#wedding celebration to go to next weekend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whocaresstillthelouvre · 4 months ago

Text

Wonderwall

Rating: Teen Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 4,550 Summary: Your ex boyfriend Simon is marrying Sabrina, the woman he left you for. You were sure you'd have have a date in time for his wedding... too bad you were wrong. Once again. your best friend Maria has to save the day by letting you use her handsome, single brother-in-law that owes her a favor as your date. Warnings: fluff, idk what's going on with me but there's so much fluff, soft joel, fake wedding date, rom com vibes, crying over a broken vibrator, no outbreak, maria and tommy are married, sarah and kevin live, british ex boyfriend, reader and joel are close in age (reader is 36, joel is 40), alcohol, i know the gif is marcus pike but i can't stop seeing young joel in this gif, anyways here's wonderwall, no use of y/n, not beta read

A/N: This was written for @justagalwhowrites' Joel Miller Birthday Celebration. Thank you to the always wonderful @ohheypedrito for suggesting the fake dating trope when I asked her what to write.

Masterlist

Fizzy mimosas, fluffy pancakes, crispy hash browns, and sweet maple syrup. Brunch on Sundays with Maria has been a long standing tradition for the two of you. Fifteen years of friendship kept stronger by always promising to make time for each other no matter what is going on in your lives.

These days, Maria’s raising a toddler while building a very successful career in the Austin district attorney's office whereas last night you cried over your vibrator dying while trying to pull an orgasm out of you for an endorphin rush. God knows you need one.

You’ve been in a hole since the arrival of Simon’s wedding invitation. The man you spent your most youthful and fulfilling years with is now marrying Sabrina, the beautiful co-worker he crashed your relationship for. Yeah, yeah, your twenty year partnership was already headed for the cliff, but her perky tits and pouty lips sure did speed up the demise.

“So, Simon’s wedding is next weekend, how do you feel?” Maria interrogates from across the table.

“Fine!” you stuff a pancake triangle into your mouth. “It’s fine! I’m fine!”

“Mm,” she lifts a skeptical eyebrow. Why do you lie to her? She makes three figures locking away liars, she can spot them a mile away. “Let me guess, you still don’t have a date?”

“Ugh, no, why did I mark two on the RSVP?”

“I told you not to,” Maria shakes her head

“Yeah, but, I-I want to show him I’m doing great without him.”

“Babe,” Maria grabs your hand and squeezes it, “I say this with all the love in my heart… you’re not doing great.”

“I knoooow!” you sigh, closing your eyes. “I just thought… I’d show up in my pretty dress with a hot man on my arm and show Simon I’m happy and fulfilled without his love.”

“But you don’t ha–”

“Please, I know. I just– I’m happy for him in some really odd way but I also want to be… happy for myself.”

“Okay,” she nods before taking a deep breath, “here’s what I’m going to do for you. You know Joel?”

“Your… brother-in-law?”

“Yes, he owes me a favor, soooo, he’s going to be your date,” she sits back folding her arms across her chest with a smug smirk. “He’s handsome as hell and a good man but he’s very quiet and intimidating to those who don’t know him. He’s perfect for this situation.”

You do know Joel… just not very well at all. There have been random run-ins at Miller family parties, but nothing more than a quick “hello” and “how are you?” exchanged between the two of you. He seems the opposite of your Dartmouth educated, polo playing yuppie of an ex. “Yoo hoo,” Maria waves her hand in front of your face catching your attention. “Does that work for you?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah, I think… it does,” a relieved smile lifts your face.

Maria has, once again, fixed your problem.

—-

RING… RING… RING…

Your fingers nervously tap against the countertop. “Come on, pick uuup, pick uuuup, pick uuu–”

“Miller,” a deep voice answers.

“H-Hi, uh, Joel?” You feel a third your age, like you’re right back in middle school calling the cute boy in your science class because your friend dared you.

“Speaking.”

“Hey, uh, you’re my wedding date? Maria… she gave me your number so we can plan?”

“Oh, yes,” his voice softens. “Saturday, right?”

“Yeah, uh… I think it might be good to go over a story for us before the big day.”

“Right,” he chuckles, “I’m all ears.”

—-

Your eyes roam down your notes from the call. “So, we formally met at Kevin’s graduation party. I call you ‘honey’, our first date was to a movie and then to pizza. We’ve been together for a little over a year. You hate sushi and love tamales. You don’t like water slides. You play the guitar. You have a daughter named Sarah who’s a senior in high school. You own a construction company with Tommy… I think that’s about right?”

"Believe so," the bass of his quiet voice causes goosebumps to pebble your skin. If he's doing this to you over the phone, what will the wedding be like?

"Okay," you settle against your sofa, "and for me?"

Papers shuffle before Joel clears his throat. “Hm, okay. I asked Tommy for your number after Kevin’s graduation party. You work at an insurance company, but you dream of owning your own bookstore one day. You love mashed potatoes. I call you 'baby.' Your favorite color is bronze. You’re a night owl forced to be an early bird. You love Taylor Swift unapologetically. You like staying over at my home because your favorite coffee place delivers to my house.”

“Perfect. I know this is totally weird and all, but, thanks for doing this. Sometimes I allow my pride to sabotage me... and Maria has to come in and save me.”

“She’s good at that.”

“Thanks again Joel.”

“You’re welcome,” his voice feels you with warmth. “I’ll pick you up on Saturday.”

“Yes, Saturday. Until then, have a good week.”

“You too.”

After saying goodbye, you hang up with a plume of butterflies in your stomach.

—

“Okay! Get ready!” you shout from behind your bathroom door.

Your Sunday brunch date with Maria has been moved up to a Saturday afternoon primping and preening spree in your home as she helps you get ready to watch the once love of your life marry someone else.

You step out of the bathroom to find Maria sitting cross-legged on your bed. As soon as she sees you, she leans forward with wide eyes.

"Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with awe. "I mean, seriously, wow."

"Really?" you ask, giving a twirl in your mauve dress, adorned with a delicate print of sequined flowers blooming across the bodice.

“Really,” her eyebrow angles as she nods, “I can’t wait for Miller to have to deal with keeping his cool around you.”

“What?”

Maria just smiles, “Let’s just say, you look hot, that’s all I’m going to say.”

___

A shiny black truck pulls into your driveway. Panic jolts through you as you watch the door swing open from your front window. Out steps Joel Miller, impeccably dressed in a black suit. Oh good lord–he’s your date. Like, date date, as in the guy you’re going to be spending the rest of the night with. The anxiety over Simon and Sabrina’s wedding fades into the background, replaced by the overwhelming challenge of maintaining your composure in the presence of someone who looks that stunning in a tuxedo.

The doorbell rings.

Okay, okay, you got this.

A gust of pleasant autumn air hits your skin when you open the door. Oh good LORD, he looks incredible. His hair is longer than you remember, falling in gentle waves you dream of running your fingers through. His beard is neatly trimmed, though slightly patchy with a strong mustache that frames his plush lips. He has a shy smile, his dimple makes a divot you want to press your finger into. His simple black suit stretches around his obviously toned and broad shoulders.

“Hi, it’s uh, nice to see you again. Come on in,” you say, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

“Course,” he replies, striding in past you. His hand twitches nervously when he turns and takes how you look fully in. “You look– y’look beautiful.”

A flush of warmth spreads through you at the compliment from the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, now standing in the middle of your living room.

“Oh, thanks, uh, it’s not every day your ex boyfriend of twenty years gets married to the woman he left you for… so I guess I needed to show off.”

“It’s–yeah–good,” he stammers, his eyes darting around the room, clearly avoiding your gaze.

“Well, uh, I just need to slip on my shoes and grab my bag, then we can get going. Make yourself at home.”

“Sure thing.”

As you head down the hall to get your things, you hear him let out a long sigh.

Don’t worry dude, I get it. It’s going to be a long night.

“So, um, I know, this is awkward,” you say, returning to the living room and dropping your shoes on the floor, “but I’m really grateful to you.”

He chuckles, sitting on the edge of your couch. “S’alright. I can’t say no to a free meal and open bar.”

“If I still know Simon’s taste, it’ll be a top-notch open bar too,” you muse, slipping into your high heel and bending over to fasten the buckle.

You glance up when you hear Joel’s breath catch. He’s staring intently at you–more specifically, at your exposed leg and thigh, courtesy of the high slit in your dress.

You really had to pick the dress that Maria dubbed “the revenge dress,” didn’t you? He clears his throat and quickly averts his gaze, but the charged atmosphere lingers. You try to ignore it, buckle your other shoe and grab your clutch.

“Ready?” you ask.

“I am," he replies, standing up and adjusting his neck tie, a hint of color warms his cheeks. .

—-

Joel’s truck looks quite out of place pulling into the Hurts Family’s grand estate. Of course Simon’s getting married at Father & Mother’s sprawling manor. You can’t help but wonder if the altar and ceremony will be located in the same conservatory you and Simon lost your virginity to each other in.

The whole drive over, you and Joel practiced your spiels, all the while you tried to ignore the waves of attraction that vibrated between you and him in the small cab of his truck.

He pulls up to the valet and reluctantly hands his keys over to the college aged kid before hurrying over to your door, cutting in front of the doorman to help you down. What a gentleman.

Soft violin music floats through the air and white flower petals line the walkway leading into the massive estate that once felt like your second home. A nagging thought lingers in the back of your mind that you’re about to live what should’ve been your wedding day.

You breathe out deeply, Joel grabs your hand as he guides you into the house.

People mingle, some you don’t know, many you do. Aunt Billie, Uncle Martin, the cousins from Manchester, Simon’s favorite professor. Familiar faces surround you, what the hell were you thinking this would be okay?

You’ve known this home since you were twelve, Simon showed up in your seventh grade algebra class, a new student with bright blue eyes and blonde hair, you thought he was the prettiest boy you had ever seen, even before he spoke… the British accent would’ve been enough to sweep you off your feet. It took a couple years of friendship before you both admitted your crushes on each other, the confessions happened in the movie room, just down the hallway you stand near.

Love is fleeting, love is hopeless. You’ve learned to care for yourself like Simon once cared for you, but now in this home you used to sneak into, you feel just as alone as you did the day you moved out of the house you shared with him for a decade just two streets down from here.

“Hey, you okay?” Joel leans in and whispers. “Squeezin’ my hand mighty hard.”

“Oh,” you blink, refocusing on him, “I am, it’s just… really bizarre and everything. Seeing so many familiar people I haven't seen in years feels strange.”

“You’re doing good, I got you,” he says, letting go of your hand, and wrapping his arm around your waist, guiding you farther into the mansion.

___

The impressive altar stands in the conservatory–you know your ex well– this windowed dwelling means everything to him. Everywhere you look, peach and champagne flowers are nestled among lush green foliage. You and Joel settle eight rows back on the groom's side, just a few feet from the bench you lost your virginity on. Jamie, Simon’s friend from college, sends you a kind smile when you sit next to him.

Your foot taps nervously against the stone tile, keeping rhythm with the soft string music lilting through the air. You take a deep breath to center yourself as the processional begins. The family minister you’ve known since you were fifteen leads the way then–Simon. Still just as handsome, in that specific pretty way that drew you to him as a teenager. The slight waves of his dark blonde hair are more controlled and slicked back. His slender body is topped by wide shoulders from all his years of playing polo. His equally handsome brother Liam follows, along with a handful of friends you used to consider your own.

Joel’s arm wraps around you as Simon takes his place at the altar, his fingers resting firmly on your bare shoulder just in time for the bridal procession to begin. Everybody takes their rightful places waiting for the bride. Simon stands at the altar, laser focused on the doorway, oddly, you feel a sense of happiness for him. Maybe you feel less lonely with the comfort of Joel’s strong arm around you, maybe you’re just caught up in the emotions of the day.

As you expected, Lia and Ewan, Simon’s niece and nephew, are the ring bearer and flower girl. You were at the hospital when both of them were born. You taught both of them how to swim. They used to call you their aunt.

The small orchestra begins playing “The Wedding March,” the audience stands in anticipation of Sabrina’s entrance. The curtains part and she appears shimmering down the aisle in her ivory dress. Okay, you have to admit, she looks gorgeous. Joel pulls you closer, his hand rests against your hip as Sabrina and her father pass your row. You’re grateful for his presence, even if it’s just a comforting distraction that just happens to be pretend.

The look on Simon’s face is unmistakable when he takes Sabrina’s hand–it’s the same look he would give you whenever he told you loved you all those thousands upon thousands of times.

You take your seat, Joel’s hand finds your shoulder once more. It’s going to be damn hard to concentrate on the ceremony.

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today.

—

You survive the ceremony… thanks to Joel and his calloused hand rubbing circles on your shoulder. As Simon and Sabrina lead the recessional out of the conservatory, Simon spots you and sends you a knowing wink and smile when he spots Joel next to you. Maybe it’s a good thing you attended, it’s the final picket placed in the closure fence.

“You good?” Joel whispers in your ear while watching the rest of the party leave. You turn to respond, failing to realize his face is now right next to yours. His lips now sit a breath away from yours. Panic slips in, overwhelmed by the thought of anyone catching an awkward moment like this, especially since you’re the ex girlfriend the groom left for his brand new bride.

Fuck it. You lean forward and place your lips against his, leaving a delicate peck against them. At least now you’ll have this moment that’s just for you.

—

The warm autumn sun is beginning to set casting the preened and pristine gardens of the Hurts Estate in amber tones. Thank god for the cocktail hour and open bar.

You sip your champagne and smile at a few familiar faces while gazing out upon the vast lawns you used to spend lazy days sunbathing and playing croquet on. What a bizarre homecoming of sorts. Joel is taking his role seriously, constantly checking on you and never leaving your side.

A familiar voice calls your name, pulling you from your reverie.

“Oh sweetheart! It’s so lovely to see you!” Simon’s mother, Adeline, greets you with kisses on both cheeks before pulling you into a warm hug. You’ve always liked the woman and she always adored you. She turns to your date, her eyes lighting up when she looks Joel up and down.

“Addy, this is my boyfriend Joel.” A rush of excitement is sent through you at the simple introduction. “Joel, this is Simon’s mom, Adeline.”

“Good evening ma’am,” Joel says, extending his hand to shake hers gently. “It’s quite beautiful here.”

“Oh, thank you! Aside from our two boys, this is our pride and joy. There’s nothing better than seeing your child get married in the place you call home.” .

“Well, I’ve heard a lot of nice things about this place, you have a lot of good memories here, right baby?” Joel looks at you with an affectionate smile. Oh he’s good.

“I do,” you smile warmly at Addy.

“Oh sweetheart! That makes me so happy! You’re always welcome here, I’m so happy Simon invited you!”

“I am too, it’s so nice to see you,” you say, realizing how much you truly miss her. You spent twenty years of your life around so many of these people before being cut off cold turkey from them.

“Shoot! I better keep moving and making my rounds! Do enjoy the bar, and make sure tell them Addy sent you; they’ll give you the real good stuff. Joel, are you a whiskey man?”

“Yes ma’am,” Joel replies with a nod.

“We’ve got some Old Rip Van Winkle, aged 25 years. Just tell them Adeline insists and they’ll pour you a glass.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Joel says gratefully.

“Oh, I like him darling!” Addy winks before turning to leave, her gold dress gleaming just as bright as her personality.

—

The large tent erected for the ceremony glows in pink and orange hues. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling overflowing with roses and garlands. It’s gorgeous and opulent everywhere you look.

You’ve been nervous about your table assignment since you sent in your RSVP. Who will you be stuck with? You prayed it would be strangers versus people you used to call friends. You thank your lucky stars when you’re led to table eleven, where you’re greeted warmly by strangers. You tell your new tablemates you’re an old friend of Simon’s, Joel grabs your hand and gently holds it while you introduce yourselves, shocked you still haven’t had to utilize the stories you and him invented.

Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Simon Hurts!

The two lovebirds make their grand entrance, glowing and grinning in their newlywed aura before the symphonic melody of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” begins to play. Hilarious, the last time you heard this song it was on a playlist Sabrina had made for Simon… a couple weeks before your ultimate separation. You got into a fight over the amount of times he’d play it, he told you were overreacting and being dramatic, you should’ve trusted your instincts right then and there.

They look so happy and gorgeous together, dancing their first dance surrounded by all of their loved ones inside this picturesque setting. It should’ve been you…

Joel leans in closer, wrapping his arm around you, stealing your attention from your spiraling thoughts. “I can’t play this song on violin or cello, but I can play it on guitar, maybe I can play it for you sometime.”

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his, “I–I’d like that.”

“Thought you would,” he smirks, before leaning down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

He’s been touching you all night, always considerate and tender, as if he holds an actual amount of reverence in his heart for you. God, he’s either the sweetest man to ever live, or he should give up the construction job, move to Hollywood and start acting.

—

Simon and Sabrina make their rounds after dinner, they’re a table away laughing and galavanting with friends you used to call your own. It’s been over a year since you last spoke to him and now as the ultimate final thing you’ve been dreading is near, you’re nervous as hell. Joel casually drapes his arm around the back of your chair before leaning forward and pressing his lips to the top of your head, helping subside some of your anxieties.

“You good?” he checks in with a soft whisper.

You nod, scooting closer into the shell he’s created for you with his large body.

Simon catches your eye with a warm, gentle smile as he leads Sabrina over to your table. You can’t be too mad at him, he’s been nothing but a gentleman since he forced the end of your already faltering relationship. Sabrina, well–she was just a better match for him. You wish them well, no matter how much it still seemingly hurts. You just want Simon to miss you a little bit.

The newlyweds greet the rest of the table, collecting well-wishes and flattery from the guests before turning their attention to you and Joel.

Simon bends forward and gives you a tight hug before thanking you and saying how lovely it is to see you. Sabrina says hello, you tell her she looks beautiful, she returns the favor.

Simon extends his hand to Joel and introduces himself. “I’m Simon, I’m sure you’ve heard a bit about me–hopefully some good,” he says, his ever present British charm helps cut through the tension radiating off of Joel’s gruff reservedness.

“She has,” Joel replies, shaking Simon’s hand. “I’m Joel. Nice to meet you both. Congrats. S’been a lovely wedding.”

The four of you make casual conversation. Joel mentions he’s a contractor, Simon’s eyes light up before he mentions how he wants to build a pool house. Your heart twinges a bit when you remember it’s all for pretend and there’s no way Joel could take the job. Joel makes a joke about how dinner was better than a No. 5 from Whataburger, eliciting a ruckus laugh from the newlyweds. You feel good, until the sinking feeling inside rears its ugly head and reminds you this is all a sham.

Sabrina nods to Simon in an unspoken understanding that they need to move on with their greetings. Joel wishes them well and thanks them for the lovely party. You smile and do the same.

“It’s good to see you happy,” Simon says as he gives you a parting hug.

If only he knew…

You’re quiet as you watch Simon and Sabrina walk away, Simon’s hand is placed on Sabrina’s back lightly stroking up and down. Joel softly says your name, breaking your concentration on the happy married couple.

“I like this song, let’s dance,” he says, rising and extending his hand to you.

“Wonderwall?” you ask, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor. “Let me guess, you can play it on guitar.”

“I do,” he confirms with a smile, pulling you close against his body. His large hand splays against your lower back, and yours finds its place on his firm shoulder. The wedding band has slowed the song down, couples gently sway around you. The twinkling lights above reflect in Joel’s dark brown eyes. You can’t stop looking at him, he can’t stop looking at you. The moment is intimate, to any other wedding guest, you look like a couple just as in love as the newlyweds.

You rest your head against his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne–woodsy, smoky, with a hint of cinnamon. His thumb strokes against the skin of your hand as your bodies synchronistically move together. This doesn't feel like pretending at all.

The song ends, Joel makes no move to pull away, and you don’t either. The first notes of the next song begin and you recognize the drumbeat anywhere. You can’t believe you’re hearing it here, of all places.

“We can leave the Christmas lights up till January…”

“Ohh,” you let out a soft sigh against Joel’s chest, feeling your heart drop. “This was going to be our first dance song, I-I told him it as soon as I first heard it all those years ago.”

Joel tilts his head down, his concerned brown eyes peer into yours. “M’sorry, did you want to stop?”

“No, no, it’s–I can’t leave the floor during this. What if he sees me?”

Joel nods reassuringly before tightening his hold on you and pulling your joined hands in closer. His head rests on top of yours engulfing you with his broad body, like your own personal fake wedding date security blanket.

Your heartbreak slowly dissipates, mended by the gentle touch and attention of Joel. The song ends, he asks if you want to get a breath of fresh air, you gratefully nod before taking his hand and telling him you know a place.

—

The breeze rolling off the lake sends a chill across your skin, Joel takes notice, quickly removing his jacket and places it over your shoulders without hesitation.

“Thanks,” you say, sinking into the leftover warmth of Joel.

“No problem,” he says, shuffling his neck tie open and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt. “I’m burnin’ up under it.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence as you watch the tranquil waves lap at the shore. “Sorry about earlier. It was just… a shock to hear that song. He moved on so quickly and I feel like I’ve just been left wondering how I can so easily be… replaced.”

“No need to apologize,” he sighs, “I’m not good at any of this stuff, but, you don’t seem like someone that’s so… easy to get over.”

Your heart skips a beat when you look over at him. The soft ambient glow of the full moon reflecting off the water bathes him in an almost ethereal glow, making him look like a knight in shining armor who walked through a portal to help save you from your own wounded heart you’ve been trying to heal for the past two years.

“Guess you just don’t know me very well then,” you joke, trying to slow down the thoughts racing within your heart and mind.

“No, but I think I’d like to,” he says, turning to you with a sincere look in his eyes.

“I-I’d like that too.”

Joel hesitates for a moment before asking, “There’s a new Curtis & Viper movie releasing next week. Did you want to go with me?”

“Like a real date?” you ask, your voice tinged with excitement.

“Suppose it would be. We could recreate our ‘first’ date that we told that one aunt of Simon’s all about. We’ll get pizza at the place across the street.”

“I’d love that,” you say, your excitement clear in your voice.

From across the yard, you can just make out the sound of the band playing for the wedding guests.

Joel takes a deep breath and turns to you with a warm, playful smile. “I feel better asking you here so you know I’m being for real. I really want to dance with you. May I have this dance?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you reply, a smile spreading across your face as he pulls you closer.

You remind yourself to send Maria a bouquet of flowers for setting up your fake wedding date as you settle into his embrace.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #tlou joel #no outbreak!joel miller

371 notes · View notes

artytaeh · 6 months ago

Note

honeymoon!Mattheo? Also I'm so obsessed with your pages aesthetic, especially since I've been on this app for like 3 years and just changed my profile picture... anyways adore you and your writing <3

this is so sweet! i melt everytime i reread this rq, i swear. tysm for reading my posts and accompanying my writing, also for requesting 🌷 honeymoon!theo was a silly shower thought— i didn't plan to do a version of it. however, since you're asking, i just can't say no; so i hope that you like it, love! ♡

warnings: includes smut, so obviously it's advised for +18 readers; read at your own risk. brief mentions of trauma from being the son of bellatrix lestrange + the dark lord.

honeymoon!mattheo who felt like these next two weeks outside england, just the two of you, were like a blessing after your wedding day— don't get me wrong, mattheo riddle feels like the luckiest motherfucker to have been the one to marry you, the man who put that ring on your finger and to see you walking down the aisle to him. even so, fucking hell, how can a celebration for your marriage be so, so exhausting for the two of you? mattheo himself begged you to take off those heels; it was paining him to see you in them after so many hours, really!

honeymoon!mattheo who was ecstatic at the idea of going out of the country with you, of all people. sure, he's been out of england: he studied at hogwarts, which is in scotland; italy too, courtesy of theodore's invitations to spend a few weeks or most of the summer break at his family's estate; that one time that draco bragged about his wealth and took all of his friends to spend weekends or some days somewhere through europe. but travelling with you? that's different. this isn't a vacation with the boys; he's on his way to enjoy two paradisical weeks with the love of his life— just. the. two. of you.

honeymoon!mattheo who planned these vacations with you — where do you wanna go? how long would you like to stay? would you rather somewhere to rest and do nothing, or travelling around? truthfully, mattheo had his own preferences; as fun as it is to explore new places and unraveling different cultures, mattheo was a bit (a lot more) into seeing you in bikini most of the day. visiting a city or some nearby mexican tourist attraction is totally fine by him; a few were chosen by the two of you during a rainy day, cuddling on the sofa as you and him daydream about the sound of waves, sunny days and heat tanning your skins. with a laptop in front of you, mattheo checklists and makes notes of whatever was decided that day.

honeymoon!mattheo who jumps straight to the bed as soon as you arrive to the hotel's bedroom. soon, strong arms pull you close to him; mattheo spends some minutes like this with you, cuddling and feeling you close, nevermind how warm it is in mexico during this time of the year, not giving a flying fuck if you two are sweaty. mattheo riddle needs to rest after so many bloody hours inside a plane, and dealing with the airport's burocracy. fuck, there's a fucking spell for everything in the wizarding world, how come no one found a better way to travel between two continents already?!

honeymoon!mattheo who has his arm around your waist at all times. walking together? mattheo is there, hugging your waist, matching his usual long strides to your calmer pace, making sure that you're the one leading the speed of your walk. taking a stroll on a nearby city or exploring the streets? mattheo riddle won't unwrap his arm from your waist, fingers gently tracing the curve of your side, as you two comment about the beautiful streets you walk by and how good all of these restaurants smell. and, well, if his arm becomes bothersome because of the heat, mattheo is happy to hold your hand— as soon as it becomes sweaty, mattheo himself moves to your other side, to take your other hand in his, nevermind if he has to repeat this ritual every five minutes.

honeymoon!mattheo who drags you to play on the beach with him! this man will proudly buy a kid's kit for himself: a set with beach toys, including a bucket, shovels and other stuff to build castles on the damp sand. obviously, the set is green, if there's that color option— hey, all of those years as a slytherin, wearing a green tie on a daily basis, got him a little attached to the color, alright?!

honeymoon!mattheo who looks like a man preparing himself to go to war, as you patiently massage the sunscreen on his face, warm shoulders and back, along with the rest of his body; you don't trust your husband to apply the sunscreen correctly, since mattheo is all too impatient to go have fun. he does the same to you, of course; pulling you to his lap, big hands making sure that your smooth thighs are protected by the sunscreen— maybe a little too much, since you grow suspicious that mattheo caresses your thighs for a moment longer than necessary. hey, he's a man in love; can't a husband appreciate his wife's beautiful body?!

honeymoon!mattheo who lowkey tries to learn how to speak spanish, or at least simple phrases; thank you, hello, please, and perhaps being a little more observant to catch a curse word or two. god forbid mattheo catches on how to compliment you— now, each time you show your outfit, smile or do something as simple as existing near mattheo riddle, he grins and dramatically pronounces: 'guapissima! bonita, muy bonita.' — sneaking a squeeze on your bottom, pressing your body closer to his. you'd be at least a little annoyed, if mattheo's bambi eyes weren't so full of love for you. you know he means every single praise that rolls out of his mouth.

honeymoon!mattheo who sleeps a little more peacefully now, in mexico, far away from london and the looming notion of his ancestry. here, a continent away from his lunatic of a mother, oceans away from the knowledge of being the dark lord's son, mattheo riddle relaxes. you're married now; away from the chaos. during your wedding day, mattheo was terrified that something would tarnish this happiness with you. being physically away from all of that, on a country where no one blinks an eye at the surname riddle, mattheo is able to relax and let go of the overthinking habit he created since childhood. mattheo riddle isn't a cursed child anymore— at least not here with you.

honeymoon!mattheo who buys a lot of souvenirs. at least for theodore, he gets something that he knows that his best friend would find funny too; perhaps one or two things for his slytherin friends. then a lot of bracelets, or whatever the fuck you happen to stare for a few seconds. sundresses become part of your wardrobe, too, since mattheo argues that is sinful to not have you wearing such flattering clothes, choosing colors that you like the most, and compliment you the best.

🗯️ : matt, this is the third dress you're about to buy for me. i already have enough!

m : nonsense. you don't have any on this color, do you? besides, it's fancy to say 'hey, see this dress? my husband got it for me from mexico'; i'm helping you to brag, woman!

honeymoon!mattheo who hugs you from behind in the pool, trailing kisses from your left shoulder, cheek, neck, shoulder blades, until he does the same to the other side. he's not even attempting to convince you to lustful things— mattheo is just so in love with you. should an older couple or bitter tourists side-eye any of you, mattheo will kiss your cheek for a moment longer, staring menacingly to whoever is nosy enough to notice him and his wife. mattheo riddle, as always, doesn't even have to open his mouth; his serious expression and dark eyes being enough of a warning. as soon as they avert their gaze, mattheo goes back to the task at hand: kissing every inch of you with that silly little smile of his.

honeymoon!mattheo who takes full advantage of the jacuzzi on your bedroom. you should have expected it, as soon as dark eyes shine with mischief, a wolfish grin on his lips as mattheo riddle inevitably plans ahead— hours later, you'll find out exactly what was going through that devilish mind of his.

honeymoon!mattheo who is safe to say that fully enjoyed the warm water at night— calloused hands placed on your hips, thumbs brushing soothing circles on your hipbones as mattheo takes in the sight of you, naked on top of him, guiding your movements as you bounce on his length. mattheo fights the urge to tilt his head back and close his eyes, wanting to drown himself in the sensation of you so tight, so warm and wet around him— but then, he'd lose the bewitching vision of you, so mattheo bites his lip while his hands move lower and lower, greedily squeezing your bottom, hands full of the smooth, soft skin. mattheo watches you so intensely, that you're almost shy under his gaze; his strong arms embrace you so close to him, lips bruising the skin of your neck, collarbone, chest (and for a moment, you wonder if wearing a bikini would be safe tomorrow, giving each reddening, becoming purple hickey left on you) as he whispers against your wet skin. 'so pretty— such a good girl for me, aren't you? riding your husband so, so well. so wet and tight for me, huh? moan for me, baby. let me hear all of your pretty moans, hm?'

honeymoon!mattheo who is so gentle with you afterwards. without even having to ask, mattheo carried you back to the bedroom, patting your body with gentle movements so that the towel absorbs the water from your body, cooing at you. despite your tired demeanor, sore legs recovering on the comfortable mattress— mattheo riddle is all too energetic and blissfully satisfied, massaging your smooth skin with a body cream of yours; and trust me, it takes everything within him to not tease you, holding back any 'fun' comments about you after three rounds that got you absolutely wrecked.

honeymoon!mattheo who dedicated a part of these few days to read one of your favorite books. you see, mattheo riddle isn't really one to take reading as a hobby; at most, mattheo would have fun spending the afternoon at some bookstores to read bd, mainly about superheroes, or the ones that blaise brought from school breaks to lend to him. apart from that, mattheo's hobbies mostly revolve around drawing or listening to music— but he's making an effort for you, alright?! he is! look, he read five pages today, while you were tanning!

honeymoon!mattheo who brought a camera with him for the sole purpose to have photos with you during these weeks; as much as he adores all of your wedding photos, either with you, his best friends and other guests— this honeymoon with you must have physical evidence, not wanting to depend on his memory alone. mattheo plans to show most of them (*cough* the appropriate ones) to your children, if you ever have kids together, that is. the camera and him are present at the same place, at all times; like symbiosis, mattheo has the camera by his side to never lose the opportunity of a good photo of you.

photos of you while you're sleeping, dressing up or changing clothes, while you're relaxing on a chair near the pool to tan, swimming, at night with a flower tucked on your hair— one that mattheo picked up for you and fixed behind your ear. mattheo riddle will come back home with enough photos to decorate a wall. there's photos of you two together, too; silly selfies with you, some of them while you're sleeping by his side or on his chest, others blissfully taken by other tourists who offered such a favor. mattheo loves every single one of them.

honeymoon!mattheo who discovered that breakfast could be delivered in bedroom, four days after waking up a little earlier to shower, dress up and go downstairs to have the first meal of the day. ever since mattheo discovered such a wonder, never again— fuck that. he's having breakfast on the bed with you, requesting the staff to put an extra portion of your favorite fruits, which he'd then feed to you while the two of you are lazying on the bed after a shower, talking about whatever.

honeymoon!mattheo who suddenly doesn't hate that much anymore. at hogwarts, first years were a headache; little tiny humans that mattheo had to be careful to not bump against, or else they'd fall to the floor and god forbid professor mcgonagall saw it, should anyone accuse him of bullying. first years were also troublesome at the bloody hogwarts' train, running around like hipper active insects— however, this one little boy that came running up to you, giving you a flower? mattheo riddle couldn't help but smile, a smug grin on his lips as he crouches down:

m : hey, little dude— this beautiful woman is taken. hasn't your mother told you that flirting with a married woman is wrong? the husband might get you in trouble, you know.

honeymoon!mattheo who would complain a little less about the kids running around or simply existing around the hotel. there was this one little girl he saw at the pool, while you were getting drinks; curly hair, soft cheeks that remind him of your beautiful face— mattheo riddle is a weak man, and ever since then... baby fever. suddenly, the idea of a tiny human that is the perfect mixture of you and him, doesn't sound so scary anymore. i mean, if you and him ever had a baby, it'd be the most beautiful kid to exist; mattheo reasons that not having such a blessed child would be illegal, a heartbreaking loss to this world! (correction: a small sized demon that inherits mattheo riddle's troublemaker nature, and your charm that'll get them out of trouble ever. single. time.)

honeymoon!mattheo who tries at least once every single drink and cocktail at the bar. and more than that, makes you try them with him, which becomes a game of creating a tier list of the whole menu. mattheo will get you the colorful ones, being aware of your taste— and should you dislike alcoholic drinks, well, mattheo is a man that is unknowingly considerate, making sure to taste the drink first (so that he's sure that it tastes good, according to your preferences, of course), before giving it to you. lowkey, mattheo riddle who becomes a bit obsessed with those drinks straight from the coconuts— he might have like, seven photos of that, some of them being selfies with you.

honeymoon!mattheo who takes you dancing. hands on your hips, feeling as you sway them, gripping at them each time that mattheo riddle has to take a deep breath to not get a hard-on in the middle of the dancefloor. if possible, he'll learn how to dance the bachata with you— be it by a free class at the hotel or some bar, or even just by staring at an experienced couple dancing with ease. mattheo would be so happy to dance with you, twirling you around and pulling you closer to him, your noses brushing as mattheo looks at you with such intensity; the love of his life, this goddess in his arms. physically can't listen to one of those latino songs without immediately pulling you to dance a little with him; fuck the stares that you might receive.

honeymoon!mattheo who wants to live right here, at mexico.

m : fuck england, let's ditch london.

🗯️ : mattheo, darling, we can't do that.

m : why not?! here's the best— no rain, no people bothering us. why can't we just fuck and chill every day like we do here?

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🌿 ’

౨ৎ spend the summer of a lifetime with me ♡ ͡

let me take you to the place of my dreams . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— ever since i posted my masterlist i've been receiving some requests; i didn't expect so many so soon! tysm for reading and requesting to my blog; i'll do my best to write and post each of them asap. ♡

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

#hp fandom #slytherin boys #slytherin boys react #hp fanfic #headcanons #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle headcanons #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle husband #mattheo riddle honeymoon #mattheo riddle scenarios

655 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 1 year ago

Text

oldest to newest

First Smutty One Shot (3.5k words)

in which Harry wants to buy your albums but then he realizes he wants a little something more from you or where Harry fucks you so you'll calm down

Again & Again (5.4k words)

in which lhh!Harry is your server and he takes you home after girl’s night is over or where lhh!Harry fucks you good, but comes too fast

Gonna Make You Mine (6k words) (mafia!harry)

extra

in which Harry is your boyfriend's boss and he wants to have you for himself or where Harry fucks you in front of your boyfriend

The Work Call (1.3k words)

in which you’re desperate for Harry’s attention when he’s ignoring you on a work call

Too Hard to Keep Quiet (678 words) (boyfriend!harry)

in which you and Harry try to keep it down while having sex in your childhood bedroom down the hall from your family

The Doctor & the Psychopath (9.7k words)

extra

in which Harry is facing serious assault charges and you’re the forensic psychologist tasked with analyzing him or where Harry manipulates you into having sex but you kind of like it

Music For a Festival (896 words)

in which you meet Harry, the lead singer of a local rock band, at a music festival and you bring him back to your tent

Thank You, Next (7.3k words)

extra

in which you are at a club with your very drunk boyfriend and you and Harry spot one another from across the room or where you meet lhh!Harry at a club while you're with your boyfriend and he fucks you in the bathroom

A Public Nuisance (1.6k words) (coworker!harry)

you and Harry are office coworkers and everyone’s out tonight at the local bar celebrating, but you and Harry find yourselves in a rather compromising position

Sex Ed With Harry (7.4k words) (innocent virgin!reader)

in which you’re a sweet, innocent, Christian, virgin and you meet Harry at a college party and he can show you a few things

Dirty & Rough (1.6k words)

reader ask:harry cheats on his gf with you and maybe not necessarily a breeding kink but cream pie kink ?? like, “i’m gonna stuff you so full of my cum”. veryyyy rough and degrading like he’s just using you to get off. “cumdump” etc..maybe he’s quite a bit older than u as well. face slapping, spit kink, as dirty as possible…you get me LOL

I Guess You're All Mine (11.9k words) (friends to lovers)

based on a true story: in which Harry is the hot drummer in your boyfriend’s band and he tells you a secret that changes everything

The Long Weekend (9.8k words) (friends to enemies to lovers)

extra

in which you and Harry hate one another but then things change

The Wedding Guest (4.5k words)

in which you meet Harry at a friend's wedding and show up at his hotel room the next morning to take him up on an offer he made you the night before

Lactation kink (700 words)

reader ask: I don't know if this sounds weird, but you would write one where the reader and Harry had a baby and while she and Harry are having sex, milk starts to come out of her breasts and he starts to suck

The Scientist & the Stripper (15.2k words) (nerd!harry | virgin!harry)

extra #1 | extra #2

in which virgin/nerd!Harry moves in next door to you and you invite him over for a small get together with friends where he gets more than he bargained for at the end of the night

On Halloween Morning (8.7k words) (ghost!harry)

a horror-filled Halloween one-shot. Harry is a ghost and you don't believe in ghostsbut you find out you were dead wrong.

Psoriasis Fluff (652 words)

reader ask: Heyy, how you doinggg!! Could u write smthg abt a reader with psoriasis.. maybe she's insecure to go out in a dress or smthg and harry helps her feel better. Mines been pretty bad recently and I could use some fluffrry (no smut)

Mixed Signals (9.5k words) (best friends to lovers)

bestfriends to lovers one shot - You and Harry have been best friends since you were children and now that you're both adults you can no longer deny the feelings that have been there all along

The Threesome (3.3k words) (Fratboy!Harry)

Harry's hot but he's nice and he's into you tonight

A Delicate Thing (7.6k words) (mafia boss!harry)

extra

Harry is a crime boss and he meets the woman of his dreams on an important night.

Tell Me You Hate Me (12.1k words) (male!reader | enemies to lovers)

Based on this request - You and Harry work together as bartenders and your relationship is hot and cold which infuriates you to no end. But you can't say you don't find him attractive, regardless of his cocky attitude.

The Italy Blurb (1.6k words) (boyfriend!harry)

reader prompt: some plotless smut featuring a little bit of jealous yn riding Harry's tiger & yacht sex.

Bad Morning (3.6k words) (professor!h x professor!yn)

You run late to an important meeting with your colleagues and Professor Styles decides to punish you.

Spiderman (4.2k words) (fratboy!harry | lhh!harry)

You’re at the big Halloween frat costume party and get to flirting with someone dressed as Spiderman. The tall, masked man with a deep voice just so happens to know a private spot to reveal his true identity to you.

The Ex (3.4k words) ex!harry

Harry's your ex-lover and you see him at a wedding after many years apart. You're both married but Harry proposes something that you have a hard time saying no to.

Nympho (4.5k words) nympho!poly!harry

Y/n is a nymphomaniac who just loves people. One day she happens upon a "harem" arrangement that seems perfect for her and her insatiable appetite. Loosely based on this Tumblr request.

Harry bruises your cervix - blurb (450 words) husband!harry

A quick filthy, requested blurb. Nothing more and nothing less.

Next Door Neighbors (7.8k words) neighbor!harry

Part 2 (5k words)

You just wanted peace and quiet and Harry just wanted to jam out in his garage for his birthday. So you decide to confront your new neighbor but things don't go as you planned.

The Fleshlight Blurb (1.5k) subrry

Harry has to go on a business trip without Y/n so she gets him a special toy to use while he's away and she tells him to send her a video of him using it.

The Handyman (11k words) the check-in (3.6k)

When you inherit your aunt's estate after she passes away, you hire Harry to fix up the old house but that's not all he winds up being good for.

Breeding Kink Blurb (587 words)

Requested - just straight up smut

Sex Tutor (10k words) Part II (13k+ words)

Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.

Daddy's Pretty Girl | dom!daddy!h (4.4k words)

Harry just wants to make his princess happy OR The story of you and Harry, how you met, and all the rest.

The Trio (3k words)

Three strangers meet at a club and things get sexy. Featuring a MMF threesome.

Baby Daddy (14k words)

After you have a one-night stand with your good friend Harry and become pregnant he doesn't know for certain that the baby is his, but he has his suspicions.

Little Flower (4.5k words)

You're startled during a power outage late one night when your co-worker, Harry, is at your door, drenched from the rain. How does he even know where you live? dark!harry | stalker!harry

Use Me Up (7k)

Harry's your boyfriend's best friend and he's very hard to resist. boyfriend's best friend!harry

Assistance Needed (3k)

Harry finds himself in an awkward position when you walk in on him in his office just as he's in the middle of something quite improper. ceo!harry x assistant!reader

The Babysitter (2k)

PART 2 (2.5K)

Based on this request: The cute babysitter Harry's wife hired has always tempted him, but now that his wife is away for the evening Harry might just give in. dad!harry x babysitter!reader

She Likes To Watch (4.8k)

Harry and his wife have an interesting lifestyle but when they invite you over for a night of fun you realize you're more into it than you thought you'd be. hothusband!harry

Truth or Dare (6.7k)

Based on this request: Harry's never been to a slumber party so Y/n decides to remedy that and give him a sleepover he'll never forget.

The Mushroomer | friendly!ghost!harry (11.5k)

Based on this request: Y/n moves into a small house in the woods and she soon realizes the house is haunted. But it really turns out to be not so bad at all to have a ghost when he's as kind as the one living with her.

Says Who? | demonrry (3.1k)

A Halloween Blurb! Y/n goes to an underground club and meets the devil and she'll never ever forget it.

DILF | older!harry (6.5k)

Based on this request: Y/n meets an older man at a bar and she's not taking no for an answer. Harry likes her persistence.

1K notes · View notes

narrycherries · 13 days ago

Text

call it what you want ✨ part 7

Harry’s starting to feel the pressure..

masterlist

word count: 9.4k

warnings/tags: harry x reader, best friends to lovers, angst, smut, f receiving, secret relationship

The past few weeks did not play out in your favor. You were only able to see Harry a few times, and each time was shorter than the previous one. It was almost like the world was working against you, instead of for you. One of your mutual friends, Heidi, was getting married this weekend so there have been a lot of things going on. Last weekend, you went on the bachelorette trip. Her fiancé was not really close to Harry, so he opted to not go on the bachelor’s trip. Besides, he had a ton of stuff he had to do regarding his internship. He got an easy excuse, you didn’t have that. You were a part of the wedding party, so you felt obligated to go. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to celebrate, it was solely the fact you were spending yet another weekend away from Harry that you hated.

Now, it’s finally the night of the wedding and you were excited. Of course it was a celebratory night for your friend, but it was also the night you were finally free to see Harry. You knew that once the wedding was over, you would be going with him - most likely to his place. Of course, he made sure to let you know that you had no choice. He was sick of being away from you, and he was craving your company.. as well as the intimacy.

The wedding ceremony was being hosted at a pretty chapel. You were waiting patiently for the service to start, as was Harry. He was sitting next to your other friends in a pew, waiting to see you enter the room. Sure, he was happy for Heidi, but he was more concerned with you.

“Alright, everyone. We’re about to start!” The wedding planner, who was a relative of Heidi’s, announced with a big clap.

You perked up, thinking about how quick this will be. You were desperate to see Harry. You could hardly text him today. You were getting ready, taking photos, and helping with last minute things before people arrived. Your phone was put away in your bag and you were unable to answer it. Harry hated being away from you, but he was trying not to be selfish. Heidi was a close friend of yours, more so than she was to him, and he knew this was an important event. It wasn’t about him.

Before you even realized it, you were walking down the aisle with your arm locked with the groomsman you were paired with. It was the groom’s cousin, but you didn’t know him. Your eyes struggled to stay ahead of you as you fought to not scan the crowd for Harry. The chapel was filled to capacity, and you had no clue where he was sitting. You ignored the thought and stayed focused.

You were second to last in the wedding party, so you weren’t going to be able to look around for very long. You took the opportunity and searched the bride’s side of the chapel for Harry. You were starting to gain a little nervousness in your stomach as you struggled to find him.

Finally, after a solid minute of searching, you locked eyes with him. Unfortunately, you caught his tense stare and clenched jaw before he could make it disappear. He smiled as he realized you were looking at him. You gave him a gentle one in return, but a new fear was forming in your mind. Why was he looking that way? Did you do something? Surely not, you hadn’t seen him in a few days and you didn’t have any kind of fight.

Harry had made the face when he saw you come down the aisle with your arm around someone else’s. He wasn’t upset with you, he was just jealous that someone else was getting to touch you before he was - even though it wasn’t in any kind of serious, intimate, or meaningful way at all. He missed you and he was impatiently waiting to put his arms around you. That guy just ticked him off a little.

Thankfully, the ceremony went by pretty quickly. You tried to keep your mind off of Harry and on the bride and groom instead. It was a special day for your friend, she deserved to have your full attention. Harry, though, kept his eyes on you the entire time. He liked the way the light sage green color of the dress complimented your skin. The straps were thin, they were delicately laying over your shoulders. It was a little tight at the waist, which gave definition to your hips. The dress touched the floor, and he thought it looked wonderful on you. He kept having to swallow and bite down on his cheek as he thought about the body that was beneath all that fabric.

Once the ceremony had ended and the wedding party exited, the guests were instructed to go to the reception venue next door.

Harry was not happy about leaving without you, but he knew the faster he got it over with, the quicker he’d be able to see you. When he walked into the venue with the majority of your friend group, he was displeased to see the seating arrangements. Everyone was allowed to sit wherever they pleased, except for at the tables designated for the wedding party. He was annoyed that he wouldn’t be able to sit with you. He would have to get over it, though, there wasn’t anything he could do to change that.

There wasn’t much he could do other than wait. So that’s what he did. He sat with his hands resting on his lap while his friends talked amongst themselves. They all couldn’t fit at one table, so they were occupying the ones around, too. Harry was sitting with Austin, which wasn’t ideal, but he had no other choice. When the wedding party entered the venue, Harry perked up. He scanned the sea of dark brown tuxes and green dresses, trying to pick you out. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he saw you.

He smiled as he watched you walk around some of the tables, navigating yourself to where you saw your friends were. You hadn’t seen him just yet, but you saw Stephanie standing up. You were clutching some of your dress in your hand, trying to keep it off the ground and prevent yourself from tripping. Harry wished he could escort you to the table, to help you out so you weren’t so nervous about walking - but of course, he couldn’t do that right now.

When you finally picked your head up, your moved your eyes around and unexpectedly caught his stare. Your cheeks caught flames and you decided to walk a little faster. He stood up to greet you as you approached the table. Luckily, Austin had excused himself to the bathroom and everyone else was so caught up in talking that they didn’t pay you any mind.

“Hi!” You squealed happily as your arms wrapped around his torso.

He laughed a little as his arm went around your back. He didn’t want to overdo it, so one arm was all you got.

“Hey, you look stunning.” He whispered into your ear, wishing you were alone with him.

“Thanks.” You said through a sigh, slightly embarrassed but you weren’t sure why.

“I’ve been waiting all day to see you.” He kept his voice low as you pulled away from his hug.

“Yeah, same.” You glanced around quickly, just to make sure nobody was watching. “I’m so tired of this dress and these stupid heels.”

Harry smirked, bringing his hand up to your waist almost instinctively. “You look great.”

“Harry.” You muttered quietly and pushed his hand down. You took a few steps back and slipped a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Too much.”

“Right, sorry.” He quickly apologized and sat back down in his chair, but he stayed facing you. “Do you have more bridesmaids duties?”

“Not a lot more.. just gotta sit over there.” You said while looking over your shoulder towards the table.

“Maybe I’ll get to see you again.”

You let out a breath and closed the space you shared with him. You couldn’t do anything too obvious or drastic, so you just sat your hand on his shoulder. He looked up at you, a disappointed expression on his handsome face. You frowned, not liking the fact he was upset. You were literally an inch from him, but he couldn’t touch you.

“It won’t be too long.. once the dancing starts.. we can talk. Just gotta do all the wedding stuff first.” You told him with a gentle smile, trying your best to convince him it would be okay, but you weren’t sure he was listening.

“Unless someone sweeps you away.”

Your eyes darted around again, making sure it was clear. You leaned down to his ear, not really caring if any strangers were watching - as long as none of your friends were.

“I won’t let that happen, I promise.” You placed a kiss on his ear.

When you leaned back up, Harry grunted and reached out for your hand. You let him take it for just a few seconds before you started to back up. He dropped it, his heart breaking as he realized you were about to leave.

“I gotta get over there before they announce the bride and groom.” You nodded your head towards your brother, who was walking back to the table. “Besides, your friend is back.”

Harry huffed as you turned away from him and began the journey to your designated table. He watched you walk away - admiring how nice your long hair looked while it was curled. Half of it was pulled back in a sparkling clip, but it all cascaded down your back. Before he knew it, you vanished in the crowd.

Harry put on his best performance for his friends while he waited for his chance to see you again. Dinner consisted of a long table of food options where the guests served themselves. He ate some of his food, but he was mostly distracted. He didn’t want to look suspicious, so he didn’t stare in your direction the entire time. The special wedding festivities were over now, and the guests were invited to go into the next room to dance and have fun. There was an open bar, and Harry was ready to throw a shot down his throat. He was tense and anxious, he just needed something to lift the edge off.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked with a welcoming smile.

“Um, shot of whiskey.. whatever you got.” He said with a sigh, leaning his arm on the bar as he waited.

He stared at the marble counter top as his shot was being poured. He was wondering where you were. Surely, there were no more photos that needed to be taken or small things that you had to do for the bride. He wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he was very impatient.

“Thanks.” He said as he took the small plastic shot glass and threw the contents into his mouth. “Can I get another? Then I’ll be outta your way.”

“Got it.” She smiled back.

He wasn’t aware that you were standing not very far from him, watching as he took the second shot and emptied it into his mouth. He decided to ask for a mixed drink, so he waved the bartender back over. You knew that sometimes he overdid it, and you didn’t want that to happen tonight. You quickly walked his way. He had already had two glasses of wine, so he was getting a bit warm. He wanted to take off his suit jacket, but he didn’t.

“Be careful, whiskey makes you a little rowdy.” You said suddenly, appearing next to him with your hand on his back.

He jumped at first, but then grinned as he realized it was just you. “Finally.”

You let out a laugh as his arms snaked around your body. Luckily, the majority of the guests were taking advantage of the dance floor - including all of your mutual friends.

“Missed you so much.” You whispered into his ear as your arms went around his neck. You felt more comfortable hugging him this way now than you did earlier. There were too many eyes on you before.

“I missed you way more.” He mumbled back, pressing a kiss to your jaw before letting you go. Despite knowing he wasn’t being observed by anyone that he knew, he didn’t want to overdo it.

“Am I going home with you tonight?”

He smirked, then lifted a brow. “Trying to get in my pants?”

“Shut up.” You gave him a gentle shove, but made sure you let your hand trail down his chest and abodomen afterwards. “You’re such a guy.”

“Look at you.” He said, gesturing to your body. “Can you blame me for thinking that way? You’re gorgeous.”

“Shut up, you’re too loud.”

He rolled his eyes, then grabbed your waist to pull you towards him. “Then get closer.”

“Stop before someone sees us.” You huffed back, looking over your shoulder to make sure nobody you recognized was around.

Harry moved his other hand up and gently grabbed your jaw. He shifted your head back, your eyes finding his instantly. “Relax.”

“No.” You pulled his hand down and took a step back - you didn’t want to, but you had to. “Save all this for later.”

He shook his head and looked down at the floor. “I’ve been waiting all week to see you.”

“I know.” You grabbed his hand, the one that was closest to the bar and not out where everyone could see. You laced your fingers with his and gave his hand a squeeze. “Later, okay?”

He rolled his eyes and kept them on the floor. You were surprised that he was acting this way, but you quickly remembered he had some alcohol in his system. He was probably solely thinking about you and nothing else - not even the environment you were in. If he were sober, he would be more subtle with his touches and smarter about his word choices.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered out after you became silent.

“I don’t think you need any more drinks.” You said through a sigh.

His eyes lifted to meet yours. “Why?”

“You’re acting too.. obvious.” The lift of your eyebrows didn’t effect him, he was still unsure.

“No, I’m not.”

“Just.. please, don’t do anything too crazy, okay? I don’t want.. people to see anything.”

He huffed again, almost like a child would, but gave you a nod. “Okay, I won’t. I’ll be on my best behavior, promise.”

“Thank you.” You rubbed your thumb over his skin before letting his hand go. “Now, do you wanna go find everyone else? We can dance.”

“Everyone else?” He mumbled out, a frown covering his lips.

You took a deep breath. “Harry, we have to act normal, okay? This is no different than any other situation.”

“You promised me you’d spend time with me once everything was done.” He furrowed his brows. You realized his words had a little anger in them.

“Harry, we can have some private time here and there, but we have to interact with everyone else.”

He shook his head in disbelief, then turned to face the bar. You hit your hand against his arm but he was ignoring you. He lifted the cup to his mouth and swallowed the contents in seconds. He wasn’t a child, but you felt like scolding him.

“Fine. Then I’m going to act like everyone else.” He said with a cold tone as he waved to the bartender. She walked over to him and smiled. “Can I have some more whiskey.. on the rocks, please.”

“Just whiskey?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, then looked your way once the lady was occupied again. “Go have fun.”

“Harry.” You pouted your lips out, not pleased with how he was acting. “Please, don’t be this way.”

“I’m not being any kind of way. Just go have fun. Go dance, have a drink. We’ll worry about each other later.. at home.”

You were shocked by what he said, but you were more so disappointed in his attitude. You gulped softly and adjusted the strap on your shoulder as you walked away from him. Of course, you were upset. You wanted to cry your eyes out and beg him to stop being so mean towards you. Was it him actually being mean? Probably not. He was just annoyed, and you knew that and understood why, but still.. It hurt your feelings.

You disappeared before he knew it. He looked around, but you were gone from the room. You went to find your friend group in the ballroom, hoping that they were dancing and having a good time. You would just join them and try to forget about Harry.

Dancing with your friends was always a fun time. You felt like the last few times you were with everyone, you weren’t very active. Of course, that had a lot to do with your new intimacy with Harry. It wasn’t like you suddenly hated your friends, the anxiety of it all was just eating you up. Tonight was a chance for you to let go and have fun. You weren’t concerned with Harry right now. He’s a grown man, he can handle himself.

An hour went by without you seeing Harry again. You were mostly with your girl friends, so you were dancing and singing and having a few sips of champagne. You didn’t want to get drunk, so you just shared drinks with them. It was a fun time. Well, until you had to go to the bathroom.

You broke away from the group and headed back towards the dining room and bar. The bathrooms were through there, near the lobby. Your eyes were roaming around as you walked, just observing the decorations and the people. That’s when your attention froze on the bar. Harry was sitting on a stool, his head laying down on his arm. There was an empty cup in front of him, and as you got closer, you realized there were several empty cups.

“Harry?” You said his name sort of loud, the music was blaring through the building. You laid your hand on his shoulder blade and started gently rubbing his back. “Are you okay?” He lifted his head and you instantly felt your heart drop. He looked so sad. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

He shrugged, then looked to his empty cup. He tried to gesture the bartender over, but you quickly grabbed his hand and pulled it down. You shook your head towards her, and thankfully, she understood. She didn’t come over.

“Stop.” He huffed, trying to pull his hand from you but his efforts were weak. He didn’t want you to let him go, that’s why he didn’t try.

“Have you been here this whole time?” You asked with a frown, leaning your body onto his to be closer. Your hand went down to the small of his back. “Hmm?”

“Yeah.. cause you left me.”

“Harry, we can’t.. can’t act this way in public, okay?”

“We could.”

You knitted your brows together. “Well, we’re not.”

“Go back to everyone else. Go have fun.”

You let go of his hand and quickly grabbed his jaw. You moved his head so it was facing you again. He wanted you to stay like this, to not let him go again.

“Come to the bathroom with me.”

“What?” He seemed a little confused.

“We need to talk.” When you relaxed your brows and features, he noticed you seemed upset.

He didn’t say anything, just nodded and proceeded to stand up from the bar stool he had chosen an hour ago. You knew where all your friends were, so you confidently took hold of his hand and pulled him behind you towards the bathrooms.

You thought one escape to a public bathroom would all you’d share with him, but clearly not. To your advantage, the stalled bathroom was big but had a lock on the door. You turned the lock and let Harry finally wrap his big arms around you in the way he wanted to all night long, ever since he laid eyes on you walking down the aisle. You returned his embrace, not caring about messing up your hair or makeup at this point. The wedding photos were done with, you had no reason to be so concerned anymore. Harry squeezed you as hard as he could without hurting you, and that made you feel safe. He held you like that for a few solid minutes. Everything was okay for the first time in a while.

He stayed quiet, and so did you. There was nothing that needed to be said right now. You just had to feel his body against yours. Your eyes were bolted shut, and his were, too. He felt like he was on another planet - was it the alcohol, or was it you? He wasn’t sure, but he knew it was a different feeling than anything he felt tonight.

When he finally let you loose, you moved both hands up to his jaws. He was frowning, almost like he wanted to cry. He did, but he didn’t want you to think he was a loser for crying.

“Hey, you gotta tell me what’s going on, okay?”

He shrugged. “You already know.”

“Tell me.”

He huffed, looking away from you for a moment. “I hate having to pretend. It fucking sucks.”

“Harry.”

His lips turned to a frown and he leaned down so his lips were on your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.. I know it’s not easy.” You mumbled back, letting one hand move into his hair while the other went to his chest.

“It was.. sorta easy at first.. but since we.. y’know.. I just want to touch you and kiss you all the time.”

What he was explaining to you was how you felt. The kissing situation made things very different, but it was somewhat more manageable to act normal in front of other people. Even after Harry had touched you intimately, things were easier than this. It’s different now - more than it’s ever been.

“And it’s been.. so long since we got to be together.”

“Do you remember how I was at the restaurant? We.. we can’t.. can’t be so emotional about this in public, okay? I know it’s super hard.” You pressed a kiss to his dimple, but he was too sad to appreciate it.

“It’s so hard.” He muttered out, feeling defeated from all of this. “M’trying to.. to be strong for you.. not disappoint you.”

You grabbed his jaw and pushed his head up so you could see his eyes. “I know, honeybun.”

For the first time in a while, he shot you a smile. “Honeybun?”

He was surprised by your use of a pet name. It was the first time you really called him anything like that, and he seemed to like it. His cheeks were flushed and his smile was contagious. You laughed a little while rubbing your thumb over his skin.

“You’re so sweet, hm? Just like a honeybun.”

“If you say so, peach.” He chuckled back, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.

He looked down at your chest for a second, then to your lips. He wanted to suck your tongue down his throat, but he refrained. He wasn’t sure if you wanted that yet. Your hand moved to his neck, your thumb messing with his ear lobe. The feeling of your skin moving against his made his stomach churn in a good way.

“My eyes are up here.” You said suddenly, lifting his head up. He hadn’t noticed he was staring at your chest.

He let a smirk cover his mouth. “If you lean over.. you’re gonna be spilling out of that dress.”

You cocked a brow at him. “So you’re admitting to staring at my boobs?”

“Hmm.” He laughed under his breath, making you grin.

“What a creep.” You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Just be mindful, darling.. I’d hate for some stranger to see them tonight before I get to.”

You were not surprised by his words, and you were glad he was back to his normal self and not so upset anymore. “You’re so jealous, hm?”

“I have a good reason to be.”

“Is that so?”

He licked his lips and yanked you closer, his arm tight around your body. His mouth was brushing against yours, teasing you with every second that went by.

“Do you care about that lipstick?” He mumbled out, his lips pressing into yours already.

“No.”

His tongue practically shot into your mouth. You couldn’t resist the moan that came out as he started exploring each inch of your mouth. His hands didn’t hesitate to explore either. He was squeezing your butt with one while the other kept you pressed firmly against him.

After all these days of being unable to touch him like this, you were lost in the moment. Everything around you disappeared and nothing mattered. The world stopped spinning, it was just you and him.

“Harry.” You gasped out as he grabbed your waist on either side and lifted you off the ground.

“Shh.” He sat you down on the counter, his hands selfishly grabbing onto your body as he returned to your lips.

You didn’t protest, didn’t say a thing - just let him continue. You wanted to rip his jacket off and tear the buttons from his shirt, but you tried to control yourself and just worry about kissing him. He noticed how hard you were pulling on his clothes, though. He broke the kiss and immediately took hold of your face with his warm hand.

“I want you.. so bad.” He breathed out, trying to get his lungs to catch up.

“Not in the bathroom.” You let out a gentle laugh. “And.. not if you keep drinking, understand?”

He nodded. “Yeah.. I’ll stop, promise.”

You leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Drink water.. eat something, okay?”

“I will, promise.”

Just as he was, you were trying to calm yourself down and catch your breath. Your hand slid up his chest to his shoulder. You adjusted his shirt collar, noticing how messed up you had caused it to get.

“You look.. really nice in this.” You told him with a sweet smile.

The dark grey suit looked nice on him. You admired how the shirt was a soft shade of blue instead of just plain white. The top two buttons were undone, so you could see the chain around his neck. You wanted to strip him, but now wasn’t the time.

“We should.. go back out there.” You said after a few moments of silence.

He licked his lips and nodded gently. “I guess so.”

You decided that it would be fine if you both approached your group of friends at the same time. There couldn’t possibly be any harm in that, or so you hoped. When you came up, you immediately made a joke about finding Harry stumbling over the bar stools. There were some laughs and snide comments, since it wasn’t unusual for him to get this way at events or celebrations.

He was trying to counter your claims, which just added more laughter to the group. It was a relief to hear that. There was still a bit of anxiety lurking about, but you hoped it would pass on. Everything went accordingly for the rest of the evening. You were focused on having fun with your girlfriends, dancing and singing to the music.

Harry was more involved in conversations as he casually looked around and gave you a few glances here and there. He wasn’t drinking anymore, the goal for the night had changed. He wanted to black out and forget it all - forget how upset he was and how much he missed you. Instead, he’s trying to let some of that alcohol fizzle away so he could appreciate you later on.

Once the wedding was over and you did your job of helping clean up some of the mess, Harry gladly volunteered to drive you home. Your roommate was gone for the weekend, so the destination was your place and not his. Besides, you wanted to be in the comfort of your own bed after such a long, exhausting day. But of course he actually didn’t drive his car, you weren’t drunk from the few sips you had.

“My feet are hurting so bad.” You groaned as you finally got to sit down on the foot of the bed. It felt like you had been standing in the for days.

“I could give you a massage.” Harry said with a cheeky smile as he knelt down to your feet. He swatted your hand away and took over removing the shoes. “You’d feel better.”

“That would be nice.” You raked your fingers through his scalp as you yawned. Unfortunately, you knew nothing would happen tonight. You were beyond exhausted and you wouldn’t be able to stay awake much longer. “Help me out of this dress and I’ll go wash my makeup off.”

“I’ll gladly help you out of it.” He chuckled to himself as he stood up and held his hand out for you.

“I don’t think.. I have the energy for anything.” The sigh you pushed out made him frown a little. “I’m sorry.”

He licked his lips and shrugged as he grabbed your waist and turned you around. “That’s alright. I know you’re tired.”

“I would love to, don’t get me wrong.. I just.. can’t tonight.”

There was something about seeing the disappointment in his eyes that made you feel horrible. You knew he was thinking about this all night, especially once he filled his body with alcohol. The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel bad, but there was simply nothing you could do to fix it. You were tired, your feet hurt, your back hurt - everything hurt. You just wanted to relax and go to sleep.

“I know. I said it’s alright, peach.” He said in a low voice as he swept your hair over your shoulder so he wouldn’t get any of it caught in the zipper. “We can make up for lost time tomorrow.”

“Please, don’t be mad.” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to make a wish or say a prayer or do whatever was necessary.

“I never said I was mad, babe.” He pressed a kiss to your back as he guided the straps of the dress down your arms.

Once it was off of your body, you picked it up and draped it over your arm. Harry was trying to control his mind as you walked across the room half naked. You put the dress on its hanger and stuck it in the closet, intending to deal with it in the morning. When you turned to face him, he was undoing his shirt and coming out of his clothes, too.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” You said as you approached him. He looked up and smiled as you snatched his hand and wrapped your fingers with his. “Do I still get a foot massage?”

“Of course, peach.” He winked, making a layer of blush rise to your cheeks. “You get whatever you want.”

You disappeared into the bathroom to take off your makeup and soak your tired body in a warm bath. Harry wanted you to have some alone time, even though he was desperate to be with you all night. It was different now, you were home. There was no hiding needed or secrets you had to keep up. It was just you and him.

Despite wanting to relax, you were becoming anxious to be with him. Your bath was quick, but it was decent. You mainly just wanted to soak your muscles and rinse the day off. Your hair was pulled up on your head, you’d deal with washing it in the morning.

When you finally came back to the bedroom, Harry was sitting at your vanity scrolling on his phone. You noticed the bed was made and he had emptied your hamper. You smiled sweetly and walked over to him.

“Massage time.” You giggled.

He looked up at you and smirked. “Yes ma’am.”

“Could you also give my calves a little rub? They’re hurting.”

Harry followed you to the bed, where you sat down on the end. “Sleeping naked tonight?”

“No, I’ll get dressed in a little bit.”

“So just going to tease me then? Won’t let me take care of you tonight.. but forcing me to stare at this towel?” His grin was contagious.

“Don’t be a cry baby.” You joked back. “I promise we can do whatever you want in the morning.”

He smirked. “Whatever I want? Hm, I’ll remember that.”

Harry spent a good ten to fifteen minutes rubbing his fingers deep into your feet and legs. You kept letting out soft hums and moans that stayed circling his mind. He wanted you so bad, but now wasn’t the time. He tried to stay focused as he massaged your sore muscles. He’s always offered to do this for you, way before anything changed. He had strong hands that made your tension melt like butter. You always took advantage of his massage offers.

When he was finished, he helped you rub lotion on your legs. He pushed the towel up a little so he could cover your thighs. He tried not to peek between your legs but it was hard to avoid. After that, you got off the bed and figured it was time to get dressed.

Harry grabbed his phone and sat down on the bed as he waited for you. Just as you slid a pair of underwear up your legs, you heard Harry sigh. You turned to face him, a t-shirt in your hand, in time to see him furrow his brows. He was looking at his phone.

“We’ve got a problem.” He said suddenly, lifting his head.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t seem to be angry, but he was definitely bothered by whatever he was reading. “Come look at this..”

You climbed on the bed and sat next to him, taking the phone. You crossed your legs and read over the text your brother just sent Harry. Instantly, your stomach dropped and you gulped slowly.

From Austin: Have you been alright lately? I saw you acting weird earlier.. like you didn't want to be around us when my sister was over there. The two of you having a cat fight? You’ve been weird about her lately.

You gulped harshly as you read over the words. You shook your head and gave the phone away. Harry tossed it on the mattress and huffed, unsure of what to do.

“You can’t reply to that.” You mumbled out.

He rolled his eyes. “I have to.”

Your heart was starting to race. Your brother never asked about your friendship with Harry. He didn’t care that you were super close. It hadn’t always been that way, but once it started he just accepted it. It was no big deal.. so, why is it suddenly coming up?

“Then lie. Say nothing’s wrong.” You shrugged, trying to stay calm. “I mean.. technically nothing’s wrong.”

“Well, he clearly thinks something is wrong.” He quickly replied, his tone was sharp.

“Who cares what he thinks? Just lie.”

He didn’t appear to be on board with what you were suggesting. He groaned and ran a hand through his messy hair. You weren’t sure why this was actually bothering him so much.

“What if he’s catching on?” He asked, turning his head to look at you.

From the corner of your eye, you could see his intense stare. But you kept your own eyes down and just shrugged your shoulders. There really wasn’t anything you thought you could say. What more could you do?

“Just lie to him, Harry. We lie about everything else.. what’s it matter now?” Saying it out loud brought some of that guilt back up.

You absolutely hated the fact you were keeping such a huge secret from your friends and your family, and that included your brother. As much as he pestered you, he was one of your best friends. Not only that, he’s Harry’s best friend aside from you. Lying to him about all of this isn’t ideal, but it’s what you wanted for the time being..

“If I lie and say nothing’s wrong and I keep acting however he thinks I’m acting.. he’s going to know I’m lying.” Harry started to sound more paranoid than you initially thought.

You let out a deep breath. “But nothing’s wrong. Just tell him you were tired and wanted to drink. He knows you were at the bar.”

“Yeah, but does he know you were with me first? What if he saw you?” He was quick to respond.

If anything, you had been observant all night. You knew for sure that none of your friends were around when you were with Harry. None of Heidi or the groom’s family knew you, so it’s not like somebody saw something and reported back to your brother. Harry was starting to be more anxious than you.

“He didn’t. Nobody we knew was in there, Harry. You’re being a bit.. dramatic.”

As you said that, he scoffed and tensed up next to you. Even though you weren’t touching, you could feel his body change. He didn’t necessarily want to be angry with you, but what you said sort of affected him.

“Oh, as if you haven’t been dramatic about this before.” His tone made you frown.

“I never said I haven’t been.. Why are you being so rude?”

Harry moved to the side of the bed. You watched closely, not sure if he was going to get up and disappear from your room or not. You didn’t want him to leave, especially not after you had to suffer all these days without seeing him.

“Because, you’ve been worrying about this and now it’s making me worry.” He finally spoke, his head hanging low as leaned over, his arms on his knees.

You didn’t know what to say. Maybe he was just having a hard time tonight and this was some of that lingering frustration from being apart from you. Normally, he was the calm one and you were the overthinker. You feared maybe you couldn’t help him.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Harry.” You reached over to touch his back, but as you did he shook you off and stood up. “Don’t.. don’t leave.”

“I just need a minute.” He muttered out, grabbing his phone from the bed. “I’ll.. think of something to tell him.”

“Harry.” You whispered out his name as he started walking towards the door.

“I’ll be back in a little while.”

As you watched him leave through the door, you felt a lump form in your throat. Something was different tonight and you weren't sure where things went wrong. What if you were too harsh with him at the wedding? You knew nobody was watching, yet you didn't allow him to do much. Maybe he thought you were being too serious about everything. Was it all finally coming back to bite you?

One of your biggest fears that had developed since this all started with him was starting to creep into your mind. You feared something would happen that would ruin your friendship. What if it was an argument? You rarely, if ever, argued with him before or even disagreed about things. Now, it seems more common for you to spat about something.. and each time it’s been about your situation. Was intimacy playing a larger role than you could’ve imagined? Was it truly going to ruin everything?

Tears swelled in your eyes as you sat in silence, the only noise being the thoughts racing in your head. You weren’t sure if he’d come back in the bedroom.. and you were too tired to wait up for him.

Although you were successful at falling to sleep, your anxiety was bubbling up and you found yourself waking up in the middle of the night. You reached behind you, gently patting the air until you touched his body. It was relieving to know he was behind you, even though he wasn’t cuddled up next to you. You turned onto your stomach, your elbows digging in the mattress as you battled the racing thoughts in your mind.

You and Harry had never really had a bad argument in the past, and despite the disagreement you had earlier not actually being that bad, you felt very upset. You had never gone to bed without him telling you goodnight, and it felt odd and unsettling.

A sigh fell from your lips as you grabbed your phone, wanting some light so you could see him. You opened your home screen and sat the phone on the pillow. There was a soft glow casted on him now, allowing you to see how adorable he looked. He was facing you, one arm under the pillow, his hair was a mess.. You smiled to yourself, admiring him was one of your favorite things to do. He was so perfect.

You thought maybe seeing him would make you feel better and ease some of the tension you held, but it was doing the opposite. A tear trickled down your cheek suddenly, followed by more and more as the seconds passed. Maybe you had been too rough with him earlier. He was seriously worried and anxious about the situation and your attempts at calming him must have been read wrong. It wasn’t your intention to upset him, and now it felt like you were falling apart.

You covered your face and tried to keep your crying silent. But it was difficult to stay quiet as you sucked in breaths and tried to control your quivering lips. After a few minutes, the sounds got louder and Harry could feel the bed moving slightly as your shoulders jolted with each breath. You were struggling.

“Peach?” He said softly in a groggy voice, melting your heart.

You sucked in a breath and quickly wiped your eyes and cheeks, hoping to rid your skin of the tears before he could see them. He opened his eyes and squinted, adjusting to the light reflecting off your skin.

“What’s the matter?” He realized you were sniffling and trying to hold in your tears. His hand slid onto the small of your back, a warmth you missed so much was lighting a fire on your skin. “Baby.. why are you crying?”

You shook your head and chose to drop your head on the pillow. Harry sighed and scooted closer to you, closing the small space. You grunted as he rubbed circles on your back. He wasn’t sure what time it was or why you were awake to begin with, but he wanted to comfort you no matter what.

“Go.. go back.. to sleep.” You managed to get the words out, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Harry pulled the cover off of you some, feeling how warm you were made him think you were too hot. You didn’t protest, just went mute as you waited for him to give up. He wouldn’t do that easily, though.

“Tell me what’s going on, peach.”

That word did something to you every single time he said it. You couldn’t resist the butterflies forming in your stomach or the way your heart sparked or the heat that rose to your cheeks.. every time it drove you crazy. You let out a groan and lifted your head, your puffy eyes finding his. He wished he could see you better, but you were glad he couldn’t. Whenever you cried, you would always end up crying more if he was watching. Something about it made you feel worse, more embarrassed and ashamed.

“Are.. are you.. mad at me?” You asked him a shaky tone, your voice almost broken completely.

Harry furrowed his brows and slowed his hand to a stop on your back. “What?”

“I made you mad earlier.. I know i did.”

“No, you didn’t. I was just irritated by the text.”

You huffed and let your lips fall to a pitiful frown. He hated seeing you this way. He leaned closer, his face just an inch or so from yours now. You wanted to kiss his lips, wanted to feel the magical sensations he gave you.. but you stayed still and just looked at his eyes.

“I’m not mad.” He tried to stress his words, but you weren’t believing them.

Whether he was actually mad or not was starting to slip from your anxious mind. You were more concerned about what could’ve happened or may happen one day in the future. What if you had a major blowout fight and everything came to an end? Not only would this new found romantic relationship end, but your years long friends would be ruined. Everything would shatter.. and there would be no fixing it.

“I knew this would happen.” You whispered as your eyes shifted from his worried stare.

“What do you mean?” He was still confused as to why you were so upset over what happened. Sure, it wasn’t the best situation, but he didn’t think it was this bad..

“That all of this going on between us would cause fights.”

He sighed gently and licked his lips. “How many times do I have to tell you, love, that everything will be fine?”

The thought of arguing over this yet again was enough to make you realize that maybe he was right. Maybe things would be okay as long as you continue doing what you’re doing. There was no need to go out of your way to lie or hide more than you are now, so why worry? They didn’t know, and they haven’t asked..

“Do you.. promise that you’re not mad?” You asked in a soft whisper, making him smile back.

“I could never be mad at my little peach. Promise, darling.”

Harry’s hand moved with your body as you shifted onto your side to face him. He slid his touch down to your hip where he rested his hand and gave you a comforting squeeze. You took in a deep breath and pushed it out as you realized your body was not prepared to rest.

“Great.. now m’so worked up.. I won't be able to sleep.”

Harry smiled as your lips poked out in a pout. “I can make you a bit tired.”

He moved his hand to your butt, while his eyes stayed glued to yours. A few ideas popped in your mind, but you were hesitant to say something or agree to anything. You were exhausted from the long day dealing with the wedding, and the arguing earlier made you feel emotionally drained. You feared you couldn’t handle any intimacy with him right now. Yet, you still let out a soft whisper.

“How?”

He leaned into you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Let me take care of you.. just a little bit.” His big hand squeezed as much of your ass as he could hold, wishing he could grab more.

A sigh fell past your lips. “Harry.. I.. I’m just anxious.. I don't really have the energy.”

“I’ll do the work, peach. Just rub you for a few minutes. I know it’ll help.”

Although you were tired, the thought of his fingers being lost in your underwear was tempting. Under the covers, you reached for his hand and he let you take it. As much as he was enjoying your ass, he wasn’t going to deny you his hand. He knew how much you loved his hands. You wrapped your fingers with his and let your eyes fall to his shoulder. Each time he’s touched you, it feels like the very first time. You get butterflies shooting around in your stomach, your head starts to get a little dizzy, and you have a burning desire in your body for him. It was magical each and every time. The thought of him doing it is enough to drive you mad.

Your eyes moved back to his intense stare, blush covering your cheeks. “Would you really?”

A smirk toyed on his lips. “Of course.. I love watching you cum for me, baby.”

The statement made you push out a breath and close your eyes. The little things he did and spoke were always what caused the most chaos in your body. You wanted to climb on his lap and tear his clothes off, but your body was too worn out to do that now.

“And.. and you’re okay with.. me not doing anything in return?” You asked curiously, your tongue poked out to lick your lips.

He watched it disappear back into your mouth, a million thoughts filled his mind as he darted his eyes back to yours. “Absolutely. I need to make it up to you anyway.. I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

You cocked your brow and let out a giggle. “Yeah, you do need to make it up to me.”

“Sassy, hm?” He pushed his lips onto yours and swallowed the soft moan you let out.

Harry grabbed your body, digging his fingertips into your flesh as you clawed gently at his neck. You didn’t want to hurt him, even though he would definitely not mind, so you kept your nails soft on his skin. He grunted as you shoved your other hand into his hair, pulling him further against you.

“Missed you so much, peach.” He muttered against your mouth, his tongue returning with a split second to continue exploring.

You couldn’t respond to him, so instead you just pulled on his roots and squeezed his shoulder. Soft whimpers and moans filled the air as he sucked on your tongue and bit down on your bottom lip. Your stomach was bubbling and your toes curled as the thoughts of what was to come circled your mind. You needed him way more than you initially thought you did.

Harry pushed down on your hip, forcing your body to fall onto the mattress. You whined as he pulled back from the kiss, but quickly sighed in relief as his lips moved to your jaw. He sucked on your skin for a few seconds before falling down to your neck. You didn’t want to go all the way, and he was aware of that, but he just had to make up for lost time.

You gripped his nape as he filled his mouth with your skin, creating a few soft marks here and there. Every nerve in your body was on fire and you craved him. You grabbed his hand from your waist and moved it between your legs. He hummed against your skin as he took over and covered you with his hand. You wanted more, and the grunt you let out made him smirk.

“Please.” You whispered next to his ear, closing your eyes as you patiently waited for him.

He broke away from your skin and lifted his head, his pretty eyes instantly locking with yours. He gave you a smirk and placed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. You pouted, silently pleading with him. He was enjoying your begging, but he didn’t want to torture you any longer.

“So warm, hm?” He mumbled as he patted you through your panties.

“Harry, please.” Your voice stayed quiet. “Touch me, please.”

He pressed two fingers over your clit and gave you a little tease. You groaned, furrowing your brows as he chuckled. As much as he wanted to keep teasing you, he knew that if he didn’t start soon you were going to explode.

“M’gonna take care of you, peach.” He leaned back so he could get a better look at you while he made you come undone.

You bit down on your cheek as he brought his fingers to his mouth. When you first started this, you were a bit shy when it came to your body. But right now you didn’t care about all of that. You kicked the covers down, making him gently laugh, and tugged up your shirt. Your chest wasn’t out, even though you were sure he’d like that.

“Hm, always so wet for me, yeah?” His hand disappeared in your panties and you let out a moan as he coated your clit with his spit and slid his fingers through your folds. “Been too long since I’ve taken care of you, hm?”

You grunted. “Too long.”

His lips lifted with a smirk. “Won’t let that happen again, darling.”

A wave of pleasure flooded your body as he began making circles on your clit. Your legs already felt week and your stomach was knotting up. You weren’t sure why you were so sensitive, maybe it was just because it was Harry doing it. When you did it by yourself, you were never this intense right off the bat. Now wasn’t the time to question it, the only thing on your mind was him.

As much as you wanted to watch him, you couldn’t keep your eyes open as the sensations swarmed your body. Harry was amazed by how beautiful and perfect you looked like this. He was trying not to focus on his growing cock. This was all he was getting tonight, and he was okay with that. A minute passed by as you got lost in the overwhelming pleasure.

“Talk to me, baby doll.” His voice rumbled deep and low, making your eyes roll back into your head. “Tell me how it feels.”

You were lost for words at first, and you thought it would be impossible to say anything. Somehow, your eyes managed to open and you caught his stare, but you couldn’t speak. Your lips parted as you pushed out a breath. He was thoroughly pleased with how you were reacting to his touch.

“C’mon, baby, gotta tell me, yeah?” He whispered, his warm breath fanning over your face. Everything he did was making it harder to speak.

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, gripping him hard while the other one grabbed his elbow. He hissed as your nails sunk into his skin. His favorite part was always when you wrapped your hands around him. Finally, you were able to speak.

“Fuck, Harry.” You gasped out, your lip was quivering. “S’good.. re-really, good.”

“Yeah? Like it when I rub your pussy, don’t you, babe?”

You nodded, unable to really say anything else. He chuckled and moved his lips down to your forehead.

“I know you do, baby. Look at you, hm, coming undone for me.”

“Harry.” You whispered his name quietly, fearing that you’d scream if you spoke any louder.

“I want you to cum for me, okay? Make a mess, baby.”

It was like his words controlled your body. Your stomach rolled as your thighs began to tense up. You scratched at his skin while your moans filled the air. He knew what he did to you, knew how easy it was to guide you to the edge.

“Harry.” You pushed out his name as you came.

He rubbed you through it, humming in satisfaction as he watched your body react to what he had done to you. So much spilled out of you, it felt never ending. You pushed your hand off your forehead and let out a heavy exhale. Harry smirked to himself as he watched your eyes close and your lips fall apart. You were breathing hard, trying to catch up and slow down your heart rate.

“Feel tired now?” He asked with a subtle chuckle.

You dropped your hand and looked over at him. He was still holding onto that smirk, and it made you shake your head and smile back. There was something so wild about this, something so special and crazy. You licked your lips and just stared into his green eyes. It was evident that he was tired, but he was willing to do anything you wanted, and that included staying awake to let you stare at him.

“I’ll go grab a wash cloth-“

“No, not yet.” You snatched his hand as it came out of your underwear. “Just.. stay right here for a bit.”

You kept hold of his wrist as he rested his hand on your stomach. The feeling of his damp fingers against your skin made your heart skip a beat. It was a surreal feeling. Even though it wasn’t the first time he’s touched you, you still couldn’t believe he did it..

[a/n: hehehe the drama is coming 🤭 hope u enjoy the update! reblog like and all that good stuff! love uuu]

taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @victoriasigaard @ariiscringe @harlowsgirl @lomllover @haniaaa04 @sideboobrry11 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @fangirl509east @fruity-harry @storyschanging (if u want to be added to the list, comment or message me)

#harry styles #harry #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #one direction #harry styles blurbs #harry styles stuff #harry styles fanfiction #harry smut #domrry #harry styles best friend #harry styles friends to lovers #best friends to lovers #friends to more #friends to lovers #angst #harry styles photos #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine

140 notes · View notes

engeorged · 3 months ago

Text

Harry's Stag - Part One

As I stepped out of the taxi, the cool Amsterdam air washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile. The canals, the narrow streets, the lively hum of the city—it was just what I needed. A lads’ weekend with my best mates, a chance to unwind before I marry the man of my dreams.

I glanced at the guys, a wave of affection washing over me. Jim and I had been mates since we were kids, practically growing up together. Tall, lean, with that rugged, outdoorsy vibe and piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through any nonsense, Jim was the steady one—the rock who always kept us grounded.

Banning and Noel came into our lives during university when we all played rugby together. Banning, with his quiet confidence and sharp mind, was always thinking a few steps ahead. He had this knack for coming up with a plan, making sure we stayed out of trouble and found our way home in one piece. Then there’s Noel—scruffy, blonde, and a bit shorter than the rest of us, but with a cheeky grin that could charm his way out of any mess he managed to get himself into. He was the joker of the group, ensuring we were never bored.

And then there’s me, Harry, the soon-to-be groom, the guy who’s somehow managed to land the most amazing man in the world. Jason is everything I’ve ever wanted—6’5, blonde, and brilliant, working in finance but with a heart of gold. He’s got this mix of confidence and kindness that makes me fall for him all over again every time I see him. I’m the luckiest guy on the planet, and I know it.

But right now, all I want is to forget about the wedding planning and just enjoy this weekend with the guys. We’ve been through so much together—high school dramas, university antics, and everything life has thrown at us since. This weekend is our chance to let loose, to celebrate before everything changes.

The morning light filtered through the curtains as I woke up, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement. Today was going to be one for the books. After a quick shower, I headed downstairs with the guys to tackle the hotel’s breakfast buffet. I’d always seen buffets as a bit of a challenge—something I’d perfected during our rugby trips in uni when the lads and I would try to outdo each other with how much we could eat.

The spread was impressive: stacks of pancakes, sizzling sausages, crispy bacon, eggs done every way imaginable, and fresh pastries that looked like they’d come straight out of a bakery. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I grabbed a plate, ready to dive in.

Jim, always the early riser, was already at the buffet, piling food onto his plate. “Morning, mate,” he said with a grin. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“You know me,” I replied, grabbing a bit of everything and then some. “Never one to turn down a good breakfast.”

We settled at a table, and I started working through my plate, enjoying the food and the banter. Before I could even make a dent in my meal, Noel appeared with a plate stacked high with more food. “Mate, you’ve got to try these pancakes,” he said, dropping them onto my plate without waiting for a reply.

I laughed, not thinking much of it. “Alright, alright, keep them coming.”

Banning, ever the strategist, chimed in as he sat down. “You’re missing out on the scrambled eggs. Here, have some more,” he said, adding a generous portion to my plate.

As we ate, the conversation flowed, and I found myself reminiscing about our old rugby trips. “Remember that all-you-can-eat steakhouse in Leeds?” I asked, chuckling. “I think I put away enough to feed a small army that night.”

Jim nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Yeah, and you still managed to play the next day. You’ve always had a hollow leg when it comes to food.”

They kept the food coming, and I kept eating, not really noticing how often one of them would toss something extra onto my plate. I was too caught up in the nostalgia, the friendly competition from our uni days, and the general excitement of the weekend.

But as I started on my third plate, I felt a familiar tightness in my stomach. The kind that crept in during those old eating challenges when I’d push myself just a bit too far. My belly was starting to feel heavy, the waistband of my jeans pressing uncomfortably against my skin. I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the growing discomfort.

Still, I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge—even a self-imposed one. I kept eating, even as my stomach began to bloat, pushing out slightly against my shirt. Each bite was a little slower, the food sitting heavily in my gut. I could feel my belly rounding out, the once-flat surface curving just a bit more with each mouthful.

“Feeling full yet?” Jim asked an innocent enough question, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“A bit,” I admitted, patting my stomach, which was now firm and slightly swollen. “But you know me—never one to quit while I’m ahead.”

The guys exchanged quick glances, subtle but not lost on me. I shrugged it off, thinking they were just reminiscing about old times like I was. But deep down, I had a nagging feeling that they were up to something. Still, I was too focused on the food and the fun to really care.

As I polished off the last of my pancakes, the tightness in my belly became more pronounced. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my slightly rounded stomach, feeling the pressure building inside. Regret started to creep in—a familiar sensation from those rugby days when I’d pushed my limits a bit too far. My shirt stretched a little tighter across my middle, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I should’ve shown some restraint.

But then I caught myself. I’d eaten way more than this before, especially during those wild university days. This was nothing compared to some of the eating challenges I’d taken on—and won. A bit of bloat wasn’t going to slow me down. I could handle it, no problem.

With that in mind, I shrugged off the discomfort. It was just breakfast, after all, and we had a whole day ahead of us. “Right, lads,” I said, standing up and stretching, trying to shake off the heaviness in my gut. “What’s next on the agenda?”

Jim clapped me on the back, and I could feel the tension in my overstuffed stomach as he did. “Let’s head out and explore, mate. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

I nodded, determined to push through the fullness. I reminded myself that this was all part of the fun, and I could definitely handle more. With one last glance at the table, I followed the guys out the door, ready to see what the day had in store.

As we headed out into the bustling streets of Amsterdam, the food still sitting heavily in my stomach, I told myself I was just being paranoid. These guys were my best friends—they wouldn’t pull anything on me, especially not right before my wedding.

After finishing breakfast, we decided to take in some of the sights. Amsterdam was a beautiful city, and I was excited to explore it with my best mates. The weather was perfect—clear skies and a gentle breeze, making it an ideal day for wandering around.

We started by visiting some of the city's iconic spots, like the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh Museum. But as we strolled along the canals and through the narrow streets, I could feel the heaviness in my belly from the massive breakfast easing a bit. By late morning, we found ourselves at one of the bustling local markets. The place was alive with vibrant colours, delicious smells, and the chatter of vendors selling everything from fresh produce to local delicacies. It was the kind of place where you could easily lose track of time, wandering from stall to stall, sampling the best that Amsterdam had to offer.

"Harry, check this out!" Banning called out, waving me over to a stall where a vendor was selling fresh stroopwafels, still warm from the griddle. He handed me one, and before I could even think about whether I was hungry, I found myself biting into the sweet, caramel-filled treat. It was delicious, the perfect balance of chewy and crunchy, and despite the fullness I still felt, I had to admit it was hard to resist.

"How about some cheese?" Noel chimed in, appearing beside me with a small platter of local Dutch cheeses. He popped a piece into my mouth before I could protest, grinning as I chewed. The rich, creamy flavours melted on my tongue, and I couldn’t help but smile at how good it tasted.

As we moved through the market, the guys made sure I didn’t miss a thing. Every few steps, they’d find something new for me to try—a slice of fresh apple pie here, a handful of chocolate-covered nuts there. They seemed to be in a competition to see who could find the most delicious treats, and I was the unwitting contestant.

“Harry, you’ve got to try these!” Jim called out, holding up a tray of poffertjes, tiny Dutch pancakes dusted with powdered sugar. He handed me the tray, and before I knew it, I was popping the fluffy little pancakes into my mouth, one after another.

With each bite, my belly grew heavier, the tightness from breakfast now back and mixed with the new wave of food. But the guys kept bringing me more, their excitement and enthusiasm contagious. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, watching as I dutifully sampled everything they put in front of me.

At one point, I realised I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. “Guys, I think I’m good for now,” I said, laughing nervously as I held up a hand to stop another treat from making its way into my mouth.

“Fuck that!” Banning said, laughing. “We’re just getting started. You’ve got to experience everything, mate!”

Despite my growing discomfort, I couldn’t help but go along with it. After all, this was supposed to be a weekend of indulgence, and I didn’t want to be the one to spoil the fun. So I kept eating, letting the guys guide me from stall to stall, each new bite adding to the growing pressure in my belly.

By the time we were ready to leave the market, I could barely keep track of everything I’d eaten. My stomach felt impossibly full, a heavy, warm weight pressing against my waistband. As we walked away, I noticed the guys exchanging amused glances, but they didn’t say anything, and I didn’t push it.

As we left the market, I was feeling stuffed from all the sampling, but the guys weren't done with me yet. Just as we were about to head back towards the city centre, Banning spotted a stall selling fresh pastries. The aroma of warm, buttery dough filled the air, making my mouth water despite the heaviness already sitting in my gut.

“Hold up, lads,” Banning said, veering off toward the stall. “We can’t leave without taking some of these with us!”

Before I could protest, he was at the counter, ordering a large bag of assorted pastries—croissants, danishes, and something that looked like a massive cinnamon roll, all warm and fresh from the oven.

“Here you go, Harry,” he said, shoving the bag into my hands with a grin. “Something to snack on as we walk.”

I chuckled, trying to hide my unease at the thought of eating anything more. “You sure you guys don’t want to share these?”

“Oh, we’ll help,” Jim said, but I noticed the sly smile on his face. “But you’ve got to lead the charge, mate. You’re the groom, after all.”

With no real way to refuse without seeming like a party pooper, I sighed and reached into the bag. The croissant I pulled out was soft and flaky, practically melting in my hands. I took a bite, the buttery richness spreading across my tongue, and I had to admit—it was damn good.

As we walked, I found myself nibbling on the pastries, more out of habit than hunger. The guys encouraged me with every bite, grabbing a pastry here and there, but always making sure the majority of them ended up in my hands.

By the time we reached our next destination, the bag was nearly empty, and I felt like I was carrying a lead weight in my belly. The waistband of my jeans was digging into my skin, and I subtly tried to adjust it to relieve some of the pressure. The guys, of course, were loving every minute of it, exchanging knowing looks as I dutifully finished off the last pastry.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were up to something, but for now, all I could focus on was the heavy, bloated sensation in my gut. It was hard to believe I could still stand, let alone keep eating, but with the lads around, I knew there was no way I’d get out of it.

After leaving the market with my belly full of pastries, we found ourselves wandering through the winding streets of Amsterdam again. The city was buzzing with life, tourists mingling with locals, and the smell of food and drink filled the air. My stomach was still groaning from all the food I'd packed into it, but when the guys suggested stopping for some beers, I figured it might help take the edge off.

“Let’s hit up a few local breweries,” Jim suggested, his eyes lighting up. “We can’t leave Amsterdam without trying some of the best beer in the world.”

I agreed, hoping that a few drinks might dull the ache in my overstuffed belly. The first brewery we hit was small and cosy, with wooden tables and an impressive selection of local brews. The guys ordered a round of pints, and I gladly accepted mine, taking a long, deep sip. The cold, bitter beer slid down my throat, and I could feel it spreading warmth through my chest.

The first pint went down easily, and for a moment, I almost forgot how full I was. The alcohol worked its magic, numbing the uncomfortable pressure in my stomach. The guys were in high spirits, laughing and joking as we finished our beers and moved on to the next brewery.

By the time we reached the third stop, I was starting to feel a bit more relaxed. The bloated sensation in my gut was still there, but the beer had taken the edge off. Each point seemed to settle on top of the food in my belly, adding to the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through my body.

The guys were keeping pace with me, ordering pints at each stop and making sure I always had one in my hand. I knew I should slow down, but the alcohol was doing its job, and I found myself caring less and less about how full I was. Instead, I focused on enjoying the moment, the camaraderie, and the laughter of my best friends.

At the fifth brewery, the drinks started to catch up with me. My head was buzzing, and the bloated feeling in my stomach was returning, more pronounced than before. I tried to keep up with the guys, but I could feel my belly straining against the waistband of my jeans, each sip of beer adding to the swelling pressure.

I glanced down at my gut, now noticeably rounder and heavier than it had been earlier in the day. The fullness was almost overwhelming, but the beers had numbed me enough that I could push through it, at least for a while longer.

Jim noticed me looking at my stomach and clapped me on the back. “You alright, mate? You’re keeping up like a champ!”

I managed a grin, even though I could feel the tightness in my belly with every breath. “Yeah, just feeling it a bit,” I admitted.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost done with the tour,” Noel said, raising his glass. “Just a couple more, and then we can grab some food to soak it all up.”

The mention of food made my stomach churn, but I pushed the thought aside and lifted my pint in a toast. As we moved on to the final stop, I could feel the beers sloshing around inside me, mingling with the pastries and everything else I’d consumed that day.

But the guys were right—the beers had dulled the ache, at least for now, and I was too buzzed to care about what might come next.

By the time we reached the final brewery on our tour, my belly had become an undeniable presence—both to me and, I suspected, to anyone who glanced in my direction. It felt like a boulder, heavy and firm, pressing outwards against the fabric of my shirt. The once-flat surface was now a taut, rounded dome, the skin stretched tight and smooth. Every step I took made it sway slightly, a reminder of just how much I’d eaten.

I rubbed my swollen middle, trying to ease the growing pressure. Suddenly, a deep belch forced its way up, loud and unexpected. The guys turned, grinning, and immediately erupted into cheers.

“There he is!” Noel laughed, clapping me on the back, which only made my belly slosh uncomfortably. “That’s the spirit, mate!”

Another belch rumbled up, and this time I didn’t even try to hold it back. The guys whooped and cheered even louder, egging me on as I laughed along with them.

“Keep ‘em coming!” Banning shouted, raising his pint in a mock toast.

I shook my head, grinning as yet another burp escaped me. The relief was temporary, though, as the pressure inside me continued to build. Every step made my belly jiggle slightly, and I could feel just how bloated I was becoming. The gas from all that beer wasn’t helping, either, making me feel even more stuffed than I already was.

I couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. The lads were loving it, and there was something satisfying about knowing I could still outdo them, just like in the old days. Even if my stomach felt like it was about to burst, the cheers and laughter made it all worth it.

Despite the discomfort, there was a part of me that was fascinated by how much my body had changed in just a few short hours. My normally lean frame had been overtaken by this massive, swollen belly, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer volume I’d managed to pack away.

The guys noticed, too. I caught Banning’s eye as he glanced at my gut, and he grinned, clearly impressed. “That’s one hell of a belly, Harry,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

Jim nodded in agreement, raising his pint in a toast. “To Harry’s belly,” he said with a laugh. “May it keep growing!”

The others joined in, their laughter filling the air as I gave a half-hearted chuckle. I could feel my stomach stretching even more as I took another sip of beer, the pressure building to a point that was almost unbearable.

As we finished our drinks, I leaned back in my chair, trying to find some relief from the tightness. My belly was now a prominent, round sphere, pressing outwards with a fullness that I couldn’t ignore. It was a strange mix of discomfort and pride—I’d never seen myself like this before, and despite the ache, there was something almost amusing about the sheer size of my belly.

By early afternoon, I was starting to feel the effects of our beer-filled morning. My head was buzzing pleasantly, and my steps were just a bit slower as we made our way through the bustling streets. I was thinking about suggesting a quick stop back at the hotel to freshen up, but before I could, Noel was already leading us toward our next destination.

“We’ve got a special lunch spot lined up, Harry,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Proper local place. None of that touristy crap.”

I was too relaxed to argue, letting him steer me down a side street and into a large, rustic-looking restaurant. The inside was all dark wood and heavy beams, with long communal tables and the rich smell of roasting meat filling the air. My stomach rumbled in spite of the heaviness I was already feeling, and I figured a good meal might help soak up some of the beer.

We found a spot at the end of one of the tables, and Noel didn’t even bother with menus. “We’ll take four of your specials,” he told the waitress with a wink, and she nodded, jotting it down before disappearing into the kitchen.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing around at the other diners. Most of them were locals, digging into plates piled high with food, glasses of cider clinking together in toasts. It was lively, warm, and exactly the kind of place that made you feel at home, even halfway across the world.

“So, what’s the special?” I asked, eyeing Noel suspiciously.

“Wait and see,” he grinned, taking a long pull from the glass of cider that had just been set in front of him. “You’re gonna love it.”

Moments later, the food arrived, and my eyes widened as the waitress set a huge platter in front of each of us. There, in the centre, was a whole roasted chicken, crispy and golden, surrounded by a mountain of fresh bread and a full litre of cider.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, staring at the feast. It looked incredible, but there was no way I could finish all that. “You guys trying to kill me?”

Banning smirked, already tearing into his bread. “Consider it a challenge.”

“Come on, Harry,” Jim chimed in, pulling a hunk of chicken off the bone. “You said you were hungry this morning.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean all day,” I laughed, even as I reached for my fork. The smell of the roasted chicken was too tempting to resist, and I figured I could at least make a dent in it.

We dug in, the conversation flowing easily between bites of juicy chicken and sips of the strong, dry cider. The bread was warm and crusty, perfect for soaking up the rich drippings from the chicken, and despite my full stomach, I found myself going back for more, over and over.

The guys were relentless, though, nudging the bread my way whenever I slowed down, refilling my cider glass before I’d even finished it. Every time I thought I was done, Jim would carve off another piece of chicken and drop it onto my plate, or Noel would push the bread basket back toward me with a grin.

“You’ve got to try this with the cider,” Noel insisted, handing me a slice of bread slathered in the drippings. “Trust me, it’s worth it.”

I took the bread, biting into it with a mix of enjoyment and trepidation. It was delicious, of course, but I was starting to reach the point where every bite felt like a struggle. My stomach was stretched tight, the combination of beer, cider, and food weighing me down.

But there was something infectious about their enthusiasm, the way they kept the mood light and fun, and I couldn’t bring myself to say no. These were my best mates, and they were making sure I had the time of my life. What was a little discomfort in the grand scheme of things?

“Only the best for you,” Noel added with a wink, though there was a glint in his eye that made me wonder just how much more they had planned for me.

After finishing the meal, I leaned back in my chair, feeling utterly stuffed. My usually firm belly was now uncomfortably stretched, the tightness pressing against my shirt. The button on my jeans felt like it was about to pop, and I had to loosen my belt a notch to alleviate some of the pressure.

The full feeling wasn’t just in my stomach but seemed to radiate through my entire body. Every bite of the juicy chicken and every piece of bread had added to the bloated sensation, and the cider had only intensified it. My stomach was protruding noticeably, an unfamiliar softness replacing the tight abs I’d worked so hard to maintain. It felt heavy, like a weight pressing down from within.

I looked around at my friends, trying to ignore the discomfort, but the sight of their grins and the way they patted their own full bellies didn’t help. “I think I might have overdone it,” I admitted with a chuckle, rubbing my distended stomach.

“No way, mate,” Jim said, giving me a friendly thump on the back. “You’re just getting into the spirit of things.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to stay in top form,” Noel added, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You don’t want to be the one to miss out.”

Despite the lighthearted teasing, I could barely move, feeling the fullness with every breath. I glanced down at my bulging belly, the fabric of my shirt straining against the roundness. It was a far cry from the trim figure I was used to seeing.

As we finally left the restaurant, I had to walk slowly, my steps deliberate and careful. Each movement reminded me of just how much I’d eaten, and I knew that if I didn’t get some relief soon, the discomfort would only grow. But with the guys still in high spirits, I knew the day was far from over, and whatever they had planned next, I’d have to muster the energy to keep up.

As we left the restaurant, the afternoon started to blur together. The combination of food and cider had left me pleasantly tipsy, and the usual sharpness of my thoughts had softened. My bloated stomach felt heavy, but the excitement of the city kept me moving, albeit at a slower pace.

After the epic lunch, I was convinced I couldn't possibly eat another bite. My stomach was so full and bloated that it felt like a lead weight was strapped to me, each step making my distended gut jiggle slightly under my shirt.

We started walking again, heading toward the canals for a leisurely afternoon tour. The sun was shining, reflecting off the water as we strolled along the cobblestone streets. I tried to focus on the sights—the charming, narrow buildings, the boats gliding by—but the heavy, stuffed feeling in my gut was impossible to ignore. Every step made me acutely aware of just how much space my belly was taking up, stretching my shirt tight across the firm, rounded expanse.

We hadn’t gone far before we passed a street vendor selling fresh Bitterballen. The savoury aroma of deep-fried goodness filled the air, making my stomach rumble despite the fullness. Bitterballen are traditional Dutch snacks, deep-fried balls filled with a rich, creamy beef or veal ragout, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. They’re often enjoyed with a dollop of mustard.

Noel, ever the enthusiast, was already haggling with the vendor before I could even process what was happening. “Harry’s got to try these!” he said, handing over a few euros and grabbing a serving of the hot, golden balls.

“Mate, I’m so full I can barely move,” I protested weakly, but Noel just grinned and handed me a paper cone filled with Bitterballen.

“Come on, you’ve got room for one more,” he said, winking. “It’s part of the experience.”

I took the cone and popped one of the Bitterballen into my mouth. The crispy exterior gave way to a rich, creamy filling that was both indulgent and comforting. Despite the tightness in my belly, the flavour was irresistible. With each bite, I could feel the food settling heavily on top of everything else I’d eaten, adding to the relentless pressure in my gut.

We continued along the canal, and it wasn’t long before Jim spotted another vendor—this time selling churros dusted with cinnamon sugar. He practically sprinted over, eager to buy a bag for me before Banning could get there first.

“Here you go, Harry,” Jim said, thrusting the warm bag into my hands. “You’ve got to keep your energy up!”

I stared at the churros, my stomach groaning in protest at the mere thought of eating more. But the guys were watching me expectantly, their excitement palpable. I couldn’t let them down, so I forced myself to take a bite.

The churro was crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, and coated with just the right amount of cinnamon sugar. It was delicious, but as I swallowed, I felt my belly swell even more, the tightness becoming almost unbearable. Each bite seemed to expand my gut further, stretching the skin to its limits.

“Harry, you’re a machine!” Banning laughed, clapping me on the back as I forced down the last of the churros. “I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

Neither did I. My stomach was now so full that it was starting to feel rock-hard, a firm, rounded dome that pushed out from under my shirt with every breath. The waistband of my jeans was cutting painfully into my sides, and I could feel my skin pulling tight over the swollen mass of my belly. I wanted to stop, to sit down and let my overstuffed gut settle, but the guys weren’t having any of it.

We passed another vendor, this one selling warm, cheesy croquettes, and before I could even protest, Banning had bought a handful and was offering them to me.

“Last ones, I promise,” he said with a mischievous grin, though I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was far from finished.

I took one, biting into the crispy, gooey centre, and immediately felt another surge of fullness. My stomach was now a tight, distended ball, and each bite made it feel like I was stretching it to the breaking point. But the guys kept egging me on, practically shoving the croquettes into my hands as we walked.

By the time we finally finished the canal tour, my belly was truly enormous—a swollen, overfilled sphere that jutted out in front of me, heavy and round. The tightness was almost unbearable, and I could barely stand up straight, the weight of my gut pulling me forward with every step.

And yet, despite it all, I couldn’t help but laugh along with the guys, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. My friends were practically fighting over who got to feed me next, and I was helpless to stop them. My once-lean frame had been transformed into something out of a cartoon, my shirt now riding up to expose the pale, stretched skin of my bloated belly.

As we headed back toward the city centre, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over. The day was still young, and the guys seemed determined to see just how much more they could cram into me. And as much as I wanted to protest, I knew deep down that I wasn’t going to stop them.

By the time the afternoon sun started to dip, I was struggling. Every step felt like a monumental effort, the heavy, swollen mass of my belly swaying in front of me, throwing off my balance. It had gone from feeling full and stretched to being outright painful, a tight, solid ball that was almost too much to bear. The guys were still in high spirits, laughing and joking as we walked, but I was finding it hard to keep up.

"Guys," I groaned, finally coming to a stop and placing a hand on my distended gut. "I need a break. Can we head back to the hotel for a bit? Just a quick snooze, let my stomach settle."

I was expecting some pushback, but surprisingly, they all nodded in agreement. Maybe they could see the strain on my face, or maybe they were just ready for a break too. Either way, we turned in the direction of the hotel, and I started to imagine the sweet relief of lying down and letting my poor, overworked belly rest.

But of course, it wasn’t going to be that simple.

As we rounded a corner, we passed a small, bustling shop with a line of people snaking out the door. The smell of fried potatoes and various toppings filled the air, and Jim’s eyes lit up when he spotted the sign.

“Wait a second,” he said, grabbing my arm and pointing toward the shop. “This is the place I’ve been telling you about! They make these famous fries with all sorts of toppings. We’ve got to try it.”

I felt a knot of dread tighten in my already cramped stomach. “Jim, I’m seriously about to burst here. I don’t think I can fit anything else in.”

But Jim wasn’t having it. “Come on, Harry, you can’t come all the way to Amsterdam and not try this. It’s part of the experience! We’ll just get one big platter to share, no big deal.”

Banning and Noel were already nodding along enthusiastically, and before I could argue any further, they were steering me toward the door. Inside, the place was a fry-lover’s paradise—massive trays of golden fries, each topped with a ridiculous amount of extras, from melted cheese to pulled pork, jalapeños, and creamy sauces.

We ordered the biggest platter they had, a monstrosity as wide as the table itself, piled high with fries and every topping imaginable. It was the sort of thing meant for a group of a dozen, not four guys who had already been eating all day. The sight of it alone made my stomach lurch in protest.

I tried to push back. “Guys, seriously, this is insane. I can’t eat all this.”

But Banning grinned at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll help, don’t worry. But you’ve got to at least give it a shot, Harry. Think of it as a challenge.”

I knew there was no way out, not with all three of them looking at me like that. So, with a resigned sigh, I picked up a fork and dug in.

The first few bites were delicious, the crispy fries and rich toppings a perfect combination. But with every mouthful, I could feel my stomach stretching further, pushing against my waistband and straining the limits of my shirt. The tightness that had been a constant presence all day was now bordering on unbearable, a pressure that made it hard to focus on anything other than the sheer fullness of my gut.

Still, the guys kept urging me on, and somehow, I kept going. They were making a show of eating their share, but it was clear that most of the food was ending up in front of me. Every time I slowed down, they’d shove another forkful of loaded fries in my direction, laughing and cheering me on like it was some sort of competition.

“Harry’s taking the lead!” Noel shouted at one point, and the others whooped in agreement.

I felt like I was in a daze, barely able to comprehend what I was doing as I continued to eat. My belly was now so bloated that it was pressing against the edge of the table, a round, firm dome that seemed to be growing larger with each bite. My shirt was stretched tight across the distended curve of my gut, and I could feel the seams straining with every breath.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I dropped my fork, unable to eat another bite. The platter was mostly empty, but my stomach felt like it was about to burst. I leaned back in my chair, groaning as the pressure in my belly intensified. It was a strange mix of pain and satisfaction, the kind of fullness that made it impossible to do anything but sit there and let my body digest.

The guys, of course, were loving it. They were all grins and high-fives, clearly proud of themselves for pushing me to this point.

“You’re a legend, Harry,” Banning said, clapping me on the back with a laugh. “I don’t know how you did it.”

I didn’t either. All I knew was that my belly was now so swollen and distended that I could barely move. It jutted out in front of me like a solid, round ball, the skin stretched tight and smooth over the massive bulge. I could feel every inch of it, the fullness pressing down on my lungs and making it hard to breathe, let alone think.

As we finally left the fry shop and started heading back to the hotel, I could barely keep up, my gait slow and awkward as I tried to accommodate the heavy mass of my gut. It felt like I was carrying a bowling ball strapped to my stomach, the weight of it pulling me forward with every step.

And yet, as uncomfortable as I was, there was a part of me that couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of my belly. I’d never been this full in my life, never even imagined it was possible to eat this much. It was almost impressive in a way, and despite everything, I found myself laughing along with the guys as we made our way back to the hotel.

By the time we finally made it back to the hotel, I was exhausted. My belly was so full and heavy that each step felt like a challenge, and the thought of just lying down was the only thing keeping me going. As we entered the room, the guys were still buzzing with energy, laughing and recounting the day’s events, but I could hardly focus on their words. All I could think about was getting out of my too-tight clothes and giving my aching stomach some relief.

I headed straight for the bathroom, barely pausing to acknowledge the banter going on behind me. Closing the door, I leaned against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath as I let the tension drain from my shoulders. Then, with a grunt of discomfort, I began the laborious task of peeling off my clothes.

First, I unbuttoned my jeans, which had been digging into my sides for hours. The moment the button popped open, my belly surged forward, free from its confines at last. I couldn’t help but gasp slightly at the sensation—the relief was immediate, but the sheer weight of my gut was startling. I tugged the waistband down over my hips, letting the jeans fall to the floor, before yanking off my shirt, which had been stretched to its limits.

Once I was finally free of my clothes, I turned to face the mirror, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks. My belly—normally flat and firm—was now a completely different shape, swollen and rounded out in front of me like a tightly inflated balloon. The curve of it was almost shocking, jutting out so far that it seemed impossible it was my own body. My skin was stretched taut over the massive dome, with the light fur that usually covered my stomach now spread thin and sparse across the smooth, distended surface.

I reached out tentatively, running a hand over the swell of my gut. It felt solid and unyielding, the kind of fullness that left no room for anything else. My fingers brushed against the fine hair that coated my belly, usually soft but now pulled taut over the curve, emphasising the tightness of my skin. The fur seemed almost out of place on such a massively bloated belly, a reminder of how much my body had changed in just a few short hours.

I took a step back, turning slightly to see my profile, and my eyes widened at the sight. The curve of my belly was even more pronounced from the side, a heavy, rounded bulge that hung low and full. It almost didn’t look real—like something out of a cartoon, exaggerated and impossible. And yet, there it was, a testament to just how much I had consumed.

I stood there for a moment, just staring at myself in the mirror. I knew I’d eaten a lot, but seeing the evidence in front of me like this was almost surreal. I couldn’t believe how much I’d managed to pack away—how much my belly had expanded to accommodate it all. I looked like I’d swallowed a beach ball whole, my normally lean frame now dominated by this massive, swollen gut.

A mix of shock and disbelief washed over me. I’d seen my belly bloated before—college eating challenges had often left me stuffed, but never like this. This was on another level entirely. I could feel the weight of it, the sheer fullness pressing down on me, making it hard to stand upright. Every movement made my gut jiggle slightly, a constant reminder of how tightly packed it was with food.

Despite the discomfort, there was something almost fascinating about it. The sight of my body so utterly transformed, my belly swollen beyond anything I’d ever thought possible, was strangely compelling. It was as if I’d crossed some invisible line, entered a new territory where my body was no longer my own but something else entirely—something massive and insatiable.

I ran my hand over the curve of my gut one more time, feeling the tightness beneath my palm, the way my skin stretched over the fullness. Then, with a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror and headed back into the room, where the guys were waiting.

I stumbled out of the bathroom, still in a daze from the sight of my bloated belly, and made my way to the bed. My legs were heavy, my body protesting with every step as the weight of my overstuffed gut dragged me down. As soon as I reached the edge of the bed, I let myself fall backward, the mattress groaning beneath me as I sprawled out on top of the covers. The sensation of finally lying down was a relief beyond words. My belly, round and tight, stretched upward, and I could feel the strain in my skin as it tried to accommodate the ridiculous amount of food I’d packed away.

I let out a long, contented sigh, resting a hand on the taut dome of my stomach. It was firm to the touch, barely giving under the pressure of my fingers. My eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, I was lost in the sensation of being so full, so heavy, so utterly stuffed.

The sound of laughter pulled me from my reverie. The guys were still buzzing with energy, moving around the room as they started to get ready for whatever was coming next. Jim was the first to strip off his shirt, revealing a flat but slightly rounded belly—nothing compared to mine, but still showing signs of the indulgence we’d all participated in today. He patted it with a grin, turning to show it off to Banning and Noel.

"Look at this," Jim said, chuckling. "I’m usually flat as a board, but today... man, I’m starting to show a little gut. Must have been all those pastries at the market."

Banning, who was already down to his boxers, laughed and flexed his own stomach, which was a bit bloated than usual but nowhere near as distended as mine. "Yeah, I’m feeling it too. I think I’m still carrying around half that platter of fries we demolished earlier."

Noel joined in, lifting his shirt to reveal his own slightly swollen belly. "Same here. It’s like we’ve all turned into little food balloons, but I gotta say, Harry definitely wins the prize for the biggest gut."

They all turned to look at me, sprawled out on the bed with my massive, bloated belly on full display. The contrast between their smaller, slightly rounded stomachs and my own overstuffed gut was almost comical. I looked like I’d swallowed a whole watermelon, while they’d only nibbled on a few snacks.

Jim grinned and gave his own belly another pat. “How are you even still conscious after all that? You’ve gotta be on the verge of passing out, mate.”

I could only groan in response, too full and too tired to form a coherent reply. My belly felt like it was about to burst, every breath a reminder of how far I’d pushed myself today. But despite the discomfort, there was a strange sense of camaraderie in the room, a bond forged through our shared gluttony.

The guys continued to joke and laugh, comparing their own bellies and teasing me about mine, but I barely heard them. All I could focus on was the heavy, aching fullness that filled every inch of my midsection. I rubbed my hand over the curve of my stomach, trying to soothe the tightness, but it was no use. I was beyond stuffed, my gut stretched to its absolute limit.

Even so, as I lay there, I couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. I had no idea how I’d let myself get talked into eating so much, but in some weird way, it had been worth it. The guys were having the time of their lives, and despite my current state, I couldn’t deny that a part of me was enjoying it too.

For part two

For more of my stories click here

#gainer fiction #gay gainer #male gaining #stuffing #belly expansion #belly fiction #gainer stories #gainer story #stuffing art

113 notes · View notes

themultifanshipper · 8 months ago

Text

George knew he was fucked.

Well, preferably he was going to be doing the fucking.

Warnings: being disgusting in public, infidelity? Kinda fluffy? Idk

George spotted you from across the paddock on media day. You were new on the media team but you were already proving to be a force to be reckoned with. Didn't take anyone's bullshit, didn't ask mundane, stupid questions that made the drivers internally cringe. You were smart, that much was obvious the first time meeting you, and it didn't take long for the drivers to warm to you, especially George.

He was instantly drawn to you and always went out of his way to talk to you first, guaranteeing he'd be in a good mood for the rest of the day.

Then he spotted you from across the dance floor after the last race of the season, at some overpriced privatised club everyone was invited to celebrate at.

You were wearing a strapless thing that showed off your figure, perhaps more than was appropriate, but it was certainly effective in making sure you caught his eye constantly, only leaving the dance floor periodically to get drinks.

Every time you walked past him he would catch your eye and you would exchange winks and conspiratorial grins.

That night, he decided he needed you. He walked over and you danced awkwardly for a while, in true George fashion, but the songs got slower and it quickly turned into dirty whispers and roaming hands.

If you asked anyone else, your behaviour would be qualified as indecent, and even Lando, the expert on public indecency, told you to "maybe cool it a bit". But George's thigh between your legs made it hard to think straight and soon enough the two of you needed your clothes off.

You inevitably ended up in his hotel room and he picked you apart, learning the ins and outs of your body.

He made you writhe, gasp, shiver and moan in pitches you didn't know you could manage, and you knew you were screwed. Ruined for anyone else.

That was the first time. And you both knew it wouldn't be the last. His house, his drivers room, various private jets, clubs, hotels all around the world, Charles' yacht (that was a night to remember, Charles' scream still ringing out in the collective memory).

You were convinced Carmen knew about it. How could she not? The two of you were inseperable, fucking like rabbits all over the place. It was clear to anyone who knew the two of you that you were made for each other.

But as it turned out Carmen didn't care at all, only interested in sponsors and her carefully curated PR image that made her rich. So the only reputation their breakup could hurt was George's.

And it didn't really hurt it, let's be honest. Famous, popular Mercedes formula 1 driver George Russell could pick whoever the fuck he wanted, and that was you.

You celebrated with champagne and a very drunken, very public wedding in Vegas at the Grand Prix, which just happened to be the next weekend...

It was quite the blowout. All the drivers showed up, showering you in champagne which almost made you cry with how symbolic it was of their acceptance of you into the F1 family.

But it didn't take long for you and George to dissappear into the night together, stumbling along, giggling away as you made your way slowly up to your hotel room.

He undressed you carefully, worshipping your body like it was made just for him. He spent over an hour between your legs, sliding his tongue over every inch of skin he could find, sucking and biting the sensitive skin until you were begging him for release, which he took pleasure in denying over and over again.

When he finally slid into you, rubbing gentle circles over your clit, you were so riled up you came instantly. The feeling of being filled and stretched enough to send you over the edge.

He didn't stop though as you held on to his hair and scratched down his back, driving the final nail in the coffin that sent him over the edge as well.

You fell asleep like that, and when you woke up you went again, and then once again after breakfast, plastic ring pops hanging on to your fingers for dear life.

You were in love with George Russell, and he was equally in love with you.

Horny bastards that you were.

#my thots #george thots #george russell #gr63 #f1 #formula1 #formula 1 rpf #george russell x reader #george russell smut

215 notes · View notes

swiftiethatlovesf1 · 2 months ago

Text

Back home p.9

Hii guyss, here's part 9 of the story if you've missed part 8 here it is and if you want to read more stories here's my masterlist. Let me know what you think :)

You finish getting ready, smoothing out your dress one last time before checking the time. Tonight, Lorenzo had invited everyone to a nice restaurant to celebrate his engagement, and Pascale had insisted you come along, calling you “part of the family.” The thought made you smile, but it also made you nervous. Lately, things had felt different between you and the Leclerc brothers—like something was shifting, but you weren’t sure what.

Arthur texts you to let you know he’s waiting outside, and you grab your coat before heading out the door. As you slide into his car, he turns to you with a wide smile.

“You look amazing,” he says, his eyes lingering a bit longer than usual. There’s a warmth in his gaze that makes your cheeks flush.

“Thanks, Arthur,” you reply with a grin. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

The drive to the restaurant is filled with casual conversation, Arthur telling you about his week while you laugh at his jokes. His voice is light and playful, but there’s an intensity in the way he glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

“You know, this is probably one of the fanciest dinners I’ve been to in a while,” you say, trying to shake off the odd tension you’re feeling.

Arthur chuckles. “Well, Lorenzo likes to go all out. Plus, it’s his engagement—we’ve got to make it special.”

When you arrive at the restaurant, the whole place exudes elegance—dim lighting, soft music, and tables adorned with beautiful arrangements. You spot Lorenzo and Charlotte immediately, seated at a large table with Pascale and Charles. After greeting everyone, you give Lorenzo a tight hug, congratulating him and Charlotte on their engagement.

“Thank you so much,” Lorenzo beams. “I’m so glad you could be here.”

As you admire Charlotte’s ring, the conversation flows naturally. She talks excitedly about their wedding plans, while you compliment the delicate design of her engagement ring. Both Charles and Arthur sit across from you, quietly watching, though you don’t notice their eyes lingering on you. You’re too absorbed in the conversation to catch the subtle glances exchanged between the brothers—Charles’s soft, admiring looks and Arthur’s more possessive, almost guarded stares.

The evening progresses smoothly. The food is delicious, the company lively, and you feel at ease. Every now and then, Arthur leans in to make a joke, and you laugh, not realizing how he relishes every moment he has your attention. Across the table, Charles is quieter, but there’s a certain intensity behind his eyes whenever he looks at you.

Halfway through the meal, Charles clears his throat, pulling everyone’s attention to him. “So, I’m leaving soon for the next race,” he says, glancing at you briefly before turning back to his family.

Arthur’s expression shifts subtly, his lips curving into a smile that’s a little too satisfied. He quickly hides it by taking a sip of his drink, but you don’t notice. The thought of Charles being away seems to bring him a sense of relief—a moment where he’d have you all to himself.

Charles, however, has other plans. “Actually, I was wondering…” he looks directly at you, his eyes soft but sincere, “if you’d like to come with me. It’s going to be a pretty exciting weekend.”

You blink, taken aback. “Me? To the race?”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I think you’d enjoy it. Plus, I could use some company.”

Your heart races at the invitation. You hadn’t expected Charles to ask you something like that. While it sounds thrilling, the reality of your school responsibilities weighs on your mind. “I don’t know, Charles. I mean, I have classes, and it’s a bit last minute…”

Charles gives you a patient smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “No pressure, think about it. I’d love to have you there, though.”

Before you can respond, Arthur shifts in his seat, his jaw tight as he watches the interaction. “Yeah, no need to rush into it,” Arthur says smoothly, his voice calm but there’s an edge to it. “I’m sure Charles can manage without you this time.”

There’s something tense in the way he speaks, but again, you don’t notice. Instead, you smile at both brothers, grateful for the invitation but unsure what to say. “I’ll think about it,” you offer, trying to appease both of them.

Arthur leans back in his chair, his smile fading slightly as he watches the way Charles looks at you. Though he hides it well, the thought of you joining Charles on the trip makes his blood boil. Charles may have been the golden child in many aspects of life, but Arthur wasn’t going to let him win you so easily. His hand tightens around his glass, and while his expression remains calm, his mind is spinning with possessive thoughts.

Dinner continues, filled with laughter and conversation, but you can’t help but feel a little distracted. Kika’s words from the other day still linger in your mind. You catch Charles glancing at you several times, his smile soft and warm, but you try to brush it off as friendly. After all, you’d had a crush on him growing up—maybe you were just overthinking it. Yet, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if Kika was right. Could Charles really see you as more than just a friend?

As the night comes to a close, you exchange hugs and goodbyes with everyone, thanking them for the wonderful evening. Both brothers remain close to you as you leave the restaurant, their subtle rivalry still lingering in the air, though you’re blissfully unaware.

Part 10

Tag list: @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @janeh22, @victoriaholland, @abq654, @iamapersonwholikesunicorns, @anaferreira-4, @larastark3107, @itgirlofthecenturysposts, @boherahpsody, @iamkaku, @jz12, @boherahpsody

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc x female reader #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc

71 notes · View notes

callsign-venus · 9 months ago

Text

For the Love of Love | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader | Part I

Summary: You are dreading your grandparents' 60th anniversary. While you love them, along with the rest of your family, you're tired of being "the single one." So when your friend Bradley Bradshaw offers to accompany you to your grandparents' Tahoe cabin for the long weekend, your tipsy self agrees. The problem? Only that you're hopelessly in love with him.

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: alcohol consumption, pining, fake dating, reader is supposed to be young, so age gap?

a/n: this is my first series, yay! Let me know if you'd like to join the taglist! I hope y'all enjoy x

The night before you were expected – along with the rest of your family – at your grandparents’ Tahoe cabin, you called up your childhood best friend to help you drown your sorrows at the Hard Deck. The air in the bar was dense with a steady throb of ‘80s music and the slur of dozens of drunken conversations. There were so many people that, even though you immediately shed your jacket, a bead of sweat rolled down your back before you even reached the bar. Still, the Hard Deck was like a second home to you, and its chaos enveloped you with all the warmth of a hug from a friend who was a little more drunk than they’d admit.

Nat was already at the bar. She had a beer in one hand, another waiting for you in front of the empty barstool next to her. You smiled. She must have put up quite a fight to keep that seat for you on such a busy night.

You hopped up on the barstool and snagged your beer, relishing in its coolness more than its taste. How long until Nat gave up on trying to get you to like IPAs? At least this one was potable, unlike the last one she tried to get you to drink.

“You’re late,” she said.

“Sorry, I was packing.” You had to yell over the clash of noise between you. “Do you know how hard it is to pack winter clothes? I have, like, three suitcases. Full.”

Nat laughed. “Excited much?”

You slammed your bottle of beer down on the counter like an inebriated judge making a ruling. “I’m actually not going to go.”

“To your grandparents’ 60th anniversary?” Nat arched her brows.

“Yes. Think about it.” You sat up straighter. “I’m alone with my family in the mountains. I’m the only grandchild not in a relationship. We’re all there to celebrate love. My grandma tells me fourteen times that she had two kids by my age. Auntie Marnie will get wine drunk and ask why I’m not dating anyone when I’m such a catch. All the cousins will bring their partners and they’ll hold hands and make googly eyes at each other and kiss each other in the kitchen. Everyone will be so in love, and I’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And I can’t even bring you with me because you’re working. Ugh, this is going to suck.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” Nat took a swig of her beer.

“Didn’t I tell you about Sabrine’s wedding?” You knew you had. Your cousin’s wedding was sweet and intimate, and of course you were happy for her and Matt. But there were moments that sent you teetering toward something akin to an existential crisis. And the constant comments from your aunts, the snide remarks from your brother, and the oppressive sense of love in the air definitely did not help. Slightly buzzed in your aunt’s backyard the night before the ceremony, watching everyone declare their love in a thousand small ways (an easy brush of the hands, a fork of pasta held up like an offering, a future planned by spoken word), you couldn’t help but draw up your feet and stare at the stars like they had an answer for you.

Nat shrugged this off. “Then bring a date. There’s plenty of eligible bachelors in this bar right now.”

As if her words were a spell, a seaman tapped on her shoulder. Nat was in civilian clothes, so her high rank wasn’t visible to ward him off like on most other nights. She snapped around. Her teeth must have been barred because she sent him skittering into the crowd in record time.

“Oh yeah,” you sipped your drink, “plenty of eligible bachelors.”

“Shut up. I’m not the one leaving on a flight tomorrow morning, desperately lonely, heading for a fate as terrible as celebrating love.”

“Who’s celebrating love?” Jake appeared like a demon summoned straight from hell.

When Nat first introduced you to the Daggers, they had all been intimidating. But only Hangman had you on edge. You’d softened up to the guy in the years since, but you didn’t need him knowing about how “desperately lonely” you were. In fact, there was only one man in the world who you wanted to see less than Jake in that moment. And if Jake was there, it was only a matter of time before he was, too.

Nat tipped her beer toward you. “She doesn’t want to be the only single person at her grandparents’ 60th wedding anniversary this weekend.”

God. There he was. Popped up right as you expected – and dreaded. His loud Hawaiin shirt poorly concealed his heavily muscled arms. His aviators hung off his undershirt, and they rattled against his chest as he laughed at your predicament. You couldn’t even look at his face.

“I just know my family’s going to give me a hard time,” you said in panicked defense. “Even if they don’t mean to.”

Bradley draped an arm over your shoulder. He’d done it so countless times in knowing you, like it never fazed him. It probably didn’t. He did it to Hangman and Phoenix and Bob, too. However, you had never gotten used to the feel of his skin against your own. Your face got hot, and you hoped he couldn’t feel the sweat spreading under your shirt

He brought his mouth close to your ear to ensure you heard him over the ruckus of the bar. “Whatever your family says about you, just know that they’re right.”

You wriggled out from under his arm, and he doubled over laughing. So did Hangman and Phoenix.

“Don’t let him get under your skin,” Nat said after collecting herself.

You rolled your eyes. He was already under your skin. Had been from the moment you first laid eyes on him. Spread like an itch that was always there, but one you could never scratch.

“C’mon, let’s play some pool.” Jake vanished into the crowd, knowing the three of you would follow.

You had never been so thankful to be around the pool table, even though some nights you dreaded it. Every one of the Daggers could outplay you in pool; you always felt bad for whoever was unlucky enough to be your partner. And normally, you felt a little awkward when the conversation turned to work. Fighter jets and naval bureaucracy were not things you were well versed in, but that night, you were grateful for the work conversation to overshadow the conversation about your lack of a love life.

Unfortunately, when you and Nat were down three-nothing, somehow your love life took center stage again.

Jake sank the cue ball – such a rare occurrence the four of you stood still against the wave of bar patrons for a solid five seconds before you and Nat cheered.

“Nice going, Seresin.” Nat patted you on the shoulder. “Set her up real nice.”

Jake scoffed.

Bradley winked at you as you set the cue ball on the table. He mouthed good luck, and you – along with your chances of winning – were a goner.

You had a perfect opportunity to sink the ruby red 7 ball. You lined up your shot, pulled back on your cue stick, took a shallow breath – that did not calm your nerves – and completely missed. The cue ball jumped around the table, smacking into solids and stripes alike. Everyone leaned in as it collided with the 8 ball, sending it hurtling toward the corner. By some small miracle, it missed the pocket by a breath. Both the 8 and cue balls rolled to an unceremonious stop.

“Well, that could have been worse.” Nat sounded like she was trying to reassure herself.

“Jesus,” Jake said. “No need to worry about your boy troubles if this is how you play pool after two years of practice with the best.”

Your cheeks warmed. Usually, you could at least hold your own. Your partner would have to do a lot of heavy lifting, but they could count on you to sink a few balls. At the very least, they could count on you not to do whatever the hell that just was. You could feel everyone staring, Jake’s mishap long forgotten. You could especially feel Bradley’s gaze on you. It was hotter in the bar than when you first arrived. You crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing a thumb against the sticky skin of your upper arm.

“Don’t you think she should just bring a date to the anniversary?” Nat asked the two other aviators as Bradley lined up his shot. “That would keep her family off her back.”

You dug your nails into your skin to keep from lunging at her over the pool table.

Hangman grinned, his teeth flashing against the neon lights. “Sure. Any luck with those dating apps?”

“Ha ha,” you said. “It’s no use. Besides the fact that they suck ass, my plane leaves at 8:30 tomorrow morning.”

Bradley sank two stripes in one shot. Before taking another, he gestured around the bar. “And these fine men don’t meet your standards? They are members of the American Armed Forces, after all.”

“I’m not taking a stranger on my grandparent’s 60th anniversary trip, thank you.”

Bradley shrugged. He missed the 15 ball.

Nat leaned over to take her shot. She looked up at the boys, flashed a smile at you, then said, “What if she took one of the Dagger boys?”

Your hands flew to the edge of the pool table for support, otherwise, you might have gone down.

“What, should she take Bob?” Jake’s voice was laced with alcohol and utter delight in your misery. “He’d have a heart attack trying to keep up a ruse like that.”

Jake and Bradley shared a good laugh, only to be quieted when Nat went on a run and sank four solids before finally missing.

She straightened and used her cue stick to point at them. “Y’know, I was kind thinking about one of you two.”

Your blood just about froze solid in your veins. What the hell was Nat thinking? You’d rather die than spend a long weekend at Jake’s side – you just couldn’t bear a constant barrage of snarky comments and showboating. And you’d actually rather die than have Bradley at your side, touching you in his casual way, his shit-eating grin dawning under his mustache, and god forbid his winking.

Jake smirked. “Surely there are easier ways to ask us out.”

“Yeah, we don’t bite.” Bradley laughed. “Before I consider the offer, how nice is this cabin?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I’m dying to go out with the both of you. How could you see right through me?”

You prayed that no one could see right through you. Especially as your heart rate quickened when Bradley’s gaze settled on you, clouded with thought.

“Assholes,” Nat grumbled as Jake sank the rest of the stripes and the 8 ball in three easy shots. You two were down four-nothing.

Your night of drinking with Nat was ruined. You half-hoped Bob would pop up, offer to be your date, and whisk you away for a respectful and very platonic weekend. Your heart sank like the 8 ball when you remembered he was deployed for three months somewhere in the Indian Ocean.

Reality settled in and you figured you might as well get a good night’s sleep before braving the cold mountains and your family.

“I think I’m gonna head home.” You hugged Nat. “Sorry for being a shitty pool partner.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less of you.” She dropped her voice and whispered in your ear. “Sorry for pimping you out like that.”

You shook your head. As much as you had wanted the ground to swallow you, you appreciated her efforts to make your weekend less miserable. Even if she was a little out of line.

You said goodbye to the boys, gathered your purse and your jacket, and left. The noise of the bar melted into the cool, quiet night. You pulled out your phone and ordered yourself an Uber. A slight breeze chased away the sheen of sweat on your skin, and you allowed yourself a moment’s respite under the moonlight.

“Hey.”

You spun around. Bradley was standing there, his hands in his pockets.

“Hey.” Your voice was a little too loud. You’d been yelling all night over the noise of the bar, after all. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I just wanted to say sorry.” He smiled. “For teasing you about the whole no date thing.”

“Oh. Thanks, I guess.” Goosebumps raised on your arms.

“Y’know, I’ve never been to Tahoe.”

“Oh really?” You started to struggle on your jacket to fight the chill. Bradley held a hand out, and you gave him your purse so you could slip your jacket on easier. “Thanks. You’ve never been to Tahoe?”

“Nope.” He handed your purse back.

“Thanks,” you said again. “That’s a bummer. It’s beautiful, especially at this time of the year. A late snowstorm just rolled through, it should be a winter wonderland up there.”

“Well,” he took a step closer to you. “I was thinking. I’ve never been to Tahoe, you still need a date, I enjoy your company…”

You swallowed hard. Were you dreaming? “Bradley, my flight leaves early tomorrow.”

“So? I’ve got leave. I’m used to early mornings.” His smile was nearly blinding in the full moonlight.

“Did Nat put you up to this?” You tried to catch a glance of her through the large windows, but the Hard Deck was just too packed.

“A little. But to be honest, I didn’t need a lot of convincing. I think it could be fun.”

You fiddled with a button of your jacket, unable to look at him. Before you could think of an excuse to reject his offer, you blurted, “Pick me up from my place?”

“Of course. That’s what a good boyfriend does.” He pulled you in for a quick hug. A completely platonic, pat-on the back, ends-quick-as-it-started type hug. So why did your heart almost stop?

“I’ll book your ticket,” you said over the jackhammering beat of your heart. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Just be at my apartment at 6:00.”

Your Uber pulled up to the curb.

“I’ve gotta go.” You edged toward the car. “But, just – thank you so much. I know this is weird, but I really appreciate it.”

He winked. “Anytime.”

As you settled in the back of the Toyota Camry, you took a deep breath. What the hell did you just get yourself into?

Read Part II here!

#top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #fake dating

400 notes · View notes

putmeinmoviebaby · 3 months ago

Text

Arriving at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, I walk through the huge door towards the elevator. It was exactly 2:30 in the morning when I received a call from Garcia saying we had a new case.

As I walk through the elevator door, I hear a voice shouting in front of me, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Y/N, HOLD THE DOOR, PLEASE!” Looking at the voice ahead, I see JJ and Reid approaching.

The two were coming towards me when the door was about to close, so I immediately held it open.

"Thank you. How was your weekend? I imagine it was more exciting than mine." JJ says as she gets into the elevator with Spencer, standing next to me.

"Ah, it was a lot of chaos. My neighbor set the kitchen on fire and I had to help her put it out," I say, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to get rid of the sleep.

“It is known that the biggest cause of house fires is neglect of the electrical system and lack of maintenance,” says Reid as he takes a sip of coffee in his hands.

“Actually, she was trying to make a cake and ended up setting the kitchen on fire. She’s a 66-year-old woman,” I explain as I lean against the wall of the elevator. "Wait, shouldn't you go out to dinner with Will? It was all arranged."

"Oh, I wish I could, but my babysitter got sick, and I had to cancel everything."

"I can't believe it, what bad luck! Everything was arranged for you to celebrate your wedding anniversary. You could have called me; I would have watched Henry for you."

"No, I couldn't do that. The last case left us all exhausted; we needed some rest."

As I hear her words, the elevator doors open, leading us to step out.

Ahead, I spot Derek with a mug in his hands, heading toward the meeting room.

I drop my things on the table in front of Emily and make my way to the room.

Upon arriving, I sit in the chair next to Spencer and Emily, who greets me with a smile and a pat on the back.

"Since everyone is already here, I will start presenting today’s case. Our Atlanta office informed us about a serial killer; two prostitutes have been stabbed and repositioned in the past two weeks," Garcia says, displaying the photos of the victims' bodies on the screen.

---------------------------------------------------

"Oh God, my back is killing me," I hear Rossi’s voice as he exits the jet.

I let out a low laugh and glance sideways at him. "Age catches up with everyone, Agent Rossi," I say, grabbing my bag after returning from Atlanta, where we solved another case.

As I move forward, getting closer to Reid, I see JJ running to catch up with me.

"Y/n, could you do me a favor? I don’t know if you have plans for tonight, but I managed to reschedule my restaurant reservation, and it’s only for today." "Could you watch Harry for me tonight?"

"Of course, go have fun, you guys deserve it," I say, giving JJ’s shoulder a squeeze. "Besides, I love Harry. He’s a really fun kid, way better than spending the night watching Friends."

"I can help you," I hear Reid’s voice say, who was walking next to me. "If you want, I can just go home."

I look at his face and smile.

"It would be lovely to have Dr. Spencer Reid’s company," I say playfully.

"Okay, I’ll see you two at 8," I hear JJ say as she heads toward her car.

As time passes, I park my car on the corner of JJ's house and soon see Spencer’s car nearby.

Getting out of the car, I lock it and head toward JJ's house, knocking on the door, which is quickly opened by Will.

"Y/n, how are you? Come in, JJ is finishing getting ready, and Spencer is in the kitchen with Harry."

"Oh, hey Will, I’m good. I’ll leave my bag here in the living room," I say, walking toward the living room and placing my bag on the side table.

Turning toward the kitchen, I soon see Spencer with Harry, playing a word search game.

Spencer was wearing his dark blue cardigan along with his glasses, making him even more attractive in my eyes.

He was so focused that he hardly noticed my presence upon arriving in the kitchen. Harry, who spotted me right away, came running toward me, throwing his arms around my shoulders and hugging me.

"Oh Harry, I’ve missed you! It’s been so long since I last saw you. You’re getting bigger every day," I say while still hugging him.

"Soon I’ll be taller than you" I hear him say, which makes me laugh.

"That won’t be hard, Harry, since height isn’t my strong suit," I say, releasing Harry from the hug and looking at Spencer, who was watching me with a sideways smile. I walk over to him and sit in the chair next to him.

"Good evening, Dr. Spencer Reid. Have you found all 1,000 the crosswords?" I ask, noticing the pencil in his hand.

"Yes, this was the last one," he says while writing in the leaf.

"The Spencer is really fast,Y/n. He’s the best at word searches," I hear Harry say with admiration.

"Oh, I’m sure he is," I say, looking in his direction, which makes him look back at my face.

His expression showed a mix of embarrassment and happiness. JJ enters the kitchen with Will.

"I don’t know how to thank you two for this," I hear JJ say.

"Don’t mention it, you’d do the same if we needed it. You look beautiful," I say, looking at her, which makes her let out a soft laugh.

"Thanks, the restaurant is a bit far from the city. If anything comes up, you can call me. I should be back by around 11," JJ says, heading toward Harry, kissing his cheek and ruffling his hair.

"Okay, Harry and I are going to throw a big party. In the meantime," I say, looking at Harry, who lets out a laugh.

"Oh, I’m sure of that," JJ says, laughing, as she heads toward the door with Will. "Bye, see you later." I soon see her closing the door.

"Can we order pizza?"

"Oh, Harry, you read my mind. That’s exactly what we’re going to do," I say, grabbing my phone to call the pizzeria.

"While we wait, why don’t we watch Jurassic Park?" I see Harry’s body jump in excitement, and we head to the living room, where he lays down on the couch to watch the movie.

I see Spencer sitting next to me and Harry laying his head in my lap.

"Did you manage to get some sleep?" I hear Spencer’s soft voice ask.

I look in his direction and let out a low sigh. "I wish I could, but I couldn’t sleep last night. I was too anxious about the last case."

"It’s okay, your body is stressed and anxious with your daily life. You have a job that demands a lot from your mental health."

"I often feel incapable, like I won’t be able to carry on, but I remind myself that I need to be strong, or I’ll fall apart."

"You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s impossible to be, rationally speaking. Let yourself fall apart once in a while."

I let my body relax, feeling a little lighter, and rest my face on Spencer’s shoulder, which surprises him at first. Soon, he wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer and running his hand through my hair.

"It’s okay, you don’t need to be strong around me. You know that." I hear his voice whispering in my ear: "I’m here. You can call me when you can’t sleep, and I’ll read you the story of Snow White, which was your favorite when you were a child."

Hearing what he said makes me let out a soft laugh, and I hide my face in his neck, causing him to feel shivers.

"Oh, I’ll definitely remember that. So, wait for my call in the middle of the night for you to read me the story of Snow White."

"That won’t be a problem; I know the story by heart. I used to read stories to my mom when she had episodes."

"That’s really sweet; you’re definitely a great son." "I’m terrible at reading in public. I get really nervous," I say softly, looking at Spencer’s hands now resting in his lap.

"When we read or speak in public, the first thing our body thinks before we start is that we’re being threatened. And when we feel that way, biochemical reactions happen naturally in our body, which help us get out of the threatening situation," I hear Spencer say.

"I love it when you do that," I say, still looking at his hands.

"Do what?" He asks, looking at my face with a curious expression, raising an eyebrow.

"When you start to ramble about something," I say, laughing and watching his face heat up.

"Oh, the rest of the team hates it because they think I talk too much, which isn’t entirely untrue," I hear him say.

Hearing your words makes me laugh as I see a slight smile forming on your lips; sometimes, Reid seemed like a "little boy" seeking his parents' attention.

"Don't worry, you always have me, you know that," I say, leaning my shoulder against yours in an attempt to get closer to your body.

I see a slight smile on your face now, and your light brown eyes are fixed on mine as your hand moves toward my face, resting on my cheek for a few moments before leaning in to leave a kiss there.

It makes me feel a sigh in my chest, completely losing myself in those eyes and long brown hair that make my heart warm and alive.

The End

#fanfiction #x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubbler x reader #fancfiction

69 notes · View notes

adore-laur · 1 year ago

Text

RENDEZVOUS

— a steamy flashback from the dadrry universe about harry as your fiancé 💍

——

After another shot of vodka went down the hatch, you still didn't qualify yourself as drunk. Tipsy was the more accurate feeling since every shot you had taken in the last ten minutes hadn't quite affected your bloodstream yet. The fifth one was being poured already. Or maybe the sixth. It didn't really matter since letting loose was what bachelorette parties were made for.

The event was being held in a small theater in downtown San Francisco, occupied by you and your friends, to celebrate the last few weeks before you officially became a married woman. A drag show was the extravaganza for the evening, and it was currently the intermission, so everyone was out of their seats drinking and catching up with each other.

You and Harry had needed a getaway amid the final phase of wedding planning. The both of you were staying at the Ritz-Carlton for the weekend, and it was nice to take a breather from the stress of the big day coming up. In the weeks leading up to the mini vacation, you had decided it would be perfect to have your bachelorette party in the scenic city. Most of your friends lived in surrounding areas, so you sent the invites out and hoped everything worked out. It clearly did because everyone was buzzed and having the time of their lives.

Your throat hurt from loudly cheering on the drag queens who had just performed. The tiara on your head with a tiny veil attached was slipping off, and the bride-to-be sash across your body was getting wrinkled, but you couldn't care less. Happiness and love exuded from your friends who had come to carouse with you.

Harry had proposed a little over a year ago after he cooked a fancy New Year's Eve dinner and led you to the backyard at midnight to get down on one knee, popping the question with shaky hands and watery eyes. You were incredibly thankful it hadn't been a grand display in public. It had been just you and him at home under the string lights, with butterflies breaking loose in your stomach.

In planning the wedding, you had vowed to him that you wouldn't be a bridezilla. You'd allow him to have equal insight and let him completely take the reins regarding the food that will be served since it's his forte. Overall, the process hadn't been too draining. You worked well as a team, and he was always open to suggestions and last-minute changes of plans. The final touches would be put together once you came home from the trip. Then, it would finally be time to marry him.

"Did you leave Harry alone in the hotel room?" asked your friend, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, but I'm sure he'll find something to do," you said. "He can never sit still for too long."

She carefully fixed your tiara. "When's his bachelor party?"

"Next weekend. He's having it at the restaurant he works at."

"Not at the strip club?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

You laughed. "He's mature enough to understand that I find it suspicious when guys go there for their bachelor party. Some call it their last night of freedom. How weird is that?"

You had nothing against strippers, but you thought it was reasonable that you'd rather have Harry spend his night somewhere else to celebrate his, you know, commitment to you.

"You're marrying such a gentleman. It makes me jealous," she said with a playful nudge. She wasn't wrong, so you just shrugged smugly and sipped your fruity cocktail.

Gasps and excited clapping suddenly stole your attention. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the stage, watching the red velvet curtains draw back once again. Shuffling to your table, you smoothed down the back of your dress and sat.

The lights dimmed as people who worked at the venue began rolling a black piano onto the stage. You wondered what it would be used for since the drag queens earlier had strictly danced and lip-synced to music booming from the speakers. Other instruments were also being brought out—guitars, drums, and even a saxophone.

Growing more confused by the second, you turned around and stared at your friends around the room to see if they knew what was happening. All you received were mischievous smiles.

Before you could ask questions, you were abruptly pulled out of your seat and led to the front of the stage as people situated themselves by their respective instruments. You leaned into your friend and asked, "What's going on? This doesn't look like a drag show is about to happen."

She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Let's find out."

You didn't reply because the band started playing jazzy music as the stage lights turned on, revealing quite a modern setup for what you knew was definitely not a drag performance. A spotlight shone, and it began to move toward the left wings, where a silhouette of someone was waiting.

"Please give a warm welcome to Harry Styles!" introduced the saxophonist.

You just about choked on your Mai Tai.

Your vision finally focused on Harry as he strutted out wearing yellow trousers and a button-up under a suit jacket. A tiny microphone was clipped to his collar, and you couldn't even begin to guess what he had planned tonight. He gave you no inclination that he'd be here. No subtle hints had been dropped in conversations with him, and no sneaky clues had been given by your friends. It was actually shocking, considering he was usually awful at keeping secrets.

Everyone cheered for him; whistles and encouraging hollers were thrown his way as he held his arms out and walked toward center stage. You were too taken aback to join in as you watched him cut the band off with a gesture before facing the room with his hands behind his back.

Was his hair parted down the middle?

"Thank you, thank you," Harry said with a bow, his deep voice echoing throughout the theater. "It is so great to be here hosting a bachelorette party for the first time."

Wow. He had jokes up his sleeve, apparently. Was he about to do a stand-up routine?

The applause and praise continued as you shook your head in disbelief, letting a huge smile take over your face at the unexpected surprise.

"This is new territory for me," he said. I'm very excited to step back from my chef duties and do some comedy tonight."

There was no way he was going to do a comedy bit. You couldn't believe he crashed your party with a fancy suit and a routine ready to go. He was talking to your friend group in the audience like he was giving a Saturday Night Live monologue. You were going to lose it if he started playing the piano.

"You see, my fiancée and I go way back. We met about three years ago at a bar." He finally looked at you. "I ordered a lemon drop martini, and she ordered a strawberry margarita."

A stagehand brought out a clear martini and set it on the piano, and another one came down the stairs and placed a pink-colored margarita on your table. Your face heated at the simple yet thoughtful act.

"We talked for hours until I drunkenly asked her on a date. You know what she told me?" A plethora of whats were screamed from the crowd. "She said, 'Ask me again when you're sober!'"

Everyone laughed, and you hid your face in your hands. That wasn't even a joke; you had genuinely said that to him. You were blown away that he remembered such a tiny detail.

"Ultimately, I'm a very serious partner," Harry continued as he began sauntering toward the piano, "and nothing says serious partner like learning how to play the piano to impress my fiancée."

Taking a sip of your margarita, you glanced behind you. Some of your friends were recording him with their phones, and you were glad this could be something you could watch repeatedly.

Harry sat on the bench and exhaled. "Ooh, that feels good."

You had to wave one of the fans the drag queens gave out to cool down. He looked unfairly handsome, he was playing the goddamn piano, and he kept giving you secret looks that made you sweat.

"Now... I don't know if you've heard, but I'm not a boyfriend anymore." He stared straight at you. "I'm a fiancé now." Whistles from your friends caused him to proudly smile. "I'm also going to be dad," he casually blurted. "We're going to have a baby."

The entire room gasped, and you gaped at him with wide eyes. "We're not," Harry added after a short pause. "Wouldn't it be crazy if we were, though?" Your friends were now shaking you and battering you with questions. Harry smiled before his face dropped comically. "We're not."

He teasingly raised eyebrows and smirked at you as if to signify that you were actually pregnant, although you were drinking alcohol. Hopefully, everyone knew that you'd never be that stupid.

The girls were gawking at you, but Harry rolled his lips in and shook his head to remove the confusion. He continued playing the piano, and your cheeks hurt from laughing so much. He was doing such a great job, and you were genuinely trying to figure out how he had pulled all of this off.

"I love my fiancée; she's my best friend," he said smoothly. "She's hilarious, honest, caring, fuckin' beautiful"—he trailed off and furrowed his eyebrows—"and, uh... good in bed." You rolled your eyes as he puckered his lips at you, more cheers filling the room.

"Yeah, that's right." He blew out a relieved breath. "I'm so grateful she doesn't live with her mother anymore."

"Oh my God, Harry!" you yelled with a surprised laugh.

It was a more private joke that no one understood fully, but it was funny nonetheless. You had used to live with your mother when you started dating Harry, and you always had to be quiet when he'd come over because, in his early twenties, testosterone needed to be having sex with you at the most inconvenient of times.

He winked at you before resuming. "However, for me, it's not about how my fiancée is in bed, even though I'd consider myself very lucky in that department. It's about her soul and her heart. And in all seriousness," he added as the laughter died, "I truly believe her soul is my love language."

Coos and squeals echoed at his statement, and you shyly smiled. You were the one who had taught him about all the different love languages; he had told you once that he thought your entire soul was what his was.

"Maybe some of you aren't convinced I'm a serious partner. You may be asking yourself: Did he really take secret piano lessons to do this? Well, if in doubt, just ask the maid of honor."

Your head whipped toward your maid of honor, sitting at a table behind you. She waved with a proud smile, and you gasped when you realized he must've done piano lessons with her since you knew she had played the instrument for several years.

Harry hummed loudly while closing his eyes, bringing your attention back to him. "I love being here in San Francisco. So much history."

The band behind him cheered as Harry dramatically sipped his martini. You'd never seen him so in his element with something besides his job. The confidence in the delivery of his jokes, the comedic timing, the professional stage setup—it was something you'd never forget.

"I've learned so much this week. Here's a few secrets about the hotel we're staying at," he said gaily. "Did you know they gave us the haunted room because of how pale I am?" He shook his head with a boyish smile. "That is funny."

You chuckled at the awful joke because he was actually paler than usual. It was the end of January, and he hadn't gone outside much since it'd been cold and gloomy by the coast where both of you lived.

"The bed in there is so creaky that it sounded like that one night in Mexico!"

Shocked gasps and bursts of laughter rippled throughout your friends in the audience. It was a harmless joke about how you had all gone on a couples trip a while ago, and your friends had heard you and Harry getting down with it in the hotel room. It had been terribly embarrassing.

Harry laughed. "Everybody thinks we're a couple that has a lot of sex. We don't; that's why she sleeps in a different bed than me at home."

Okay, now that wasn't true.

"Except tonight!" he shouted cheekily while pointing at you. "I mean, I think I'm just about ready to take her home with how she looks right now."

The girls at your table nudged you, and you began to get flustered. He was giving you that look again.

Harry cleared his throat and stopped playing the piano. "All jokes aside, thank you so much to everyone for celebrating with her tonight. You've all been wonderful friends over the years, and I can't wait to see you all at the wedding. It'll be terrifying, but I'm so ready. Also, thank you for bearing with my terrible jokes. Have a good rest of the night!"

You applauded along with your friends, some of them throwing leftover confetti from the drag performance earlier toward him. He brought his hands together and bowed politely as the band played a closing song.

Harry's cheeks were as pink as your strawberry margarita when he walked down the stairs with one hand behind his back and the other adjusting his suit jacket. He locked eyes with you and pursed his lips, trying to hold back a smile. Everyone stood from their seats to greet him, and the band came down holding bouquets of white iris flowers, passing them out to each of your friends.

You met Harry halfway and instantly wrapped your arms around his waist as he tilted your head up for a messy kiss on the lips. He coaxed and smacked kiss after kiss out of you until your friends started making fake gagging noises from behind. He eventually pulled away and removed his hand behind his back to hold out a bountiful bouquet of red roses that matched the color of your dress.

"For my lovely fiancée." He gave you the bouquet and then turned your head so his mouth was by your ear. "I've got a taxi picking you up after this is done."

You nodded and ran your fingers across his stomach. "Sounds perfect. That was so incredible, Harry. And the piano? I'm impressed."

"It wasn't too much?" he asked, shyly rubbing a knuckle under his eyebrow. "I didn't know if you'd appreciate me crashing your girls night."

"Are you kidding? That was the best thing I've ever seen. I'm so proud of you."

Harry blushed, and you lovingly pinched his cheek. "Thanks. I was nervous because your friends always make fun of my jokes. I thought they wouldn't laugh."

"We were cracking up. You did so good," you complimented. "How did you keep it a secret from me? I had no idea."

"I'll never tell," he said with a cute shrug.

You lightly slapped his chest. "I'll get it out of you one day. Are you staying for the rest of the show?"

"It's your night, baby. Go enjoy it with your friends," he said. "I'll be waiting in the hotel room. You should stop by for a little rendezvous."

Your tipsy mind missed his attempt at a joke entirely. "We're staying in the same room, though."

"Bloody hell," he said with a laugh. "How much alcohol have you had?"

"Excuse me, not even a lot. Mind your business. I'm having a great time."

"I'm glad you're having fun. That makes me happy." Harry adjusted your tiara and then softly pecked the corner of your mouth three times. "I'll see you back in the room, okay?"

"For our rendezvous?"

"Our top secret rendezvous," he murmured against your temple. "Don't go around telling anyone, all right?"

"Sure thing," you replied while squeezing his sides. "You can go now."

An offended scoff escaped him, and he cradled the back of your head and leaned in. "Watch your mouth. I expect you to behave when you get back."

You puckered your lips and hummed contemplatively. "But it's my special day; you said so yourself. I can say whatever I—"

Harry cut you off by pressing his lips to your bottom one, biting it with his teeth before pulling back. "I love you so much, but that attitude isn't going to fly with me tonight."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, dad."

"I'm leaving before this gets weird," he said with a smile. "Be safe, have fun, and call me if you need anything."

"Now you literally sound like a dad."

"Shush," he said. "I love you. I'll see you soon."

You pecked his lips one last time, tasting the sour lemon residue from his martini. "Love you."

"Have fun, ladies," he called out to your friends. "Take care of her, yeah?"

They all nodded, and Harry hugged you before heading to the stage to shake hands with the band. Soon after he was gone, the lights in the theater dimmed again, and the curtains opened for the final portion of the show. You headed back to your seat, feeling exceptionally giddy.

The rest of the party went by in a flash. Wigs, pop songs, and glitter invaded your brain, and now you were ready to return to the hotel. The tone he'd used earlier had made a shiver run down your spine. Low, insinuative, and almost impatient.

It was a tone that suggested you were in for a treat when you got back.

——

The key card swiftly slid into the slot. Two chirp-like beeps sounded, indicating that it was unlocked. Opening the heavy door, you stumbled inside the hotel room in the black heels you had already started to unclasp in the back of the taxi. There was confetti stuck to the bottom of them, and it nearly made you slip on the hardwood floors. That, and there was also a trail of rose petals and tea light candles weaving throughout the presidential suite that you didn't remember seeing when you had left earlier.

You giggled to yourself as you followed the trail to the bedroom. Oh, Harry. You had almost forgotten he was here.

When you walked through the doorway, the king-size bed came into view. So did your fiancé. Harry was sitting pretty on the silk sheets with a flute of champagne in his left hand as he looked out the window at the San Francisco skyline. He was wearing the same outfit from his surprise act not too long ago, but his hair had become messier, and his eyes were glassy from the bubbly liquid you noticed was already half gone from the bottle on the nightstand.

You crawled toward him on the bed, setting your bouquet down. "Hi. I'm back."

His gaze was focused on you. He granted no response as his lips took a sip of the pale and fizzy drink he held so delicately, the gold engagement band on his ring finger gleaming from the moonlight illuminating the room. A low groan escaped his mouth when you straddled his thighs and applied pressure to his already hard cock. He wasn't saying anything, but you knew exactly what would get him to speak.

"What's got you so hard, baby?" you asked softly, tutting. "Were you thinking about me?"

His lips twitched as he finished the champagne and set it on the ground beside the bed. "Like you don't fuckin' know. Look at yourself, darling. It's honestly a shock that I wasn't on my knees for you at the theater."

Your hands rubbed up and down his thighs. "I had a feeling you'd like this little number."

It had been a struggle to get through the door to leave since his touch had been all over you the second you put on the red satin slip dress.

"What about me? Do you like my outfit?"

Such a narcissist, you thought to yourself. You ground against him, and he let out a breathy moan. "I do. Apparently, no boxers are part of the get-up."

Harry closed his eyes and smirked. "I might have no boxers on, but there's something else you might find. I went and did some quick shopping while you were gone."

Your slowed thoughts tried to catch up to what he could have been hinting at. "Shopping, huh? What did you buy?"

His large hands kneaded your ass. "Take a look."

He leaned forward and guided your hand to the button of his trousers. You quickly flicked it undone as he removed his suit jacket and began undoing the button-up. His body lifted on the bed so you could slide the garment off easier, and he hissed when it brushed past his cock.

Slowly but surely, his legs underneath were revealed, and your face heated to a thousand degrees. Fishnet tights. His leg hair and tiger tattoo peeked out from under the crosshatch material stretched tight against his skin. The redness of his cock looked painful from its restraint under them.

"I might've bought a little something too," you admitted as you scratched his skin through the thin fabric.

"Yeah?" He jerked his hips when your fingers grazed the head of his cock. "Show me, then. Go on."

You sat on your knees and lifted your dress to reveal the baby pink garter around your upper thigh. "It's your favorite color."

Harry licked his lips as his fingers delicately rubbed the lace. "I see that, sweetheart. Anyone particular on your mind when you bought it?"

"Was there anyone on your mind"—you snapped the waistband of his fishnets—"when you bought these?"

He bit his lip. "You're the only one I think of. The only one I would wear these for. I would crawl on my knees to you wearing them if that's what you wanted."

"Is that so? Quite the visual."

"I'll do it if you want me to." He paused, a smile slowly creeping across his face. "We can practice the garter toss for our wedding."

You made a noise of protest. "We are absolutely not doing that in front of our families. It'll be so humiliating."

"Don't have to, because we can do it right now," he suggested. A nip was given to your neck before he climbed off the bed and grabbed a chair.

Your eyebrows arched. "What are you doing?"

"We're doing this the traditional way," he explained with a nonchalant shrug. "I have to go under your dress and take it off."

"Will you be nice, or will you tease me?"

"Which do you prefer?"

You swung your legs over the bed and sat in the chair. "I prefer the way that gets you inside me as soon as possible."

"Well, I'll let you know once I'm between your thighs," he said, kneeling on the carpeted floor and waving his hands for you to spread open for him.

"No tickling, or I'm staying in another room," you warned as you slid off your heels and parted your legs.

Harry started crawling toward you with his tousled hair and day-old stubble, only wearing his fishnets and unbuttoned dress shirt. He never broke eye contact with you until he reached where you were sitting.

Your satin dress was then lifted over his head. You could instantly feel his hot breath against your legs, his lips grazing every patch of skin he could find. He left an open-mouthed kiss over your underwear that was already damp, and you moaned when his facial hair rubbed against your inner thigh.

You suddenly felt his teeth grab the garter as he pulled it down to your ankle. He took it off the rest of the way with his hand, bringing it over your shoe and moving out from under your dress. He stuck it between his teeth again and removed his button-up. Green eyes stared at you, and you clenched your legs under his intense stare. His tattooed torso was on full display. He was so, so beautiful.

Harry grabbed the garter and slid it on his bicep before saying, "Stand up."

You got up and switched spots with him, standing in front of him while he sat in the chair. He crossed his legs, his thighs thickening even more under the fishnets. You walked over and parted them so you could straddle him. The chair was thankfully wide enough to fit both of your knees on either side of him. You could almost feel his cock throb as you started desperately grinding against him to offer relief.

"Baby, slow down. Shit, slow down," he said quickly, his hands gripping your waist. "I need to last. You'll make me come right now if you keep doing that."

Slowing down, you took your time with each grind on his thigh. The pressure of the muscle felt like heaven as your core clenched around nothing. "Is that better?" you asked, raising your dress to see how his body reacted underneath you.

"Yes," he choked out, his neck straining. "I need to be inside you so bad."

"How bad?"

"So bad. I'm fuckin' throbbing for you. Please get on the bed."

You squeezed one of his balls through the fishnets, his hips bucking. "Where does it ache? Tell me how to make it better."

"Get on the bed," he gritted. "I'm not going to ask again."

There was the dominance you wanted. You nipped his earlobe and crawled off his legs. He immediately stood, hissing as he palmed himself through his tights. You helped him take them off.

"Top or bottom?" he asked while closing the curtains. "My fiancée's choice."

"Neither. I want it from behind."

"Say less." He turned around, gripping his cock and squeezing it once. "On the bed. Now."

You quickly slipped your dress and underwear off and knelt on the bed, facing the headboard. Harry got in position behind you, his cock resting on your lower back. He moved your hair to one side and whispered, "On all fours."

You placed your forearms on the bed and arched your back so he had a good angle. "Open your mouth," he commanded. You tilted your head up and to the side as he leaned in to spit in your awaiting mouth. His saliva pooled on your tongue, and you swallowed it down willingly. "Good girl."

Harry then reached his arm out to hold onto the headboard. The engagement ring on his finger caught your eye, as did his veiny hand that tightly gripped the burgundy wood.

The first thrust was divine. Searing pressure filled your walls, and Harry whimpered into your neck at your instant clench around his cock. He continued deeply thrusting into you as he took the garter off his arm and put it around your wrists so that they were restrained in front of you. Your hips burned. Harry's other hand squeezed your breast.

"Go faster," you said as his hand trailed down to your stomach, his long middle finger lightly grazing your clit.

He pounded harder, his skin slapping as the headboard creaked from the force. He was hitting all the deep spots, his pelvis meeting your ass each time. Your hands gripped the sheets when he glided his fingers up and down your dripping core. His head was nestled in your neck, muffled groans and pants leaving him when you pushed up your hips with each new thrust.

He removed his fingers that were coated with your arousal and spread his palm on your lower stomach. "Can you feel me there?"

You nodded fervently, crying out when a deep trust had you literally feeling him in your stomach. "Holy shit, Harry. I feel you. Please don't stop."

He pressed down and rubbed your stomach, the knot from your orgasm growing and bubbling up quickly. In one swift movement, he brought you to a sitting position as his cock continued stretching your wet walls. His thighs were touching yours, and you could feel them tense and tremble as you got closer, clenching hard around him.

"I'm going to get your name tattooed on my thigh right here," he said, taking the garter off your wrists and moving one of your hands to touch his right thigh.

You were too submerged in ecstasy to reply to his random confession. A couple more thrusts had you blindly reaching back to grab his hand so you could come. He held it tightly as you unraveled, arching against him from the pleasure leaving you.

"That's my girl," he said in your ear. "My love, my love, my love. So gorgeous, coming for me like this."

Your ears were ringing, and Harry eventually spilled inside you while you still clenched from your remaining orgasm. You felt his warm release shoot inside you, his hand still holding yours and his body falling on top of you as he groaned hotly against your cheek. Heavy breathing was coming from both of you. Harry finished coming but kept his cock inside you, with throbs and twitches happening every so often.

"If we weren't engaged already," he started, "I'd propose to you right now because that was the best I've ever felt. Wow. My body feels all tingly."

You groaned, his dead weight on top of you making it hard to breathe. "Get off me. You're sweaty."

Harry rolled over and stared at the ceiling with his hands clasped on his stomach. The dim light illuminating the room and the perspiration glistening on his skin accentuated the carved outline of his abs, and you couldn't help but trace them with your fingertips.

"Shower?" he asked.

"Please."

He got up and carried you toward the bathroom. Everything in there was white marble, and the brightness hurt your eyes. The shower was small but comfortable enough to fit both of you. You already took one in the morning, but it would feel nice after a long, eventful night. It would also help you sober up as much as possible so you don't suffer through a terrible hangover tomorrow.

After laying down a towel and setting you atop the sink, Harry turned on the shower. He took off both of your engagement rings and then stood in front of the mirror. He inspected his stubble while he waited for the water to heat up.

"Should I shave?"

"Why?" you asked with a sharp tone that had him immediately raising his hands in surrender.

"All right," he mumbled with a teasing smile. "Blimey, woman. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"What are you even saying?" you asked languidly. "I hate it when you speak old-timey British to me."

"Are you cheesed off at me now?"

"You're literally speaking gibberish." You hopped off the counter. "I'm getting in the shower. Goodbye."

Harry followed you and dove under the hot water, trapping you in a hug from behind. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" The soft skin of his stomach against your back had you melting into him.

"I don't want you to divorce me before we get married," he explained, kissing your jaw. "I'm just playing it safe."

"Harry, you're the only person who can annoy me and make me endeared at the same time."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes," you replied, picking up the shampoo bottle you brought and handing it to him. "It makes me want to marry you right now."

He spurted a dollop of shampoo into his palm and began massaging it into your scalp with gentle and soothing motions. "I can't wait to marry you, either. Gonna treat you like a gentleman."

You lulled your head back, resting it on his collarbone. "You already do."

"I'll do it even more when I'm your husband, though. Make dinner for you every night and take you out on the town." He gravitated one hand toward your stomach. "Give you so many babies."

"Not so fast," you interjected with a dreamlike smile. "No babies anytime soon."

Harry filled the shower cup with water and poured it over your sudsy hair. "I hear you. Just know that I'm ready whenever you are."

"Let's get married first. I want you all to myself for a while."

"You always have me. That'll never change."

You turned him around so you could wash his hair next, opting for the same shampoo since he liked to steal it for himself anyway. After a prolonged yet comfortable silence, you asked, "Were you serious about tattooing my name on your thigh?"

"I'm dead serious," he replied. "I might even do it at my bachelor party. I work with a guy who's coming, and he does tattoos in his free time."

"But why on your thigh? It seems like a risqué place for it."

Harry turned his head and gave you a blank stare. "Would you rather me get it in a corny place like over my heart?"

You laughed, lathering shampoo in his curly hair. "No, not really. I guess you're right. It's kind of a secret spot for only us to know."

"Not unless I wear shorts all the time."

"Yeah, but thankfully, you wear pants every day at work. I don't want your coworkers to see that."

"Why not? I can't show you off anymore?" he teased, reaching back to pinch your side. "Wow, you propose to a woman, and suddenly she wants to be anonymous."

"Shut up," you muttered through a smile. "I honestly don't care. Just please don't get it inked in an ugly font."

Harry moved under the shower head, closing his eyes and slicking his hair back. "Well, it's a good thing I was going to ask if you'd write it out for me."

"Seriously?"

"No," he said in a deadpan manner, spitting out some water that had gotten in his mouth. "I'm thinking Comic Sans."

Poking the soft skin under his belly button, you said, "You think you're so funny now because you did a five-minute comedy routine."

He didn't provide a retort, but you saw him grin as he washed the rest of the shampoo from his hair. His nose was scrunched while he scratched his scalp and cleaned the foamy residue off his face.

After a peaceful moment of nothing but the sound of the shower water beating down, Harry opened his arms and brought you in for a hug. "I love you. You know that?"

You kissed his collarbone. "Where did that come from?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and cradled your head with his hands. "It hit me that we're getting married in a month."

It had been hitting you as well. You'd been waiting so patiently for the special day to arrive. "I love you," you said quietly. Thank you for tonight and every night. You make life worth living."

"Are you trying to make me cry?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

It fell silent as you stared longingly at each other with growing smiles. Harry slowly started getting closer to your face, his dimples carving deeper until his eyes crossed from how near he was. His forehead dropped against yours, and you rolled your lips in when he attempted to steal a kiss from you.

"How about another rendezvous, but this time we get in bed and fall asleep?" you suggested, reaching around him and shutting the shower off. Sporadic drips and exiting warmth greeted you.

He pouted. "Only if you kiss me."

"We've done enough of that today."

"You're really not going to kiss your fiancé after I just told you I'd give you babies? That's dire."

You laughed and admired a water droplet cascading from his pointed nose. "If you blow dry my hair for me, I'll reconsider."

Flinging the shower curtain open, Harry yanked a fluffy towel from the hook on the wall, then gently wrapped it around your body before grabbing one for himself and tying it low on his hips. The blow dryer next to the mirror didn't have a long cord, so you sat on the counter for easier access and squeezed any remaining wetness from your hair into the sink. Meanwhile, Harry covered the top of his head with a towel. He looked like the Virgin Mary.

You gave him a comb, and he took the blow dryer with his other hand, turning it on and gesturing at you to ensure it wasn't too hot on your skin. For the next ten minutes, the sound of the loud dryer filled the space. It would have been a stressful sound in any other situation—trying to dry soaking wet hair from the pool before dinner reservations or untangling knots from yesterday's sleep. This time, it was relaxing. Domestic. A moment in time.

The soothing scratches Harry gave to your head as he combed through every citrus-scented strand could have put you to sleep. The hotel room's air conditioner was cold and crisp, but occasionally, he'd lower the dryer so it blew warm air on your arms.

Before you knew it, the dryer clicked off, and peaceful quietness surrounded you. Harry's hair dried much quicker than yours, so he took off the towel on his head and tied some of his damp curls up in a ponytail for the night.

His hands planted themselves on either side of your legs. "Kiss time," he whispered, his arms taut.

You slid off the counter, finding yourself trapped by his body—not that you minded. Grabbing his left hand, you raised it to your lips to kiss his ring finger, then put his gold engagement band back on.

"My mouth is up here."

You grinned. "And? What about it?" Harry annoyingly pushed his forehead into your cheek, grumbling something incoherently. You pushed it away and asked, "What did you say?"

"I said I think I'll die if you don't kiss me," he repeated dramatically.

"What kind of kiss do you want?"

He once told you that he had favorites for different situations: a nip, tug, peck, tongue, or the type where you both smile so big that the kisses become messy and mixed with giggles. The latter was your personal favorite.

He hummed, his nose wrinkling as he pondered. "The one where you do all the work."

You laughed softly. It wasn't necessarily a joke he was making; he genuinely enjoyed it when your lips moved against his. Sometimes, he just wanted to be kissed silly. It was never awkward, nor did it feel like a chore. He was the most kissable person to roam the earth, so resisting was hard.

"Okay," you said, draping your arms over his shoulders. "Only for a little bit, though. I'm exhausted."

Harry nodded and lifted you, setting you on the counter again. Your legs circled around his hips. "I'll return the favor tomorrow," he said.

The towel on his waist was hanging on for dear life. His eyelids were lazily drooping from tiredness, and his skin was flushed from the steam. How could someone look so pretty in hotel bathroom lighting?

Your hand on his cheek gently guided him to your mouth. His lips were damp and plush from the shower, parting naturally with each of your doting kisses. With his nose nudged against yours, pleased hums came from his throat as you alternated between his top and bottom lips. Kissing him never gets old. It could be soft or rough, long or short, brought about by love or annoyance. It was a cure all the same.

After a slow and innocent onslaught of kisses, you pulled away before you ended up making out with him until morning. Bruised, aching lips could wait.

Harry whined in protest. "That was only, like, five seconds."

"Guess what?" You trailed your fingertips along his neck. "You have the rest of your life to kiss me."

He yawned while shaking his head. "That's not enough time. Give me forever."

"I'll try," you said fondly, sliding your engagement ring back on.

You would until children of your own were born, which required you to share that love. Until your children's children withdrew even more of it. Yet, despite that, Harry would always be the first person you had given your heart to completely. He had never taken advantage of it. He had never made you doubt his love for you. It was the kind of love that was immortal. It would never die out and would remain the greatest feeling you'd ever felt in this life and the next.

If evermore was attainable, you liked to believe it was made possible by loving him.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles #rendezvous #adore-laur

283 notes · View notes