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bucky-fricking-barnes · 10 months ago

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The Cards We're Dealt

Title: The Cards We’re Dealt

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: Arranged marriage, alcohol, cursing, objectification of women and mild sexism, bad parents, angst, fluff, mentions of drugs

Summary: Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.

A/N: Wow! Another long fic because I have no self-restraint. There’s a bit of Irish in this because I couldn’t resist it when I wrote Steve. Translations are at the end, and anything incorrect can be blamed on Google Translate. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and supporting me in all the ways you do.

There is an unspoken rule amongst the mobs in New York that the more drug manufacturers a man controls, the nicer you treat his daughter. So, when Bucky’s father tells him that he’s once again been pimped out as part of a deal, Bucky knows to ask the question,

“How many does he control?”

If Bucky had his way, of course, he would treat all girls as well as he is able (which is very well). He likes girls, and he likes going out with girls. He just wishes he could choose which girls he got to take out.

“Seventy-five percent,” George Barnes says, and Bucky freezes with his glass against his lips. He has a club soda to his father’s whiskey—he’s in a good mood and was actually hoping to enjoy the day, though now he’s reconsidering it. His plan to lounge by the pool with Becca and soak up as much of the late spring sunshine as possible is quickly dissipating.

“That’s not possible,” Bucky replies. He quickly does the math in his head. His dad owns over half the manufacturers in Brooklyn. “We own—“

“Not anymore.”

The library falls silent as Bucky tries to wrap his head around the news. Just yesterday he’d overheard his father on the phone with one of his men, explaining in great detail what he’d do if they didn’t get him a sample of their newest product by the top of the hour.

“How?” he asks. He sets his glass aside and sits straighter in his chair. “Did something happen? You didn’t tell me about a takeover.”

George takes a sip of his whiskey. “That’s because there wasn’t one.” He sets the crystal tumbler on the small bronze tray nearby. Marta will come clean it up later. “I sold them.”

“You sold them? If you’ve already struck a deal, then why am I taking out his daughter? Isn’t that normally something you have me do to butter their fathers up before you make the deal?”

Bucky watches as his own father stands and goes to watch the landscapers through the library window, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s long since been out of the army, but some habits die hard. Very rarely did the man ever relax.

“You are the deal,” George answers, his voice much too casual for Bucky’s liking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” snaps Bucky.

“Watch your tone, boy,” his father replies. He doesn’t turn around to witness the way Bucky grinds his teeth together in response. “In exchange for the majority of Theo’s territory, you and Y/N will be married within a year and a half, though the exact date is up to the two of you. I believe that Theo mentioned his daughter likes spring, so perhaps a spring wedding. June is popular, from what I’m told, though that’s cutting it a little close to the deadline.”

Bucky’s up out of his seat now. He can feel his pulse thrumming and he can’t quite catch his breath.

“So what? You threw me in to sweeten the pot? Am I just another bargaining chip to you now?”

He’s shouting. He doesn’t care.

George turns and regards him in silence, and, like always, his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t seem fazed at all by Bucky’s outburst.

“You’re my heir. I make my decisions based on what’s best for our family. Nothing about this decision is impulsive or frivolous, James,” he finally answers, his voice cool and even. There’s nothing familial in his tone—George Barnes is all business.

“You can’t just decide that I’m getting married. I won’t do it. I refuse,” Bucky tells him. He balls his fists at his sides and he sets his jaw, furious. How dare his father try to control his life like this? It’s one thing to occupy the majority of Bucky’s nights and weekends with dates, meetings, dinners, and weapons runs, but it’s another to throw him into a marriage he doesn’t want.

“I can and you will. If you don’t, there will be consequences. To start, you will be immediately cut off from our family. You will have no money, no home, no resources, and no contact or communication with anyone involved in the business, including your mother and your sister.”

Heart pounding, Bucky glares at him. He’s got a migraine coming on. He knows his father isn’t kidding, but he wants more than anything for Steve to pop out and say that this is all just a joke. He’s never even met Theo’s daughter. He’s barely even met Theo. According to the rumors, his only daughter is his most prized treasure. She isn’t someone who frequents any of the bars, clubs, and restaurants that he and the other “mob children” frequent. Maybe “mob children” isn’t exactly the right term, at least not anymore. After all, Bucky’s engaged now. He’s just part of the mob, another pawn to be moved around the chessboard.

“You have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” says George. He picks up his glass and downs the last of the liquor. “Theo and his family are coming for breakfast, and then Y/N will be moving in with us. I want you on your best behavior.”

He pauses and Bucky continues to glare at him, not validating his words with a response. George’s eyes grow dark with a thinly veiled threat. Bucky knows that look—if he pushes his father any harder, he’ll regret it.

“Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky grinds out.

Turning on his heel, Bucky stalks out of the library and slams the door behind him. He immediately heads down the hall, then down the stairs and across the ground floor of the Barnes Estate to the garage. His keys are still in his pocket; he’d only just gotten back from a night out with Steve when his father had summoned him.

It doesn’t matter that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Bucky climbs onto his bike and revs the engine, speeding off down the long driveway that winds around the house. The guards barely get the gate open in time and then he’s flying down the road, heading straight to Steve’s bar in the city. He knows his friend will be there, most likely nursing his hangover and going over the books in his back office. He won’t be hard to convince to go out again, though Bucky knows he won’t approve of the plan to drink as much as he possibly can in the next twelve hours. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

You sit between your parents, staring at the empty seat across from you. They’d told you this morning that you were going to the Barnes Estate for breakfast, and while you’d expected the grandeur of the dining room and the meal, you didn’t expect the eldest Barnes child to be completely absent. You’ve never met him, but your mother has insisted that you speak to James—George Barnes’ only son and heir—as much as possible during the meal. Supposedly, he’s the same age as you.

Rebecca Barnes is a ray of sunshine and her cheery disposition is a stark contrast to the dark clouds that now hang over your fathers’ heads. Maybe it’s a deal gone wrong or maybe it’s something else, but you don’t like it. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Silently, you sneak a hand under the table to find your mother’s. You squeeze and your mom squeezes back, glancing over to give a reassuring smile.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Barnes starts, and you jump a little in your seat. You haven’t been verbally addressed since you’d been seated a half hour ago. The food has yet to be served. “Your parents tell us that you’re very interested in horticulture. Did you know we have a rose garden out back?”

You force a polite smile. “I don’t know about very interested. I have a few house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive, though I would love to see your garden sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful,” you add.

“Maybe Bucky can take you,” Rebecca says, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. She simply shrugs.

Oh, to be as unbothered as Rebecca Barnes!

“Where is James?” your father asks. His voice is a low, threatening growl and you sink down in your chair, staring at the cloth napkin still folded atop your plates.

“He knows to be here,” Mr. Barnes growls back. “You’ll have to excuse his tardiness, he’s not normally like this.”

Mrs. Barnes gives Rebecca an even harsher look when she opens her mouth to speak, and this time the girl actually looks ashamed. She takes a sip of her orange juice to hide the guilty look on her face. She’s the first person to have actually touched something on the table, and it’s like whatever spell the room has been under is broken.

All at once, the dining room springs to life. A short, slightly heavy-set woman in a gray dress and white apron enters through one door. She’s holding a delicate silver coffeepot and the smell of coffee instantly fills the room. Two younger women in identical uniforms follow behind her, each of them pushing golden carts laden with food. Through the door across the room, a tall man with short, dark brown hair stumbles in. He’s wearing all black, from his rumpled button-up and jeans to his boots and sunglasses. His hair is sticking up in every direction and just like the coffee, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming from him even from your seat.

You grimace at the smell and pull your napkin into your lap as one of the women comes to place food in front of you. It’s a formal dining service and the strange new man who’s entered feels entirely out of place. From his attire to the way he shuffles across the antique rug, everything about him screams that he’d rather be anywhere else. If you acted like that, your father would be pulling you back out into the hallway to reprimand you, and you look anxiously at Mr. Barnes, who’s seated at the head of the table.

“James,” he greets, his voice unnervingly even. A chill runs down your spine. “It’s nice of you to join us. I trust that you slept well last night?”

James collapses into the only empty chair at the table, the one across from you, and pointedly ignores his father. You risk a glance up at him as he reaches for the cup of coffee that’s already been poured.

True to form, Rebecca leans over and claps a hand on her brother’s shoulder blade. “Good morning! Aren’t you excited to have breakfast with our guests?” she shouts, and her smirk makes it much too clear that she’s fully enjoying the way her brother’s scowl deepens. Rebecca also ignores her parents, including her mother, who leans forward to look past James and give her a look of warning.

James shrugs his sister off of him and starts buttering the toast on his plate. You watch for a moment, then start picking at your own food as your mother also begins to eat. Everyone’s acting so strangely that you’re already on edge, and you’ve only managed to get down a few grapes and two bites of dry toast by the time your father speaks up again.

“So when are we signing these papers?” he asks, sipping his coffee.

“As soon as the marriage license is signed,” answers Mr. Barnes.

You frown. Marriage license? Who’s getting married?

“And the terms are the same as when we last spoke?”

Mr. Barnes sips his own drink, something that looks suspiciously like whiskey, and sets down the glass. “Yes. I have that contract in my office. We’ll review and sign after we’re done here. Are all of your daughter’s things ready to be moved?”

Your stomach drops and you turn to stare at your father with wide eyes. He nods, not even paying attention to you as he continues his conversation with the other man. Your mother pointedly ignores you, choosing instead to stare at her plate as she eats. When you look around the room, it seems like almost everyone else is doing the same. Rebecca is the only person who actually meets your panicked gaze. She gives you a pitying look as your anxiety rises.

It feels like your mouth is filled with sandpaper, and you grab your glass of juice. You have to drink half of it before the feeling even mildly abates. As soon as you set it down, one of the women in gray appears to refill it.

“What’s going on? Why are you moving my stuff?” you finally choke out. You twist the napkin in your lap with both hands, wringing it as you look from one person’s face to the next.

Mr. Barnes stops mid-sentence and the whole room freezes. Even James, who’s pouring something into his coffee cup from a small silver flask, stops what he’s doing.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother begins, taking your hand under the table.

You want to pull away. You don’t.

“After breakfast, your father and I are going home, but you’ll be staying here with the Barneses.”

“What?” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “No, I don’t— I don’t want to stay here. You never said anything about me—“

“We’re getting married,” James interrupts. He’s chewing and you look over at him, gaping at the casual way he’s sprawled out in his chair. You can feel his gaze on you even from behind his sunglasses and it makes you feel dirty.

“Excuse me?”

He chuckles and sits up, then leans forward in the chair. He drops the greasy strip of bacon he’d been eating onto his plate. “We’re getting married. They’re using us like bartering chips, sweetheart. You and me in exchange for all the drugs and all the territory in New York.” James gestures grandly with one hand, a too-wide grin on his face. There must be at least ten rings on each of his hands and you swallow thickly at the threatening display of black and silver metal.

You’re trembling now and you pull your hand away from your mom’s. She reaches for you again but you shake your head, shying away from her touch. Frantically, you look around the room to see if this is some kind of joke or a drunken rambling, but no one is laughing. Even Mrs. Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic on your behalf.

“No, no. You wouldn’t—“ You look back at your parents, imploring them to say that it isn’t true. You swallow thickly, trying to stave off tears, and your voice wavers as you prompt, “Mom? Dad?”

Their silence speaks volumes and a whimper escapes you as you wring your hands in your lap. The napkin slides onto the floor. It suddenly feels like you can’t breathe and when your mom reaches out for a second time and starts to tell you to calm down, you jerk away and stand. The chair falls backwards behind you, but you ignore it as you rush out of the dining room and into the hallway you’d entered from. Everything is unfamiliar. Frantically, you pick a door and yank on the handle. It doesn’t give way and you continue the process until one of them finally opens and you can rush inside. You lock it behind you and press your back against the door. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows are closed, shrouding the room in darkness. You can’t make out much of the furniture through the tears in your eyes.

Out in the hallway, you can hear your mother calling for you and your father arguing with Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes is yelling at somebody too, but it’s hard enough to hear the others over your own gasps and sobs. You’re properly crying now and you sink to the floor, curling up on the carpet as you heave. It’s a good thing you weren’t able to stomach much breakfast.

A knock on the door makes you yelp and then cry harder, and you crawl into the darkness of the room to try and find a hiding spot. You’re lucky enough to find an old, heavy desk right away. It’s the perfect size for you to crawl under for shelter, and there’s no chair for you to move out of the way. The drawers on both sides create a cubby for you, so you crawl into it and curl up into a ball with your back towards the door, just in case someone manages to get in. If you’re quiet enough, it’s possible they’ll walk right past you.

The crowd in the hallway has definitely heard you by now. The doorknob is rattling as whoever’s on the other side tries to get in, but after a few minutes, they stop and the hallway goes quiet. You hold your breath after every couple of sobs, listening for any sign that they’ve found a key or that they’re picking the lock. Nothing happens, however, and after a while, you give up on listening.

You sit in the darkness and cry until you’re thoroughly exhausted. Once you’ve run out of tears, you sit and zone out with your head resting against the side of the desk drawers for a while longer, numb from the news. Your body feels light and a buzzing, tingling feeling makes moving your limbs seem impossible. You could’ve never imagined that your parents would be so capable of treating you so poorly. You’ve always felt so loved by them, and to hear that they’ve practically thrown you away at the first chance of a profit makes you want to puke. Upon that realization, you actually do throw up, and the stink of your vomit on the carpet of whatever room you’re in makes you want to cry all over again.

The door opens just as the stench is becoming too much to bear. Light floods in from the hallway and you squint, curling up in fear. After a moment, the shorter woman in the gray uniform that you’d seen at breakfast appears a few feet away from the desk, right in the path of light. You look up at her.

“Oh dear,” she sighs, and you instantly feel ashamed at the disappointment in her voice.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Your bottom lip is trembling again as fresh tears somehow appear in your eyes. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your wrists. “I can clean it if you—“

“You’ll do no such thing,” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and kind, so much so that you don’t feel the need to argue with her. She waves her hand dismissively and approaches you, then holds out both hands. She’s careful not to step in the mess you’ve made. “Now come on, up you go.”

You let her help you to your feet and then you straighten out your clothes, sniffling and wiping at your nose again in a desperate attempt to look more put together than you feel. Still a bit unsteady, you whimper for a second time, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, dear.” She gives you a warm smile. “My name’s Marta. I’m the head housekeeper here. It’s very nice to meet you.”

You don’t feel the same way about meeting her, given the circumstances, but you hold that comment to yourself and simply nod in agreement. Marta leads you back out into the too-bright hallway. It’s empty except for a bald man mopping the floor on the far end.

The high ceilings and glossy marble floors make it look like you’re in a castle. Even the silence feels regal. Everything seems so cold compared to your home, and you feel too small in the massive space.

“What time is it?” you quietly ask, looking back at Marta.

“It’s almost noon, Miss.”

Your stomach sinks and you press your lips together, inhaling deeply as you look around again. Three hours have passed. “My parents…”

“They left about fifteen minutes after breakfast,” she tells you. Her words are matter-of-fact, even if she delivers the news in the softest possible way.

Somehow it hurts worse that they’ve left you than finding out they’d practically sold you to the Barneses in exchange for God knows what. Drugs or territory, whatever James had said. Not only did they treat you like nothing, but they’d deserted you after it was clear you didn’t agree with their plans. They hadn’t even tried to reassure you that they still loved you or that you’d still be able to see them. Maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe they didn’t.

You nod numbly. There’s been nothing to prepare you for this, no precursor or warning, so you keep looking around the hall, though in reality you’re not really seeing anything.

“Your room is ready upstairs, Miss Y/N. Would you like me to take you?” asks Marta.

You nod again. You feel like you’re underwater as you follow her up a grand staircase and then down a long, narrow hallway. It’s decorated similarly to the ground floor, though with a plush Persian rug running its length. Marta talks as she walks ahead of you, no doubt explaining what the many doors lead to, but her words simply go in one ear and out the other. It’s all so surreal that when you finally get to your own room, you don’t even open the door. Marta has to reach around you to open it, and then she gently ushers you inside when you still don't move.

Just as they had said at breakfast, your belongings have all been moved into the Barnes Estate. The furniture here is different, grander than what you’re used to, but your blankets and pillows are on the bed, and the two bookshelves are packed full of the books you’ve collected over the years. Even the strip from the photo booth at an old friend’s wedding is pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. Someone’s even thought to put your plants on their own table by the window.

“There’s a bathroom on the left and your closet is on the right,” Marta explains, pointing to each. “If you’re hungry, dinner is at five.”

“Do I have to eat with them?” you ask.

If Marta is surprised by your question, she doesn’t show it. She simply shakes her head with a gentle smile. “No. We can bring food here if you’d like.”

You nod and stand in silence until she leaves and closes the door behind her. Then, after another minute passes, you drag yourself over to the bed, climb under the covers, and close your eyes.

If there’s any mercy left in this life, you think, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.

Weeks pass and you still haven’t adjusted to life at the Barnes Estate. The staff is only slightly less friendly than those you grew up with, but they’re more attentive. It helps that there are more of them. For every member of the Barnes family, yourself included, there are at least four staff members to attend to their every need. It makes you feel like royalty, but it also makes you feel guilty. You don’t need this much. You certainly didn’t ask for it.

You haven’t seen James since the ill-fated breakfast, nor have you seen your parents. They’ve gone so far as to block your number. After that discovery, you’d locked yourself in the massive ensuite bathroom and cried for an hour. Marta had been the one to coax you out. The poor maid who’d found you when coming to get you for dinner hadn’t known how to help. You’d spent that entire evening curled up on your bed while reruns of The Nanny played on the TV embedded in the wall across from the massive mattress. Marta had spent every second with you that she could, but eventually Mrs. Barnes—Winnifred, as you referred to her in your mind—had scolded her for neglecting her nighttime duties across the estate. That made you feel even worse.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asks, and you turn to look at her from where you’re staring out the hallway windows at the gardeners. The backyard is massive, complete with a rose garden in full bloom, an outdoor swimming pool, a forested walking trail, a large green expanse for games and parties, a gazebo, a fountain, and what seems to be stables far in the distance, though you haven’t ventured far enough to be sure. A visit to the rose garden hasn’t been brought up again either, and nothing seems interesting enough to explore on your own.

Nodding, you don’t say anything before turning back to watch the men work. They talk and laugh with each other as they prune, pick, and water. You wish that you could trade places with them.

“You don’t look okay,” she says. Rebecca props herself up on the window ledge to your right, facing you with a suspicious look on her face. “We haven’t seen you at any meals, and Valerie told me that you were crying in the bathtub three nights ago.”

You should feel ashamed, but you’re too numb to care. It feels like you’re floating through each day, detached from most things. You’ve spent your entire life thinking that you would marry for love and live happily ever after. Now, your parents have sold you to the highest bidder and your husband-to-be is a cruel, disgusting man-child that wants nothing to do with you.

Rebecca’s fingers lacing with yours jerk you back to reality and you look down at your joined hands in confusion. Her nails are bitten short and she wears a single ring with the Barnes family crest. It’s dainty and gold, a stark contrast to the many rings on her brother’s fingers.

“You’re safe here, Y/N,” she tells you, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be alone. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. If I had any say in it, you could be home right now with your parents, but I’m far from the top of the totem pole.”

“I hate them.” You spit the words out and jerk your hand away from hers. “I hate my parents.”

That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in your entire life and your heart skips a beat as the anger makes your lip curl. You’re baring your teeth at her but Rebecca doesn’t even flinch. She’s a mafia princess, through and through.

“They made me believe that I could have anything I wanted, that I could marry whoever I wanted whenever I was ready, and then they threw that all away and treated me like shit the first time it was convenient for them.”

She nods. “That’s true.”

“I was so foolish to have believed them,” you growl, but the fight in you is fading just as quickly as it came. You burn bright, but you burn quickly, too.

“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “You’re just human.”

You look away, embarrassed by your display of emotion as your eyes begin to water with more tears. You were raised to be reserved. You knew very little about the inner workings of your parents’ business, but you’d learned as a young girl that you’d fare better if you always clung to the edges of the room, avoiding the dirt and grime and blood that surrounded your whole life. Over the years, you’ve grown very good at hiding yourself and your emotions from the people around you. From the spark in her eye, you have the feeling that Rebecca is the exact opposite. She could hold her own if it came down to it. You couldn’t.

“It’s okay to be upset,” she insists.

Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and look back out the window. You lift your chin slightly and when Rebecca tries to rope you into another conversation with her, you ignore her and focus on the men outside. They’re finished tending to the roses on the edges of the garden. Now they’re working their way inwards.

You’re finally left alone a few minutes later and as soon as she’s around the corner, you let out a heavy sigh and relax your posture. Slumping forward, you lean forward into the window ledge, curling up just a little as you continue to watch the gardeners. The silly song from Alice in Wonderland pops into your head and you hum along, eventually mumbling to yourself about painting the roses red.

You feel a little bit like Alice, you realize. You’re out of your element in a strange land where everything you’ve learned about life seems to be turned on its head. In this world, nobody marries for love and the girls are just as entrenched in the business as the men. Does Rebecca conduct business with her father and older brother? You could certainly picture it. Will the same be expected of you?

That afternoon, Marta knocks on your door with a written invitation from Winnifred. Your presence is being formally requested at their dinner table, though from the look the housekeeper is giving you, it’s more of a demand than a request. With her help, you pick out something to wear. By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re crossing the enormous hallway in a dress and heels that you’ve never seen before. It’s far too showy for your taste, but it’s clearly something someone wanted you to wear. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put it in your closet.

George Barnes and James stand when you enter the dining room, as do several other men you don’t recognize. Your father is standing near the head of the table with George, though your mother and Rebecca are nowhere in sight. Besides Winnifred, you don’t recognize any of the other women. The only empty seat is beside James and your immediate instinct is to flee, but then he’s stepping aside to pull out the chair and all eyes are on you.

Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you and sit. He helps you scoot in, then takes his own seat on your right. The other men sit as well and then dinner resumes. You sit in silence, staring at the top edge of your plate with your hands in your lap. You’re not really listening to the conversations around you, either, but you can feel someone’s eyes on you as you try to stay as quiet and motionless as possible.

“Are you sick or something?”

You startle and look up with wide eyes. James is watching you. He’s got one hand on the table with his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass and the other resting on his thigh. Unlike your fateful breakfast weeks ago, James is dressed in a neat, all-black suit. He has no tie, and his rings are all gone except one. It’s identical to Rebecca’s family crest, except his is silver and has a thicker band.

His eyes are full of something you can’t place and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. As quickly as you turned to him, you turn away and look back at your plate. The napkin is folded in some elaborate way on top of the plate. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to resemble anything at all, but maybe if you stare at it long enough, it will look like something.

“Y/N?” he prompts. You nod once, tightly, and then pull the heavy cloth napkin into your lap when a server appears to present the first course.

Between the second and third course, you can feel James’ eyes on you. After the third, he gets roped into conversation with a man sitting across the table, but you know that he’s glancing at you all the while. After the fourth, he bumps his arm against yours. You shirk away and feel him tense beside you.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, and you push your chair away from the table. Immediately, the conversations stop and all the men stand again. It’s too much attention on you and you hurry out of the dining room as fast as your heels and dress will allow. You’re stumbling over yourself by the time you get back to your suite on the third floor. The door slams behind you and you collapse onto the floor beside the bed, too overwhelmed to even climb atop the oversized mattress. You’re on the verge of tears when there’s a soft knock from the door, and that rips a sob from your chest that you hadn’t expected.

Immediately, the door opens and James is standing in the open space, a dark look on his face. You sob again and scramble backwards until the edge of the bed frame is digging painfully into your spine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You swallow hard and take several gasping breaths, trying to control yourself. Your mind is spinning with insults, calling you weak and pathetic, and you believe every one.

“It’s just too much,” you answer through your tears. “I don’t want this!”

James huffs. His angry expression has faded, now replaced with something more akin to irritation. “And you think I do?”

You shake your head. “Of course not.”

“These are the cards we’ve been dealt, doll. You’re gonna have to get over it. Let’s just get married and then we can live happily ever after in a big house where we never have to see each other. I’ll do what I want and you can do what you want. Sound like a plan?”

You look down at your hands. A big part of you wants to say that no, it doesn’t sound like a plan. You don’t want that life. You don’t want a house so big that you practically need a golf cart to get from one side to the other. You don’t want a husband who ignores you in favor of his blood money or his side chick or the next shiny toy off the black market. You don’t want James.

Though every part of you is screaming the opposite, you nod. He crosses the room and you inhale sharply to steady yourself as he approaches you with no care. His black dress shoes are tracking dirt across the rug. James holds out a hand to help you up and you take it. The heirloom ring on his right hand digs into yours until you’re standing, and then he drops your hand like it’s on fire.

“We need to go back,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Our parents are pissed.”

“Of course they are,” you mumble.

James pauses, staring at you critically. You’ve been staring at the baseboards since he helped you up, but when he doesn’t move or speak, you glance upwards at him. He’s got one eyebrow raised. His expression is thoroughly unreadable otherwise and an unsettling feeling blooms in your stomach.

“What?” you ask. You step back a little, but there’s no place to go except up against the bed again.

He shakes his head at you. “Nothing. Come on, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch your nose. “Anything but that.”

“Sugar?” he offers, and when you shake your head, he sighs. “Well, what do you want me to call you, since you’re suddenly the one calling the shots?”

His words cut deep and you look back down, hating the way shame immediately pools in your belly. How could he seem angry and irritated with you, then borderline kind, and then completely disinterested in your feelings the next? It’s disorienting, and you don’t need that on top of everything else.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”

Grabbing your arm in a grip just bordering on painful, James pulls you out of your bedroom and back down the hall. He holds on as you stumble behind him in your heels. When you reach the ground floor hallway again, he drops his hand and offers you his arm. You’re hesitant to take it, but he sighs a little and you decide that it’s easier to give in than to put up a fight.

The two of you walk back into the dining room and the conversations immediately hush. James leads you to your waiting seats, pulls out the chair for you, and then helps you scoot towards the table again once you’re seated. As he takes his spot beside you, your father speaks up.

“Have you and James discussed when you’ll be getting married?” he asks.

You pick up your fork and stare at the strange food on your plate, ignoring him. Though your stomach is churning, you force yourself to take a bite. He can’t expect you to answer while you’re chewing—it would be bad manners.

“Next spring,” James answers. “In the rose garden.”

You want to spit on the roses. You swallow your food instead.

“Good choice,” Mr. Barnes agrees. He turns his attention back to your father. “Your daughter is quite the well-behaved woman. She’ll do well with our James.”

Beside you, James tenses again, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. You glance at him, holding your breath, and wait until he relaxes again to take another bite of your food.

The rest of the dinner passes with mundane, meaningless conversations. Nobody addresses you for the remainder of the meal, not even your parents, and finally the men begin to make their way out of the dining room to an adjoining room. You hadn’t even realized there was a room connected; the door is hidden amongst the paneling and crown molding on the walls.

“You can’t go in there.” James grabs your wrist as you stand to follow the group of men into the new room. His voice isn’t malicious and his grip isn’t tight, but you flinch away from him anyway. It’s only then that you realize the few women that had been in the room are leaving through the door to the hall with their wineglasses in hand.

“Because I’m a woman?” you counter.

“Because you don’t want to hear the things that they’re going to discuss,” he answers. He tosses his napkin on the table and stands, towering over you. After a long second of eye contact, he steps away from you and heads towards the men.

You watch him go and silently weigh your options. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about following the men into the second room. You would have simply taken the same path as the other woman, though your wine would have continued to remain untouched. Now, however, with your wine in hand, you stood at a crossroads. You could go into the room and potentially face the wrath of your father, James, and George Barnes, or you could live forever curious as to what was actually being discussed.

With your mind made up, you down your wine, step around James, and head through the open door into the room. It’s a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, leather couches, and stale cigar smoke in the air. As soon as you enter, the laughter and conversation stop and all eyes land on you.

“Y/N, you should be with Winnie and your mother,” Mr. Barnes says, stepping towards you. James is behind you now and though you’re hedged in, you simply lift your chin at the older man.

“Why? Am I not allowed to know what family I’m marrying into?”

His face darkens. “Girl, I’m warning you—”

“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” James’ voice from over your shoulder startles you and you quickly turn your head, looking back at him with shock.

Why is he suddenly standing up for me?

“Hold your tongue, James,” his father snaps. “You aren’t married yet, and Y/N needs to learn her place. One would think her father would have taught her better, considering the problems his wife caused.”

Though you hate your parents for what they’ve done to you, your blood boils at the insult. Your anger rears its ugly head even more when you realize that your father doesn’t look intent on standing up for you or your mom, either.

“That’s enough!”

You swear the room rattles around you when James shouts and you grit your teeth, furious at Mr. Barnes. How dare he insult your father? How dare he talk to you and his son that way?

James grabbing your hand shocks you back into reality. Once again, his grip is almost painfully tight, but you force your face to reveal nothing.

“Y/N and I are going out. If I so much as hear that you’ve said a single thing about her in my absence, you will regret ever giving me any kind of power in this business,” he growls. “The next time you see her, I expect that you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.”

The men stare at you and James in disbelief, and then you find yourself being practically dragged out of the room. You’re too stunned to fight back, so you let him pull you across the ground floor of the estate to a door only two down from the dark room where you’d hit the morning your parents had left you behind.

“We’ll have to take the car, unless you’re okay riding the bike in that dress,” James says, pushing open the door. He doesn’t look back at you as he speaks, and it takes you a second to realize he wants a response.

“Car,” you answer after a few seconds. “Please.”

The room James has led you to is a massive garage, stretching farther than you ever realized a similar room could. Three of the walls are made of light gray cement, as are the floor and ceiling, and the fourth wall is made up of windowed garage doors, each one big enough for several cars to drive through simultaneously. Running down the center of the rectangular garage, there is a row of seven parked cars, with enough space to fit at least another car between each one, and beyond that, you can see a row of several motorcycles parked in a similar manner. The cars are in varying shades of gray and black, with the exception of one red sports car at the far end of the group. You can’t see the bikes well enough from the door, but you catch glimpses of blue, silver, gray, and black.

Four enormous, black and silver tool chests are lined up against the wall facing the hoods of the cars, but there isn’t a spot of oil or dirt in sight. You don’t even see any loose tools or equipment. Looking around, you wonder if the tool chests are just there for decoration, or if someone on the estate actually works on the cars and motorcycles.

Maybe James works on them?

“Are all of these yours?” you ask, unable to help yourself. He seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy driving around for fun, and he’s just mentioned something about a bike. You stare at the side of James’ face as he plucks a set of keys off a black pegboard on the wall. There’s a button embedded in the wall beside the board. James pushes it with one thumb and the keys in his hand bump against the wall.

One of the garage doors near the last few cars starts to roll upwards onto the ceiling, revealing the outside of the estate. The sun has completely disappeared from the sky, and the moonlight is blocked by the clouds you’d seen rolling in earlier in the afternoon. The leaves of the large shade trees that surround the estate and form a protective shield from the outside world rustle in the wind. Crickets and cicadas chirp, reminding you of the cool spring nights you’d spent on your family estate as a little girl. You’d run around in the grass near the garden while your mom or your nanny watched you. Sometimes your father’s men would watch from the perimeter of the property, and when you’d wave, they’d wave back, asking what you’d done that day. You always answered them, even if you knew it would get you in trouble. They never stopped asking either, even if it got them in trouble, too.

You stop walking and close your eyes, then breathe in deeply as the night air rushes into the garage. It’s the first time you’ve been even close to the outdoors since arriving at the Barnes Estate. Your skin is still warm from the stifling dining room and the anger you’d felt in the men’s study. The breeze is a blessed relief, even if you do shiver after only a moment. Goosebumps form on your exposed skin—the dress Marta had picked out for you did little to keep you safe from the elements.

James keeps walking down the aisle formed by the wall and the front of the cars, though you hear his footsteps pause a few moments after you stop following him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You’re a little surprised that he’s not demanding that you catch up. When you open your eyes, you immediately meet his gaze, and a weird feeling bubbles up in your stomach. The expression on his face betrays little, but his stare reminds you of the way your father’s men looked at you all those years ago—interested and almost fond, but ready to push you away at a moment’s notice. You nod and hurry to catch up with him.

Once you get closer, James presses a button on the key fob in his hand. One of the cars in front of the open garage door rumbles to life. The sound it makes is a low purr, almost seductive, and you raise an eyebrow as James approaches, then runs his fingers over the hood. Even if the others aren’t, this car has to be his. It’s a sleek black, with dark tinted windows and a gleaming silver grill in the front. The BMW logo shines proudly in the center. It looks like a car your own father would own. Though you know he’s never owned a BMW, if this car is anything like the ones in your father’s fleet, you know that the inside will be as much a picture of luxury as the outside.

You slide into the passenger seat when James opens the door for you, and in the time it takes him to cross around the front of the car to the driver’s side, you take inventory of the interior. It’s a manual transmission—something your father once said was obsolete, except for car collectors and enthusiasts—which means that you wouldn’t be able to drive it, even if you tried. The car is pristine, so much so that you’re afraid to move. Two water bottles are in the cupholders, and it still smells brand new inside. There isn’t a speck of dirt or dust on the dashboard, nor on the floor mats. The leather seat is soft and there’s a control for seat warming and cooling on the control panel.

James climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. He buckles up and you follow his lead, and then you sit back as he reverses the car out of the garage and onto a winding driveway that leads you around the front of the estate, then along the other side to a large gate with a guard house. You’d forgotten about the extensive security since the last time you’d been outside the Barnes Estate. Your father had handed over your driver’s license, along with his and your mother’s, before breakfast all those weeks ago, and there’d been a strange code word of some kind. It dawns on you as the guard opens the gate for you and James that you’d never gotten your license back.

“Where are we going?” you ask as James pulls onto the main road. It leads away from the estate and into the city.

“To get some real food,” he replies. His tone is gruff, and it feels like he’s on the verge of an angry outburst, so you slump back in your seat as he shifts gears and the car accelerates. The tension in the car is thick. You don’t want to be the one to deal with it, especially since he’s the one creating it.

After several minutes of watching the enormous mansions and the forests surrounding them pass by, you look over at James again. His expression, just like in the garage, reveals nothing, but you can tell that he’s more put-together than the last time you’d interacted, and it’s not just the tailored suit. His hair has been trimmed and styled, and he has an even dusting of stubble that frames his jawline nicely.

In the time since you’d learned you were engaged, James hasn’t said anything to you. You’ve heard him talking in the hallways as you wandered, but you haven’t wanted to be near him. This is the closest you’ve ever been. Your brief conversations so far tonight make up the majority of the words you’ve spoken to each other. His words from the bedroom echo in your head, until finally, you can’t help but blurt out your thoughts.

“Do you really not want to marry me?” you ask. Your voice sounds small and pathetic, and you hate it, but it’s too late now.

He glances over at you with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. “What do you mean?”

You sit up a little in the seat, though you keep your hands in your lap and you try not to move your feet, just in case there’s dirt on your shoes.

“I mean,” you say, watching him carefully for his reaction, “that when you came to get me upstairs, you said you didn’t want to marry me. Is that really true?”

“I never said that.” He shifts gears again as you near a stoplight, and the car slows.

“Yes, you did.”

“No,” he shifts again, his teeth now clenched, “I didn’t. I asked if it looked like I wanted to marry you, and you said it didn’t. But I never said I didn’t want to.”

Now you’re confused, and you frown at him, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. The car rolls to a stop behind a Ferrari blasting music out the open windows.

“So you do want to marry me?” you ask.

He sighs and drops his hand from the gear shift, then looks over at you. “Y/N, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so if this is you testing to see how I’ll treat you, then you have nothing to worry about. I’m not a monster.”

“It’s not. I just…” You stop, unsure of how to phrase what you’re feeling. It’s strange to be upset over a marriage you don’t even want, but for some reason, you are.

“What?”

“If you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you, then why are we going along with this?” you finally ask, settling for the bigger question than the one that’s truly nagging at you.

“Because we know that if we don��t, life will be hell,” he answers.

It’s the truth. You know it is, and you know it deep down. If the two of you refuse this marriage, your life will be worse than you could possibly imagine, and you’re fairly certain that your fathers will find a way to make it happen anyhow. They’re well-connected in every sphere of life, not just when it comes to drugs and weapons. Your father probably has a priest on his payroll.

The light turns green and James moves the car forward again, merging into the right lane almost immediately. He slows as you approach a valet stand outside an upscale bar you’ve never heard of. It’s not one of your father’s, which means it probably belongs to George Barnes.

Then again, you think as a uniformed man opens your door, maybe it belongs to James.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” a valet on the other side of the car greets.

James hands him the keys. “You too, Tommy. Listen, don’t park it too far off. We’re not staying too long.”

The man nods and climbs into the driver’s seat as your own valet leads you away from the curb. James meets you next to the valet stand and offers you his arm, then heads towards the doors.

“What is this place?” you ask as he holds open the door for you.

“My friend’s bar,” James says.

Your stomach twists itself in knots as heavy club music starts to get louder. The bass rumbles in your chest and you dig your nails into his arm as you near a set of glossy black double doors. You haven’t been to a club in a long time. The last time you’d gone, you’d been dragged by a childhood acquaintance, but you’d spent most of the night alone after she’d ditched you for someone she met on the dance floor. You’re not particularly eager to relive that experience tonight, especially with the man you’re being forced to marry. Who’s to say he won’t ditch you for someone else right in front of you, just to rub it in your face? After all, he’d said it himself in the bedroom—you’ll do what you want and he’ll do what he wants. It’s the cards you’ve been dealt.

If these are the cards, then I’ve got a sucky hand.

“James—”

“Bucky.”

You stop and squint at him in the low light of the entrance hallway. The two bouncers in all-black suits stop with their hands on the door handles, ready to open them for you once you start walking again. The music pounds in your ears, so much so that you can feel your eardrums vibrating.

“What?” you ask, not sure you’d heard him correctly.

“Bucky,” repeats James, a little louder this time. “You should call me Bucky, if we’re going to be married.”

“Is that… a nickname?”

Even in the darkness, you can see him laugh, and a bashful, boyish smile spreads across his face. “My middle name is Buchanan. Steve used to tease me about it when we were kids, and he started calling me Bucky as a joke. It caught on.” He shrugs it off, but there’s a fondness in his voice when he speaks of his childhood friend, and it makes you smile just a little.

You loosen your grip on his arm. “Okay then. Bucky,” you add.

When Bucky steps forward again, the doors are pulled open, revealing a much more casual bar than you could’ve anticipated. Though it’s clean, it looks a little run down, and the heavy music fades into jazz piano as you step through the open doorway and into the large, open space. With almost cathedral-height ceilings, walnut floors and support pillars, and well-worn wooden booths and tables, the bar feels more homier than you’d expected. It’s clearly been well-hidden from the busy crowds of New York. Only a few patrons are scattered around the room, sitting in the booths or at two-top tables, but Bucky leads you to the wood, u-shaped bar that juts out into the room from the back wall. A single man stands behind it, drying glasses with a white bar towel. He smiles when he looks up and sees you approaching.

“Bucky,” he greets, and he reaches over the bar to pull Bucky in for a hug. It’s the first time you see Bucky smile—a real, full, genuine smile—and you watch in silence as he hugs his friend.

“Steve,” Bucky replies. Instantly, your brain starts connecting the dots. This is his childhood friend, the one who gave him his nickname.

“Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil.” Steve turns his attention to you, and you quickly look away from Bucky and at him. Your brain whirs as you try to place the language he’s just spoken. It’s not one you’ve heard before, which means none of your father’s men speak it, and neither do any of the Barneses.

“You must be Y/N.”

You nod and offer Steve a small, polite smile. You’re not sure how to act around Bucky’s friends. If they’re also part of the mob, it’s possible they’ll treat you even worse than George Barnes had after dinner, but a new, surprising voice in your head argues that Bucky would never be friends with someone like that.

“It’s okay,” reassures Bucky. He reaches out and touches your arm, gentler than he has all evening. “Steve’s a nice guy, and he knows about our family businesses. You can trust him.”

Steve looks between the two of you before picking up a glass and setting it right-side-up in front of you. “What’ll it be, Y/N?”

You glance at him, then at the wall of liquor behind him. After a moment, you list off a drink that’s not your favorite, but that you know you’ll be able to stomach no matter the circumstances. Steve nods in response before starting to make it.

Silently, Bucky takes one of the chairs at the bar, and you do the same. He sits with his arms folded on the counter. He’s still wearing his suit from dinner. You feel a little out of place in your fancy clothes, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Your drink is placed in front of you a moment later, and after Steve’s silent prompting, you take a sip. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Aha, I’ve still got it!” Steve cheers, and you laugh. He grins at you, a charming type of smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You feel a little sheepish at the intensity of his joy, and you fidget in your seat, then with your hair.

Beside you, Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a round paper coaster at his friend. “Knock it off, Rogers,” he huffs. “Stop flirting with my girl. You’ve already got one of your own.”

You glance over when he calls you that, but you don’t say anything. There’s another weird feeling in your gut now. This one, unlike the one you’d had in the car or the fluttering feeling Steve had given you, you recognize immediately—pride. It feels good to have Bucky call you “his girl”, even if you barely know him. It’s strange, and the thought makes you squirm in your seat again. You drop your hand down to the bartop and take another sip of your drink, trying to quell the strange feelings inside of you.

What is going on with me? Why can’t I just feel normal about all of this? Is there even a normal way to feel about this?

“You hungry?” asks Bucky, and you nod when you realize he’s talking to you again.

“I make a mean twice-baked potato,” Steve says. He plants his hands on the bar to look between the two of you. “Whaddaya say, Y/N? You up for it?”

“Only if you put the jalapeños on the side this time, punk,” Bucky tells him before you can reply. He seems to remember himself a second later, however, because he looks over at you. “Unless, of course, you want them on top.”

You shrug, not wanting to upset anyone, and Steve groans.

“Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he smiles wide as he gestures around the almost-empty bar. “I’ve got all the time in the world to make your food exactly the way you want it. Don’t make me guess.”

“He’s bad at guessing,” Bucky chimes in.

“Terrible,” Steve adds, nodding earnestly.

Tentatively, you list off what you want, and Steve makes a note of everything on a notepad that seems to appear out of nowhere. Once he’s got your order down, he disappears through a door in the back wall. Before it closes, you catch a glimpse of a shining kitchen filled with stainless steel, and you wonder how many patrons come through the bar if Steve has what looks to be a full-sized kitchen in the back.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you someplace that actually has good food,” Bucky says. He reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of beer Steve has left out, and he uses one hand to pry the top off.

You gape at him, too distracted by the blatant show of strength to properly process the very thoughtful thing he’s just said to you. “What?”

“I said that you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured—”

“You just pulled the top off like it was nothing. How did you do that?” You look around on Steve’s side of the bar for another bottle, hoping to try your luck. Maybe it’s some new kind of bottle that he’s trying out before it hits the market, or maybe Steve has bootleg beer with a different kind of cap.

Bucky is staring at you, seemingly just as confused as you. “With my arm.”

“With your arm?” you repeat. You’re certain that he’d used his hand to pry it off.

He stares at you for a second longer before the confusion disappears and is replaced with a glint of mischief in his eyes. It makes the shadows on his face melt away a little, and his blue irises seem bright and youthful again, entirely unlike a man who’s seen too much.

“My arm,” he reiterates, and then he pulls off the black glove you’d assumed to be part of his personal style. It’s not just for show, however, because he pulls it off to reveal a black metal hand with dull gold knuckles. Bucky continues, standing and shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. As he reveals more and more, you realize that the black metal continues, making up what would be his left arm.

No wonder it hurt when he grabbed me.

“It’s metal,” you dumbly say, and he snorts.

“Observant.”

You shake your head and look from his arm to meet his eyes. “You have a metal arm. How didn’t I know that?”

Bucky shrugs and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. He leaves the glove on the bar where he’d first set it down. Once he’s seated again, he rolls up his other sleeve to match.

“Beats me. I figured everyone knew. My dad wasn’t subtle when he was bragging about the arm he had made for me when it first happened,” replies Bucky. He takes a sip of his beer, then sighs and sets it back down.

You don’t want to pity him, so you try your best to school your expression by taking a sip of your own drink.

“Was it an accident?” you ask after a minute has passed. He doesn’t reply right away, and you scramble to save the conversation. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen,” he says, and his voice is quieter than before.

You look back down at the drink in front of you. Twisting the glass around and around, you ask, “And it was an accident?”

Bucky takes another swig of his beer. “I was with my dad, working a job. I didn’t even realize I’d been injured until I woke up in the hospital, two weeks later, missing an arm. Apparently, falling shipping containers are heavy.”

You can’t help but curse. What he’s describing sounds horrible, but Bucky only laughs.

“That sounds about right, yeah. I’m lucky I had Steve around to keep me sane,” he tells you. “My friend Sam was a big help too, but he moved down to Louisiana a few years ago.”

“Steve seems like a good friend,” you agree. “They both do.”

You can feel Bucky staring at you now, and you take a sip of your drink while you wait for him to look away again. When he doesn’t, you glance in his direction.

“What?” you ask.

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are!” you laugh, and you look at him fully this time. Bucky’s grinning, and you ball up a cocktail napkin and toss it at him.

“Okay, I was staring,” he admits, still smiling. “But I can’t help it. You’re pretty, and you’re nice, and you seem smart.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and you look away. “You don’t have to say that. We’re already engaged.”

“I’m not saying it because we’re engaged. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

You don’t have a chance to reply before Steve comes out with two hot plates. He places them in front of you, joking briefly about giving you the wrong order, and it’s distraction enough that you sit up tall and smile wide. You push Bucky’s compliment out of your head as you chow down, groaning and moaning about the potatoes. They’re exactly what you need after the stressful dinner. Bucky was right—you hadn’t eaten much, and Steve’s cooking is delicious.

Once you’re full, you push your plate away and lean back in your chair. Steve grins at you before he goes back to counting the cash drawer. The other patrons have left already, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky alone in the bar.

“That was amazing,” you tell him for the hundredth time, and Steve chuckles.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell mo bhean chéile—my wife—you said that, considering she still believes potatoes aren’t a meal.”

You notice the wedding band on his left hand as soon as he says it. Above it, also in silver, is a familiar ring. If you weren’t able to see the family crest, you would’ve thought it was the same as Bucky’s, but this ring has an eagle and a star engraved on it, rather than the wolf you’ve seen on Rebecca and Bucky’s rings.

“Potatoes are a meal!” you argue. You can tell that Steve has clocked you looking at his rings because he shifts his hand, instinctively blocking your view as he looks for your own ring. You’d taken your parent’s ring off the day you’d cried in the bathtub and you haven’t worn it since, but no one in Bucky’s family has replaced it with their own. It’s the first time since middle school that you haven’t worn a family ring, and you’d be lying if you said it was a weight off your shoulders. You’d thought it might be, but instead it just makes you feel naked.

Steve laughs and his posture relaxes. He stops hiding his rings from you when he realizes your hands are bare. “Well, whenever you meet her, you can have that argument with her, because I’ve already had it at least a dozen times.” He closes the drawer and fixes his eyes on Bucky, who’s just finishing his food. “Speaking of, when are you two coming over? I promised Peg I’d wait until Y/N had settled in to ask, and you seem settled enough to me.” He glances at you for the last part, and you look down at your empty plate.

“It’s not up to me,” answers Bucky. “We’ll come over whenever Y/N is ready. This is the first time we’ve been together since my dad dropped the bomb on us.”

Steve pauses, his hands on the tablet he’d set down before starting to count the night’s profits. “Wait. Really?”

You nod when he looks at you, suddenly self-conscious again, and you pull your hands into your lap. “I haven’t been the best house guest…”

“You’re not a guest, Y/N. It’s your home now, too,” Bucky interjects.

Reaching over the counter, Steve smacks the side of Bucky’s head. His accent is thick when he huffs, “Íosa Críost, you thick! You didn’t think to go talk to her? To see if she wanted to watch a movie? To see if she needed anything?”

Bucky stammers over in his seat, and you keep your head ducked to hide your smile. Clearly, Steve knows more about being married than Bucky does—most likely from experience, since he’s already mentioned his wife—and he isn’t afraid to tell his friend off for not looking out for your well-being.

“I’m sorry!” exclaims Bucky, ducking another hit. “I wasn’t thinking!”

“Like ifreann you weren’t!” Steve retreats and picks up the tablet with a huff, then looks at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him. He’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being stupid.”

“Stupid?” Bucky protests beside you.

“I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried,” you admit, finally looking up, “but it wouldn’t have hurt if he had.”

Steve nods, satisfied with your response. He leaves you a minute later when his phone rings. The wide smile on his face is enough to tell you who’s on the other end, but then he says her name as he walks away, the phone already held to his ear.

“So what’s with this place?” you ask. The quick change in subject is purposeful, and you hope that Bucky will take the bait.

Thankfully, he does. Bucky glances around before finishing off the last of his drink and setting the empty bottle closer to Steve’s side of the bar.

“Well, Steve wanted a place that we—and other people like us—could spend time without feeling like there was always a fight about to happen. We didn’t have that growing up, you know? And now that he’s in charge, he can do what he wants with his money. Everything’s filed properly, he doesn’t advertise, and all employees are paid above the table. If other people show up, then sure, they’re welcomed in, but they’re also fully vetted once Steve gets their IDs. Weapons aren’t allowed, and there’s no shop talk of any kind.”

“So it’s your little hideaway,” you say, propping your head up with one hand. The heaviness of the potatoes combined with the alcohol is starting to make you sleepy, and the emotional exhaustion from the night has started to weigh heavy on you, too.

He smiles a little. “Something like that.”

Bucky stands and rolls his sleeves back down, then pulls on his glove. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and sets it on the bar.

“Come on, doll. We should head home,” he says.

The warm feeling you’d felt when Bucky had called you his girl comes back, and you smile a little when he holds open his suit jacket for you. A little sheepish at the gesture, you slide off your seat and let him help you into the sleeves, then take Bucky’s hand when he offers it.

“Bye Steve!” you call, waving with your free hand.

Steve looks up from the other end of the bar, where he’s wiping down a counter with one hand and holding his phone with the other. He lets go of the rag to wave back.

Silently, Bucky leads you out to the front, where the valet already has his car pulled up. You’re not sure how they knew to have it ready, but you don’t dwell on it. Stranger things have happened in your world. Bucky tips the valets with another wad of cash before opening the passenger door and helping you in.

You fall asleep on the drive home. You don’t mean to, but Bucky turns on the radio a few minutes into the drive, and he lets the first station that comes on continue to play. The music is soft, and he drives so smoothly that it lulls you to sleep before you’re even fully out of the city.

When you wake, it’s because Bucky’s stubbed his toe on something, jostling you in his arms. He’s muttering curses under his breath and hobbling down the hallway, and though the jerking motion and his tightening grip isn’t the most comfortable for you at the moment, you keep your eyes closed and force yourself to keep your smile at bay. Bucky is a much sweeter guy than you’d first thought him to be, and it seems like he’s trying now to make up for lost time. You’d misjudged him at first; just like you, he has his own ways of dealing with the life forced on him by his parents, but he really is a gentleman underneath it all.

He carries you to your bedroom and carefully lays you on top of the covers. Then, as gently as possible, you feel him lift your foot and pry off the uncomfortable shoes Marta had picked out for you. Bucky stays totally silent as he takes the shoes off and sets them on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulls a thin blanket over you, one that you’re sure is just for decoration when the bed is made, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You have to force yourself not to smile when he whispers,

“Goodnight, sleep tight.”

The door clicks shut as he closes it slowly, and you peek open an eye after a few seconds have passed. Your room is dark and empty. Silently, you smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, your eyes heavy. It’s been a long, exhausting evening, and you’re happy to be in bed. You fall asleep to the sound of spring rain on the estate windows and with Bucky’s jacket still wrapped around you.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky slowly enters your life in both big and small ways. He smiles at you over meals in the dining room and late night snacks in the kitchen. He drives you to the city to visit Steve, Peggy, and his other friends, and when he finds out that his father still has your license, Bucky argues with him for over an hour to get it back. Marta delivers your license to your room the very next day, along with a handwritten note that the dark blue Mercedes in the garage is there for your use. Sometimes, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers with another handwritten note. Sometimes it’s a text, and sometimes it’s a gift. Bucky develops a habit of purchasing anything you mention enjoying or even vaguely liking, and you eventually have to tell him to stop because he’s bought you so much that there’s nothing left to buy for yourself.

Bucky turns out to be a closer friend than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he remembers all the little things about you that nobody else does. When you’re sick or feeling lonely, he’s attentive and his presence alone reminds you of all the good things in the world. He makes your days brighter, even the worst ones. You find yourself falling in love with him, much to your surprise. You admit this to him one day. He kisses you then, and he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first trip you’d taken to Steve’s bar.

Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas roll around. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, and Easter come and go. The Barnes’ grand celebrations for every holiday blur together as the months fly by, until eventually, it’s June and you’re standing in your room, staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror.

The wedding dress you’d picked out a few days after Christmas is just as beautiful as you remember it being. It fits you perfectly, thanks to the impeccable work of several tailors employed by Winnifred, and your hair and makeup are flawless as well. There’s no possible way you could’ve imagined how beautiful you look and feel on your wedding day.

Through the open window, you can hear a string quartet playing outside in the rose garden, where the ceremony is set up. Steve has already come by once to check on you at Bucky’s request, but both men are back downstairs. Bucky’s no doubt at the front of the garden with the priest—the one that you now know for certain is on your father’s payroll—and Steve is waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The only people remaining in your room are Marta, your mother, and Peggy.

You’ve grown to love Peggy more than any of your childhood friends. She didn’t grow up in the same world as you. She didn’t even grow up in the same country, and you love her all the more for it. She’s rational, cool-headed, and kind, though she’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. On top of all that, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see why Steve fell for her during his time in the military.

The quartet finishes the song and moves onto a new one, one that you recognize after only two notes. Your stomach drops and you close your eyes, gripping your bouquet tightly. It’s the song you’d been listening to the morning you’d found out about your engagement. You’d discovered it the night before, and you’d had it on repeat before going to sleep that night, then again that morning as you’d gotten ready. You’d even listened to it in the car on the drive from your parents’ estate.

Who added this to the playlist? Is this some kind of sick joke to them?

The same feeling of dread you’d felt that morning comes back, making your mouth dry and your head spin. You try to take a slow, deep breath to calm your nerves and block out the song, but it doesn’t work.

“Y/N?” Peggy asks.

You inhale sharply at the sound of her voice so close to you. She’d been texting Steve from near the window only moments before. You hadn’t thought that anyone would realize your distress, and you’d hoped to be able to collect yourself before it was noticeable. You hadn’t even sensed her coming closer.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, but your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers. You try to take another slow breath.

“What’s going on?” Marta asks. Her hand lands on your arm and you pull away, closing in yourself and pulling the bouquet tight against you.

Your mother’s scolding makes you feel like you’re a little kid again. “Careful, Y/N! You don’t want to ruin those flowers. We don’t have time to make another bouquet for you. George is already hounding your father about how soon after the ceremony you’ll be signing the certificate.”

Anger wells up in you at her thoughtless comment, and you open your eyes. She’s standing behind you in the main part of the bedroom, near the foot of your bed. Any guilt you might’ve felt over ruining the flowers is gone now, and you turn and chuck the bouquet at the carpet by her feet. It bounces once, then lays motionless in a heap of smashed petals and ribbons.

“Enough, Mother!” you shout.

Marta rushes to close the window so the guests in the garden won’t hear your outburst.

Your mother gapes at you, somewhat surprised, but she doesn’t budge. “Y/N, dear. What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” you yell, stepping closer. Your dress swishes as you walk, and you normally enjoy the sound, but you’re too furious to care how pleasing it is. “What are you doing? I am your only daughter! You should be treating me like a princess and worrying about how I’m feeling and what I need, but instead you’re too busy thinking about the damn flowers! I’m sick of you thinking of me like I’m an object you can sell, steal, and trade away whenever it’s most convenient! You and Dad are so obsessed with the timeline you’ve created for yourselves that you don’t even notice how much this has affected me! You didn’t even ask if this is what I wanted!”

She scoffs at you, and any trace of motherly care and concern has disappeared from her expression. Your mother is showing her true face—the mafia wife that has almost as much blood on her own hands as her husband does, if not more.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” she asks. She picks up her clutch from the end of your bed and steps closer until you're standing eye to eye. Her voice is patronizing and infuriating, and she continues, “It’s your wedding day, dearest, and you can’t back out now. We’ve made sure of it. Even James has agreed to the contract.”

Your anger wavers. “Contract?”

“Yes, the contract,” she repeats, smirking. Her cards are all on the table now, and she’s got a winning hand. You both know it.

There’s a malicious glint in her eye as she says, “It’s already in effect. It has been since we agreed on the marriage.”

“What contract? What are you talking about?” There’s a sinking feeling in your chest, like your heart has decided to drop into your stomach, then down to your feet and through the floor. Bucky hadn’t said anything to you about a contract, and you trusted him, but you certainly didn’t trust your parents anymore, nor did you trust George and Winnifred Barnes.

Your mother smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that makes you want to puke. “That’s a conversation for another time. After all, it doesn’t even matter to you until James gets you pregnant.”

The alarm on your phone rings and you close your eyes, your hands trembling. You’d set that alarm to remind you when it was time to leave for the ceremony. Right on cue, the wedding planner knocks on the door to your bedroom.

“Y/N?” she calls, knocking again. “Are you ready?”

Slowly, you squat down and pick up the bouquet. It’s smashed on one side and the petals have fallen off of various flowers, but it’s mostly intact. It shakes as your hands tremble and tears well up in your eyes.

Marta appears in front of you, having pushed your mother out of the way, and over the ringing in your ears, you hear Peggy talking to the wedding planner. Somehow, you make it out to the ground floor of the estate, to the double doors that lead out to the rose garden. You’re dazed by your mother’s strange revelation. The sound of the alarm is still ringing in your ears. Peggy says something to you, but you can only stare straight ahead.

Your father is next to you then, as Peggy disappears through the doors and joins the rest of the wedding party. You see her glancing back at you, and whispering to the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Most of them are Bucky’s friends who have now become your own, and all of them look worried.

“Let’s go, princess,” your father says, and he pulls you forward by the arm.

Numbly, you follow his lead. Not even Bucky’s initially delighted expression shakes you out of your trance, but the way he rubs his thumb over your hands at the end of the aisle pulls you out of it just enough for you to lift your head and look around. You don’t remember walking to him, nor do you remember handing off your bouquet to Peggy, just like you’d practiced last night at the rehearsal.

“Y/N? Darling?” Bucky asks. He crouches and tilts his head slightly to try to catch your eyes. “You okay?”

“I—” Your mouth is still dry and you swallow, your eyes flitting from one place in the garden to another with no rhyme or reason. The world feels like it’s spinning and you clutch Bucky’s hands, unsure of what to do.

“Someone get her a chair,” Bucky orders, raising his voice enough that you flinch. He immediately starts murmuring reassurances to you, and he pulls you into his arms until he can lower you into a seat.

Someone fans you and a cool glass is pressed to your lips. You drink obediently, closing your eyes as the water helps the sandy feeling in your mouth abate just a little. When the water is gone, the glass is pulled away.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Bucky asks.

Slowly, carefully, you nod your head. He sighs in relief and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling down in front of you. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is creased with worry. You’ve never seen him this stressed over anything and it makes you want to cry.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, heat flaming in your cheeks. You feel horrible. Bucky has been looking forward to the ceremony—he’d told you last night at the rehearsal dinner.

“It’s okay,” he quickly replies. He reaches forward and takes your hands, and you glance away from him to peek at the guests, your parents included, who are still watching you from their seats.

“Are you ready for this, or do you need a break?”

You look back at Bucky. “A break?”

“She’s fine,” your mother says, and you look over at her from your seat. She’s standing in the front row, her eyes fixated on the priest behind you. “They’re fine, Father. Y/N’s been a bit nervous all morning. Wedding day jitters, you know.”

“I—” You frown at her, still clutching Bucky’s hands. “That’s not what it is.” You look down at him and shake your head. “I’m not nervous to marry you.”

“I’m not nervous either,” he says with a small smile.

“Then shall we continue?” the priest asks.

You turn to shake your head at him. “No. I’m sorry, Father. I need to talk to Bucky—James—in private for just a minute. Is that alright?”

He smiles gently and nods. “Of course.”

There are more agitated murmurs from the crowd, but you ignore them as Peggy, Steve, and Bucky help you up and back down the aisle. When your mother moves to follow you, she’s blocked by Sam and Clint, another one of Bucky’s friends. She calls after you once, but you ignore her as Peggy helps you onto a bench inside, then leaves, closing the double doors behind herself. She’s handed back your bouquet, and you clutch it with both hands like it’s an anchor in the storm.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. He stands near the door, and you can tell from the way he rolls his shoulders that he’s stressed. His prosthetic always bothers him more when he’s agitated, and you suddenly feel even worse about stopping the ceremony.

“Yes,” you say, but then you shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t have stopped everything. I’m sorry, Bucky, but I have to ask you something.”

“Okay…” There’s a wariness in his eyes, one that you loathe yourself for. You put it there, and you wish with all your might that your mother hadn’t told you what she did. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to do this.

“Did you sign a contract? With our parents?”

He frowns and his whole body grows very still. “A contract?”

You nod. “Yes.” With your hands still fisted tightly around the bouquet, you inhale deeply and add, “A contract about getting me pregnant.”

“What?” Bucky’s furious response is immediate. He shakes his head, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be making this up. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“Did you sign a contract agreeing to marry me, and agreeing that my parents get something after you get me pregnant?” The words make you sick to your stomach. You haven’t eaten anything all day, which doesn’t help, but the thought of Bucky agreeing to something so vile… It’s enough to make anyone nauseous.

He’s shaking his head at you again. “Why the hell would I sign anything like that? Do you really think I would do that?”

You shrug a little and look down at the bouquet. “My mother…”

“Darling…” Bucky sighs and comes closer, and he kneels down in front of you again, just like he had outside. All the fight and anger has left his voice. “I would never do anything like that. Not in a million years, and especially not to you. I love you.”

“She said you signed it before they’d even told me we were engaged,” you said, quiet now that he’s so close. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, to see what his face might be telling you that his words aren’t.

“Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, you lift your eyes from the flowers in your lap to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re just as blue as the ribbons wrapped around the flower stems, a choice you’d specifically made without the wedding planner’s guidance. You’d wanted him to be your “something blue”, even if it felt a little cheesy.

“Do you want to marry me?” Bucky asks.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yes.”

“Do you believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that contract? That I didn’t know it existed?” he questions.

You nod again, tears forming in your eyes.

“And do you trust me to help you find a way to get rid of it, once all of this is over? Do you trust me to protect you?”

You nod for the third time, and Bucky takes both of your hands in his.

“Okay. Then let’s get married, and I swear to you that as soon as our honeymoon is over, the guys and I will start doing some digging.”

“What about me?” you ask, sniffling. You pull one of your hands away to dab at your eyes before the makeup can get too damaged by your tears.

“What about you?”

“Can I dig, too?”

Bucky chuckles and kisses your knuckles on the hand that he’s holding, and then he pulls himself up off the floor to sit beside you on the bench. He pulls you into a half-hug and you cling to him, sniffling and smiling as he rubs the your back and answers,

“You can do all the digging you want, doll. I’ll even hand you the shovel.”

Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil. = It’s good to see you.

Mo bhean chéile = My wife

Íosa Críost = Jesus Christ

Thick = A stupid person

Ifreann = Hell

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

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If you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.

Forever: @aya-fay

Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes

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alisonfelixwrites · 7 months ago

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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lewisvinga · 1 year ago

Text

mr & mrs | max verstappen x fem! pérez! reader

summary; max and y/n relationship from engagement to honey moon

fc: threemillion on ig

warnings; mentions of sex lol

notes; latina n pérez reader bc max is for the latinas

masterlist !

liked by maxverstappen1, schecoperez, and 1,022,928 others!

ynperez: knew something was up when he kept begging me to wear white lol

tagged; maxverstappen1

username: what happened to hello? good morning??

maxverstappen1: liefje, you act like i was on my knees

ynperez: might as well have been, ‘babeeee just wear white, nooo pleaseeeee, wear that white dress. babeeeee’

maxverstappen1: not u exposing me under our engagement post 😕

ynperez: to a lifetime of this, max verstappen !

maxverstappen1: gladly, y/n pérez ! ( future verstappen )

maxverstappen1: i love you

ynperez: and i love you

username: MIS PADRESS [ my parents ]

username: screaming crying throwing up

username: that outfit is EVERYTHING

username: the size of the ring? hello??

schecoperez: enhorabuena, hermanita! [congratulations little sister] ❤️ just gotta make sure he doesn’t make you cry or else

ynperez: muchísimas gracias checo💗 [thank you very much] , but i may have cried a wee bit when he proposed 😕

maxverstappen1: a wee bit is an understatement, i was concerned that you were never going to stop crying

ynperez: exposing me under MY own post??

maxverstappen1: karma is my fiancé

liked by ynperez, danielricciardo, 1,234,927 others!

maxverstappen1: partying in mexico is 10x more fun when you’re celebrating your engagement to your fiancé

tagged; ynperez

username: they’re turning him into a mexicano lol

username: mi gente latino✊

ynperez: omggg 2 pics of meeeeee🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

maxverstappen1: bc ur soooooo prettyyyyy

ynperez: can’t believe your drunk ass left the party to put on that fuck ass polo

maxverstappen1: it’s for the vibes u wouldn’t get it 🙄🙄🙄

ynperez: engagement parties in mexico>> maxie wasn’t i so smart for planning it 😁😁😁😁

maxverstappen1: ur the smartest person ever liefje

username: can’t tell if i want him or her

danielricciardo: never seen max so smiley in my life before

maxverstappen1: i was feeling like you tbh

username: need y/n’s closet asap

schecoperez: told you partying in mexico is fun😂

liked by maxverstappen1 !

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe, and 1,104,826 others!

ynperez: called bae to let him know it’s a girls night only

tagged; lilymhe, carmenmmundt, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, carolamtz1, iamrebeccad, heidiberger_

lilymhe: tell ur ‘bae’ i want you🤤🤤🤤🤤

ynperez: i want YOU🤤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

alex_albon: maxverstappen1 are you seeing this??

maxverstappen1: i just ignore it tbh

maxverstappen1: almost died being away from you

ynperez: u had the babies with you🐈🐈

maxverstappen1: still not the same 💔

username: i’d do anything to party with y/n and the other wags😩

username: she’s an icon and she is the moment

alexandrasaintmleux: pretty pretty girl!!

ynperez: says you!🥹💗

carolamtz1: gracias por invitarme! fue tan divertido!😍😍 [thank you for inviting me, it was so fun]

ynperez: siempre carol❤️💗 [always]

carmenmmundt: george kept asking me what we were doing last night 🤣

ynperez: don’t say a word, girls only 🤫🤫

georgerussell63: BOOOO

maxverstappen1: so i won’t know??

ynperez: girls only sorry bae

username: this comment section is my entertainment of the day😭

username: countdown to verstappen wedding starts now 🧘‍♀️

liked by schecoperez, christianhorner, and 1,653,836 others!

ynperez & maxverstappen1: mr. and mrs. verstappen.

schecoperez: enhorabuena! bienvenido a la familia, max ! [congratulations, welcome to the family] time to learn spanish😂

maxverstappen1: i know how to order tacos in spanish 😌

ynperez: lol barley

maxverstappen1: under our marriage post?

username: my dream wedding

username: mamá y papá

lilymhe: the prettiest bride😍😍😍

ynperez: the prettiest maid of honor 💗

carmenmmundt: ugh the dress , the hair, everything was so😍😍

liked by ynperez !

username: streets are saying there was a banda n everyone was zapateando??👀👀

ynperez: the streets are right! even max, although, white husband cannot dance, i’m working on it

maxverstappen1: i am trying 😔

danielricciardo: really? are you sure??

landonorris: congrats to the happy couple🎉🎊

ynperez: no tears this time?🤔

landonorris: i don’t have a clue what ur talking about 🤨🤨

danielricciardo: the 5 minute long video i have of you sobbing says otherwise 🤗

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe, and 1,142,736 others!

ynperez: luna de miel con mi esposo. 🌕🍯💗👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 [honey moon with my husband]

maxverstappen1: te quiero. [i love you]

ynperez: JALDKSDWOF

ynperez: te quiero. ❤️‍🩹

maxverstappen1: chilling w wifey

ynperez: happy wife happy life am i right

maxverstappen1: i do make you very happy indeed 😏😏😼😼😼

ynperez: max stop my brother can see

schecoperez: i wish i didn’t see

schecoperez: y porque publicaste fotos en su ropa interior?🤔 [and why did you post photos in your undergarments]

ynperez: ay, checo, no soy una niña, ya tengo esposo 😝[im not a little girl, i already have a husband]

username: checo being an overprotective brother lol

username: y/n panicking over max typing in spanish is so me

username: them>>

lilymhe: so , when are yall gonna give me a niece, i’m waiting…

maxverstappen1: you have jimmy and sassy😝

maxverstappen1: let me change my response, we’re practicing to make sure we get it right on the first try😆

lilymhe: oh😀

landonorris: i need to bleach my eyes🤢

ynperez: MAX MY DAD AND CHECO CAN SEE THIS😭😭

maxverstappen1: sorry not sorry 😁

#f1 scenario #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula one social media au #f1 smau #f1 scenarios #formula one smau #formula one x reader #formula one scenarios #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen smau

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world-of-aus · 5 months ago

Text

The Arrangement - Chapter 1

Pairing: Mobboss!Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Feels. Angsty Dialogue.

Author's Note: Any and all writing errors are mine. First official chapter of the arrangement and I can't wait to delve more into this series. Also, did y'all catch onto what I did at the end there? Enjoy!

“Please just talk to me.”

Free MSG: Unable to send message—message blocking active.

“You love him, he loves you, please reconsider I know you’re scared but please don’t do this.”

Free MSG: Unable to send message—message blocking active.

“Please don’t make me do this.. he chose you, he loves you..we planned YOUR wedding I can’t do this please just come home.”

Free MSG: Unable to send message—message blocking active.

Your fathers' hands come to rest over yours stopping you from sending another pleading text to your sister.

“That’s enough sweetheart.” he says as he pries your phone from your hands.

You want to scream that it’s not, to yell till you’re red in the face just how unfair this all was.

“She just needs time dad, she’s just scared, you need to reconsider.”

Your dad shakes his head pulling you into his side the best he can despite the seat belts strapping you in.

“Your sister has made up her mind, and there’s no changing that. You and I both know it was always meant to be like this, you and him, it had been decided upon when we first drew up the merger contract.”

But he chose her not me. He fell in love with her not me.

“That original contract was discarded dad, I was there the night it was redrawn.” the night my heart broke further, “He loves her dad.” and no contract would change that.

“And he’ll grow to love you too sweetheart, he’d be dumb and blind if he didn’t.”

Your eyes slip shut a shaky breath leaving your lips. Many moons ago you would have believed those words, but now? Now all it does is bring you pain. You didn’t want to be somebody’s second choice. You didn’t want to have to force somebody to consider loving you.

“It’s going to be okay sweetheart, you’ll see it’ll all be okay, there’s no one more capable of getting through this than you.” He murmurs pressing a kiss to your head just as the family car rolls to a stop.

Through the tint you can see the grand entrance of the Barnes residence, Winnifred Barnes and Rebecca Barnes waiting at the door.

Seeing your best friend stood by her mother you couldn’t help but wonder what Rebecca was doing here, she was supposed to be closing a deal with Romanoff, she wasn’t due to get back till the day before the wedding or at least that’s what the two of you had discussed over text.

Your driver opens the door for you and your father then, your father stepping out first holding out a hand for you to help you exit the car. You’ve just straightened yourself out when Rebecca runs for you her arms getting around you in record time as she squeezes you to her. Winnifred scolds her from where she stands at the entrance but you can’t help to laugh, your arms going around your friend, “what are you doing here, you weren’t supposed to be back yet for another couple of days.” You breathe. Rebecca pulls back only slightly to take you in, “I closed with Romanoff within a day, as soon as the news broke, I booked the first flight home, I wanted to be here for my best friend, I know it’s what you would have done for me.”

Tears threaten to well in your eyes, but you press them back with a shake of your head. “I missed you Bec’s” Rebecca laughs softly pulling you back in, “missed you more, now come mothers been asking for you, she’s quite upset that you’ve been so absent from her family dinners lately, she was worried something was wrong I told her you were just busy building an empire.”

“You’re not wrong.” You murmur dread sinking in your stomach at the mention of family dinners, it was true your presence had become less and less and more recently with the upcoming prep of your sister’s wedding, you just didn’t have any more of you to give. You needed time to tuck tail, lick your wounds and heal, to get over the hurt that night caused you but with your sister needing you by her side at every turn with the wedding you did what you knew best; threw yourself into work, closing deals for your father, going into interrogations when needed, and keeping track of the money and cargo, you ran a tight ship. Helping your sister plan what should have been your big day while you had never voiced it hurt, and then to put yourself through a family dinner where everyone cooed over the happy couple it had become all too much, you needed the space, the distraction.

You and Rebecca close the distance between her mother and your father, Winnies arms opening for you almost instantly, “Oh ma,” you murmur closing the last bit of space between the two of you, your arms curling around her. “My sweet girl,” she breathes pressing a kiss to your head, “I’ve missed you; your father tells me he’s been working you to the bone so much so that you’ve been missing family dinners.”

Your eyes meet your dad’s, he throws you a wink, “my girl’s going to be a force to be reckoned with.”

You feel the rumble of her laughter as she pulls away her eyes assessing you, “I have no doubt, y/n has always been a strong one haven’t you.”

You manage to pull a smile on, soft nod of your head, “I have some pretty powerful shoes to fill.”

Winnie’s hand comes to rest on your cheek rubbing the skin there softly, “and you will, now come, let’s go talk family business.”

Winnifred leads the four of you through her lavish home, directing you through to her home office as she shuts the door behind your group. You all take your respective seats, eyes on Winnie as she settles, “I do want to apologize for James's absence but he is out with Wilson and Rogers closing a deal, he should be returning in a day or two just in time for the wedding.”

“Does he know?” Is the first thing that can think to spill out of your lips.

“Yes my dear he does, and he wants you to know that he apologizes profusely for his absence, you deserved more than that, and I couldn’t agree more.”

You want to ask if he’s upset, if he’s even remotely happy about this predicament your sister his now ex-fiancé has put you all in, but you’re not sure you want to know the answer to that.

“As you’re aware y/n this marriage is important to both families, and I can understand how hard this may be for you, it was sudden – for all of us, but I do want to thank you for stepping up and taking this on with grace, there’s no one else I would choose to stand at my son’s side.”

But you did you think, you chose my sister.

“Of course Ma I know how important this merger is for not only us, but for the people we have vowed to protect, I would take on the roll no questions asked and while I understand this may not have been what was planned, what we prepared for, I promise to make you all proud.”

Winnifred leans forward her hands reaching for yours, giving you a quick squeeze before she’s releasing you, “I know you will sweetheart,” she says as she stands making her way around the desk Rebecca following her lead, “and rest-assured your father and I will redraw up the contract this afternoon when -”

“She’s here now, you can draw it up now.”

Your head turns at the sound of his voice, he stands at the open doorway, his eyes already on yours. His smile racks up your heartrate, “sorry I'm late everyone” he says closing the distance between the two of you. In that moment you feel like it's just you and him standing in his mother's office, his hand landing on your hip, body pressing in close as his lips find your cheek. Your thought is to return the sentiment but you’ve forgotten how to breathe, and by the time your mind can catch up he’s going around the group greeting them.

When he comes back to you all you can manage is, “you’re here.”

He chuckles softly hand going around your waist, “I am y/n, I’m here, and I'm sorry it took me so long.”

The Arrangement Taglist:

@learisa @greatenthusiasttidalwave @barnesxstan @calwitch @h0nestly-though @wintrsoldrluvr

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #mobboss!bucky

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Let Me Love You, Baby

Chapter 7 of That's What You Get Prev Chap // Next Chap

Warnings: Oral (M and F receiving), nipple play, handcuffing, BDSM themes, dom! Spencer, sub! Reader, breeding kink, creampie, handcuffing, a variety of PinV sex positions, multiple orgasms, squirting mention, mentions of different types of orgasms involving penetrative sex and anal sex. 18+ MINORS DNI Summary: Your memories of your wedding night come back. Not all of them, just the interesting ones.

A/N: If you're enjoying this series please PLEASE let me know in the comments! I've really been loving the theories about who the other witness is and I've changed my mind like three times on who it is eventually going to be BUT I've made up my mind now and I think it's going to be a great reveal lmao. This chapter has been on my mind since I started the series and I'm so happy you can all finally read it, but it is also A Lot of sex because every time I had a thought, I wrote it down and then didn't self-edit lmao. You can find my masterlist here, the series masterlist in the link above, and if you enjoy my smut, think about checking out my kinktober masterlist or my AO3 account for daily spicy content next month! <3

You stumbled, drunk, into the room, not sure in the haze if it was yours or his. The card had passed between you in many hushed giggles through the hall as you eagerly pulled each other forward. Falling onto the bed, you let out a contented sigh as Spencer fell next to you, face first into the sheets with a small laugh.

“I can’t believe we did that!” You grinned, meeting his eyes as he turned his head towards you. “We’re married!”

“We are.” He smiles, and you can’t help but let your eyes fall to his lips, swollen and pink from your earlier enjoyment of one another. You start to laugh, not fully understanding why, but thinking it probably had a lot to do with the alcohol you’d consumed. Bringing a hand up to his face, you let a finger run over the corner of his mouth, wiping away a tiny splash of red you’d deposited earlier.

“Your lips are swollen.”

“Whose fault is that?” He leans in and catches your lips again in his and you squeal at the sudden contact, excited to feel him against you again. He’s soft and gentle at first, but as you gasp underneath him your breaths get shorter, stopping just shy of moans as you let your hands trail up and down his body. But the edge of the bed is uncomfortable, so you push him off, following his lips still as he pushes himself further up, straddling his waist as you let yourself melt into him.

“How did this happen again?” You ask, memory already feeling a little fuzzy, as you think back on the stressful few weeks you’ve had and how much better this feels. How nice it is to have someone underneath you, pressed against you, holding you.

“Is that important right now?” He asks, lips seeking yours again as you turn your head just as he tries to connect, giggling at his pout.

“You know, I always thought getting married would be this whole huge thing. Hundreds of guests, 18 months of stress while planning, you never really know on the day if the man you’re attempting to lock down is actually going to be on the other end of that aisle or if he’s bolted somewhere.” His lips are carving a path down your throat as you talk, memorizing the peaks and falls of every inch of your skin, committing you to memory like a prayer.

“A man would have to be absolutely stupid to leave you at the alter, Y/N.” He says those words that prick your heart so easily, worming his way in, without even breaking his lips away from their spot on your collarbone.

“Then if he didn’t leave, he’d be too drunk to perform on the wedding night, and so the entire day would end up just being a bust anyway.” He smiles into his final kiss, letting it linger against your skin as he pulls away and looks into your eyes.

“How drunk are you, Spencer?” Your voice falls to a hush as you shift your weight in his lap, opening your legs just a smidge wider, shifting forward so more of you is falling over his clothed member, pressing up against him as close as possible.

“You’re talking too much,” he growled out, and, grabbing you by the neck, pulled you into another heated kiss. This one isn’t giggles and soft sighs, it’s a clash of teeth and tongue and desperation, and you suddenly have the answer to your question as you feel him stiffen beneath you. Grinding down into him, you let him take control of your actions, letting him tell you when you can come up for air.

When he finally pulls away from you, you stay connected through a line of saliva stretching from your lolling tongue to his mouth. He breaks it with his thumb, forcing the digit into your mouth as you suck your shared mess from him.

“Definitely not too drunk.”

You couldn’t help yourself then, as you pulled his thumb from your mouth and shifted your body down the bed until your face was parallel to his crotch, beginning to palm him in his trousers.

“If we’re married,” you say, popping the button on his pants open. “We should probably get to know each other's… preferences early on. Stop any future arguments from occurring, right?” You looked up at him through hooded eyes, plastering the most sinful smile you could muster on your face. He stayed quiet, but you felt him twitch underneath your hand, and decided that was response enough.

“You can bite me and scratch me if you want. I like it. Pull my hair, spank me, choke me until I’m begging to cum. I like all of it. You’re in control now, Spencer. You can do whatever you want with me, so long as it ends with your cum down my throat or stuffed inside me.” Finishing your speech, confidence fueled by alcohol and the buzz of your wedding vows, you slip his cock from its cloth prison and take it directly into your mouth.

It’s thicker than you expected, and you just sit with the tip of it in your mouth for a second, trying to find a comfortable position. When you finally do, you push slowly down on it, letting your tongue tease and trace a path down. You don’t make it to the base before you’re pulling off, reaching what you expect to be your max about halfway down. You set a rhythm for yourself, hands pumping the rest of him as you coax the cum from him.

He gives you three minutes of fun before he decides that you need a little help reaching your full potential. Fisting a hand into your hair, and cradling the back of your neck in his other, he stills your motions before pushing you further down his cock, bypassing your gag reflex as your throat battles against the position he’s put you in, your nose tickled against his soft curls.

“Okay, let’s talk preferences. I’d prefer it if you ask permission before you touch something, whether that be me or yourself. I’d prefer if you used a safe word if this all gets a bit much for you. And I’d prefer you to relax that little throat of yours so I can fuck a load of my seed down it baby, okay?” He pulls you up by the hair and you nod, rasping out a yes as you gasp for air.

“Safeword is profile, tap twice if you need air.” And with that, he’s fucking your face again, pushing and pulling you by your hair as your mouth leaks spit. This was going to be a moment you’d never forget, the taste of his precum at the back of your throat, burning its way down.

Shrugging off his pants completely, he keeps at his movements, your head still working over him like you’re simply a fleshlight for his personal use. He grunts and twitches into you, signaling his impending release, and you try to ready yourself for the sting of the liquid hitting the back of your throat. He cums hot and fast, and you swallow around him, but there’s so much, it spills out of your mouth quickly, dripping down your chin and neck.

“Good girl. You listen to instructions well.” He pulls you up to his lap again as he begins undressing you, not bothering to wipe his cum from your mouth.

In a matter of seconds, he has you completely bare for him. Pulling your legs further up, he lets your torso fall back into the bed before shimmying himself down, coming face-to-face with your core.

“You remember the rules?” He asks, and you nod, answering his question.

“No touching, safe word is profile. Is that it?”

“One more thing. You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, okay?” You let out a moan of discontent then, but he shuts you up with a light slap to your face, coming up to press a kiss to your lips before traveling south again.

“Relax for me, baby,” he says as he spreads your legs and stretches out his tongue to finally come in contact with your needy core. His tongue is skilled, and you almost immediately break one of his rules as you arch off the bed, trying your best not to suffocate him between your thighs as you search for ways to heighten this pleasure.

He wastes no time being gentle, just fully eating you out like it was his job to make you cum on his face. His tongue stretched from your clit to your hole, flattening out and writhing in equal amounts as your pleasure built to a frenzy. Your hands gripped into the sheets and you clung to the single thought that maybe a punishment from your new husband wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Your hands drift to his hair, gripping tightly as you begin bucking into his mouth, completely lost in your base desires. He quickly grips your hands and pins them to the bed again though, pulling away just before you even think about climaxing against his face.

“Spencer,” you beg, your moans sounding like the sobs of a spoiled child.

“You broke a rule, princess. I can’t just let you get away with that.” You moan at the loss of contact, your voice whinier than you'd ever heard it.

He left the bed entirely then, and you lifted your head up to follow his path to the drawers by the side of the bed. Opening it, he picked up the wedding license you'd discarded on the floor, placing it nearly inside and slowly pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Your standard FBI set, not something light, flimsy, and cushioned with fluff, these were hard and cold against your skin as he returned to the bed.

"Wait, S-Spencer…. Really?" You panicked as he pulled one arm over your head placing it parallel with the headboard, trapped between the slats. He tightened the cuff around your hand, leaving one free as he started kissing down your arm, down to your shoulder and into the hollow of your neck.

"Yes, really. Now since you want to use that other hand so badly, why don't you use it to get yourself off." You swallowed the spit in your mouth, and nodded at him, before doing just as he asked, picking up where his hands had gotten off.

He shifted to sitting just by your side, lifting your body half on top of him, your back pressed up against his chest as he watched over your shoulder as your hand-worked you into a frenzy. Bringing both of his hands around your body, he started playing with your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, pulling and fondling your breasts as your breathing became more labored.

"There are seven different female orgasms, you know. The clitoral orgasm, the G-spot orgasm, the blended orgasm, the anal orgasm, the A-spot orgasm, a purely psychological orgasm, and," he leaned down closer to your ear to finish his sentence. "The nipple orgasm." You struggled against the handcuff as you felt the tightness build in your chest, but he grabbed and held your other hand close to him as he pushed up on top of you again.

"How many do you think you'll get tonight, Y/N?" He asked, lowering his head back to your chest as you bucked your hips wildly, trying to feel him in between your legs.

He pushed down your hips and kept his attention on your chest, your brain going fuzzy with the contact as the orgasm that had been imminent kept growing until you couldn't stop it from rushing over you, chumming with his attention solely on your chest.

"You didn't answer my question?" He brought his head up, frowning slightly as you blinked your eyes open and focused on his shape above you.

"Did you read some kind of sex book, Spencer? Jesus Christ that was…" You couldn't say anything else and he chuckled from above you.

"I didn't read one, I've read multiple, and it's less reading and more committing to absolute memory." He swooped back down to your lips. "Answer the question, how many do you think you'll get tonight?"

"Two?" You ask vaguely, immediately opening your mouth back up to keep rambling. "But Spencer I've never really had more than one with another person and I'm not sure if I even can-"

"You can. You will. You promised to listen to me, remember?" You flushed at his words, choosing simply to just nod for him instead of trusting your tongue to spit out the right words.

"Good girl," he says, wrapping your legs around him, and running his cock through your folds, holding it there as he teased you.

"I don't have to use a condom, right? You want me to drop my load directly into you, right? We're married now, so I can just fuck my seed into you, hmm?" You moaned out, begging for him to just push into you, to keep his promises and pleasure you again and again.

"Hands in the sheets baby, come on, no touching remember?" You did as you were told, and with another kiss to your lips, tongues locking in your battle, he thrust his entire length into you in one movement.

A scream of pleasure ripped out of you, just as quick and fast as you were sure you ripped the sheets of the bed, your sharp nails digging in for dear life as you struggled against the desire to hold him against you.

"That's it, princess. That's it." He starts thrusting, snapping his hips up, and slowly pulling himself out again. For a moment, it was like you weren't breathing at all, his body feeding you everything you needed to sustain yourself. Lungs burning, you gulped in large breaths of him. His tongue swallowed each and every complaint, as he shared in your pleasure.

He wasn't afraid to be vocal, like some men you'd been with in the past, and the sounds of his pleasure echoed out louder than your own. He was moaning in your ear, telling you how beautiful you looked on him as he pounded into you relentlessly. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he slapped into you again and again.

His hand came up to your face as he grew closer to his climax, pushing his fingers back into your mouth as he turned your face further against the pillow. Your spit dribbled out of your mouth as you moaned around his fingers, pussy clenching on his dick as you felt your embarrassment rise.

"So pretty and messy," he mumbled, hips keeping his pace up.

"Did you make sure to swallow all of my cum earlier baby? Because if there was any of it left on my cock, I'm fucking it into you. Going to drop another load next to it so you can feel me knock you up."

Unlike your first orgasm, you don't feel this one coming, you just know that he's hitting a spot so deep that it's never been reached before and saying the exact words that are pulling it closer to you, and then you're ecstasy has you squirting around his dick.

"That's right. There you go, baby, lay nice and calm there, I need to keep going."

You were overstimulated, already feeling your desire burn a path through you again. He pulled out though, but made it clear that his intention was just to switch the positions of your bodies.

Making sure not to twist your locked-up arm uncomfortably, he laid on the bed and pulled your fucked out body on top of him. You shivered at his touch and he pulled you further into his embrace warming you up.

Your chest was pressed against his back, your head rolled back on his shoulder as he gently coaxed your legs apart one more time.

"That's it, baby, you're listening so well. Just push your legs apart for me, okay?" You did as he asked, and he pressed your legs further up and apart, grabbing into the flesh of your thighs as he aligned his dick with your aching pussy and pressed into you one more time.

The new angle had you moaning around you, as he encouraged you to start lifting your hips up and down, as he trusted up into you, your eyes rolling back into your head as he hit an electric point inside of you. He grabbed your hand to steady you as you moved to a seated position, letting your heels dig into the bed as you began riding him.

You were so tired that it didn't last long though, your hips stuttering awkwardly.

"It's okay, Y/N, I'll do the rest, you just stay right there." From his place underneath you, he kept your thighs from above him as he thrust into you just as quickly as before, somehow maintaining his stamina despite the edging, the alcohol, and the energy you'd already exerted.

Just as you were really about to lose your mind, he pulled out again, escaping from beneath you and gently laying you back on the bed.

"One more position, princess, and then we can rest. You've been so good for me, you can do this, right? Can let me drop all of my cum inside you?" You nodded another sleepy yes, eyes somewhere between closed and open. There was no strength left in your body to stiffen up as he began moving your now malleable body into position, but that doesn't mean you didn't let out a moan at the way he'd stretched you out.

Pushing your legs apart again, he's settled between them, but instead of letting them wrap around him, he'd kept hold of them, pushing your knees up still until they were on either side of your chest. He kissed away complaints and approvals that didn't come and slowly pushed into you again.

He was evidently close, by the way he was drawing this out now. His fingers found your clit as his cock slowly worked in and out of you, the snap of his hips completely controlled and even in tempo.

"Just keep doing that, Spence, oh my god," you begged, words suddenly returning to you. His fingers on your clit increased in pressure, but his pace otherwise didn't change, and you soon felt that third orgasm ripple through you, finally leaving you with no more to give.

Your last fall from grace had him following you swiftly after, his lips finding yours as he crashed back down on top of you, hips stuttering as he drank you in like wine.

The rest was a blur, really, sleep having claimed you so swiftly that you barely remember the words he had definitely whispered to you as soon as he caught his breath again.

"I love you. It's always been you."

Other than a vague recollection of him rearranging your legs so you wouldn't struggle to walk the next day, and the sensation of a cold, damp cloth on your skin, nothing besides remained.

–X–

It's unfortunate, really, that the memory came to you when you did, his lips on yours heating you up in a way that made you absolutely want to relive every experience he had given you. But paralyzed with shock, you'd had only one recon to choose a reaction, and out of fight, flight, fawn, or freeze, you'd gone for slam the door in his fucking face.

Not your finest moment.

Which is why after two minutes of listening to his confusion on the other side of the hall, your brain kicked back into gear and you started weighing your options.

It would be wrong to open the apartment doors and pull him back in, right? It would certainly be wrong to pull him in and demand a re-do of the first time you'd forgotten. Would he even want to redo doing it with you? And what did he mean when he said "I love you."

It was those words more specifically that scared you. You'd both been absolutely intoxicated when you'd fallen into the wedding chapel together and still remarkably unstable afterward presumably. There was a high likelihood that he hadn't known what he was saying, and taking a risk on a friendship for half a memory and wishful thinking wasn't a great calculation.

But gripping the door handle, you realized your body had made the decision for you, completely overwhelmed by the need to see him again.

When you opened the door, no one was there. Your phone pinged with a text as you looked around disappointedly, not finding him anywhere. Looking down at your phone, you cursed your own stupidity as you read his message.

"Sorry. I won't do that again."

You typed out explanations and deleted them over and over for what seemed like an hour, guilt eating you up.

Eventually, you threw your phone down in resignation, and, grabbing your groceries, started frantically planning your next steps.

Step one: wallow in your own misery.

Step two: crack open the single bottle of red wine in your pantry.

Step three: beg for heavenly guidance.

After the wine was opened, you picked up the phone again and shot off a quick emergency message to Penelope.

"Pen, need help, may have just ruined EVERYTHING with Reid because I remembered our wedding night mid-kiss - long story. Mine, now? Xx"

You couldn't stand to look at your phone after that, putting it on silent and assuming the single time it flashed was confirmation that Penelope was on her way. After half an hour, you sprang from your seat at the sound of the door, making your way back to the scene of your most recent number one embarrassing memory.

Only opening the door to Emily Prentiss, you were sure you'd just dethroned yourself.

"You're going to have to start from the beginning or explain to me that that message had multiple typing errors, because just when did you and Reid get married, and why is it suddenly over now?"

--X--

🏷️ Pt 1 @w-windy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira

@danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #maturereiding

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igotlovestruck · 1 year ago

Text

babe [ lando norris ]

[ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 ] — lando norris x reader . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 🫂 °. *

[ 𝗗𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦 & 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ] — angst, some hate comments . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ ℹ️ °. *

࣪˖ 💭 .. 𝗘𝗬𝗔’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⌕ another one from the drafts! enjoy <3

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © httpsuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

f1wags

16,920 likes

f1wags y/n’s ig story update today! it seems as though lando norris is officially off the market as the 2020 season comes to an end, congratulations to the happy couple! 🥳❤️

view all 1,839 comments

user what omg

user from childhood bestie to fiancée 🥹 dang when’s it my turn!!!

user i just woke up wtf !!! congratulations mum and dad landonorris yourusername

december 15, 2020

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername how can i ever say no to that face 😟 you’re making our childhood dream come true 💘

view all 599 comments

user lando lmao 👉🏻🫦👈🏻

f1 congratulations, y/n and lando!

mclaren congratulations 🫡💒

yourbffsig omg bestie!! 😻 congrats, i love you both!!

yourusername you’re coming back home for our wedding 😤 i’m not taking no for an answer

yourbffsig as if i’m gonna say no!! 😤

december 16, 2020

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, alex_albon and others

landonorris promoted from boyfriend to fiancé! you can never get rid of me now, y/n y/l/n 😜 i love you!

view all 2,842 comments

maxfewtrell remember when you told me you were determined to make her a norris?

yourusername ugh hes so obsessed w me 🙄

maxfewtrell yeah it’s annoying 🤢

landonorris i hate you both, give me back the ring yourusername i unpropose to you

yourusername 😽😽

december 16, 2020

landonorris and yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, yourbffsig and 1,392,942 others

landonorris two years ago, we exchanged our vows on valentine’s 💗 happy valentine’s and 2nd anniversary, my hot, beautiful wife. to more adventures and years to us 🥂 i love you.

view all 21,839 comments

yourusername happy anniversary to us, my love!!

landonorris i’m still obsessed with you

yourusername when are you not baby 🤭

yourbffsig ugh u two disgust me but stay in love ig

user i still can’t believe lando is really off the market for two years now 😔

yourmomsig stay in love, you two!! 🤍

user will we be expecting baby norris this year? if no, why not 😭

yourusername no plans for baby norris yet! me and lando are children ourselves 😂

— ❤️ by landonorris

user dinks, my fav dinks.

user can u adopt me instead

february 14, 2023

f1wags

10,729 likes

f1wags we haven’t had a glimpse of y/n in the paddock the past few races, so here’s some throwback pictures with husband, lando norris! 🤍

view all 189 comments

user i miss her :(

user so i’m not going CRAZY for noticing that she hasn’t been to any races this season...

user maybe she’s pregnant or something

user nahh impossible, y/n herself said that they don’t have any plans for baby norris yet.

user right.. that could only be the plausible reason why she’s not attending races 🙄

user maybe she’s just busy with work, she has a career herself

user no bc think about it.. it’s already round 10 and we haven’t seen her since bahrain, not even during testing 💀

user well, silverstone’s up next. let’s just hope she’s there for lando’s home race

user we can just hope

july 02, 2023

f1gossip

5,930 likes

f1gossip y/n’s now deleted ig story today. wonder what’s happening between the young couple? 🤔

view all 193 comments

user NO WHAT

user I JUST WOEK UP WHAT IS THIS DRAMA

user MAYBE ITS JUST NOTHING PLS MAYBE SHES JIST LISTENING TO MUSIC I MEAN IT’S TAYLOR !!!! WJO DOESN’T LISTEN TO TAYLOR

user ...me... i don’t listen to taylor 😬

user what rhe heck u have to listen NOW

user miss maam r u ok yourusername

user not on silverstone weekend 😭

july 07, 2023

yourusername

el nido, palawan

liked by yourbffsig, yourmomsig and others

yourusername let the sea set you free

view all 749 comments

user miss maam we miss u around the paddock PLS COME BACK

user omg she got a tattoo 🥹 it looks so pretty

yourbffsig i hope you enjoyed your stay with me 🥺

yourusername duh, ofc!! was the most fun month of my life 💗 see you in bali ;)

yourbffsig OMG YES see you in a week, enjoy your remaining days in el nido 😽 love you and take care!!

yourmomsig my beautiful daughter, i love you whatever happens 🤍 glas you’re enjoying philippines x

yourusername aaaa love and miss you mum 🥹 be back soon <3

yoursistersig what about me 😒

yourusername stfu you’re literally coming to bali with me

yoursistersig oh yea lol

user the comments from y/n’s friends and family are scaring me (kinda)

user have u noticed that lando hasn’t commented anything or even leave a like ... i miss his obsessed hubby comments

user plus her last ig story 😓

user oh god pls dont do this to me

user are yall thinking what im thinking...?

user whatever you’re thinking, pls keep it to yourself PLS I CANNOT DO THIS.

user so... you’re m.i.a in silverstone?

july 08, 2023

landonorris

liked by f1, oscarpiastri, mclaren, lewishamilton and 1,613,093 others

landonorris p2 and a 🏆 at my home race!!!!! ❤️ you guys are crazyyyyyyyyyy 💙

view all 9,441 comments

mclaren proud 🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧

masonmount congrats brother!

maxfewtrell absolute scenes, proud brother 🧡

user no signs of y/n here ... 🤔

user ikr like where tf is she

user haven’t seen her since the beginning of this silly season

user she’s out there weeping while her husband’s winning 😹

yourusername

bali, indonesia

liked by yourbffsig, yourmomsig, f1wags and 153,920 others

yourusername crazy how time flies when you’re being yourself; careless and free 🍃

view all 490 comments

yourbffsig love the glow these days! miss you terribly 💔

yourusername don’t be dramatic, you’ll be here in a few days 😛

yourbffsig 🙄 let me be dramatic pls

user uh excuse me maam, you have some races to attend to?

user she’s not really obligated to attend lol let her live her life.

user uh she has a husband who she needs to support? duh? besides, whose money do you think she’s spending?

user y/n earns her own money, she has her own business even before she and lando tied the knot. she has a degree for that, icydk.

user all this time i thought she was a sahw lmfao

user the username of her business is literally on her bio, in case you haven’t seen it :)

yoursistersig love how you look in the first picture 😂 wearing shades because you cried all night?

yourusername i was drunk, in my defense.

yoursistersig yeah, you’re one drunk crier 😂

yourusername quit exposing me please 🥲

user no “congrats lando!”? no “p2 baby!!”? none? ok

user no cuz i rly thought she’d at least say congrats 😐

user imagine securing a podium on ur home race and ur wife cant congratulate u lmao sad life for lando norris

user i hope you’re ignoring the hate comments and healing, y/n ❤️ your peace of mind comes first over everything

user she knew what she was getting into when she married lando, she should be tough enough to read the comments 😂

f1wags

12,420 likes

f1wags updates on lando & y/n! seems like their fairytale love story is over which is why we haven’t seen y/n lately every race weekend!

view all 3,826 comments

user um what

user not them 💔

user omg i feel bad for y/n

user everything probably took a toll on her mental health

user i hope she’s healing and resting, also i hope she’s not pressuring herself on healing :(

user from strangers to childhood besties to lovers to strangers again :/

user damn this hit hard

user dont do this to me please.

user i knew the caption on her last post meant something 😭

#lando norris imagine #lando norris angst #lando norris one shot #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris insta au #f1 imagine #f1 fan fic #f1 one shot #f1 instagram au #f1 instagram edit #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader

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velvees-archive · 1 month ago

Text

Some post-SOJ DLC case thoughts about Edgeworth, his opinion on marriage, and by extension, love.

…and how, at the very center of this discussion is one Phoenix Wright.

Contains spoilers from 3-5, 6-5 and 6-DLC

As if the subtext wasn’t enough.

I wanted to share some thoughts about the DLC case and Edgeworth's insistence on remaining unwed, which, from what I've seen, is a commonly employed gotcha moment against NaruMitsu (because all relationships must end in marriage, right? /lh). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really mind. I just…didn’t find the dialogue exchange very damning.

Coming off 6-5, where Edgeworth says this,

I saw the DLC as an extension of Edgeworth's sentimentality, this time directed at Phoenix’s romantic prospects.

To make my stance clear, I don’t think Edgeworth is blind to romantic overtures; he just doesn’t care about them very much. As in, Edgeworth is largely unaffected by and uninterested in matters of the heart (with a concession that he is obtuse when it comes to people expressing interest in him, unless they're Wendy Oldbag over the top about it). But even if you feel he's terrible at sensing romantic tension, my argument still stands. Edgeworth doesn’t care about romance, and we never really see him prying into anyone’s romantic relationships…

…with the exception to this being Phoenix Wright’s.

From Bridge to the Turnabout:

Sorry for the janky screenshots. I didn't didn't take 3-5 pics on my Switch so I had to search for YouTube clips. Let the record show I actually really enjoy Feenris PLUS I love angst, so this interaction was…chef’s kiss.

Assuming Edgeworth doesn't care about romance but he can understand romantic signaling, this is already pretty condemning. Why are you poking around Phoenix's business if you're so uninterested in love? Surely, there are bigger fish to fry, like investigating the Inner Temple Garden because the clues found could be vital to catching the victim's murderer?

Assuming Edgeworth sucks at detecting any romantic undertones, the implications are even worse. You're telling me the guy who doesn't know the first thing about romance somehow clocked Phoenix and Iris's chemistry this quickly? How? For what reason were you able to catch it? How attuned are you to Phoenix's personal affairs?

Now, shifting back to the DLC case, we have this lovely interaction when you show Miles the wedding chapel pamphlet:

Something to note with Phoenix’s “W-Wait. You’re not thinking about finally settling down and getting married, are you?” is that the screen flashes and we hear the damage sound after the “W-Wait."

Once again, Miles inquires about Phoenix's love life, this time after Phoenix asks about his. I've analyzed my fair share of Miles Edgeworth dialogue, and I don't think he pingpongs questions just to make conversation (see: “Say something, Wright. I’m not good at small talk.”). This leads me to believe he was genuinely curious and (subtly) trying to fish for information. And why would that be the case?

My overarching point is this: Edgeworth isn’t as obtuse about romance as everyone makes him out to be (both in-universe and from a fandom perspective), which makes his mentioning marriage plans around Phoenix even more suspicious. The way the scene reads to me is that Edgeworth, in Phoenix’s company and swept away by the intimate atmosphere, lets his interest in Phoenix Wright slip through the cracks once Phoenix shows him the pamphlet. It's sentimental of him and it surfaces—once again—while he's investigating a case. At risk of sounding repetitive, there are bigger fish to fry.

It'd be less suspicious if Phoenix had similar conversations with other cast members he shows the pamphlet to, but it never gets to be this personal, even when he presents it to Maya, his best friend.

Good news if you feel otherwise about my “Edgeworth isn’t that obtuse” headcanon though, because should you believe he is actually just that clueless, you now have to contend with this:

If Miles can’t pick up on all things love, why is he so attuned to Wright’s (and to my knowledge, only Wright’s) romantic prospects in particular?

So yeah. Checkmate, I guess. Edgeworth might not be interested in marriage or love, but he’s definitely interested in Phoenix’s partners, or lack thereof. Take that how you will.

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #narumitsu #spirit of justice #vel talks ace attorney #queued post #i actually rly like aro/ace readings of edgeworth as well #no matter what i think it’s neat that he’s so attentive to phoenix’s personal life #platonic or otherwise #they are so warm

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causenessus · 5 months ago

Note

💍 + 🩷 + SUNARIN !

see you at the altar. | suna r.

ree. i love you. thank u for this.

suna x f!reader

written in 2nd pov bc i wanted to (ahem. self shipping/projecting a little bit. just maybe.)

prompts from 1k followers event: 💍 -> wedding & 🩷 -> "can i come in?"

"so love me with reservations to every restaurant. walk me down your street pretending we're the only ones <3" from only ones by ruru

word count: 1.3k words

notes: fluff <333 and a little bit of flirting/sexual jokes, mentions of the garter toss so there's your warning. IT'S YOUR WEDDING DAY!!

you try to push down the feeling of anxiety in your chest, sucking in a breath as hitoka tightens your dress from behind.

“you look gorgeous,” your friend says, smiling at you in the mirror you're both facing.

“i look gorgeous in the dress you made,” you respond, returning the smile. “thank you so much, hitoka. you helped me plan everything out on top of making this dress, and i still can’t believe you’re letting me model and wear it in the first place. do you know how many girls would kill to be wearing something like this?”

hitoka only laughs, shaking her head as she tries to deny the compliment. “it really wasn’t a big deal. i’m just doing my job as your maid of honor and best friend. i want to support you in every way. do you need anything else?” she asks as she steps away, giving you one final lookover. she steps forward to fix the angle of one of the roses braided into your hair before stepping back with a smile, admiring her handiwork.

“will you go check on the rest of the bridesmaids? i know i kicked them out just now because the jitters were getting to me, but i still want to make sure they’re doing okay,” you ask, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“of course!” hitoka responds, making her way to the door, “i’ll be right–”

when she stops talking, you turn towards her with a quizzical look. “everything alright, hitoka?”

“oh, more than alright,” the blonde says, turning back towards you with the biggest smile on her face. “you have a visitor!” she exclaims with a giggle before quickly stepping through the doorway and shutting the door.

“well then why did you close the door…?” you say, although you know hitoka’s already walked away from the door and can’t hear you anymore. you approach the door, moving to open it when a knock against it makes you freeze.

“y/n?” the voice on the other side of the door is slightly muffled, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

your heart rate spikes just at his voice, “rin?”

“yeah. can i come in?”

you almost want to say yes, and you can’t stop the lovesick smile that makes its way onto your face before you respond, “no, you can’t.”

you can already imagine what he looks like, standing on the other side of the door in his suit; the way his hand is already hovering over the handle, and how his brows furrow at your response, “why not?” he asks.

you can’t help but laugh, leaning your back against the door, “because it’s bad luck for us to see each other before the wedding, silly. that’s like the oldest wives tale alive.”

maybe he hears you press your back to the door because you hear a thump, and you mirror each other without even knowing it as you both slide down the floor. you're probably getting your dress dirty, but you can’t find it in you to care. when you're with him, he’s all you need.

“that’s stupid,” he sighs, “why do we even believe in that? maybe someone made that up just to make people suffer more.”

“you’re not going to suffer,” you reply, wishing you could see him or hold his hand. “we’ll see each other soon and it’ll all be worth it. it’s like we’re building up to see each other. i can’t wait to see you in your suit, standing there, waiting for me...” you trail off, closing your eyes and imagining the entire ceremony. a feeling of thrill encases you at the realization: this entire day is for you both. everything is for you and him. to celebrate coming together forever. “will you cry when you see me?” you ask, your curiosity getting the best of you. you're not even sure what his answer will be. neither of you cried very often, and you weren’t sure if it’d be more heartfelt to see a big smile on his face or tears in his eyes.

“yeah,” he answers immediately, causing you to open your eyes in surprise.

“really?” you ask, beginning to play with the trim of your dress.

“definitely. and i told atsumu if i don’t cry immediately he gets to punch me in the face but i’m pretty sure just seeing you when those doors open will be enough,” he explains. “i guess you’re right about that superstition– now i’m really excited to see you in your dress.”

you laugh at his initial statement, “why would you tell him to punch you in the face? then i’ll have to take care of your bloody nose.”

“who said i didn’t want that?” you can hear the smile in his voice, “if i don’t cry the moment i see my wife, then i deserve a broken nose. and maybe that’ll make me cry.”

your heart skips a beat at the word. you’ll officially be his wife in a few hours, and he’ll be your husband. you sigh, “i guess i should have expected something like this from you and the twins. i’m glad they could both make it.”

he hums in thought, “i think they heard you mention the garter toss and decided that this was the most important event of their lives.”

your face warms at the thought. it had been your initial idea, surprising even rintarou, but he had supported you nonetheless (“it won’t be the first time we’ve done something like that,” he’d said in a teasing voice that made your knees weak). you’d been slightly worried about it; having him under your dress, surrounded by all of your friends while his teeth were dragging a flimsy piece of lace down your thigh would definitely be a moment worth remembering.

“what’s wrong? cat got your tongue?” he gibes. “are you still up for the toss? we can always say we don’t wanna do it anymore.”

“no no it’s fine,” you put your head in your hands before sitting back up straight, knowing hitoka will scold you if you messes up your hair or makeup. “i just kinda forgot about it with everything else going on today. i’m a little nervous for it, but i’m excited.”

you hear him laugh and you know your face is red, aware of how wrong it sounds. “i never realized you enjoyed that kind of stuff so much,” he continues to poke fun at you. “i’ll make sure to tease you when we’re out more often. especially when you wear that cute skirt of yours.”

“rin!” you scold, unable to keep quiet anymore, “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“oh? what did you mean then?” he eggs you on. you can’t find a proper excuse or response. the only way that sentence could be interpreted in this context was “i’m excited to have you under my dress” but you didn’t want to say that. he laughs again, “do you just like it when i’m between your legs?”

you whine out of embarrassment, standing up and dusting off the back of your dress as best as you can, “i can’t believe you, rin.”

“you must really love me if i can have this kind of effect on you just with my voice,” he responds, and you hear him stand up too.

“well, i am marrying you after all,” you sigh, trying to look yourself over in the mirror on the wall to your right.

“i’m a lucky man,” he says. “i love you, y/n. i’ll see you soon.”

“see you at the altar, rin,” you smile, pressing a hand to the door separating you both. maybe you're making it up in your head, but you think you can feel his hand against the door as well. if the wooden barrier wasn’t there, you'd intertwine hands. you’d see him in his suit, and he’d see you in your dress. that would be your reality soon enough, anyway.

“i love you so much, suna rintarou.”

#suna #suna rintaro #suna rintarou #rintaro suna #rintarou suna #sunarin #suna x reader #sunarin x reader #suna drabble #haiykuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabble #hq #hq x reader #fluff

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corroded-hellfire · 11 months ago

Text

Red Hot - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Collaboration with the woman who makes this series possible @munson-blurbs 💚

Summary: It’s been one year since you and Eddie discovered your feelings for one another—and so much more. Now, it’s your anniversary and a romantic evening is planned. Unfortunately, life with two little boys around tends to throw some wrenches in your life—even on special nights like this.

Note: I cannot believe it’s been a year since I posted the first part of As You Wish. It was only intended to be this spicy one shot but so many people asked for a part 2 and…here we are! I can’t thank all of you enough for reading. It means more to me than you know 💜

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), breeding kink, oral, m and f receiving, vomit, implied medical issues, age gap, older!eddie

Words: 5.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

One whole year has passed of you being with Eddie. One year since the night he’d come home sullen after what was supposed to be a nice evening out, only to find that his deepest desire was right there waiting for him on the worn blue couch in his living room.

Honestly, it was the night both of your wishes came true. Such dark secrets you each harbored, never thinking that the other could possibly return the feelings. You, thinking he wouldn’t see you as anything more than a babysitter for his two kids. Him, thinking you’d never be interested in a man over a decade older than you. The spark finally lit the flame though, leading to the best year of your lives. The best year of the boys’ lives as well. Neither you nor Eddie had ever seen the kids in all around better moods than this past year—and that’s even with the divorce and custody proceedings.

A romantic date night was planned for the one year anniversary, a date that came with some discussion at first. You had brought up that you weren’t a fan of having your anniversary with Eddie on the same day that was his wedding anniversary with Brittany. Eddie was quick to assure you that this had just been the night he and Brittany were able to get out and celebrate their anniversary—not the actual day itself.

“Pretty sure the fun you and I had that night went past midnight, into the next day anyway,” Eddie added with a smirk.

So, the evening was planned. An intimate dinner out together while Ryan has a sleepover at his friend Charlie’s house and Luke spends the night with Wayne.

Even though you didn’t officially live with the Munson men yet, you did spend more time than not at their apartment. A drawer in Eddie’s dresser contained a stash of your clothes, a toothbrush sat right next to Eddie’s by the sink, and if you weren’t spending the night, the boys would call up at bedtime to say goodnight to you anyway. So, it made perfect sense for you to get ready at the apartment so you and Eddie could just go together to drop Luke off and Wayne’s and then be on your way to the restaurant.

You’re in Eddie’s room, leaning over his dresser to get a better look at your face in the mirror as you apply eyeliner. Eddie is wearing black dress pants with a gray shirt that make you want to rip them right off. He’s currently securing his hair in a low bun as you do your best not to stab yourself in the eye with the stubby little black pencil.

Just as you finish applying mascara, you hear the soft pitter-patter of Luke’s feet headed towards the master bedroom.

“I frew up.”

“Oh, Christ,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, swiveling on one heel. “What happened?”

Luke shrugs. “My tummy hurt and then I frew up. But I got most of it in the toilet; wanna see?”

Eddie just looks at you, twisting the mascara wand back into the tube, then back at his son.

“Most of it?” Eddie asks.

“Mhm.” Luke scampers back to the bathroom, and you and Eddie follow reluctantly.

Both you and your boyfriend were expecting the smell to be worse as you step into the bathroom. Your eyes are on the ground, making sure not to step in anything Luke wasn’t able to get in the toilet.

The sick mess in the toilet—and around it—is bright red.

“Shit.” Eddie scoops up Luke, not caring that there’s now vomit on his dress shirt. “Luke, did you have any fruit snacks today at lunch? Gushers or Fruit Roll-Ups or something like that?”

The little boy shakes his head. “Just a chocolate chip cookie.”

Eddie looks at you, horrified. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen true fear in Eddie’s eyes, and it curdles your own stomach.

“We have to get him to the hospital,” Eddie says. His tone is urgent, but not panicked. The last thing you need is for Luke to start freaking out.

You nod in reply, already heading out into the hall, grabbing all three of your coats from the closet and tucking them under your arm.

Luke is clearly confused. He keeps looking back and forth between you and his father, his little brow pinching together.

“Why are we going to the hopsital?” he asks. “I feel good!”

Famous last words, Eddie thinks. He needs both hands and feet to count the number of times his kids have claimed that they weren’t sick just moments before they inevitably crashed.

Neither you nor your boyfriend know how to respond to Luke, so you silently help him into his coat while Eddie shrugs on his own. The keys clang as Eddie takes them off a peg by the front door and tosses them your way. Then he picks up a still-confused Luke and heads out the door.

You drive while Eddie sits in the backseat with Luke. It’s quite obvious you two adults are more stressed out than the six-year-old is. Both of you keep checking in on him but there’s no deviation from the usual Luke-ness that you know and love.

“How do you feel?” you ask, glancing at Luke in the rear view mirror.

“I’m hungry; can we get McDonalds?”

When you arrive at the emergency room, you pick up Luke to carry so Eddie can go ahead and alert the employees at the intake desk of what’s going on.

The biting February wind stings your nose and cheeks as you cross the parking lot, but Luke keeps chatting away as though it’s just a regular evening.

“Did you know that birds feed their babies by frowing up in their beaks?”

“Wow, you know so many things,” you manage, trying to tamper your nausea and nerves.

“That’s like if you chewed up my chicken nuggets and spit them into my mouth.”

“Yup, I’ve got the visual.”

Secretly, your insides warm up, flattered that he considers you the “mommy bird.”

“My teacher got pooped on by a bird today, but she didn’t even notice.”

He continues talking through the whole process: waiting, triage, until he’s assigned a room and asked to wear a hospital gown. The moment you step out of the room to give him some privacy, it feels as if the world outside the small room has gone silent, save for the occasional beep from medical instruments. Now it’s too quiet without Luke’s chattering. Needing to do something besides just standing there, full of nervous energy, you walk down the hall to find a payphone and call Wayne to let him know what’s going on.

Back in the room, Eddie is trying to get his nerves under control. Nothing’s wrong, he tries to assure himself. And even if there was—which there isn’t—he’s in the best possible place he could be and surrounded by professionals who probably see all sorts of things far worse than whatever this might be.

“Where are the pants?” Luke asks, looking like a dog chasing its tail as he tries to get a look at the back of the gown.

“No pants,” Eddie tells him as he ties the strings together in the back for him. There’s a soft knock on the door and Eddie tugs it open.

You step back into the room and Luke grins and holds his arms out at his sides.

“Look! I’m wearing a dress just like you!”

Despite the seriousness of the visit, you can’t help but smile. Though your purple A-line dress looks nothing like the white gown covered in blue dots that he’s wearing.

“Now you’re my twin instead of Daddy’s,” you tease.

That makes Luke giggle, and he sits down on the bed, dangling his short legs over the side. It isn’t long before Luke is taken back for tests, most of which Eddie is allowed to accompany him for. You know that’s probably bringing far more comfort to Eddie than Luke at the moment.

You wait back in the room, anxious thoughts getting the better of you now that you’re alone and have time for your brain to wander. There are a bunch of brochures spread out on a table, so you decide to flip through some of them, keep your mind busy. None of them seem relevant to any medical issue you’ll ever have; then again, you never pictured yourself rushing a kid to the hospital for bloody puke, so you plunk down with a booklet on goiters. It mentions scurvy, which reminds you of Luke, and you have to stifle your amusement before you become known as the Woman Who Laughs at Goiters.

The nurse brings Luke and Eddie back to the room, along with an old coloring book and some crayons. Artist that he is, Luke is already eyeing the different colors to see which one he’ll want to use first.

“It’ll be another hour until we have all the results,” the nurse announces somewhat apologetically.

Eddie manages a weak smile as he plops into his chair. You reach over and slide your hand into his. A gentle squeeze greets your touch, and you give him one back in reassurance.

Finally making his decision, Luke plucks a red crayon out of the box.

“Did you know that these don’t taste like cherry?”

Everyone—including this poor nurse—stares at him.

“Luke,” Eddie starts, “why would you think it tastes like cherry?”

“Evan Holloway said it did,” Luke replies absentmindedly as he starts to color a fire truck, “but I think he was just kidding, because it tasted gross.”

Eddie bites back a comment about how the kid didn’t stand a chance at being nice with parents like Heather Holloway and Billy Hargrove. It’s not the time or place though.

“When did you eat the crayon?” You investigate further.

“Today during arts and crafts,” he says, tongue poking out of his lips as he concentrates on the drawing at hand.

You and Eddie both look at the nurse apologetically.

“When I asked you about what you ate today that was red, why didn’t you mention the crayon?” Eddie’s teeth are gritted as he tries to maintain his composure.

“You asked about fruit snacks, not crayons.” He pauses and looks up from his coloring book. “But don’t worry; I took the paper off first.”

“Oh, good.” Eddie rolls his eyes, and you put your hand on his shoulder.

Luke’s confession—and subsequent perfect test results—allow him to be discharged. He falls asleep in the car almost as soon as Eddie puts it in drive and leaves the parking lot.

The ride home is draped in comfortable, relaxing silence. After hours of machines incessantly beeping, doctors checking in, and Luke whining about his boredom, the quiet is certainly welcome. At least now there’s a massive weight off of your and Eddie’s shoulders.

The little boy doesn’t even stir when you arrive at home, so Eddie carries him into the apartment and to his room, gently tucking him into bed.

“G’night, crazy kid,” he says with a soft laugh. He kisses his forehead, and you do the same before you both head to your own bedroom.

“Baby, I’m so tired—” Eddie starts, the two of you practically collapsing onto the queen-sized mattress.

You muster up a nod. “Me, too, Eds.”

“Raincheck on me rocking your world?” he smirks, leaning in and kissing your nose.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I’m home!”

Ryan’s excited voice jolts you awake; when you glance at the clock, it’s only a bit after 7 AM. Charlie’s mom must’ve been eager to end the sleepover.

Eddie pushes himself up on an elbow and cracks one eye open. “Wait, Ry; how did you get in the house?” He didn’t have a spare key, and Eddie always made sure the doors were locked at night.

Ryan shrugs. “I rang the buzzer and Luke let me in.”

Eddie groans and lets out a yawn. He’ll have to remind his youngest son about making sure an adult knows someone’s coming into the house, but he doesn’t have the energy now. Instead, he focuses on Ryan. “Ya have fun at Charlie’s?”

“Yeah!” he chirps. “We had—”

You slowly sit up, trying to keep your temper at being woken up. “Can we hear this story over breakfast, Ry?”

He agrees and bounds into the kitchen, you and Eddie sleepily trailing behind.

Luke is already halfway through a bowl of Frosted Flakes when the three of you walk out to the kitchen.

“Ryan!” he shouts, way too loud for this early in the morning. Cereal sprays everywhere, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I went to the hospital last night!”

Ryan’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “What?!”

“Yeah! I just told Grandpa about it.”

Eddie frowns in confusion. “When did you talk to Grandpa?” He grabs a bowl from the pantry and pours himself some cereal. Nothing sugary like the boys eat; those days are behind him.

“I just called him before when I woke up,” Luke says with a shrug.

You throw some Eggos in the toaster for Ryan while the boys both regale you with their respective tales. Luke manages to make it sound much more fun than it actually was last night, tapping into his father’s knack for storytelling. Part of you is surprised there’s no supernatural elements to this tale.

A little later in the day there’s a knock on the door. Eddie turns the knob and is surprised to see Wayne on the other side. He raises his eyebrows as he regards the older man.

“What are you doing here?” he asks before realizing how that sounded. “I mean, hi.”

“I told Luke I was coming over,” Wayne says, nodding to the younger boy coming up behind his father.

Eddie looks at the boy as he closes the door behind Wayne.

“Luke, you never told me that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Even though he already told him on the phone, Luke once again laments the events of last night to his grandfather. Once he’s done, Ryan tells Wayne all about his sleepover at Charlie’s last night.

When he finally gets a moment to talk to you and Eddie without the rugrats around, Wayne offers to take the boys for the rest of the day and overnight so the two of you can have a do over on your anniversary date.

“You sure, Old Man?” Eddie asks.

“Positive. I’ll just keep ‘em away from crayons.”

The moment the three of them leave, Eddie locks the door behind them and grabs your hand to drag you into the bedroom.

“Eds!”

“Oh, right; where are my manners?” Eddie admonishes himself. “I should take you out to eat first.” He heads into the kitchen and fishes the brochure for your go-to Chinese restaurant. Not even needing to ask you, he orders your favorites before hanging up and turning back to you. “Now, time for my meal.” There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “If you don’t cum in thirty minutes, your next orgasm is free.”

The moment your back lands on the bed, he tugs off your pants and panties and buries himself between your legs. There’s time for slow and romantic later, you both need each other now.

“This pussy is perfect, goddamn.”

Any response is futile as words have left your brain the second Eddie’s tongue flicks over your clit. He does it over and over again, causing your abdomen muscles to tighten and your fists grip the blanket below you.

You let your eyes fall closed and lose yourself in the feeling of Eddie sucking on your clit. He knows the exact speeds and pressures to get you where he wants you, changing it up in the most pleasurable of ways. As your back arches off the bed at a particularly harsh suck, Eddie slips two fingers into your waiting hole, meeting no resistance. Being stretched by and filled with Eddie just has you that much closer to hitting your high.

Eddie pumps his fingers in time with his licks and it isn’t long before you feel that familiar heat building up in your body. Your boyfriend must be able to sense this as well, because he curls his fingers up against your walls as his tongue continues to flick over your sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s enough to have you seeing stars. Part of you wants it to last longer, but you know Eddie will do this again and again for you if you ask. The thought of him wanting to make you feel good and wanting your body so much is the push you need into oblivion.

“Fuck! Oh shit, Eddie,” you whine, a hand going down to grip his hair. “I’m—I’m coming.”

Eddie knows how to extract every last wave of pleasure from you as he works you through the orgasm. This he’ll take his time with, after being in such a haste to get you off. You feel boneless as you lay on the bed, utterly wrecked from your boyfriend’s thick fingers and sinful mouth.

You whine as Eddie slips his fingers from your pussy, but the whine turns into a moan when he pops them into his mouth. It’s suddenly given you a burst of energy.

“My turn,” you say, giving him a salacious grin.

Eddie flings his shirt into an abyss of laundry and rolls onto his back so you can trail kisses down his torso. He giggles when your fingers brush against his stomach as you unbuckle his belt and tug his pants off. His erection springs free, already leaking pre-cum from getting you off.

“Such a pretty cock, Eds,” you muse, your lips tenderly touching the head. “And it’s all mine, huh?”

“Y-Yup,” his breath hitches. “All yours; please, please suck it for me.”

You happily oblige—as if there was any doubt that you would—licking from base to tip with a flattened tongue. His thighs twitch at the contact, the movement punctuated with a low groan. You never knew how much you appreciated a vocal man until you’d slept with Eddie. Now it’s a goal of yours to get him to make as much noise as possible.

“Oh, princess,” he growls, fingers twisting in the sheets. “Baby girl.”

Your hand grasps the part of him that doesn’t fit in your mouth, leaving no square inch of his cock untouched in some way. You want—no, you need—to make him feel good. Thinking back to that first time together, fueled by lust, but also a desire for one another. A longing that had burned steady in both of you. Eddie could have waited up for Brittany and had lackluster sex; you could have hooked up with that guy from your anthropology class who’s always checking you out. But that wouldn’t have been satisfying; you craved Eddie and Eddie craved you. It was impossible to satisfy that urge any other way.

He bucks his hips gently now, his signal that he’s close. You pump him faster, grip him tighter, until he’s spilling into your mouth and down your chin.

Once you’re satisfied that you’ve milked everything you can from him, you pull off and swallow his load. Eddie manages just enough strength to lift his head up as he attempts to catch his breath. His eyes darken as he watches you lick your lips and wipe off the cum that drooled out onto your chin and pop it in your mouth.

“God damn,” Eddie breathes out.

You share in that sentiment. This fast and rough sex is exactly what the two of you needed after such a scary and stressful evening last night.

The doorbell rings and your boyfriend flops his head back down, his curls spilling around his pillow like a halo.

“Want me to get it?” you offer, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Uh uh,” Eddie tuts. He haphazardly reaches over the side of the bed to search for his boxers. “Only I get to see you looking this wrecked.” A playful wink is thrown your way as Eddie sits up. He hops off the bed and slips on his boxers, sweats, and an old Deep Purple t-shirt. “You get dressed, baby.”

“Don’t wanna,” you say with a pout.

It makes Eddie chuckle, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head before reaching for the knob on the bedroom door.

“Don’t worry, we can take them off again later.”

Eddie strolls out of the room, and you raid your drawer in his dresser. There’s an old pair of jeans shoved in the back that you pull out and hop into those while you scoop one of Eddie’s old Hellfire shirts that he let you cut and customize to your liking—a true sign of love right there—laying over the arm of a chair.

When you meet Eddie in the living room, he’s unpacking your food into the coffee table. There’s a pile of VHS tapes in the corner of the room, and though most of them are the kids’, you manage to find Benny & Joon and pop that into the player.

The moment you plop down on the couch next to Eddie, he wraps his arm around your hips and tugs your body up against his.

“It’s difficult to eat with one hand, you know,” you tell him when he doesn’t move his arm.

“I’ll deal.”

Somehow, he does—even if it causes a bit of a mess on the couch and coffee table.

Eddie swallows a mouth full of rice and turns to look at you. His eyes take in your profile, the expression on his face turning to adoring almost instantly.

“I’m really grateful that you were there with me last night,” he admits, voice softer and more serious than usual. “I don’t know if I would’ve been able to handle that without you.”

The way that you look at him from beneath your eyelashes takes his breath away. He gets just as stunned by your beauty now as he did when he opened the front door that first time he met you.

“Yes, you could’ve,” you assure him. “You’re stronger than you think, Eddie. But I’m glad you didn’t have to do it alone. There’s nowhere I’d rather have been at the moment than with you. Well…I’d have liked not to have had to go to the hospital at all, but you know.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “Turns out we didn’t need to anyway.” Your boyfriend sighs and runs a hand over his face. “God, Luke’s gonna kill me someday.”

“Kill you with his cuteness, you mean.”

“You mean because he looks just like me?” Eddie asks, a cocky smirk dancing on his lips.

“Of course,” you say with a chuckle. You lean in and press your lips to Eddie’s, resting your hand on his chest.

“You mean the world to me,” Eddie whispers against your lips. He knows he’s told you that many times, in many different ways. But it’s because he needs you to know how true it is. Having a partner who he can count on and trust with his life—with his son’s lives. It’s new to him, and even after a year, it surprises him every day how much you do for him and the boys. Your kindness and your heart are bottomless, he’s decided. And though he has no clue how he got so lucky, he’s not about to question it.

“I feel the same way about you,” you reply, also in a soft tone. Eddie always tells you the way that you make his life better, but he tends to brush you off when you try to do the same. He believes you deserve more than him, but he doesn’t realize there isn’t any more than him. He is everything.

“I can’t believe we’ve been together a year,” Eddie says. Sometimes it feels like it went by in the blink of an eye, but when he thinks about all the shit the two of you have had to overcome, he thinks that a year feels about right.

“Best year ever,” you say. “Even dealing with a certain psycho couldn’t ruin it.” You don’t want to mention Brittany by name, but you need to let him know that you’d do it all over time and time again despite her and all the bullshit.

“Aw, come on. Ryan’s not that bad,” Eddie jokes. You giggle and bury your face in his neck. Electricity sparks where your skin rests against his and Eddie wraps you up in his arms. “Happy anniversary, baby. I love you much.”

“I love you too,” you murmur against his skin. You go to wish him a happy anniversary as well, but Eddie’s loud growling stomach steals your thunder and sends you into another round of giggles. “Would you like some of my food?”

“God, you’re perfect.”

Not five minutes after the two of you finish your food, Eddie has you on your back, his body resting comfortably on top of yours as you makeout. The kisses are slow and passionate, taking your time to explore one another’s mouths. Hands roam each other’s bodies, some soft touches and some rough grabs—all of it possessive.

Needing air, Eddie pulls his mouth from yours and begins to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Strong fingers dig into your hips as you lift your own hands to tangle in his soft curls.

“Bedroom?” Eddie growls against your skin.

“No,” you say, wrapping your legs around the man’s hips to keep him where he is. “Want you here.”

“Mm, whatever my princess wants,” Eddie mutters, punctuating it by grazing your jaw with his teeth. Slowly, he sits up, bringing you with him until you’re seated comfortably in his lap.

You shiver, his tongue warm against your neck and hands strong on your back and sides. It’s as though you can’t be close enough to him, your hips rolling to create a friction that has both of you aroused.

Eddie unbuttons your jeans disapprovingly. “Don’t know why you even bothered to put these back on,” he tuts, apparently forgetting that he was the one who told you to. “Now I gotta rip ‘em off again. Making this harder than it needs to be.”

“Tell me more about making things harder,” you tease, grinding against his stiff length with the intent of feeling him through your panties.

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs into your mouth, a smile twitching on his lips. “I fuckin’ love it.”

Your pants get shrugged down your legs, not even making it all the way off, and your lace thong gets pushed over slightly to expose your pussy. Eddie pulls himself out of his boxers and runs his cock along your soaked core before aligning himself with your entrance.

“Tha’s it,” he moans as you sink onto him, taking every inch within your walls. “Fuck, you know exactly what I want.”

You bite your lip and nod. It’s as though your brain clicks off when he first enters you, your head filled only with thoughts of Eddie Eddie Eddie.

Once you regain some semblance of sanity, you hold onto his biceps and bounce on his cock, the tip hitting your sweet spot over and over. “So big—so full,” you manage, eyes rolling back as he thrust up into you.

“That’s right; you’re fuckin’ full of me,” he grits out, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. “And I’m gonna pump you full of my cum, too.”

You nod before gently biting down on his shoulder. “Please. Want your cum.”

“I know you do, princess. Because I’ve gotta fill you with my cum to knock you up, don’t I?”

You can only whimper in response, but that isn’t satisfactory for your boyfriend.

“Words, princess.”

“Want you to knock me up!” It comes out in one pathetic breath.

His thrusts become more frantic, needier. “Oh, I don’t think you want it,” he goads. “I think you need it. I think you need me to get you pregnant, so you can show off that you fuckin’ belong to me—and only me.”

Tears form along your lash line; your orgasm is so close, but you know he can withhold your pleasure if you don’t answer him. “Need your baby,” you whisper. “Need everyone to know I’m yours.”

“God fuckin’ damn.” The thought of you swollen with pregnancy has him unhinged, his thumb circling your clit as his own release nears. “Gonna fuck you so full.”

You clench around him, chanting his name while you cum. He follows, holding down your hips so he can slam into you and give you every last drop.

A string of breathy whines leaves your lips as you lower your head down to Eddie’s shoulder. His grip on you softens and slowly glides up your body until one hand trails up and down your back and the other cups the back of your head.

“How was that?” he murmurs.

“Fucking amazing and you know it,” you mumble against his shoulder.

Eddie chuckles and you pick your head up to press your lips against his.

“Don’t wanna move,” you say with a sigh.

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie coos. “Just want to keep me inside of you forever, don’t you?”

As hard as he just made you cum, you shouldn’t get so instantly turned on by his words and teasing tone. And though he may be teasing, he is also absolutely correct.

You push against his chest playfully and reluctantly move yourself off of his lap. As gracefully as you can manage—which isn’t very—you lay back down on the couch. A trickle down the inside of your thigh tells you that Eddie’s cum is escaping. Your boyfriend seems to notice this just as you do.

“Absolutely not,” he says as uses two fingers to shove it back into you.

The feeling has your eyes fluttering closed as you let your muscles relax into the cushions.

“Ah, shit,” Eddie says.

“What?” you ask, forcing your eyes open. Eddie’s looking down and you follow his line of sight to see that some of his cum got away from both of you and landed on your jeans. “Oh, it’s okay. They’re—huh.”

A giggle begins to bubble up out of you and Eddie raises an eyebrow in question.

“Eds, these are the same jeans I was wearing that night,” you tell him.

“Our first night?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I couldn’t find them when I went to get dressed. Someone else did though and threw them in my face.” You chuckle at the memory. “I didn’t even remember I had these jeans stashed here at your place.”

“And as nice as they are,” Eddie drawls, crawling on top of your body, “I think you look far better without them on. Or any pants. Or any clothes.”

You smirk up at him and drape your arms around his neck. “What do you say we make some new stains, then?”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS

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bangtanficsforyou · 3 months ago

Text

Hello, Love! (JJK)-02

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, probable smut (we don’t know yet lololol)

Rating: 18+

Summary: You had a plan when you returned home, seven years later. However, falling in love with your sister’s fiance wasn’t it.

Word count: 5.6K (approx)

Warning: mentions of drug addiction, familial neglect.

I'll add all the links in a few days time!

It’s six in the morning when the doorbell rings.

Hurried footsteps make their way through the hallway and to the main door. The door is opened to reveal a long queue of people and one by one, everyone starts filling in. Anyone could have been fooled into thinking that this was afternoon.

The quiet apartment is now filled with excited greetings and a constant low murmur in the background.

Now it finally looks like there’s a wedding in the house, Jungkook’s mother thinks silently, with a small, satisfied smile.

“Can’t believe our Jungkook is getting married!”

“I know right! I’m so glad that it’s a love marriage!”

“Have you looked at Riya’s photos? She’s so pretty.”

Had it been in Busan, I would have booked the costliest bungalow for them. But no, they wanted a destination wedding. Jungkook’s father thinks as he looks at the newly arrived guests chatting among themselves.

Don’t get it wrong, the rented apartment is more than sufficient. But excuse him for his thinking. It’s his youngest son’s wedding after all. The father in him wanted to put the connections he has made over the years as the police commissioner, to good use.

“I am thinking of wearing red on the day of the wedding and saving the yellow for the reception.”

“I am confused as to what I should do with my hair.”

“We can simply book a stylist for a few days.”

I need to be out of here, comes the big conclusion in Jina, Jungkook’s sister in law’s, mind.

Her lack of patience could be credited to the fact that she is five months pregnant.

Jina is undoubtedly happy about the occasion of Jungkook’s marriage. How can she not be? Jungkook is like her own little brother, after all. But please excuse her for not wanting to be a part of the conversation as to who’s wearing what, when she feels like a boiled potato.

Jungkook will take care of this, Ju Hyun thinks, the moment his eyes meet his wife's. After seven years of marriage, one becomes an expert at deciphering their partner's expressions.

Ju Hyun looks at Jungkook, who's currently been crowded by the kids. “Jungkook?”

Jungkook looks up, and silently sighs to have found an excuse to escape.

“Yes, hyung?”

“Please take Jina out for some fresh air.”

Jungkook looks at his sister in law, and the reason behind his elder brother's request becomes very visible to him.

“Why can't you take her out?” Jungkook whispers.

“I have a case file I need to go through.” Comes Ju Hyun’s short and simple reply.

Before Jungkook can reply, his phone rings to notify him of an incoming call.

Riya.

“Can you come to hotel Delta?” Greets the voice as soon as Jungkook answers the call.

“Hotel Delta? Where is it?” Jungkook asks.

“I'll send you the address and please try to be as quick as possible. I need to go back to shooting.”

“Don’t worry, I'll be there in ten minutes,” Jungkook promises, even before checking where and how far the destination is.

As he ends the call, two expectant gazes, meet him. One that of Ju Hyun’s and the other that of Jina’s.

Oh right.

“Sinu-i, don't worry–,” Jungkook does a quick scan of the room and his eyes halt when they land on Jimin, relaxing with a cup of tea in his hand, “–Jimin will accompany you.”

Jimin looks perplexed, having no clue why his name just got mentioned.

Jungkook spots a fast-pacing Riya and curses in his mind, knowing damn well he’s late. In his defence, it isn’t an easy task to get out of a house full of relatives. Not to mention the traffic.

“So, this is your ten minutes?” Riya asks on spotting Jungkook, with a face that clearly reads that she is not impressed at all.

“I’m sorry, there was a whole lot of traffic on the way.”

Riya sighs and motions Jungkook to follow her. “Suzy called me, apparently no venues are available on the date you suggested.”

A frown appears on Jungkook’s face. “Is that so? But that date is very auspicious for marriage. It comes once every seven million years.”

A scoff. “Seven million years ago only dinosaurs got married.”

It takes Jungkook a moment to realise that it wasn’t Riya who spoke the words.

“Jungkook, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Jungkook, he will drop you off.”

“Hello,” Jungkook greets politely, waiting for you, who's sitting comfortably, to look up from the menu card.

“Hi,” you look up and give Jungkook a brief curt nod and return to the pages of the menu card.

YOU. It’s you!!!! Jungkook’s mind exclaims. The t20 girl.

“You drop her off at the address I mentioned, there you will find Stuart. Stuart will take Y/N to the hotel,” Riya gives off the instructions and quickly bids her goodbye.

Jungkook looks around a little, feeling awkward and a little clueless as to what he should do now. Seeing that you are so invested in the menu card, he decides to take a seat and ask you whether you would like to have something.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“An espresso with a shot of cream,”

The quick and brief answer surprises Jungkook. He blinks and waits for something more–what, he does not quite know (well, maybe you looking at him and acknowledging him would have been nice).

Pushing his surprise aside, he orders two coffees.

He looks around some more, because you refuse to leave the menu card even now. Out of curiosity, he subtly leans in and takes a peak to figure out what could be so interesting in those pages.

Huh? There is nothing out of the ordinary.

Are you perhaps memorising the prices of each item?

Well, shouldn’t you be showing a little more interest in someone you met seven years ago?

Jungkook averts his eyes like a thief being caught in action, when you flip the page. He sighs in relief though when he realizes that you have not caught into his little peaking. However, just moments later he feels stupid because what exactly is he doing?

“Do you remember we met seven years ago?” The question slips out from Jungkook’s mouth with a hint of hope and excitement.

You look up.

First blink.

Second blink.

Third blink.

“No.”

And then you are back to your beloved menu card.

“T20 cricket? Remember we talked about the different formats of cricket?” Jungkook pushes, hoping something would click.

You look up, again.

First blink.

Second blink.

Third blink.

“No.”

Jungkook deflates. Your eyes were blank. You truly do not recognize him.

Minutes pass as the order arrives and both of you have sips from your beverages. Surprisingly and much to Jungkook’s annoyance, your attention has now shifted to the view outside as you peer through the window right next to your seat.

“Shall we leave?” Jungkook queries as soon as both of you are done.

You give a nod and before Jungkook can even get up, you have your luggage on your shoulders and are heading out through the door.

Jungkook remains astonished with his mouth parted slightly as he looks at your retreating figure.

Isn’t he supposed to be the one guiding you out?

He shakes that thought away and quickly gets up with the intention of catching up with you before you get lost.

The car is filled with awkward silence. Thankfully, it does not bother Jungkook anymore. He has gotten used to it but for some reason, Jungkook finds it a little disappointing.

Maybe his excitement was simply rooted in the fact that he was meeting someone he never expected to meet again, that too after seven whole years.

Or maybe a small childish part of him thought, you two would hit it off again, like you did the last time. Maybe he had also entertained the idea of you two becoming good friends. With Riya being a common link between the two of you that thought was not much farfetched.

Wait. How do you and Riya know each other?

Jungkook looks at you but right as he’s about to voice his curiosity, your phone rings.

His eyes focus back on the road, with the knowing that he will have to wait to ask the question.

” Fāshēngle shénme?”

Huh?

“Gàosù tāmen wǒ hěn kuài jiù huì gěi tāmen qián.”

Is that…..Mandarin?

“Qǐng bǎozhòng.” You end the call.

It is Mandarin!

“You know how to speak Mandarin?” Forgotten is the question about the connection between you and Riya. Your fluency with the foreign language now has his attention.

You look at Jungkook and nod. Then you are back staring out of the window.

Huh? Do you only speak with nods? And what is with you and staring out of windows? Jungkook thinks, his annoyance sparking again.

“I think this is the place,” Jungkook announces, after ten more minutes of driving. Having stopped the car, he looks around through his window.

The sound of a car door opening echoes and Jungkook is startled to find that you are already out of the passenger seat. As you open the back door to take out your luggage, he quickly speaks, “Wait, let me call Stuart.”

“No need, I can see him,” you answer confidently.

Jungkook frowns in confusion and watches as you cross the road and pause in front of a short young man. Quickly taking out the number Riya had given him, he dials it.

To his relief, it is the man across the street that picks it up.

“Stuart?

“Speaking.”

“Take ma’am to the hotel carefully and make sure she has everything she might require.”

Jungkook thinks that for a brief moment, Stuart looked confused. But he ignores it thinking, he cannot be sure about a man’s expressions from across the street. With a confirmation from Stuart, he ends the call.

He waits in his car until the both of you are out of sight.

With a sigh of relief, he starts the car engine. As the tires get moving, his thoughts drift to you and how odd of an encounter it was.

He would have said you were not your usual self but then what does he even know about you? The only interaction he has had with you prior to this was seven years ago, a conversation that lasted for about ten minutes. People change. Maybe you did. Or maybe you were always like this and that one particular evening you happened to feel chatty.

Who knows.

As he turns off the engine after having parked his car in the garage, his phone pings.

Riya: Thanks :)

A content smile spreads over Jungkook’s face and forgotten is the weird encounter he just had with you.

TWO DAYS LATER

“Your letter is T.”

The groom’s side discusses among themselves as to who would continue the game further with the letter T.

“Aunty, why don’t you sing two lines?” Seema, the bride’s sister suggests.

Jungkook’s mother visibly shies at the suggestion and mutters a bunch of ‘No’s to deny the request. This only urges the bride’s team to request her even more.

After much hesitation, Jungkook’s mother takes a hold of the mic. However, the moment the microphone is in her hands a look of determination spreads over her features and a switch is flipped on.

…….and then takes place the onset of a classical song.

Both the teams are equally caught off guard by the sudden change of……atmosphere.

Jungkook, who was watching from a distance, finds great amusement at the scene unfolding in front of him. People find out about his mom’s expertise in classical music in the funniest of ways.

Knowing pretty well that the classical music will go on for some time, he decides to take a little stroll around the place. Since, Jungkook’s extended family have finally arrived, tonight is supposed to be a grand celebration of the engagement.

Some ten minutes later, he finds himself in a small circle of men involving a few of Riya’s industry friends.

“Shooting has been incredibly hectic these days,” groans Vikram.

“Last day, we shot till four in the morning,” adds Chris.

“With how busy the schedule is, I am just thankful that I can attend Riya’s marriage,” Jay, a rather close friend of Riya’s , comments.

Jungkook hums and nods along, only adding words when required.

“Isn’t that Trisha?” Vikram queries, squinting his eyes to figure out if his guess is right or wrong.

“Yes, it is,” Jay confirms.

“Oh god, she is drunk. Hope she does not cause a scene.” Chris’s words have the opposite effect as at that very moment, Trisha collides with a waiter and causes the tray of mocktail he was carrying to fall on the ground.

“You can never trust Trisha and Y/N to not cause trouble.”

“Y/N?” The mention of your name takes Jungkook by surprise. Why are you getting mentioned out of nowhere? And how do Riya’s friends know you?

“You have not heard of Y/N? She is Riya’s younger sister.”

Okay, whoa, Jungkook did not see this coming.

“Y/N is Riya’s sister?” Jungkook asks, just in case he had heard things wrong.

“Yeah, they are five sisters, Seema, Kriti, Riya, Neena and Y/N.”

He is well familiar with the other four names. He has met them, talked to them and sees them quite often at family occasions. But, you? You are the fifth sister?

The noises around Jungkook fade as his mind processes this newfound information.

He did not think that his curiosity about your and Riya’s connection would be answered this way and that you would turn out to be Riya’s sister.

Jungkook has been trying his best to sleep.

His attempt, so far, has remained unsuccessful.

His mind has been going in circles about you.

It’s not like he didn’t know that Riya has four sisters. But he knew the one sister who he had never had the opportunity to meet with, as Mita. To add to that, he had never seen a single picture that you were a part of.

The name Mita is still explainable. Maybe that’s a nickname given to you by your family. But what makes Jungkook feel doubtful is your reason for absence. Common knowledge was you were abroad studying and doing research work. You were busy and never got the time to pay a visit.

But Jungkook doubts that someone going abroad would leave their home the way you did; climbing over a wall. And for some reason, he is sure that, that was the day you left because you are only back now. Had you visited before, Jungkook is sure that he would have known.

However, now your presence that day made sense to him. You were the bride’s sister.

Bride’s sister climbs over the wall and takes a cab to the airport on the day of the wedding. In no world does that sound normal.

Jungkook turns around, pulls the blanket up to his chest, stares at the wall and sighs.

This whole thinking and trying to figure out why he did not know you were Riya’s sister, any sooner is only an attempt to cover up and ignore the fact that he is worried.

But can he really be blamed? How can he not be worried?

Dropping off your fiancé’s friend to a place is one thing and dropping off your fiancé’s sister to a place totally unknown to him is one thing.

Are you eating alright? Are the services there good? Is the place clean?

Jungkook sighs again.

Fuck this.

He removes the blanket, puts on a shirt and grabs his car keys.

He needs to know for sure that the place you are staying at is good and safe. Maybe then, he will be able to sleep peacefully.

HAPPY GUEST HOUSE.

The signboard reads. Except, the ‘A’ and ‘O’ are missing and the signboard is crooked.

It isn’t just the signboard though. It is also the overall isolated aura this place has, that makes Jungkook wish he had checked the place you were staying at while dropping off.

Still, he checks the address on his phone one last time, hoping that he has got the wrong place and that you are not actually staying here. The address on his screen, however, remains unchanged, confirming that this indeed is the place.

With a sigh, he walks in through the gate. Ain’t no way he is letting you stay here any longer.

“Miss Y/N,” he gives your name to the guy at the reception, who looks barely awake.

The guy looks at Jungkook and takes out a register.

“Room 112,” the receptionist guy informs, after flipping through some pages.

Jungkook keeps standing there. However, when the receptionist just goes to sit on a chair and yawns, Jungkook loses it. “What do you mean by room 112? An unknown man is asking you for a woman’s room number and you just give it? Don’t even ask how I am related to her, don’t even care that I might just go up to her room right now. What on earth is wrong with you?”

The guy is the least bit bothered. “Do you want to meet her or not?”

Oh, fuck it. Arguing with the guy is useless.

Without another word, he climbs the flight of stairs to find room number 112. Thankfully, it hardly takes him only a minute or so to find your room.

He raises his fist and knocks on the door. However, after the very first knock, he realizes that the door is unlocked.

Gently pushing the door open, he turns on his mobile’s flashlight and calls your name. “Y/N?”

No response.

“Y/N, it is Jungkook.”

No response.

“Y/N, if you are here-“

Then he spots you. You’re sleeping on the floor, all curled up from the cold.

“Y/N?” he kneels down and gently shakes you by your arms, to wake you up. “Y/N? Please wake up.”

“Mm?” You make a small noise at the back of your throat, and slowly, very slowly open your eyes.

“Get up and pack your bags.”

You’re still not fully awake and it takes you a moment to process what he is saying. “Why?”

“You’re coming home with me.”

“Idiot, what kind of a place did you take my guest to?” At some point, Jungkook just could not take it anymore and ended up calling Stuart, to give him an earful. “Forget about good services, there is no security!”

“Sir, I am sure they let you in because you look like someone from a good family,” comes Stuart’s reply, from the other side.

Jungkook scoffs, finding so many flaws in that logic. “Do you have any idea the amount of mosquitoes that are there in this place? What if she had caught dengue?”

“Sir, don’t worry, the dengue mosquitoes don’t bite at night.”

“Oh yes, malaria is so much of a better option,” Jungkook replies sarcastically and cuts the call.

“Mosquitoes don’t bite me,” you offer in a soft voice.

“I am sorry, Y/N. Had I known this was the place, I would have never let you stay here,” Jungkook apologizes for the umpteenth time.

You offer him a small smile and shake your head. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

You both walk to his car and get in. Once inside, Jungkook offers if you’d like to listen to some music, which you politely decline.

“Did you have dinner?” He asks, wondering if he should make a pit stop on his way to a food outlet.

You reply with a small nod of your head, letting him know that there is no need for that.

As the car gets moving, you sigh and relax in the passenger seat. The roads are empty, which is to be expected considering it’s well past midnight. A result of which, is the cool breeze that hits your face, something that you admittedly find really enjoyable.

You see the roads passing by and it suddenly occurs to you that you are out in your hometown after a really long time–seven years to be exact. The roads feel the same except for the fact that they are entirely different.

The place reminds you of the days when you were younger and–

You take a deep inhale, trying to distract your thoughts from going in that direction.

In the last couple of days, you have surely been out of that little dingy place that runs under the name of a hotel but you were never out like this. Maybe that is why thoughts and feelings you have wanted to avoid and bury, are trying to say their ‘hello’s to you.

“Actually,” you begin in a soft mumble, “some music would be nice.”

“Sure,” Jungkook turns on the radio and soon a soft melody fills the air.

Thankfully, the music does serve as a sweet distraction as you refuse to focus on anything but counting the rhythmic drum beats, blocking any other thoughts and feelings in the process.

Unbeknownst to you, at some point your eyes start feeling heavy and you start dozing off. You would never admit it out loud, not even to yourself, but you hadn’t been getting good sleep the past few days. And for some reason, the car seats seem really comfortable to you.

What wakes you up after what could possibly have been ages, is a soft call of your name. You slowly open your eyes and with a blurry vision register that Jungkook is speaking to you.

“We are here,” the words reach your ears and you let out a small hum.

With steps like that of a drunk man–or mayhaps that of a toddler–you blindly follow Jungkook into the building. If someone were to ask you what floor the elevator stopped at, you wouldn’t be able to tell.

When you both enter the apartment, you hardly take your environment into consideration and speak rather loudly; “Can I have–“

A hand abruptly clamps down on your mouth and causes the rest of your words to come out muffled. The next thing you know, you are being dragged into a different room.

The sudden movements are enough to clear your drowsiness and you’re back in your full senses.

“Shhh,” Jungkook for the first time tonight, looks annoyed. “People are sleeping. You will wake them up.”

“Sorry,” you whisper, realising your mistake. “I just need a wet towel.”

Jungkook nods, about to get you what you just asked for but then pauses to look at you. “Wet towel? A dry won’t work? Just soak it in water.”

“That will work too.”

He nods again and opens a cupboard to fetch a towel. “By the way, what will you do with a wet towel?”

“Placing a wet towel on your stomach kills hunger.”

Jungkook is perplexed at your words and the annoyed frown on his face, melts into that of disbelief. “I asked you whether you had dinner or not.”

“This is the only place that is open at this time.” These are the words that Jungkook introduces the small street-side restaurant, with. “One thing I can assure you is, the food doesn’t disappoint.”

You give a small shy nod, feeling guilty for letting it slip that you indeed did not have dinner. In your defense, you really did not think it was necessary to meet the needs of your empty stomach. The other two nights, the wet towel technique worked just fine.

“I’d have survived the night you know,” you offer lightly as a joke but actually meaning it.

“I know you would have,” Jungkook offers and for some reason, the reply shuts you up.

As you both occupy the seats of a two-seater table, you realise that the entire place is empty except for a young couple occupying one of the corner seats.

“Butter chicken and chicken chow mein are the only two food items available at this time,” the waiter informs, looking like he is ready to retire for the day.

“Two half chicken chow mein,” you decide.

“I won’t eat—,” Jungkook is cut off by your feet harshly slamming on his, under the table.

“Two half chow mein,” you confirm. Once the waiter is gone you lean forward and whisper, “Two halves are always more than one full.”

Jungkook’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and he nods in understanding, admittedly impressed by your little tips and tricks.

The time it takes for you to finish the two half plates of chowmein is embarrassingly short. It briefly makes Jungkook wonder whether you had anything to eat yesterday—as a matter of fact, the day before yesterday—but he decides not to dwell on it. He makes peace with the fact that you will go to bed today with a full stomach.

Once you’re done, you release a sigh, almost having forgotten to breathe in the process. Sometimes, you don’t realise how hungry you actually were unless you have filled your stomach to the brim.

“Thank you.” You speak, genuinely grateful for everything that Jungkook has done for you.

“You’re welcome,” he replies. “Next time, just be honest if you’re hungry.”

The words cause you to let out a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once the bills are paid, and you have had your fair share of collecting the sugar coated fennel seeds in a napkin, the both of you find yourselves back inside the car for a third time tonight.

This time, there is no music and you don’t feel a need for a distraction either.

Your mind is rather occupied with the events of today and what it means for your tomorrow.

You didn’t think things would take a turn like this but admittedly it makes it easier for you to accomplish what you came for. The only thing you perhaps feel guilty for, is causing Jungkook trouble. Heck, you are not even sure whether Riya knows that Jungkook has offered for you to stay in his place.

Actually, you know. There’s no way Riya knows about it. Had she known, you wouldn’t have been sitting here.

The thought makes you briefly look at Jungkook and you suddenly find yourself feeling sorry for all the trouble you’re undoubtedly going to cause between him and Riya. But more than the guilt, you feel grateful for his kindness.

Jungkook seems to have a very genuine, welcoming aura. Despite everything he has done for you, you have not felt as if he is doing a favour on you. He seems like the kind of person who would tell you on your face, if he was annoyed or if you were being too much. That saves you from the guessing game.

Maybe if you were not in so much of a rush to leave, you and Jungkook would have made good friends.

When you leave, you should probably leave a thank you gift for him, as a token of your appreciation.

Your train of thought is broken by the sound of a hiccup.

“I am–,” a hiccup, “–sorry.” Jungkook apologises, feeling a little shy.

“It’s okay.” You make a mental note to offer him a bottle of water at the next signal.

However, after the fifth hiccup, a soft mumble of the word Riya reaches your ears and you soon realise it is repetitive in between each hiccup.

“What are you doing?” You ask, confused.

Jungkook glances at you from the corner of his eyes. “It is said you get hiccups when someone is thinking of you and who else could be thinking of me, but Riya? So, I am taking her name in hopes that the hiccups go away.”

“In that case you should definitely take my name,” you suggest. “From the moment that I have sat in the car, I have been thinking of you.”

Jungkook looks at you once again, momentarily caught off guard by your honesty but then decides to take up on your suggestion.

“Y/N.”

Hiccup.

“Y/N.”

Hiccup.

“Y/N.”

Hiccup.

You tsk and shake your head. “You see, a hiccup is essentially an involuntary spasm of the diaphragm which causes sudden closure of the epiglottis which creates the ‘hic’ sound.”

“And the remedy for that is to just let it be, but if it lasts too long, take medicines like maloperidol, nanoclopramide and florpromazine, which isn’t in the car–” your chew on your nails briefly, recalling other solutions, “–there is another way....it is called the swimmer’s remedy.”

You press the tip of your little fingers against your nostrils, blocking the free passage of air. Simultaneously, you widen your eyes, stick out your tongue and exhale loudly.

“But you can’t do that either, because you’re driving,” you murmur, more so to yourself.

Well, minus the hand placement and the tongue, Jungkook’s eyes are fairly as wide as yours were.

“And the third way is–”, you sneak a glance at Jungkook to ensure that his eyes are focused on the road. Out of nowhere, your hands take a hold of the steering and you swiftly turn it in the other direction causing the car to take a sudden turn.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? ARE YOU INSANE?!”

You release your grip and look at him, mildly apologetic. “The third method is shock.”

Jungkook looks confused, the suddenness of your movements still having its effect on him. However, after a few moments of silence, Jungkook puts a hand on his stomach and realizes that the hiccups are indeed gone!

The realisation causes him to chuckle. “Are you a doctor?”

“Nope,” you reply, shaking your head, glad that you could be of help. A few beats later, you speak again. “By the way, do you remember we met seven years ago? T20 cricket?”

The turn of Jungkook’s head towards you is a slow one and he wonders if you really did say that.

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