good.” He rubbed her clit and Lavender breathed harder, “I’m – oh god… Harry…” She whimpered, suddenly shuddering and trembling. Harry held her tighter and didn’t stop the torture of his fingers until he felt her squirting.

Lavender’s orgasm was wet and endless, her arousal spilling past Harry’s cock as she gushed every time he brushed into her g-spot. She moaned and cried out as Harry elongated her orgasm. Lavender eventually fell forward, Harry grabbing her hips to follow along as he continued snapping his hips.

Her thighs trembled uncontrollably as Lavender sobbed into the bedding, squeezing her legs together until Harry lost contact and slipped out. He made Lavender roll on her back but she curled into a ball in the aftermath of her orgasm. Harry chuckled and snuggled against her, wrapping his arm around her. She was warm and sweaty and Harry brushed her hair away, kissing her jaw, “You okay?”

“Oh my god.” Lavender whimpered, “I’m – wow.”

“Wow you say?” Harry teased, “I mean, I get that I’m good but wow…”

“Shut up.” She groaned, blinking her eyes open. Harry smiled and Lavender giggled back. They rolled around the sheets for a bit and they kissed a little bit. Harry nipped below her ear, “I made you squirt.”

“Hm, you did.” Lavender lazily responded. Harry kissed lower, “I want a taste.”

Lavender’s eyes opened quickly, “Wh – Harry, I don’t think I can d-“

“Shh.” He tutted, shuffling between her thighs. Lavender hardly stopped him and then relaxed into the bed as she felt his tongue on her. He wasn’t as purposeful or harsh with it as the first time. He lazily ate her out, being gentle and passionate again. Lavender sighed and hummed in bliss until Harry hovered over her again. His lips were wet in her arousal and Lavender chuckled, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Can you believe we missed this for six months? Think of all the times I could’ve had you like this.” Harry rolled them over again until Lavender was on top of him. She hummed and straightened up, pushing her tits together, “You were too busy being an asshole.”

“Shut up and ride me.” Harry grinned. Lavender threw her head back in a laugh, glancing at his dick which was still full hard. Harry followed her gaze and exhaled as she sat on his thighs, “Wish I could fill you up.” He admitted.

Lavender bit her lip and leaned over him, giving Harry a kiss, “Well, why don’t we take it off?”

“What? The condom?” He frowned.

“Mhm.” She nibbled her lip, “I’m – uh… I’m clean.”

Harry threw his head back, grabbing her thighs as he lowly groaned, “Shit, Lav… Are you serious?”

Lavender blushed softly, “We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

“No, fuck, I’m not uncomfortable. Not at all.” He urged her to rest on top of him a bit more, hard cock trapped between their tummies as he brushed her hair away, “You wanna feel it, don’t you?” He murmured.

Lavender softly grinded into him and Harry puffed out a soft moan before continuing, “You want to feel how I cum inside you? How I fill you up?” His free hand travelled down her side until teasingly slapping her ass cheek. Lavender gasped and scooted up a bit, sitting on top of his dick now and grinding back and forth.

“You want to feel how I fucking claim you?” Harry cupped her jaw and Lavender panted out, managing a nod, “Yes.”

“So filthy.” He whispered, “Such a filthy little slut for my cock. ‘S really all you needed, isn’t it? A good fuck? A pussy full of cum?”

“Fuck.” She panted, eyes glazing over in lust. Lavender’s hand slipped between them as she removed the condom, tossing it somewhere to the side and off the bed. She then started stroking him gently as they shared a few breathy kisses. Lavender eventually positioned him, feeling Harry moan into her mouth and cup her jaws when she sunk down on him.

She took it slow, feeling how sore she was after the way he fucked her before. But Harry needed an orgasm and he needed Lavender to get him there. So he let her explore him. She straightened up as she searched for a rhythm, Harry sprawled out below her. His eyes were hooded as he stared up at her. Bouncing tits, wild untamed hair, swivelling hips as she took him.

“So sexy.” He slurred as Lavender started bouncing. His jaw dropped, moaning out in bliss as her warmth engulfed his cock easily. He knew she was struggling. She was sore and her thighs burned and ached from how the night had gone until now. His hands were on her legs, helping her move.

She felt amazing without a condom. He felt her so clearly, and she felt him too. Every vein wrapped around his cock pressed into her walls and Lavender leaned over him again, both hands next to his head as she arched out her back. Her eyes closed, her mouth open as she fucked him.

“Fuck – Lav, ‘m not gonna last.” Harry groaned, his hips restless as they bucked up and they met halfway. “F-Faster, please.” He choked out. Lavender nodded. She felt the way his fingers dug into her hips and how he slammed up inside of her. She picked up the pace, ignoring the burn and strain in her thighs.

“I’m gonna cum.” Harry moaned, “Shit – baby, ‘m gonna cum so hard. Fill you up so fucking good.” He clawed at her shoulders, jerking his hips up sharply until his jaw dropped and his back arched. His eyes screwed shut as Harry shakily grunted, hissing through his teeth as his cock pulsed inside of Lavender.

She panted out, continuing the bucking of her hips as he released inside of her.

“Holy shit.” Harry moaned, “Just like that, just like that, just like that. Take it.” He stayed deep inside of her, giving Lavender every drop of his orgasm. She whimpered at the feeling, sliding her hands up his chest and into his neck before she dropped down on top of him. Harry hummed, wrapping his arms around her form as his eyes fluttered shut.

Both relaxed and melted into the bed. His fingers stroked her side gently and Lavender regained her breathing, puffing out into his sweaty neck. Harry kissed her shoulder, feeling Lavender clenching sporadically around him as he was still inside of her.

“Lav.” He eventually murmured. She grumbled something back and Harry exhaled, “’M about to fall asleep.”

“Oh.” Lavender untangled herself from him and straightened up with slightly pink cheeks. She shifted and then slowly lifted off of him, making Harry gasp in sensitivity. His cock slipped out, drops of his cum leaking out of Lavender as she clumsily rolled on the bed next to him, “I’ll get going, let you sleep.”

“What?” Harry rolled on his side too, watching as she reached for the tissues, “that’s not what I meant.” He added. Lavender looked at him over her shoulder as she sat on the edge of the bed, “It’s fine, Harry.”

He huffed, “I’m not kicking you out. Not at all. Just meant we should clean up and get to sleep. Maybe we should sleep in your room? Bed’s dirty.” He yawned. She froze when staring at him, “You… you want to sleep together?”

“Well, yeah.”

Her cheeks pinked further and Lavender reached for her dress, “Uh – yeah. Okay.”

“Unless you don’t want me to.” Harry added. She forced a small smile, “No, it’s fine. But yeah, I feel like we should shower. I’m gonna shower in my own room though, all of my stuff is there.” She pulled the dress over her head to cover herself up and ran her hands through her hair. Harry was still naked on the bed, watching with slight amusement how Lavender searched for her panties amongst the pieces of clothing that littered the floor.

She sheepishly held them up once she found them, bunching them in her fist as she headed to the door, “So – uh… yeah.” She mumbled and Harry huffed out a chuckle, “I’ll come to your room after I shower. 412, right?”

“Yep.” Lavender exhaled. She shot him another awkward wave before exiting the room and leaving Harry on his own. Lavender let out a few deep breaths as she roamed the halls, luckily not bumping into anyone. She had no idea what time it was, but the sun seemed to rise already once she got into her own room. Bed untouched, sheets crisp and clean. The room was basically unused.

Lavender slipped off the dress again and jumped into the shower while Harry did the same. He washed up and squirted some shampoo in his hand to wash his hair. He saw some marks on his chest from where Lavender’s mouth had been. His dick was sensitive and tingly, a hiss escaping his lips as he washed himself.

Eventually Harry put on sweatpants and a shirt, taking a small bag of toiletries with him as he headed towards Lavender’s room. He felt nervous, all of a sudden. Their moment had been broken of course, by showering separately. Maybe she wasn’t done in the shower, or maybe she had fallen asleep already. Or maybe she changed her mind and wouldn’t let him in.

His knuckles came down on her door after a few minutes and Harry anxiously shifted in the hallway, glancing left and right to make sure no one could see him slipping into her room. The first shock was that Lavender did open up the door, with wet hair hanging over her shoulder and her face bare of make-up.

His lips curled up into a smile, “Hi.”

“Hey.” She breathed, opening the door a bit wider. “Had a good shower?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah. You?”

“Mhm.”

She wore cotton underwear and a t-shirt with rips in it. Lavender shifted on her feet a bit, arms crossed in front of her chest, “So – uh… which side of the bed do you want?”

Harry chuckled and walked up to her, cupping her cheeks for a deep kiss. Lavender sighed out through her nose, kissing him back and losing all awkwardness or shyness around him. She wasn’t sure what Harry wanted by sleeping here or how tomorrow would go. But tonight had been incredible. She was sore and achy, but Lavender didn’t want it any other way.

Sex with Harry had been so amazing. Their tension made for great chemistry too. They would never be best friends but this was the longest they had gone without arguing. No one had ever made her cum that hard and Lavender had never had sex like that before. It was true, that she hardly knew what she liked in bed. In the past she mainly slept with men who searched for their own pleasure. No one had ever paid her such attention.

Harry tasted like toothpaste as they kissed, and Lavender pushed up her toes as he pulled her into his chest. They pulled back with a little smack and he patted her ass with an easy grin on his lips, “Whichever side you’re on. I like spooning.”

They awoke a few hours later, a mess of tangled limbs between the sheets. Harry had spooned Lavender to sleep and they woke up in a similar position. Lavender was quite grumpy and Harry kissed her neck and chest, prying off the shirt to make her feel better and wake her up properly.

They kissed and cuddled until they knew they needed to check out. Harry kissed her as he went back to his own room to pack his stuff.

With his bags, he went to the reception downstairs and bumped into Tristan – who asked him all about the hickey in his neck and the tiredness in Harry’s eyes. Apparently Tristan and Serena didn’t even have sex, and Harry felt smugly proud of the fact that he actually did have incredible sex.

His eyes were drawn to Lavender immediately when she entered the room, carrying just a small suitcase with her stuff in it. Her hair was curly and up in a ponytail as she wore black slacks, sneakers and a crop top. She looked radiant and Harry zoned out, ignoring Tristan as his eyes were on Lavender.

She was smiling and chatting with Serena and they eventually came up to Harry and Tristan. The newlyweds would leave for their honeymoon tonight and everyone sort of got ready to leave. They hauled their bags into he cars and Lavender slowly walked up to Harry’s car as he was putting his stuff in.

“Hey.” She breathed. He turned around with a small smile, “Hi, you.”

Lavender leaned against his car, playing with a strand of her hair, “So – uh… any plans today?”

“Not much.” He shrugged, “Just sleep, I think. You?”

“Yeah, same. It’s been a wild six months.”

They fell into some silence before Lavender cleared her throat, “Listen… Thank you for last night. I had a lot of fun and… yeah.”

“You’re thanking me for sex?” Harry teased and Lavender rolled her eyes, “Don’t make this weird.”

“I’m not.” He laughed, stepping up to her. His hand rested on her bare waist and Lavender immediately looked around to make sure no one saw them. Harry kept his eyes on her, “Can we see each other again?” He braved through his nerves to ask the question that had been on his mind ever since laying eyes on her in the lavender-shaded dress.

Lavender’s eyes rounded as she stared up at him, “Wait – really? Like… for sex?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, “Or, you know… maybe we really could get along. Become besties.”

“Doubt that.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled. Lavender softly smiled and exhaled, “Look, I-I think we both knew what this was. We’ve been at each other’s throats ever since we met. I don’t know if we should make this into more than what it was.”

Harry’s smile dropped a bit and he nibbled the inside of his cheek, “Maybe not. But it might be worth a shot to see if it could go somewhere, don’t you think?” He pressed. Lavender avoided his eyes and scratched the back of her neck, “Maybe one date.” She gave in.

Harry’s beaming smile made Lavender chuckle too. He tapped his thumb on her chin gently, “One date, hm? How about I come over this afternoon and we can talk all about it?”

“This afternoon? That obsessed with me now?” Lavender teased and Harry hummed, eyes dropping to her lips, “Yes, actually. ‘M fucking whipped.” He wrapped an arm around her again, “I’ll come over and spoon you back to sleep. We can nap through the afternoon and…” He leaned in a bit more, “maybe I’ll wake you up with my mouth. Seemed like you enjoyed that.”

Lavender’s cheeks turned pink and she tried to fight it, humming, “I did quite like the way you apologized to me. Very… thorough.”

“Thorough, hm? That’s one way to put it.” Harry played along. He didn’t care who saw as he dipped his head to kiss her pink lips. Lavender didn’t pull back either, a hand delicately being placed on his bicep as he lingered on the touch. She tasted like cherry. His heart skipped ten beats as he nuzzled his nose with hers, “Maybe I’ll fuck up again just so I can apologize.”

“Yeah,” Lavender shrugged, “like hit me with your car this time or something.”

He threw his head back in a laugh, playfully squeezing her ass once, “Get home, you dick. ‘M tired.”

She stuck out her tongue and took a step back, smiling at him, “See you in a bit.”

“I’ll drive behind you.” Harry nodded, opening up his car door, “Bye, Lav.”

“Bye, Harry. Drive safe.” She sent him a small wave with a blinding smile on her face, turning around to head home and spend the rest of the day with Harry.

#wattpad #alisonfelix #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfiction #one direction #1dff #hs #harrystyles #harrystylesfanfiction

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leclsrc · 1 year

Text

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach.

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase.

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting.

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk.

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly.

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen.

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.”

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches.

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously.

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.”

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking. “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard.

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum.

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly.

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting.

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title.

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while.

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there.

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot.

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure.

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?”

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease.

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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daisynik7 · 8 months

Text

Your coworker Nanami absolutely pines for you.

You have no clue that his heart beats thrice as fast whenever he’s around you. He’s surprised you haven’t heard it yet, especially during the moments when you get so close, you’re almost touching. That’s when he loses it the most. And it’s not just the proximity of your bodies. It’s whatever lotion or perfume you’re wearing that sends him into a frenzy, maybe even the natural scent of you. To him, it’s the sweetest thing. Sometimes, you’ll graze hands when you hand him a document, and his skin tingles the remainder of the day. To you, it may be nothing; to him, it’s a spark that ignites his very being, electrifies his nerves, synapses firing into his brain, imagining all the ways he can get close to you again.

Nanami always takes his lunch the same time as you do. He loves talking to you in the break room, whether it be about the latest hobby you’ve taken up, new shows you’re watching, venting about a certain coworker that annoys the both of you. His crush on you grows stronger when you start bringing him little treats every so often. A croissant you picked up in the morning at the café. Little chocolates you bought for yourself, thinking that he would like a taste too. A new pasta recipe you want him to try because you know how good of a cook he is, and his opinion really matters to you.

You have no idea how much you mean to him. He only likes going to work because of you.

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami fluff #nanami drabbles #nanami x reader #nanami x you #still thinking about writing this office romance series

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marthawrites · 10 months

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Hi Martha! Ooohh requests are open!!! I have a friends to lovers trope idea for Aemond.

Jealous and in love with his friend, Aemond and reader are fighting while he's driving her home and then bad weather forces them to pull over.

Love your writing!!!

OF COURSE YOU CAN! While talking about this request earlier on my blog, I discovered this anon is a beloved mutual! I will not out them in case they want to stay anon for real. I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS, MWAH! ♥

After The Closing Shift

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 4.6k+

Read part 2 here

About: You and Aemond have been best friends for years. The time is finally right for him to admit his true feelings. In the process of doing so, your cheating ex appears back in the picture. Unexpected events follow.

Includes: Mentions of divorce, cheating, some angst, adult language, and explicit sexual content featuring our pussy eating king, slight overstimulation, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is my first time writing friends to lovers trope. There's angst for added flavor and I hope you like it! I don't write it very often. This was SO much fun to brainstorm and create! All characters mentioned in this story are college age/in their early 20s. Aside from that, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy! ♥

Aemond Targaryen fell in love with you senior year of high school. He could still recall the exact moment it happened; a click somewhere in his brain that made everything in your friendship prior to that moment make sense.

You and your parents moved to the area for a fresh start. Being a new student during the first term of twelfth grade was difficult, but luckily you and Aemond hit it off early and well. By the end of the year you two were inseparable. He was your best friend, and you, his.

That summer was a hard one for your parents. And by proxy, you. Their marriage hung on by a thread you weren't sure existed anymore. One evening, during a particularly horrible fight, you left in your own fit of rage. Driving aimlessly eventually led you to the Targaryen's estate. You showed up unannounced and thankfully Aemond was home; quick to let you crash on the couch in his room like you’d done a hundred times before.

It was that night. He remembered it well. You'd been in the bathroom for some time and when he knocked to check on you, you quietly answered for him to come in. He caught you midway through brushing your teeth with tear soaked eyes, toothpaste messy around your mouth, and that was it. His heart. The moment he fell in love with you.

You skipped the couch and crawled into his bed with him and he held you all the while, letting you cry into his shirt until sleep overtook you.

The remainder of the year went by in an emotional blur. Your parents divorced, you started dating Jason Lannister, and Aemond started dating Ellyn Baratheon. Before you knew it you and Aemond were freshmen in college. And then sophomores. Double dates on weekends and trips to local swimming spots in the hot summer evenings had Aemond constantly wrestling with his feelings about you. Things didn't last much longer with him and Ellyn. Physically he was with her, but mentally he was with you. When the breakup finally happened, it was mutual.

Things with you and Jason were rocky too. He was handsome and charismatic which you adored. Though, he also had a wandering eye and taste for risk. He cheated on you more than once over the last year. And yet, somehow, you took him back each time. In your heart you were scared to be alone.

After the latest breakup you told yourself (and Aemond) this time would be different. You wouldn't fall for his tricks again. He was a cheating piece of shit who wouldn't change. You were done.

Aemond knew now would be his chance. As long as he eased into it, was careful with the admission, and took it slow, he knew he had a chance. The most difficult part being: he didn't want to ruin the friendship you two built over the years.

Now tonight, near the end of your waitressing shift, you got a ping on your phone for extreme weather. Great. Of course this would happen when your car was in the shop getting worked on. You really didn't want to Uber all the way home if you didn't have to. Despite the hour – 10 pm thanks to the closing shift – you texted Aemond.

Hey Aems. You up? There's a storm rolling in and I don't wanna Uber. Can you pick me up and take me home?

A minute or so went by and your phone dinged.

I don't mind at all. Give me a few minutes to get dressed and I'll head your way.

"Thank god," you said under your breath.

Thank you! You're the best

As if on queue you got another notification. You expected it to be Aemond with some sort of snarky response, but it wasn’t. It was Jason. Your heart, somehow, jumped and fell into your stomach at the same time.

The last couple weeks had been rough. Him and Aegon liked to party a little too much, and Aegon refused to be held down by one woman – he liked to have fun. Unfortunately, Jason would sometimes get a little too involved with that fun if whoever Aegon was smooching on had a pretty friend. That’s exactly what happened: you had caught your boyfriend red-handed. A furious fright broke out between you two and you broke up with him, swearing it was the last time he’d play you like some fool.

And yet, here you were – now – allowing your ex-boyfriend to sweet talk you with pretty words and promises of never doing it again. He missed you. He loved you. He wanted to be with you. You were his best girl and he was just drunk that night. It was a horrible mistake. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was sorry. He missed you.

Butterflies filled your belly, eyes stary as you typed away on your phone, completely unaware of anything else going on around you.

You didn’t even notice the headlights of Aemond’s black Mercedes Benz until he honked. Rolling the darkly tinted window down, he said, “hey bunny, could you at least pretend to be happy you're not stuck in the pouring ass rain?” You heard his smirk before you saw it. He laid on his horn a second time, a longer honk, until you flipped him off; blushing and smiling wide.

Only Aemond called you “bunny”: a nickname from high school that stuck over the years.

“Rain and thunder. Let’s go!” You hopped in and were immediately enveloped by the essence of him. The interior of his car was all sleek and black leather. Clean. Scents of his shampoo, body wash, and deodorant washed over you; long silver hair damp and pulled back into a bun. You two had spent many nights in here talking about life and there were no shortage of good memories in it. By now you didn’t even mind the weird music he liked. Heavy metal. The kind that had organs and orchestras alongside powerful drums and electric guitars. Your favorites were the bands, or songs, that had males and females singing together.

“Did you make good tips tonight? You haven’t stopped grinning this whole time,” Aemond spoke up after a few minutes, casually glancing over at you.

You stared at your phone and continued typing away. “Huh? Oh, yeah, not bad,” you replied, briefly flickering your attention over to him. Once again your thumbs flew across your phone’s keypad; completely absorbed. “Sorry, just about done here.”

An amused chuff of air is all Aemond replied with. You knew that sound. Without even looking you knew he rolled his good eye. Another few minutes passed with Aemond singing along softly while keeping beat on the steering wheel. You two were definitely driving into the storm. The night sky was black with angry clouds.

Finally, you clicked your phone screen off. A happy sigh sounded from you. This time would be different. Jason didn’t mean it. He was only drunk and Aegon was a bad influence. This time, he’d do it right and keep it right. Again, you smiled.

“What’re you doing tonight, bun?”

“I think Jason is gonna come over so we can talk about things in person and not just on the phone,” you replied, mind buzzing happily.

That got Aemond’s attention. “Lannister? Please tell me you’re joking,” he nearly spat the surname, glaring between you and the road.

“No I’m not joking,” you answered. “I really think it’s gonna be better this time. We just need to talk about things, you know?”

“He’s cheated on you three times! Three fucking times. You really think this time is going to be different?” His grip tightened on the steering wheel, jaw flexing as if wrestling words on his tongue.

You blinked, taken back. “W-well, yeah. He said he was sorry.”

A single harsh laugh came from Aemond’s chest. “That piece of shit said the same thing last time, too. We’ve been together nonstop for almost two weeks! Study sessions, movie nights, ice cream trips, you finally learned how to do that fancy braid thing with my hair. You said you were done with him, bunny. You said you meant it for real this time. I thought we were getting through this together.” He was speeding, now, shoulders tense as he struggled to keep his attention on both you and the road.

“I thought I was too!” Your voice came out more shrill than you intended it to, body turned slightly so you were staring straight at Aemond. “People make mistakes and fuck up, ya know? I think he’ll change this time. He said he was sorry and I wanna talk to him about it seriously. I think he just needed time to realize what he did was super shitty and really hurt me.”

The rain came harshly and suddenly. Aemond might as well have driven through a wall. It was so loud that it drowned out the music. Naturally, your voices grew louder, too. “I don’t understand what you see in him. He’s not even that good to you!”

Anxiety gripped your entire nervous system. “Pull over, Aems. I don’t like this. It hasn’t rained like this in forever and the roads are gonna be slick as fuck. Pull over. Please.” Your pulse thumped in your chest and behind your ears. You wanted to cover your eyes but somehow resisted the urge.

He did. With it now parked safely off the side of the road he could turn his full attention to you. Even in the car’s ambient light his eye was wild. The patch over his left eye reflected absolutely zero light. “Why do you wanna be with that loser so bad?” Fury smudged his cheeks pink. The tops of his ears. The sharp lines of his face were even sharper. Harder.

You'd never seen him this mad. Not at you. Not towards you. "Because, Aemond, I love him! Maybe if you and Ellyn worked through your problems you'd understand!"

Again, that same short, dry laugh. "You don't love him. And I couldn't be with Ellyn because when I was with her I could only see you! Because I love you. Jason's a fucking scumbag who can't even give you his loyalty. I'd give you the entire world and then some!"

Silence drowned out the downpour.

By now you were both wide eyed and breathing heavy; faces flushed with emotion. The tightness in his car threatened to suffocate you both. Did you really just hear him right? Did he really mean what he just said? Love? "You're lying," is all you managed to croak; believing and unbelieving alike.

"'M not," he said as he ran a hand through the roots of his hair. "Fuck. I've loved you as long as I can remember. I didn't want to tell you like this."

Outside it rained harder. Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked.

Yet, still, inside the Mercedes silence rang louder.

Everything started to click in your head. Your best friend had always been more than a best friend – you knew it in your heart of hearts. You two never had the opportunity to act upon such things due to relationships you found yourselves in.

But, now?

Words bloomed and died on your tongue. What the hell could you say to him?

"Fuck," he spat, emotion rasping his single word. His hands squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles and tendons were taut.

Still, you said nothing. Just stared at him. Stupidly.

One hand moved to shift the car into drive as he said, bitterly, "know what? Whatever. Forget it. I'll take you home to your cheating fuck boy."

You had a single second to decide what to do; despite your pleas to pull over he was going to drive through the storm, regardless. In a flash of motion you didn't know you were capable of, you unclicked your seat belt and pounced over the center console. You had the element of surprise on your side and it worked. Your lips were on his in an instant. He smelled sharp; soap, shaving cream, hair product. He tasted spicy; cinnamon toothpaste. His chest was hard beneath the press of your much softer breast – both of your hands too shocked to yet roam. Heartbeat thundered in your ribs and core at the kiss, your closeness, and the eruption of sensation the intimacy brought. Begrudgingly, you pulled away to look at him. To gauge his reaction. To read the expression of his angular face. What you were met with was a swelled pupil that screamed more. Desire. Need. It oozed from every visible pore.

Amidst the downpower, thunderstorm, and heavy metal, Aemond growled at the loss of your lips. Wordlessly he crashed his mouth back to yours while he unclicked his own seatbelt – hands on your neck and jaw half a second later.

Heat pooled in your belly – and lower, still – his passion causing you to whimper against his soft mouth. "Shit, Aems," you whispered, unable to resist a moan as he bit at your bottom lip. Your tongues slid and teased against one another. It deepened and grew hungrier by the moment.

"Wanted this for so long," he said in a tone you'd never heard from him before; it sent shivers prickling all along your spine. Breaking the kiss, he dragged his lips and teeth along your jawline and neck. His hands roamed in tandem, palms pressing against your uniform clad body as if you wore fine lingerie. He squeezed the curve of your waist. The swell of a hip.

"A-ah!" You gasped, dizzy and lightheaded from the sensations his desperate affections hit you with. Each stroke of his palm, squeeze of his fingers, and slide of his tongue had you melting between his hands. "Oh my God… you're driving me insane. Why have we never done this before?" You panted, moving to crawl over the center console once and for all.

Aemond stopped you. "Not yet. I wanna be greedy with you. Will you let me?" He asked, eye dark and face mischievous as you two gazed at each other dreamily, lustfully, breathing heavy.

"Yeah," you answered, nodding with half-lidded eyes. "I trust you. Always. You know that."

"Good girl," he cooed – driving you further insane. "Lean back against the passenger door. Can you do that for me, baby girl?"

Not your name. Not 'bunny'. Baby girl. You were in a pit of insanity now. Jason never made you feel like this. What the fuck had you been missing out on for the last two years?

You nodded again and barely managed to swallow yet another whine of appreciation at his words. His tone. Fuck. You thought you'd heard every tone his voice could make. But no, you certainly hadn't heard this side of him before. As you leaned back, he leaned forward. His gaze never left you and the intensity of it had your belly flipping and flopping, breath shallow in your throat, as his hand slipped up between your parted thighs.

"If you want me to stop, that's all you gotta say and I will," he whispered, creeping higher. He kissed the inside of your knee and you hissed inwardly. He kissed again, this time the middle of your thigh, and you trembled. He smirked as he kissed higher still. You moaned softly, so, so, softly, and his cock ached. "Gonna pull your panties down and bury my face right under your skirt."

"A-Aemond… oh my God. Please. No, you don't have to do that. I've been running around the restaurant for over ten hours and–"

" –even better. Don't care." By now he'd pushed your skirt up as high as it could go without ripping it off. He admired your thighs. He'd always loved those; stealing glances whenever and wherever he could, even napping on them. Shifting his position, he leaned further and pressed a single hot, open mouthed kiss to your covered mound. He groaned. "You have no idea how long–" he paused, slipping a finger beneath the cotton to tug it aside, " –I've wanted to do this." He delicately traced over your slit, cock aching inside his sweats at the wetness he met.

Tension shivered all up and down your body and you thought you might actually pass out. You couldn't believe this was happening. When you looked down and saw Aemond there, between your thighs, with the most lust-ridden gaze you'd ever seen on any person, your hips arched closer to him on impulse. You opened your thighs wider and you swore you saw your best friend shiver.

He kissed your slit. Once, twice, three times, until his mouth hovered over your clit. There, he traced his tongue over that delicious bundle of nerves. He licked up the full center of your core with the flat of his tongue, a soft “mmm,” sounding from him. “Prettiest little pussy,” he half said to himself before diving his tongue back between your folds. He circled your clit, licking across it, alternating between the two.

Each little sound you made sent Aemond’s blood roaring. He only wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

Your moans and whines picked up; he found your rhythm. With a small, satisfied moan of his own, he gently sucked on your swollen clit. “Ah!” You squeaked in surprise at that, body tensing as you tried to push his head away. “Too much… not so hard, please,” you said when he pulled back and looked up at you with a confused expression. You ran a hand down your face, blushing. “I…,” you started, trying to muster the strength to admit something you found embarrassing. “I’m.. I’m really sensitive. Jason doesn’t do this to me a lot.”

Aemond looked like you just slapped him across the face. “He doesn’t eat your pussy?”

You shook your head and shrugged a shoulder. “Not… not very often,” you answered, embarrassment flooding over you like a wave and making your blush all the redder.

“Oh my God, bunny…,” he cooed, fully tugging your underwear down your legs. He moved both his hands under your ass, now, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh as he leaned down into his previous position. “As if I didn’t hate him enough as is.” He was careful before, but now he was delicate and light with his movements. Instead of pressing, he feathered his tongue over you. Instead of dragging, he trailed his lips over you. Instead of sucking, he barely drew you into his mouth to his tongue. He found a new soft rhythm – never once hindering the sounds of his licking, slurping, or breathing – and you were putty in his hands.

“So fucking good…!” You gasped in a breathless whisper, hands tentatively lowering to his hair where your fingers threaded into his pale roots. You held him there, tugging gently, as your hips grinded against his mouth. You were close. So close. Tension built in your belly and you weren’t sure how long it would last before it snapped. “Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kept going at the exact same pace, the exact same angles, and the exact same pressure. Over and over. Just how he’d been doing it before you started grinding your pretty pussy against him. When you tugged and pulled at his hair he moaned. When your fingernails scraped against his scalp he thought he might lose himself to his own pleasure right then and there.

The full length of your legs tightened; toes curling in your shoes. Pleasure, so immense and lovely and all-consuming, washed over you, and in the next instant you were coming undone on your best friend’s tongue. Your back arched, hands gripped – the sounds of your peak filling his car amidst heavy drums, bass, and darkly poetic lyrics.

He guided you through your orgasm, his own pulse hammering. “I’m not done yet, baby. You taste so fucking sweet,” he said, barely audible to your pleasantly ringing ears. With his hands still under you he lifted your ass to give himself a better angle into you. While you were still sensitive from your first peak he pushed his tongue into your clenching walls. He fucked you with the warm muscle, absolutely uncaring of the lewd noises it created.

It's not that Jason had never done this to you before, but compared to Aemond he was absolute dogshit at it. You'd never experienced this kind of high from a man's face between your thighs. Ever. Aemond made it seem easy. Soon, a second climax built in the low muscles of your belly. "Holy shit..! I'm gonna cum again, fuck!" You squealed, tugging his ears, hair, anywhere you could grab, harder.

"Yeah you are. Good girl, my good girl," he answered before dipping his face right back where it was. He came at you with a slightly different angle once again. This time, the tip of his nose nuzzled against your clit in tandem with his tongue fucking.

It was too much. His name left your lungs in a desperate cry of bliss as you tensed and shuddered before him for a second time. When finally you relaxed, and when finally he had enough of your taste in his mouth, he leaned up into the driver's seat. Even in the low light evidence of your slick shone on his face. He looked over at you and smirked, wiping his mouth. "I won't be able to not see you there like this from now on."

You were blushed and smiling from release. Despite the pleasure Aemond gifted you with, being in such a position really wasn't comfortable. "And I won't be able to look at you and not think of this," you replied in the same tone. As gracefully as you could in the confines of his car, you maneuvered over the center console until you were straddling over his lap. His length pressed against your bare core and you both hissed at the sensation.

"What are you thinking, bunny?" He asked, barely resisting the urge – no, the need – to slide right up into you.

"I'm thinking I wanna ride you right here in your driver's seat," you answered, kissing him with the remains of your arousal on his mouth.

"There's a condom in the glove box," he said, reaching in its direction.

"I'm on the pill and I'm clean. Promise. Are… are you?"

That stopped him right in his tracks. He groaned somewhere deep in his chest. "Fuck. Yeah, babe, I am. Gonna ride me raw?"

"Yes," you shivered. In a quick fumble of motions he lifted his hips and you both pulled his sweats down as far as they could go. His cock sprang free, solid and searing against you. Looking down between your bodies you eyed it appreciatively; big and perfect and flushed with desire. "Holy shit, Aems, I didn't know you were packing so much," you said, the playful teasing nature you intended to speak with crumbling away to a wanton plea.

Another groan, or growl, or something vibrated deep in his chest. Without hesitation he popped open the front of your button-up shirt and slid the straps of your bra off your shoulders. "Perfect tits," he praised as he pushed the cups away to expose your breasts, licking and kissing over your nipples with need.

Leaning up on your knees you reached behind yourself to guide his tip to your eager cunt. You lowered yourself, slowly, saving the stretch of his cock into your yielding body. You both cursed. He felt so fucking good.

"So perfect," Aemond said up to you from the softness of your breasts. "So wet and tight. Fuck, I love how wet you are."

Once your body adjusted to his size you began to grind against him. Began to bounce on him. His music still played in the background but you paid it little mind. All you saw was Aemond. Your best friend. His face a beautiful display of softness and intensity with pleasure. His dark eye was heavily lidded, mouth parted. You bounced more, now, as his hands gripped your hips to help guide you along.

The storm hadn't let up yet, and thank God for the dark tint on his windows because you weren't even paying attention to any other cars that might be driving by.

He lavished your tits with attention; kissing, licking, sucking all over them. You pushed them against his face firmer, arching your back as you rode him with fervor. He worked beneath you all the while – rolling and thrusting up into you, meeting all your movements to increase the hot coil of bliss in your belly; at the base of his spine.

Amidst half-babbled curses and praises, smacking skin, and needy moans, your phone's ringtone barely registered in your brain. Whoever was calling could wait. When it rang a second time, you felt Aemond's attention shift to it. "Your parents?" He asked through a panting groan.

"No. Probably Jason wondering where I am." You grabbed his face and kissed him hard, uncaring.

When it rang for a third time, however, Aemond broke the kiss and reached for your phone. Sure enough it was your ex. He looked at you and smirked, dragging your hips back and forth to grind on him harder.

"Oh my God…," you whined at the way he guided you, eyes rolling closed. "Don't answer it."

He slid his thumb across the screen before holding it up to his ear. Jason's worried tone met your ears as Aemond continued fucking up into you through your grinding. You tried to swallow your panic. Tried to stay quiet through the bliss.

Tried to.

"She's done with you. Stop calling," Aemond said coldly. He glared at you, grinning.

You heard Jason's "what the fuck? Is that her? What're you doing?" Through the phone. He was pissed. Apparently you weren't being quiet enough.

"She's got better things to do than worry about a cheating scumbag. Lose her number." Aemond sat the phone down on the center console and didn't bother to hang up.

As long as Jason stayed on the line he'd be able to hear your moans of pleasure, wet skin slapping on wet skin as you began to bounce on his cock with renewed passion. "You're such an asshole," you said, a third climax quickly approaching.

"Just keep fucking me, baby girl. Don't worry about him, he hung up.” Honestly, Aemond didn’t know if Jason hung up. He might have laughed if it weren't for his own peak tightening his balls. He wasn't going to last much longer. "Squeeze my cock. Be a gold girl and soak my cock. I wanna feel you cum first," he groaned, voice bordering desperate.

"Cum with me. Fill me up with all of you," you whispered, moaning by his ear.

Goosebumps erupted on his skin. He didn't need to be told twice. Those words falling from your lips was all he needed to unload in you with twitch after mighty twitch, coating your walls with his seed. You crumbled with him. You rode your pleasure out on him, slowly easing once it all started to be too much. He softened inside you and you carefully moved from atop him.

There was a mess all over his groin and all between your thighs, too. If you thought you needed a shower before getting into Aemond's car, now you really needed one. Outside, the storm was finally letting up.

You both fixed yourself in partially stunned and satisfied silence – your underwear being the only thing to clean yourselves with.

It was Aemond who broke it. "Stay over with me tonight."

You looked at him and smiled. "Long as I can shower."

"Of course you can," he said, eye twinkling with more than mischief.

"And, long as I can sleep in one of your shirts."

"You already know the answer to that one, bunny."

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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ghxstlike · 7 months

Text

you shut my mouth (and buckle my knees)

pairing: mike schmidt/gn!reader

content: reader is michael's next door neighbor, mike is so awkward, mike has social anxiety & is bad at words, reader is so oblivious, reader is 19 & mike is 20/21, reader has daddy issues, fluff, this takes place before the events in the movie, no use of y/n.

summary: mike’s been avoiding you recently, and you automatically think he’s mad at you. when babysitting abby, she tells you the truth about his feelings about you.

author's note: the title is a lyric from ‘i want to be with you’ by chloe moriondo! also!! the fnaf movie is AMAZING and it’s one of my favorite movies now. this is cross posted on ao3!! enjoy :)

he’s never this quiet.

he’s always somewhat quiet, yeah, but not deathly silent. and he usually doesn’t avoid you, either.

being a babysitter is something you never expected when you moved into the house right next mike’s. you moved in about a year ago with your mom, due to her divorce with your dad. your dad wasn’t the greatest man, nor the best dad. he never left, but he was never involved in your life. so, your mom was pretty much a single mom. your mom wanted to move far away from your dad, landing up in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

a few days after moving in, your mom introduced you to mike and his little sister abby. the first time you’ve ever seen mike was…awkward, to say the least. you could tell mike wasn’t very comfortable in the conversation at first, with the way he swung back and forth on his heels. you, on the other hand, couldn’t focus with the most hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life standing in front of you. you loved the shade of brown his eyes were, they reminded you of a beautiful forest in the fall, late at night.

mike voiced to you both about how his recent babysitter wasn’t returning his calls and wasn’t showing up, so you stepped up to be abby’s new babysitter. you’re glad you did, since now you’re able to do fun things during the day and not sit in your room reading some lame book. you don’t get paid much, but that was the least of your worries.

now, you’re in the kitchen cleaning dishes. it was about 8 pm, so abby was already fast asleep. you and abby baked cookies and there was already a huge mess. in the middle of mixing the wet and dry ingredients together to make a dough, abby pinched up a bit of flour and threw it at you. you looked up at her with an exaggerated gasp and a hand over your heart. to play with her little charade, you grabbed a tiny bit and threw in her direction. the fight of throwing flour between the two of you suddenly stopped as mike walked through the door. a feeling of guilt ran through your body when you realized what you’ve done, but there was still a huge smile on your face as you waved at him.

ever since then, he’s been sitting on the couch watching some sort of old cartoon. he usually stays in the kitchen with you, sitting at the table and talking about your day with abby. out of seemingly no where, mike stopped this routine. it bummed you out, obviously, but you didn’t want to force him to talk to you.

you sigh, grabbing the green and yellow sponge that was placed next to the sink. your mind began to wander, thinking about earlier that day. you feel terrible, but you just wanted abby to have a bit of fun. you shouldn’t have let it go that far.

you know how it feels to start something fun, and have it end up with your body filling with shame and embarrassment. especially at abby’s age. the last thing you want abby to feel is embarrassment from an adult. you also never wanted mike to be mad at you, but you have a slight feeling he already is.

you sigh again as you realize you haven’t apologized to mike about what he walked into. you bite your lip, turning around to see mike still sitting on the couch, eyes fixated on the TV.

you gently place the remainder of the dishes in the dishwasher, then quietly walk over to mike. you sit on the same couch as him, but on the other end of it. you look down at your lap, your eyes tracing the all the lines in your palm. after a few moments of being silent yourself, you speak up.

“mike?” you say in a hushed voice. his response was almost immediate.

he hums, eyes flicking to you and back at the screen. “yeah?”

his flat, low voice always made you feel warm inside. making your heart and stomach flutter with butterflies. but this time, the warmth that his voice brings goes directly down to your stomach, twisting it with anxiety. his whole presence made you feel giddy, like you were in high school with a newly founded crush. you swallow thickly before you speak again.

“i just wanted to apologize for earlier.” you pause, trying to find the right words to say and not mess this up. you want mike to speak to you, you want mike to spend time with you, you just miss him. “i-i shouldn’t have let it get that far.” you murmur.

mike doesn’t say anything at first, he just looks over at you again and nods. “you’re good.”

your stomach churns at his dry response. you nod at him, wiping your clammy hands on your jean-clad knees. “i should get going,” you say under your breath. again, mike doesn’t respond. he just watches you walk to the door, putting on your shoes in a hurry.

mike runs a hand through his curly hair, trying to figure out what he wants to say. he wants to say something, atleast a goodnight, but nothing comes out. you were too busy tying up your shoes to notice his conflicting face.

you open the front door of mike’s home and look over your shoulder. “have a good night, mike.” you say with a smile. mike’s hand does a slight wave, not returning the smile. you shut the door quietly, feeling absolutely crushed.

one of mike’s hands run down his face, hating himself for not saying something before you left. he also hated the way his heart clenched as you looked so sad when you walked out the door. “god dammit.” he grumbled to himself.

days have passed from that night. mike is still avoiding you, and being extremely quiet around you. you know it’s just you he’s being quiet around, since you hear him arguing with abby when you enter his home in the afternoon. just the thought of mike being mad at you pains you to your core, so much so that you avoid him yourself. you feel absolutely terrible, but stirring the pot could make it worse.

mike obviously notices your recent behavior, but didn’t say anything about it. instead, he’d think about it deeply when he’s in bed late at night. for weeks, he’d sleep terribly, just staying up all night figuring out what to say to you to make things better. he misses talking to you, he misses hearing your beautiful laughter and how your eyes sparkle with life when you talk about your interests.

today wasn’t very eventful, it was rather peaceful. you and abby sat at the dinner table, drawing each other pictures and talking. you noticed a drawing she was finished with and picked it up. it seemed to be you, mike, and abby all holding hands in front of a house. you smile softly, glancing up at abby, who’s doodling away with a yellow crayon. you look back down at the artwork and notice a small detail between the drawing of you and mike.

“abs?” you call out, not looking up from the paper. you hear a quiet clank as abby set down her crayon.

“yes?” she looks up at you, a slight smile apparent on her face. you set down the paper and slide it over to her. she looks down at her art, then back up at you.

“what’s up with the heart between me and mike?” you question, your stomach filling with nerves.

abby shrugs, the smile on her face never faltering as she talks. “he likes you, duh.” she giggles.

you sit up straight as your eyes widen. “what?” you whisper. your mind is running wild with all sorts of thoughts- he likes you?

“mike talks about you all the time,” she explains, picking up the yellow crayon again. “i hear him talking to himself about how-”

“abby.”

both of your heads snap toward the front door. it’s mike, he seems angry; his face is a slight pink and his hand is tightly clutching onto his bookbag that’s slung over his shoulder. abby quickly gathers up all of her art supplies that were scattered across the table and flees to her room, giggling loudly. you watch her run, smiling at her cute antics.

you hear a chair being pulled out and see that mike is sitting across from you. the picture of the three of you remains. mike only glances at it and seems to wince with a clenched jaw. he doesn’t look happy at all. you bite the inside of your cheek, getting all wrapped up in your head about what mike is thinking.

abby clearly had a misunderstanding of what mike was actually feeling. she had to.

minutes pass, and not a single word is said. to save your embarrassment (and his), the chair under you screeches as you stand up. “i-i’ll leave,” you suddenly mumble. you don’t notice the way mike’s head snaps up, watching you start to make your way to the door.

mike calls out your name before you’re able to reach the door. “stay,” he pauses to clear his throat. “uh, please.”

you turn around to see mike staring at you with his eyebrows slightly raised. without hesitation or any word, you sit back down. “is everything okay?” your voice sounds so soft, it makes mike’s heart melt.

he nods quickly, scratching the back of his neck. you can see that one of mike’s legs are bouncing and you can see sweat build up on his forehead. he loosens his tie, which makes your whole body warm up. you could feel the warmth spread throughout your limbs, stopping at your toes and fingertips.

“you don’t look okay, a-are you sick?” you exclaim with a worried look on your face. mike shakes his head no, huffing out a laugh.

“no, i’m okay, promise.” a grin appears on his face, amused with your sudden worry. “i just- abby wasn’t lying.” he blurts out, his eyes not meeting yours. you seemed to have a confused expression, so he went further. “when she said i like you.”

oh.

“oh.”

mike looks back at you, seeing that you’re completely and utterly flustered. he was right, you don’t see him the way he sees you. he feels himself sweat more, “is there something wrong?”

“no! no, no,” you ramble, laughing awkwardly. “is that why you were avoiding me for weeks on end?” you ask, your voice getting into a higher pitch. mike nods silently, eagerly awaiting for your response.

now that you think about it, everytime that you were in close contact with mike, his whole body would tense up and his face would turn pink. you almost hit yourself for not noticing sooner. instead, you laugh quietly. one of mike’s eyebrows raise, looking at you with a confused expression.

“i thought you were mad at me.” you mumble, fiddling with your fingers.

mike’s expression softens, “why would i be mad at you?”

“the day where abby and i made a mess out of the kitchen with flour,” you replied with a shrug. “that was the day where you started avoiding me.”

mike’s mouth opened, then closed. he did this a few times before finally saying: “that day was when i realized i liked you.”

you stayed silent as he continued. “i really didn’t mean to avoid you, but i just..” he stops and takes a deep breath. “i just, y’know, couldn’t find words when i was around you.”

your heart almost skipped a beat at his words, smiling ever so brightly at him. you felt so many emotions in that moment, where mike felt like he was about to faint from how pretty you look when you smile. he gives you a grin in return.

“i like you, too.” you say, still smiling. you giggle as mike sighs in relief.

his hand reaches over the table to grab yours. his hand is a little sweaty, but you don’t mind a bit.

he clears his throat, “that means i can take you on a date, right?”

you squeeze his hand tightly and nod before you realize something.

“who will babysit abby?”

#x reader #fnaf #five nights at freddys #fnaf movie #fnaf movie x reader #mike schmidt x reader #michael schmidt #michael schmidt x reader #mike schmidt

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 4 months

Text

Pairing : Bangchan x F!Reader ft. Hongjoong TW : angst ; childbirth ; reader has to have a c-section ; very traumatic labor experience ; Chan turning point moment ; fluffy at the end ; Word Count : 4.9k Request : I'm sure that in my 98 requests there are some regarding this so I'm gonna say yes, it is a request A/N : Back on that good shit, HELLO!!!

It had been four months since you left, riding off into the sunset with Hongjoong, at least that’s the way that Chan looked at it. In reality, you sat in the passenger seat crying your eyes out in the parking lot of the McDonalds while Hongjoong worked tirelessly to console you to no avail.

Four months since the last time you had even heard from Chan, too busy with work still to even realize what he had lost… At least that’s the way you looked at it. Back at home, he couldn’t even get his brain to focus on anything but you, the words you had said before he had pushed you away. Work always came first in his life, it had always been that way, but you had needed his attention too, more then than ever before. He had screwed up, and now he was too scared, too ashamed to even try to get in touch with you. The fear that you had finally moved on to someone who would treat you and the baby better, it ate away at him like a parasite and it was killing him to not know how you were doing, but he felt that he deserved it.

Even Hongjoong, who felt that his acts of kindness were purely innocent, was filled with a sense of guilt, feeling like he was the reason for what was going on right now. No matter how much you told him that he wasn’t to blame, that you would never blame him for it, he couldn’t let himself get rid of the shame. It turned into you consoling him for the better part of two months, and when it seemed like he was finally getting better and coming to terms with that fact that this wasn’t his fault, he would run into Chan somewhere and those feelings would come rushing back full force.

All in all, the last four months have been absolute hell for everyone involved, but no one really talked to one another anymore, so that only worsened the feelings that everyone had. You were lonely, trying to get through the remainder of your pregnancy without thinking too hard about the fact that you’d be a single mother basically, that the father of the little girl that you were carrying had angrily kicked you out and wouldn’t even call to check up on you. Chan was depressed, not knowing anything that was going on with his daughter, not even knowing if you had delivered the baby yet, not knowing how you were doing, and being away from the love of his life and the mother of his child was essentially destroying him. Even those that weren’t directly involved in what was going on, they were being affected too. Members of both groups had to deal with the negative moods of both men and no one knew what to do.

It seemed like the four months would never end, each passing day felt more like deja vu, waking up and reliving those moments over and over again, wondering what could have been done differently, what could have been said to try to change the outcome. It was a never ending nightmare it felt, but no one could have guessed how bad the nightmare would get.

You flipped the page on the calendar, the small box that read “due date” with little pink balloons surrounding it was fastly approaching now. For the first time, it felt like a new day, like you could finally breathe even though your daughter felt like she was kicking at your lungs constantly, you could take a deep breath. You were beginning to feel like maybe, just maybe, with the birth of your daughter, you’d be able to leave the door to your past behind you and start a new journey in life, a new chapter.

“How are you feeling today?” Hongjoong asked, meeting you in the kitchen with the world's best/worst case of bedhead. You felt awful that he had demoted himself to sleeping on the living room couch just so you could comfortably sleep in his bed, but he had insisted, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Is she ready to come out yet?” He smiled tiredly at your stomach which felt like it was about to burst any minute now, but your daughter had no plan on leaving yet.

“I’m feeling good… It’s a good day today.” You murmured, giving him a genuine smile, something that you hadn’t done in a while. The sight of it had Hongjoongs eyes lighting up, and you were hoping that maybe he was feeling the same way. “She definitely isn’t ready though. I think she’s actually comfortable being all cramped up in here.” You joked, running your hand over your stomach, and you felt your daughter move beneath your skin, just slightly, but enough for it to feel like she was agreeing with you.

“What if you’re overdue? What if she never leaves?” He teased, and you rolled your eyes at the questions. There was no way in hell that you’d let that happen. As much as you loved being pregnant with your daughter, your back and your legs were killing you, your stomach was covered in stretch marks that only seemed to be getting bigger and darker every single day, and you’d love to be able to go at least an hour and a half without having to run to the bathroom.

“Don’t jinx me.” You huffed, running a hand through your hair before turning to the fridge and grabbing a drink. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I cannot wait to get my period again.” As if on queue, and maybe even being slightly insulted by your words, your daughter kicked quite hard, hard enough that it had you choking on and coughing out the water that you had just taken a sip of.

“She mad at you.” Hongjoong continued to tease all while rubbing your back and intermittently asking you if you were okay, to which you nodded your head and told him you were. And it was the truth, you were okay. It seemed like forever since you were able to just be okay with everything that happened. Maybe it wasn’t that you were actually okay with it, more like you had just come to terms with the fact that you’d probably never hear from Chan again, that he’d never want anything to do with you. It hurt more than anything to come to that realization, to really let it settle in that the two of you were no more, but you also knew that holding onto a false sense of hope for that relationship to come back would only cause more damage to yourself emotionally.

“You wanna go out for lunch or something?” You asked once you had finally got the air back into your lungs and the tears wiped from your eyes. The last time you had gone out for lunch with Hongjoong was when you were still living with Chan. It had been guilt keeping the both of you from doing something like that again, but you were turning over a new leaf, it was time for you to live your life and let go of the anchor that was holding you back, keeping you emotionally docked to a man that clearly didn’t want anything to do with you or his child.

Hongjoongs eyes widened for only a second before he nodded his head. Maybe he was beginning to feel the same way. To him, it was clear that Chan wasn’t coming back, and the guilt that had previously kept him from doing anything even remotely close to the likes of dating was beginning to fade away. “Of course, anything you want.” He said, a smile creeping up onto his face as he said it. This was normal, or at least the new normal for you, and maybe in the process there would come new love along with the new life that you were bringing into the world. You could only hope that that was the case.

“And then Wooyoung and San-” Hongjoong was continuing his story from across the table when you felt it. The sharp pain that you knew wasn’t a kick or a punch from your little girl. It had you momentarily blacking out and seeing stars as a sharp gasp replaced the scream that threatened to pour from your lips. “Y/N?” Your name rushed out of Hongjoongs mouth as he got up from his chair, so fast that it tipped back, but he was by your side before it had even hit the floor.

The wetness that pooled between your legs was sign enough that not only was your body, but she was ready to come out. “Hospital…” You breathlessly said the word, your eyes prickling with tears as you looked up at Hongjoong, trying to remember all of the breathing exercises that you had learned in the lamaze class that he went to with you. It was harder than you thought when so much seemed to be happening at once, you could barely even focus on your breathing, let alone the breathing that someone else had taught you to do.

“Right… Yeah… Of course… Oh shit.” Hongjoong stammered out the words, looking around the small restaurant in a state of panic, as if one of the unfortunate people who were now watching you would know what to do. It didn’t take long for a couple other women to come over and try to help you, some of them were on their phones already asking for an ambulance. “Thank you…” Hongjoong whispered to the women, thankful that he could now turn his attention solely back to you while you both waited for the ambulance.

By the time the ambulance did come, there were so many people surrounding you and Hongjoong, trying to comfort you, console you, calm you, literally anything as the pains got worse and worse. Contractions, as you were told, were painful, and the only thing you could really do was try to breathe through them until they stopped. The only problem was that they came so frequently that you didn’t have time to catch your breath before another one had you doubling over and gripping onto Hongjoongs hand even tighter.

It wasn’t just the contractions though, there was something else, something that you couldn’t even fully understand, but you just knew… Something was wrong. You could feel it, or moreso, you couldn’t feel anything. You thought that with the amount of contractions and everything that was going on that your daughter would be moving around just as frantically as everyone else in the room right now, but you couldn’t feel anything. “Please… hurry… There’s something wrong… Please…” Was all you managed to say to the paramedics as they helped get you out of your chair and onto a gurney.

“Everything is alright.” One of the paramedics said, but they didn’t know, they weren’t you, they weren’t going through this right now. You hated how they tried to make everything seem okay when it wasn’t. You weren’t stupid, and you knew your body better than anyone else. There was something wrong, and they needed to get you to the hospital as fast as possible instead of trying to fill your head with false hope. “We’ll be there soon, just keep breathing.” As if you had any other choice… It was all you could do. Just breathe until you get to the hospital, and hope and pray that your feeling was wrong.

The baby is in distress. We have to get her out quickly. Set up the room. Get her ready.

Hongjoong stood off to the side watching as doctors and nurses circled around you like vultures. He couldn’t watch as they poked you and prodded at you like some kind of lab experiment, and the only thing he felt was anxiety at the pure chaos that seemed to be unfolding around him. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy with tears and while he wanted to stand next to you and be there for you and hold your hand, every time he even got remotely close he’d be pushed back and replaced by another doctor that needed to check you over.

“Call him…” You said loud enough for Hongjoong to hear, and while the doctors didn’t even pause to let you talk to him, he had heard you through the noise and the commotion. He knew what you meant, and he knew exactly who you were talking about. He wasn’t sure why you’d want him to be there, unless you truly thought that something bad was going to happen to yourself, the baby, or the both of you, but he knew that, out of respect for Chan, he had to do it.

He nodded slowly, hesitant to step out of the room, but he knew that there wasn’t much that he could really do from inside the room either, and it’s not like he could make a phone call with all the noise, so he silently slipped out into the hallway and leaned against the wall. Would Chan even answer his phone? Even if he didn’t, it’s not like you’d be alone, and if something horrible did happen, that would be something that Chan would have to live with for the rest of his life.

The ringing lasted for a good bit, or maybe it was just the fact that time didn’t seem relative in this situation and a second seemed to last for an hour for Hongjoong, but when the ringing finally came to a stop and he heard a soft sigh through the speaker on his phone, he knew that Chan had finally picked up. “Y/N is in labor… She wanted me to call you. It’s not… going well… She wants you here.”

It was vague, but it got the point across. To be honest, Hongjoong didn’t have the slightest idea of what was truly going on back in the room, he heard the words, but he couldn’t fully comprehend them, they made no sense to him. “Is she okay? Is the baby okay?” Chan shakily asked, and while everything around Hongjoong seemed to be moving in slow motion, the sounds coming through his phone made it seem like Chan was in a world in double speed.

“I don’t know… I don’t know anything. She just wants you here. She wanted me to call you. She’s scared, I’m scared… I’m sorry, hyung.” He whimpered, tear drops spilling over his lashes and trickling down his cheeks. “Please come fast… I think they’re moving her…” They were both crying, that much was obvious, the sound of choked off sobs only slightly muffled by the car engine that rumbled through the speaker.

This felt a great deal like karma, although neither of the guys knew who it was coming after. Was it Hongjoong for unintentionally stealing away the family of another man, or was it Chan for being so oblivious to the blessings that he had been given that he let them be taken from him? Why would it go after you though? You and the innocent baby that didn’t know anything about what was going on around her? None of it made sense.

Silence filled the call, neither men speaking, but soon that silence was interrupted by the door being pulled open and the commotion that Hongjoong had temporarily removed himself from now flooded into the hallway. “These are your scrubs, follow us.” A doctor hurriedly handed Hongjoong the blue suit and then turned their attention back to the hospital bed that was being wheeled out of the room. Nurses followed behind, carrying the IV bag that you were still attached to, but now there was an oxygen mask over your face, although it wasn’t connected to anything, not yet at least. “There isn’t much time, hurry.” The doctor said, looking back at Hongjoong who was in a state of shock seeing you like this.

“What’s going on? I’m almost there… Hongjoong?” Chan finally spoke up, but there was nothing that Hongjoong could say. He still didn’t know what was going on, but now it felt like he was on limited time, and the last thing he wanted to do was be on the phone with Chan when he could be spending this time with you, or beside you… He should be there for you, and maybe Chan knew this, or maybe he just didn’t want you to go through this alone. “Go… I’ll get there soon… Don’t leave her…”

Sitting in the waiting room was Chan who had run through the hospital doors like a bat out of hell, pushing through people just to get to the front desk only to be told that he couldn’t even go back and see you. He was left with so many questions and no answers, fears that clouded his mind and made the sound of the television right above his head seem like nothing more than a low drone that was everything but calming.

There was no comfort found in the pristine white walls or the nose burning bleach smell from the overly sanitized floors. There was no solace felt when looking at the scenic paintings that hung along the walls. There was only a sense of looming dread that hung over him. To lose everything before he had even gotten it, to not even have had the chance to enjoy the time with you and his unborn daughter because he had so carelessly given it away just to chase his career.

“Sir…” Pulled from his thoughts by the low, almost mousy voice of the receptionist, he finally looked up at her. “You can go back now.” Was this a light at the end of the tunnel, or was it just the high beams of a car racing through only meant to give him some sense of false hope before he was crashed into?

Every step was slow, giving him time to prepare himself for whatever it was that he’d walk in on. Would you be okay or had he lost you? Had he lost his daughter? Were you both gone? Was he only allowed to come in just to say goodbye? Wouldn’t that be sick? To be led into a room where everything that he truly loved lay lifeless and cold… He wouldn’t be able to handle that, he wasn’t even able to handle the thought of that.

Hongjoong stood outside a door, his hair disheveled and his eyes reddened from crying. His cheeks and his nose looked raw, and his lips were chapped… But he was smiling. There was no sadness in his eyes, he wasn’t wearing the look of someone that he just witnessed something so horrifyingly devastating that Chan couldn’t even think of it. “They’re sleeping…” Hongjoong whispered, letting out an exasperated chuckle as he ran his hand through his hair for presumably the thousandth time today. “But they’re okay… They’re okay.” He repeated the words as if he himself needed the reassurance.

“Wh-... What happened?” Chan stammered, still left with a whirlwind of questions, but did it even matter what had happened? As long as you and his daughter were alright, that’s all that was important to him. “Is the baby in there? Can I see her?” Hongjoong shook his head no, and for a moment Chan thought that he was saying that he couldn’t see his daughter, but Hongjoong quickly motioned down the hall with his head.

“They have her in the nursery right now… They still want to check her over, make sure that there’s no issues. I… I wish I could tell you what all happened but… I couldn’t even ask questions and… I was so scared. I think it’s a good thing you didn’t make it in time to see it… I never want to see something like that ever again…” Hongjoong rambled, his head shaking so fast like he was trying to rid his mind of whatever images now plagued it. How bad had it been?

“Can I go in the room?” Chan asked, and Hongjoong paused, looking between Chan and the door before nodding his head. “Thank you… Thank you for taking care of her, and being there for her… And giving her everything that I failed to give.” Chan murmured, his hand freezing on the doorknob, eyes welling up with tears as he dropped his head. “You’re a better man than I am… And she deserves better… So does my daughter…”

He didn’t give Hongjoong time to respond, he wanted to get in the room and see you, make sure you were okay, and then go see his daughter to make sure she was okay as well before heading back home. He didn’t intend on staying, not because he didn’t want to, but he was sure that you wouldn’t truly want him around now that the nightmare was over. He had hurt you and pushed you away, he didn’t even feel like he should be there.

“Hey…” Your voice was soft, not intentionally, but you were groggy and tired, as he expected you to be after going through this. “You finally made it… Took long enough.” You scoffed, and Chan could only sigh. If only you knew the amount of accidents that he had dodged, the amount of tears he had shed just to get here, just to wait for the clearance to come into the room and see you. He would have argued it, but he found no point in fighting against you, not right now. “Did you get to see her yet?” You asked, and he shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as his top teeth sank down into his bottom lip. “Did I interrupt your work?”

Were you truly questioning it or was it just a jab at the fact that he had chosen work over you and the baby in the beginning? He wasn’t sure considering your voice didn’t really give way to any emotion other than exhaustion. “No… You didn’t interrupt anything. I was at home.” He said softly, and it felt like he was walking on a thin layer of ice. Any wrong move and he’d fall through. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here.”

“You’re a busy person… I understand that you can’t make it.” You said as nonchalantly as ever, as if you were just talking about the weather. “You should go see her before you have to go again. I’m not sure when your schedule will free up so… If you want me to send pictures of her to you I will…” You weren’t even looking at him, your eyes gazing far off into the distance, out the window of your little room. Was it because you’d get sad if you looked at him? Or would you just get really angry? How was it so easy for Hongjoong to juggle both his work and his life? Why was it so hard for Chan to do the same thing? Did he even have a chance to try to prove to you that he was sorry or had Hongjoong already made his way into the space in your heart that Chan thought was reserved for him?

“I never stopped thinking about you… About the baby… I never stopped thinking about how much of an idiot I was for leaving you… For letting you leave.” Chan began, and he saw your tongue push against the inside of your cheek, something that you did when you were thinking just a little bit too hard. What were you thinking about? “And I know that right now isn’t the best time to be coming to you and telling you this. I should have come to you the day after you left… I shouldn’t have even let you walk out that door. But I love you, and I love our baby… And that dream that we created together… I still want that with you. I want to be with you, I want to have a family with you… I want so much for you to just be home again.” He shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut to try to hide the fact that he was getting teared up. “I want our home to be the home that you bring our daughter to when you both get discharged… But I know that I’m too late…”

For the first time since he had walked into the room, you looked at him. Your head turned slowly to let your eyes, filled with confusion, fall upon him. “What do you mean you’re too late? I’m not dead, Chan. I had a c-section… and while it still feels sore and I know it’s gonna hurt like a bitch later… I’m still alive.” You said it as if that were the only thing he should be worried about, but he knew that Hongjoong was just outside the door, and maybe you were just trying to play dumb to protect Chans feelings, although he wasn’t sure why you’d do something like that considering the hell that he put you through.

“I know that you and Hongjoong are together… You don’t have to hide it or pretend…” Chan mumbled, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth before letting out a loud, heavy sigh. “He’s better for you anyway. He was always there for you… He was there for the baby before she was even born… There’s no way that I can compete with him. I understand that he took my place… But I do love you, and… if it’s okay with him… I would like to still be in her life… I want to watch her… grow up… I want to be there for birthdays and holidays and-”

“What the fuck are you on about?” You cut him off with the question, your eyebrows arched and your face had shock written across it. “Hongjoong and I aren’t together. Holy shit, Chan.” You let out a scoff that sounded more like you were trying to hold in your laughter. “Is that why you didn’t try to get in touch with me? Because you thought that he and I were… together?” You quizzed, and Chan mumbled out a sheepish yes in response. “So you’re telling me… We could have been together… through the better half of the last portion of my pregnancy… But we weren’t because you thought I started dating Hongjoong?”

Chans hands flew to his face and his head fell back as he let out a loud groan. “Yes. Yes! I was stupid! I let my assumptions get the best of me and I missed out on the birth of my daughter because of that. Is that what you want to hear? I’m stupid!” His head shook before he let it drop down, his eyes lingering on the lines between the floor tiles. “Why didn’t you message me though? What was keeping you from reaching out… Not that it was your job to, considering what had happened… but… If you missed me and wanted me there for all of that… Why didn’t you text me or call me?”

Now it was you who grew quiet, your hand that was free of the IV running through your hair as your eyes bore into him, and even though he wasn’t looking, he could feel the heat of your gaze from across the room. “Because you told me to leave… I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I was devastated that you just let me walk out, and it made me feel like you wouldn’t care if I tried to get in contact with you anyway. I was pregnant, and I never felt so alone in my life, even with Hongjoong there to help me. All I wanted was you. But I was scared that you’d tell me to leave you alone and… I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of rejection, not from you.”

His heart sank at the revelation of how you truly felt, and he couldn’t believe how far it was from the truth. He still had one more question though, one that seemed to be burning brighter now that he knew how you felt. “Why did you call me today? Not that I’m mad about it but… what made you want to see me now?”

The sudden sound of you sniffling filled the room, and you fumbled with the edge of your blankets as you took a few shaky breaths. “Because… I thought something was wrong… That something would go wrong and… Even if you hated me, I needed you here. I was scared that I would die… That she… You know… And I just needed you.” Your voice broke at the end and the sniffles turned to full sobs as your head dropped and your hair curtained your face.

He ran over to your bedside, grabbing your hand, for the moment completely forgetting that he hadn’t been around at all, the only thing he wanted now was to be there for you, to show you that he loved you. “I’m here now… You’re okay, she’s okay… I don’t want you to think of those things anymore… okay?” He whispered, petting his fingers over your hair and tucking it behind your ears before tilting your head up to look at him. “I love you… And I’m sorry… I’m sorry for everything that I’ve put you through… But I want to be here now, if you’ll give me that chance. Just one more chance… Please…”

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@randomwimp @silentreadersthings @cutiespaghetti @furiousheartpoetry @its-hannjisung @lixpixstix

@felixluvr915 @wordsofkpop @kayleigh-28 @szkstay @spnwinchestersd @fleatree @yehsehneeah @vampcharxter @iloveksmohsomuch @lvlnijiro @neteyamsmate4life @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @delululi @insertsomethingaboutanimehere @karlitaburrito @laylasbunbunny @chimicurri-a

People who asked to be tagged in this fic specifically :

@chanssmiles @hanschimpmunk @zerefdragn33l @aloverga @minciel93 @aeikly @possumy @clausatur @pinkies-things @vickyyoon @jaquisos