#Remainder of Me AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eightmakesonebraincell · 6 months

Text

ateez as royals who fall for you (maknae line)

read hyung line here

genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes

length: 11.3k

c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)

a/n: as much as writing royals was tricky, it's kind of 🤢 sad 🤢 to see this au end. that being said nobody ask me for a pt 2 pls i need to recover from the trauma LMAOO and as always, huge thank you to the queen of royal au's herself @sorryimananti-romantic for helping me finish the fic and for teaching me how to make moodboards using something that is *not* word doc :')

san

pov: you're forbidden lovers

“shh,” san hushes you with a teasing curl of his fingers that are buried inside you. “wouldn’t want everyone outside to know what a dirty little slut the princess is, do you?”

his other hand covers your mouth, stifling the breathy moans and desperate whines that escape your lips as you sit in between his legs, naked and pressed back to lean against his chest

there is the sound of water splashing over the edge of the bathtub when san hooks his feet around your inner ankles so that he can spread your legs wider for him

he presses the palm of his hand harshly against your clit and your back arches with a muffled worship of his name

“or maybe you like that,” he teases “you like the idea of people knowing how good i make you feel with my fingers”

san removes his hand from your mouth and lowers it to pinch your nipple, smirking against your neck as you babble incoherently

he coos as he adds yet another finger into you, “imagine that, everyone knows you as the princess who loves being fucked dumb. and by one of her servants, no less”

all caution is thrown to wind and you drop your head back to lean against his shoulder, mouth lolling open with unrestrained pleads for more, more, faster as he angles his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside of you

“cum, princess” he demands

you grip bruises onto san’s thighs and arms when the pace of his fingers doesn’t relent even after your orgasm has washed over you

his arms tighten around you as his thighs flex to keep you still in his hold

you let out a choked sob from the overstimulation, teetering between pain and pleasure

“give me one more, i know you can do it,” he coaxes

the hand that has been fondling your breasts snakes down to rub your clit

with his fingers knuckle-deep inside of your pussy and his other hand playing relentlessly with your sensitive clit, the scale tips over and your vision blurs as another wave of pleasure hits you, more intense than the first one

“princess?” and then a knock. “are you okay?”

san slowly draws out the remainder of your orgasm with lazy thrusts of his finger into you

you just know he’s enjoying himself when you have to hide the shakiness in your voice to answer back to your maid outside, “everything’s fine. i’ll be done soon”

“soon?” san smirks, lifting you up by the waist to align your folds with his swollen cock. “then we better make this quick”

because you and san do not have the luxury of time, much less the luxury of love

he isn’t just another one of the numerous servants who serve you

he is everything to you despite how taboo it is for a princess and servant to love each other

his insignificance within the palace makes it much easier for him to slip away; for nobody to take notice

but at the same time, his insignificance is the whole reason why you two must be secretive in the first place

you make sure san has safely snuck out of the bathroom before you finally exit the bathtub and stand on unsteady legs

you allow your maids to come in and help you into the elaborate attire you are to wear for the afternoon

your parents have informed you that you are going to have visitors, thus requiring you to look your best

without much time left until the appointed meeting due to your…escapade, you make your way to the great hall, catching a glimpse of san’s dimpled smile from amongst the other body servants and waiting staff in the room

you have only just settled into your seat next to the king and queen when the guard outside the doors announces the arrival of your guests - the monarchs from the neodonian kingdom

schooling your expression to one of neutrality, you watch as they enter

and then you realise it isn’t just the neodonian king and queen who have come to visit

but the prince as well

he is undeniably handsome and pleasing to the eye with his sleekly gelled hair, chiseled features and tall, sturdy build

the young prince catches you looking at him and breaks out into a friendly smile and-

he has dimples too

the king garners everyone’s attention with a clear of his throat, before he welcomes the monarchs

prince jaehyun, you learn his name is

“after much discussion between ourselves and king jeong and queen jeong, we are pleased to announce our desire for closer relations between our kingdoms,” your father starts, booming voice resounding within the hall

you can’t stop yourself from looking over at him as he speaks with purpose, a strange niggling feeling starting to twist your stomach

the tight smile that your mother passes you from your father’s other side does little to settle your nerves

“as such,” the king continues, “we shall look forward to the engagement between my daughter and prince jaehyun”

there is a roaring sound in your ears, as if you have been pushed to stand under a raging waterfall

engagement

the engagement

you

prince jaehyun

the engagement between you and prince jaehyun

it takes everything in your body not to bolt up from your seat

your hands grip the armrests of your seat with a grasp so tight you are certain you will leave a permanent imprint of your agony

instead, you look around frantically for the one person your instincts are screaming for

where is san?

you are afraid to see how much this is going to hurt him

you are desperate to tell him that you had no idea about this

you are aching to press confessions of love and reassurance against his lips

but just like the insignificance of his status, san is nowhere to be seen

over the two years that you and san have been in your secret relationship, he has gained extensive knowledge of which particular tasks allow him a greater chance of seeing you, which corridors reach you the quickest, and which times during your schedule you have a break

never would you have thought he would use this knowledge to avoid you

it continues like that for the weeks following the announcement

you have no choice but to spend time with your future fiance when your father tells you very clearly to “ensure the prince feels at home”

prince jaehyun is warm and you find yourself getting along with him like you two are friends, but that is it - there are no sparks brighter than friendship

when you spend time with him, you cannot help but compare him to san; san would’ve said this, san would’ve done that, san, san, san

jaehyun engages you in conversation, easily filling in the gaps and lulls with little comments here and there, equipped with a charming laugh and deep dimples

but it only reminds you of san’s dimples and crescent eyes when you two would race through corridors, fingers tightly interwoven as you both run away to a secluded area with hushed giggles

jaehyun points out that neither of you like mushrooms during a dinner and helps nudge the servings on both of your plates to one side

the smile as you say “thank you” does not fully grace your lips because you think about san, who boasts that he will eat all the mushrooms in the world so that you never have to lay eyes on one ever again

jaehyun offers a soft yet sturdy hand to help you down the stairs or when he notices you are walking in heels across an uneven surface

your body recalls san’s rough, calloused hands that leave a trail of goosebumps wherever they touch your bare skin as he worships your body all night long

jaehyun is handsome and he is kind, but he is not san

the night before the king officially announces your engagement with prince jaehyun arrives

and still, you have not had a moment alone with san since he disappeared during that first announcement in the great hall

hurt and longing consume you to the very core

some days it is manageable, a concealed yet incessant thought, like a sticker stuck to the sole of your shoe

other days it wraps around your soul completely like a constrictor tightening as it slowly squeezes the life out of its prey

but you know that you cannot be selfish

what you feel, san feels with an intensity multiplied several times

after all, you are not the one who must stand in the shadows as the love of your life becomes engaged to somebody else, powerless to do anything but watch and poison your own smile with lies

you are lying on your bed when a quick, sharp knock sounds on your bedroom doors

you make no move to acknowledge your visitor, having told your maids very clearly you did not want to be disturbed tonight

your last night as yourself before you become prince jaehyun’s fiance

but then the knocks come a little more urgent, a little more frantic, just like your heartbeat does as it starts to speed up in anticipation

you hold your breath as you hurry to pull open the doors-

and there he is

“san-”

he swallows the rest of your words in a desperate kiss, his hands coming up to cradle your jaw as he walks you backwards so that he can step into your room

he tilts your head and slots his lips against yours again while he nudges your door closed with his foot

it isn’t until you let out a whine as his tongue swipes over your bottom lip that he pulls back to finally look at you, both of his thumbs caressing your cheekbones

you grip the front of his linen shirt, afraid that he will disappear as soon as you let go

“san, i- i had no idea, i didn’t agree to any of this”

he shushes you gently, a painful smile adorning his handsome face

“i know. i know, so please don’t cry, love,” he murmurs softly

you don’t even realise the weeks of suppressed emotions have started making their way down your face in salty trails until san uses the back of his fingers to tenderly brush them away

“i’m getting engaged tomorrow, san,” your voice breaks as reality settles in

you are so afraid

you are so lost

above all, you are so in love with san

“i know,” he reassures again, “but until tomorrow, you are still mine”

and so you spend your last night together

time has always been precious; conversations, kisses and touches rushed and with fervour

but tonight, san takes his time with you

he lays on your bed with you cradled on top of him, limbs tangled together as he savours the taste of your lips against his

he turns you onto your back as he slowly undresses you, leaving tattoos of his love each time he bares another part of your body

he pleasures you with his fingers whilst whispering into your ears, creating a harmony with his praises and the melodious moans that leave your lips

and as he brings you both to your highs numerous times throughout the night like an ingrained dance routine, it is accompanied with confessions of i love you

san holds you against his chest under your blankets so tightly that you cannot tell where your body ends and his body starts

before you drift off, safe and protected in his arms, he murmurs against your temple, “no matter what happens tomorrow, no matter what happens in the future, my heart will always be yours”

“as will mine”

you wake up the next morning to an empty bed and an equally empty heart

restless and drowning in a mix of emotions, you pace the empty corridors of the guest bedchambers

which is where jaehyun finds you as he exits his room

he is surprised but is quick to greet you kindly, “good morning, princess. what are you doing here?”

you pause mid-step

what are you doing?

“prince jaehyun,” you let the words come out of you before you can regret them. “can we talk for a moment?”

he nods, entering his room again as he pulls the door open wider for you to follow

jaehyun closes the door and then offers you a seat on his sofa, before pulling up his own chair and settling a respectful distance away from you

“i hope you don’t feel uncomfortable in my room,” he explains, “i thought that we would be less likely to be disturbed in here…considering most people know of our engagement today”

“actually, i wanted to talk to you about that”

“go on,” he encourages you with a dimpled smile

you take a deep breath

“i’m sorry,” you blurt out

and then you are admitting to the prince that he is lovely and charming and caring, but you just don’t see it working out with him

you don’t want to get engaged with him

because your heart already belongs to somebody else

“good”

“i’m so sorry, i should have been honest with you from the start but- wait, what?” you look up from where you have been nervously picking at your cuticles

jaehyun is smiling at you - a genuine smile that you did not know he had

“i’m actually relieved to hear that, princess,” he admits. “because i…also have someone that i love back home”

and for the first time, you and jaehyun truly see each other in the same light

“who is it?” he asks

“his name is san,” and then you add on, “he has dimples just like you do”

you ask him the same question

you see the way jaehyun’s expression softens with love from just the mere thought of the other

it makes you wonder whether you have the same look on your face when you mention san

jaehyun jokes, “want to be the one who tells your father we’re calling off the engagement? i don’t fancy getting executed today”

but despite what he says, mere hours later, when you are both standing in the great hall before your parents - the kings and queens of both your kingdoms - he is the one to speak up

“your majesty, we have decided to part ways peacefully and would not like to proceed with the engagement. our kingdom will always be your ally, regardless of marital relations or not”

“what?” you see veins starting to appear across the king’s forehead as he tries to maintain his temper, but the queen and the jeong monarchs seem to be taking the news much better

disappointed, perhaps, but understanding

the queen leans closer to remind the king that they had all agreed to this engagement on the terms that the decision would ultimately be yours and jaehyun’s

you suddenly speak up because this may be the only time you have the courage to

“i have one more thing to say,” you declare. “i revoke my noble status and thus declare nullified all the privileges, rules and traditions that come with nobility. i have someone i love and i wish to marry them as myself, not as the kingdom’s princess”

the king roars furiously, “that is enough! leave!” and he slams his hand against the throne’s armrest

shocked and betrayed by your father’s reaction, you rush out of the great hall with tears welling in your eyes

only to run straight into the waiting arms of san

“oh, princess,” he murmurs against the crown of your head as he engulfs you in his embrace

he doesn’t have to say anything for you to realise that he has heard the whole conversation

but you do not care about anything anymore

you are where you want to be, held by who you want to be with

“how are you here?” you sniffle

“jaehyun approached me earlier. i thought i was going to get beat up,” san’s attempt to make you smile is successful

when you lift your head up to look at him, you realise his eyes are wet as well

then you feel his body stiffen as his eyes shift to focus on something behind you

someone

he immediately steps away from you, bowing deeply as he greets the queen

you turn around to see her face adorning an endearing smile

“it’s fine, sannie,” she says, and you are not sure whether you and san are more surprised by the fact that she knows him by name or by the affectionate nickname she has used

“i’ll, uh, leave you two to talk,” he flusters

she thanks him with a teasing remark, “i won’t keep her away from you for very long”

san waits further down the corridor, back turned to give you two a moment of privacy

and then she is stroking your hair affectionately

“i am so proud of you. you’ve grown up so well and you are so brave,” she says

you don’t understand

you ask, “why aren’t you angry?”

“oh, baby,” she fondly runs her fingers through your hair, just like she used to when you were younger. “before my duties as the queen to my people, i am the mother to my daughter. i love you and all i want is for you to be happy”

your lips tremble with emotion as your mother pulls you into a hug

“does sannie make you happy, dear?”

you nod, “the happiest”

“then that is all i want. now go,” she takes a hold of your shoulders and gently turns you in the direction of san. “i’ll talk to your father”

with one last encouraging squeeze, you race down the corridor towards san

he hears your footsteps and has already turned around with open arms waiting to catch you

you hear him let out an oomph! with how hard you throw yourself into him, but he is then swaying your bodies side to side

san pulls back slightly with an incredulous look. “does this mean we can be together? together together?”

“i goddamn hope so because i gave up my princess privileges for you. no more carriages, no more assorted sweet delicacies, no more daily massages-” you fold down your fingers as you continue listing things off

he cuts you off with a tickle to your sides as he says, “that’s easy to sort out”

“first, you’ll still be my princess,” he unfurls one of your fingers so it stands upright again

“second, i’ll carry you myself so that you never need to use your feet again,” he unfurls another finger

“i’ll give you a treat whenever you want,” he kisses your lips, nibbling on your bottom lip with a teasing tug

“and, dear princess,” he pulls you flush against his body and you have to steady yourself on his chest to avoid tripping over, “i can give you hourly massages…”

smirking, he starts to lower his head to suck pretty marks onto your neck as he whispers in a low voice, “...if you can keep up”

mingi

pov: you're the prince's maid

for what you are about to do, you could very well be executed should somebody catch you

but desperate times call for desperate measures

and there’s no guarantee that you and all the other staff will not be executed anyway…

not with what has just happened in the palace

you push the door closed behind you with a soft click, using the brief changeover of guards to slip inside the bedroom of the youngest prince, unnoticed

you call out softly but urgently, “prince mingi”

when you hear him groggily murmur, starting to bubble towards the surface of consciousness, you dare to give his shoulder a rough shake

“prince mingi, please wake up”

his eyes flutter open, confusion starting to clear the fogginess in his head as he struggles to comprehend the sight of your face hovering inches from his, deep into the hours of the night

“w-what’s going on?” he clears his husky voice, “are you okay?”

you wish you could reach out and smooth the wrinkles of concern from his forehead

reassure him that everything will be okay until he falls back asleep

but there is no time

“the crown prince is dead and we must leave. now.”

the effect is immediate, like you have just driven a knife into his chest

although you suppose it must not feel very different for prince mingi right now

“the crown prince is d-” the word tastes vile on his tongue, so he asks after his second oldest brother instead. “what about prince eun?”

you must drive the knife into him once more

“he was the one who murdered the crown prince, but he has framed you for the murder. there is no time, prince mingi, we must leave now”

“the court will find me innocent,” yet he lets you tug him out of his bed

you hastily help prince mingi into a dark brown robe while you shake your head, “not when your inscribed sword is currently covered in the crown prince’s blood. we do not know who is secretly working for prince eun. until we know for sure, we do not stand a chance of clearing your name”

he knows that you’re right, even if his heart is hoping that you are wrong

the prince slides his hand into the gap between his bed and wall, pulling out a spare sword and wrapping the belt around his waist

eyes sweeping across his chamber one final time, he locks eyes with you grimly before turning to flee

you follow the prince through a back passageway - it’s not entirely a secret and it won’t be long before the royal guards come for the prince, discover his empty bedroom and give chase

but it is long enough to give you two a head start

he helps you up onto the back of his personal horse before he swings himself up easily onto the saddle behind you

with a nudge of his feet, the prince sends the horse into a gallop

you startle with a yelp, having never ridden a horse before, much less one at this pace

prince mingi presses himself a little closer to you and slots his chest against your back as he leans forward to guide your hands to hold the reins with his

“here,” he murmurs, “just follow me”

he shifts one hand to settle on your waist, guiding your body into a comfortable rhythm that dances in sync with the horse’s movements and his own

when he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it, the prince places his hand back on the reins, yet he stays close, keeping you safely encased within his arms to prevent you from falling off

you’re not sure how long you two ride for

but at some point the prince slows the horse to a canter

with the slower sway of the steed, the steady clack of hooves against the forest floor, and the warmth of the prince around you, you drift off to his whispered, “sleep, i’ve got you”

you wake up to find yourself on a scratchy pile of leaves

the events of last night piece themselves together when you spot prince mingi, still adorning his deep blue silk pajamas, leaning against a tree a few feet away

it would have been a sight to see if not for the fact that-

“what are we going to do now?” you sit up, and the prince’s robe, you now register, falls from around your body

the prince gives you a warm smile as you rub the sleep from your eyes with fisted hands

“we’ll head into halsburg. the town is small enough the news should not have traveled that far yet. we’ll replenish some supplies and go from there”

it’s unspoken

the fact that there is no solid plan from there

even if the two of you have managed to escape the royal guards, for how long can you two run?

plus, it will be impossibly difficult to find evidence while on the run, when the answers are within the castle walls themselves

but you push those thoughts aside as you two enter halsburg, the prince’s hood pulled up over his face

you do the bulk of the purchases, less likely to be recognised by the townspeople

it’s mainly food and water for yourself, the prince, and his horse, and a simple tunic to replace his royal pajamas - something you have been teasing him about since you woke up

later that night, hours away from the outskirts of halsburg, you two settle for a couple hours of rest

a small fire crackles away to the song of the cicadas, an occasional pop as the licks of flames cast shadows across your faces

you glance at the prince sitting across from you, who is idly fiddling with his pajama top

specifically, the royal crest of the song family embroidered onto its front pocket

your heart clenches painfully, knowing the death of a family member is hard enough to process without the additional weight of being framed for murder, much less by your own brother who is the real culprit

“prince mingi…” you start, voice low

he glances up at you, eyes softening as he curves his lips up into a small smile, “i’m okay.”

you hesitate for a split second before letting the clench in your gut pull you to your feet, and you shuffle to settle back down in front of the fire, except this time beside the prince

all the while his eyes never leave you, not even when you nudge his shoulder softly and say,

“you don’t have to be strong. not in front of me…”

and he knows

because despite the differences in your social statuses, you are the person he trusts the most

you, the girl who used to trip over the lengths of his robes that you carried, now a woman who holds herself righteously and bravely

you, who chose to risk your own life from the moment you woke him up in his chambers

you, who is still risking your life to flee with him

“only if you stop calling me prince,” he jokingly nudges you back, attempting to make the atmosphere lighter despite the wetness that is starting to paint his eyes. “with you, i am just mingi”

“okay, prince mingi,” you tease

yet, you still extend a hand out to him, palm upturned in a silent invitation for comfort should he wish to seek it, because you can tell that he isn’t quite ready to seek it verbally

mingi laces his larger fingers through yours, tucking your interlocked hands closer to his body as he draws his knees up so that he can rest his chin upon them

mingi thinks that he feels numb more than anything, but he finds he isn’t as surprised as one would expect him to be

perhaps he always knew of his middle brother’s thirst for the throne

he just never thought it would be enough to spill blood

for now though, he lets himself be distracted by your thumb tracing mindless patterns against his knuckles

he lets himself relish in the heat radiating from your side that seems to warm him from inside out, even as the embers of the fire slowly lose their glow and die out with the darkening night

the days start to repeat themselves

you two cover as much distance as you can while sparing what time you can afford for yourselves and mingi’s horse to rest

mingi has decided to travel to prince yunho's kingdom, an old and trusted ally who may be able to provide you two with protection while he pulls strings to fight back against prince eun

from his calculations, the journey will take at least another two weeks

and although mingi doesn’t tell you this, deep down he does not know whether you two have two weeks left

the threat of the royal guards catching up hangs over the two of you like a hangman’s noose

neither of you have brought up that night by the fire either

but something has definitely changed in the way you seek comfort and reassurance in each other

as if so long as you have each other, everything will be alright in the end

when you feel him tremble as he sleeps curled around you, restless from a plaguing nightmare, you hush sweet nothings and brush his locks away from his forehead until his breathing steadies out again

and when you’re seated on the saddle in front of him, you now having long grown accustomed to horse riding, he still finds himself resting a comforting hand on you somewhere - your hips, thigh or over your own hand

sometimes when he is laughing softly with you, your arms brushing against each other, you imagine a different story; one where you are worthy of loving him

sometimes when you are tucked into his chest, small exhales escaping your open lips as you sleep, mingi imagines a different story; one where he is able to love you freely

because despite the blood running through his veins that has ultimately led to his downfall, you still look at him as though he has placed the stars in the very sky that you two have spent countless nights under

and although he knows the reality is that he cannot, he tries to write his own story, even if just for tonight

you are lying in his arms, legs tangled together, when the question comes tumbling out of his lips

“will you stay with me, forever?”

he feels you still in his embrace, before you’re pulling back a little to look at him with a chuckle

“you should be asking a princess that, prince mingi, not somebody like me”

“you are a princess in my eyes”

you can’t help the endearing look that crosses over your face as you lightly tap his nose, “you know that is not how it works”

“then we can run away. for i am already as good as dead to my kingdom,” he tells you with boyish determination

“you cannot, mingi. your people need a good prince”

“but what prince would i be if i cannot even boldly love you? the person who is dearest to me?”

under his sincere gaze and the weight of his words, you allow him this moment of solace

because perhaps, you want it just as much as he does

“okay, i’ll be your princess,” you breathe out

“forever?”

“forever”

that night, it is just you and mingi - no titles that separate your world from his, no looming threat of death - just two people in love

even as an uneasy pit settles at the bottom of mingi’s stomach, a growing feeling that gnaws away at him into the early hours of the next morning

he is startled awake, your expression frightened, and he immediately understands when he hears the thunderous chorus of hooves hitting the ground towards you two

mingi had known there was not much time left, but he did not think that the inevitable confrontation would happen this soon, only mere hours after the soft kiss he had pressed against your forehead

the desperate attempt to escape once more is futile, the royal guards closing the distance within minutes

left with no choice but to stop, you and mingi demount and the guards move to flank you both in a wide semicircle

when the head of the guards, prince eun, saunters forward, mingi matches with a stride of his own so that he can step in front of you

“you killed the crown prince, eun,” mingi spits at his brother

“running and denying your actions up until your very last moments, i see,” prince eun laughs condescendingly. “and you even took a little dog with you, too”

mingi presses you closer to his back, hiding you from the leering gaze of his brother

prince eun smiles smugly at mingi’s reaction, before he takes out a scroll and unravels it

“for high treason of the assassination of the crown prince, the king hereby decrees the immediate revocation of nobility of his third son, song mingi, and for the execution of song mingi and his maid upon sighting.”

you press your nose into mingi’s back, taking one last inhale of his familiar scent

the bowmen all take aim as prince eun sneers, “any last words, brother?”

mingi turns around, and all you can see in that moment are his warm eyes and dimpled cheeks

“i love you, my princess,” he proclaims

“forever,” you reply

he brings his lips down to connect them with yours, drowning out the distinct vibration of loosening strings and the hiss of flying arrows with the roaring symphony in your hearts

you’re unsure what pain swallows you whole first - the pain as an arrowhead sinks into your chest, or the pain as you realise that this is the end of your short-lived love with mingi

you struggle to keep the smile on your face as you lock eyes with mingi, trying to memorise the loving gaze that adorns his own face

you see his mouth moving, but the pain exploding throughout your body is too loud for you to make out his words

with your last breath, you gasp out your final confession, “i love you too, mingi. we’ll meet again in the next life”

as the world starts to fade away, cold creeping into your limbs, you hope that in another story, in another lifetime, you and mingi will be able to find each other again

wooyoung

pov: you're the princess of a rival kingdom

“absolutely not, advisor lee,” your mother raises her nose in the air

“your highness, i understand but-”

“oh please, do not flatter yourself, queen cho,” queen jung spits out, “you are not the only one who abhors the idea”

you glare at the prince sitting across from you, your own gazes reflecting the tension in the room

advisor lee has suggested that your family and the jung family host a joint royal ball as a grand display of amity between the two neighbouring kingdoms, particularly between the princess - yourself - and their prince - prince wooyoung

there have been spreading rumours in town of the strained relationship between the two royal families

which aren’t entirely untrue

as a child, the two kingdoms have been loyal and steadfast in their alliance and friendship

in fact, it is not uncommon to find you joining prince wooyoung in his kitchen, begging the chefs to let you two lick the spoons

or to find prince wooyoung squatting next to you in your garden as you both look at the ladybugs

but as power imbalances emerge and political agendas start to diverge, a wedge is driven between your families

the relation is now dangerously close to severing completely, but not without the increasing attention of the towns surrounding the two kingdoms

and one of the last things both royal families need is unease and disunity amongst the commoners

which brings advisor lee to look on with exasperation as he tries to do his job - advise

except neither your mother nor queen jung look ready to accept his advice

your father nods slightly at the two of you, “you are dismissed, as are you, prince wooyoung”

you curtsy as the prince takes a slight bow, before you obnoxiously flick your hair over your shoulder and turn away on your heels

you escape to the garden, knowing that the meeting will take at least another hour before you are required to bid the jung family farewell

except, surprise surprise

who do you run into

you narrow your eyes at prince wooyoung as he steps towards you, who has one eyebrow quirked, “a royal ball, he says?”

“absolutely not,” you fold your arms across your chest

“oh please, do not flatter yourself, princess,” he sneers, not dissimilar to the nasally tone his mother had voiced her dissatisfaction earlier with

neither of you back down, daring the other to say something else

before you two break out into giggles, eyes glittering scandalously

“did you see your mother deliberately pass the salt instead of sugar for the tea?”

“and then the face my mother made when she took a sip of it-”

he pulls you to crouch behind an azalea bush as you both chortle like children, out of sight, before he brings you in for a dizzying kiss

you sigh, resting a hand on his chest

“do you also abhor the idea of dancing with me, prince wooyoung?” a teasing lilt in your voice

“absolutely,” he nods grimly, “why go to all that effort when there is a much grander and longer-lasting solution?”

“and what is that, my prince?”

he sneaks another chaste kiss from your lips, “for me to take your hand in marriage, my princess”

at his words, your smile dampens

“you know that i would say yes in a heartbeat. it is not i who needs convincing, but our parents”

because despite the growing hostility between your two families, the relationship you share with wooyoung has, ironically, blossomed into one of well-concealed adoration, intimacy and love

you two have come to learn that that one slightly lighter stone on the western side of your kingdom’s outer walls comes loose, and is the perfect size for slipping a piece of paper behind it

you two have also come to learn that every fourth week, if you ask your personal tutor enough questions about the plants laid out on the store’s table in front of you during your scheduled lesson in town, you’ll be able to drag it out long enough for you both to just catch a glimpse of each other as he and his escorts cut through the town on their way back to his kingdom

and of course, you two have come to learn the most isolated spots in your own respective kingdoms, like the second stairwell leading down to the cellar in wooyoung’s palace

and amongst the azalea bushes in the back garden in yours

which is exactly how you knew that he would appear, how you knew that he would give you those sweet kisses you have been craving so desperately

as wooyoung cups your jaw to kiss you once more, one that leaves you wanting to chase his lips forever, he bets you that it’ll only take two weeks of close-quarter meetings between your royal families before one of your mothers blow up and the ball idea falls through completely

in response, you bet him that they won’t even last two weeks - one at the most

except you’re both wrong

the meeting turns into two, followed by several more as the planning goes ahead

sometimes, the meetings are held in the jung palace

other times, their family journeys to your kingdom instead

one thing that stays constant is the malevolence in the air

the parents are sarcastic snipes and saccharine smiles

and on the surface, you and wooyoung are further extensions of your own parents’ simmering loathing for the other

but under the intricately-carved wooden table, you two are playing footsies, jeweled heels and leather shoes engaged in a playful fight

you see how many times you can slide your heels up along his shin, gradually inching closer towards his inner thigh with each coquettish touch

he has you pass him anything and everything under the guise of forgoing the help of the numerous royal butlers and maids around the room to deliberately irritate you

really, it is to accidentally brush his fingers over your hands; to see the pretty shade of rose that settles over your cheeks and ears as you both try not to break out into giggles

and perhaps, during the meals that may take place during the meetings, there have been a couple of peas flicked at each other here and there when no one is paying attention

(unbeknownst to you two, the maids and butlers alike must hide their own endearing smiles)

the weeks turn into months and you practically have a permanent glow radiating from you, now that you have been seeing the prince so frequently

(which also does not go unnoticed)

as you select a necklace from the assortment of choices to emphasise the plunging neckline of your off-shoulder gown, you wonder how the day of the royal ball has arrived so quickly

your personal maid, jihye, carefully fixes the clasp of the necklace around you before stepping back to let you look in the mirror

you smooth a hand over the soft lavender charmeuse of your dress, nervously looking at jihye

“how do i look?”

“stunning, my princess,” she assures you, before adding, “prince wooyoung will definitely love it”

“prin- he- what? i- sorry?” you say unintelligibly, before you try to salvage the situation by tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you laugh her off

but jihye just looks at you knowingly

meanwhile, prince wooyoung is already at the grand hall, the jung family having arrived two days prior for the final preparations of the ball

he and his friends, princes from kingdoms located further up north and towards the east, are lingering around one of the tables decorated with flower arrangements and elaborate candle holders, ignoring the longing glances of other attendees, women and men alike, thrown at their striking posse

wooyoung is trying to keep his gaze subtle, scanning the vast number of people at the ball without craning or turning his head, searching for one particular face

yours

prince yeosang nudges the others, jerking his chin to motion towards the distracted wooyoung

when wooyoung finally realises he isn’t as subtle as he thinks, all his friends are already looking at him with varying degrees of smirks

“just know that if there were not so many people here,” wooyoung begins with a pleasant smile, “i would flip you all off right now”

before he can try stepping on his friends’ toes in the form of petty revenge, prince seonghwa points towards the entrance as his smile grows impossibly wider

“look”

wooyoung turns around

and like any typical man who is head over heels in love, the world around him slows down

the gushing whispers spreading throughout the ballroom fade into the background

because finally, there you are, gracefully stepping past the threshold of the arched doorway in all your alluring beauty, accentuated by the way your curled locks and flowing gown frame your body

for the briefest moment, you lock eyes with him, and wooyoung feels his brain shutting down on him

“you’re going to catch a fly in your mouth, woo”

“pick up your jaw. it’s on the ground”

prince yunho pretends to dab wooyoung’s mouth with the ruffled sleeves of his cream shirt, “you’re drooling, darling”

at that, wooyoung smacks his lips dazedly before coming to a moment of realisation, blinking hard twice to bring himself back to reality

“god, you’re hopeless. just go up and talk to her,” prince hongjoong snickers. “the whole point of this ball is to show off how ‘close’ your families are anyway”

wooyoung grumbles that he knows, he’s just looking for the right timing

which, unfortunately, does not seem to come

you spend what feels like the next two hours being whisked around, feigning polite interest as you are forced to engage in dull and bland conversations with numerous men of differing royal statuses, all of whom are no doubt trying to make an impression on you in hopes of becoming a potential suitor in the future

not that you have eyes for anyone apart from the one who already has your heart

the very same person who is currently fed up with watching you converse and let your hands be kissed by men who are not him

even if he knows you are pretending, he thinks that you sure are damn good at giggling at all the right times

you are trying not to let your smile turn into a grimace as the older-aged man, lord ryu you think, boasts of his wealth to you, when wooyoung enters your peripheral vision

“princess, lord ryu,” he greets you both, before looking down at the latter, “pardon me as i take the princess for a dance”

lord ryu, visibly irked but unable to say anything to the prince of significantly higher status, lets go of your hand to step back into a bow, “of course, prince wooyoung”

you giggle, this time genuinely, as wooyoung takes your hand to gently lead you towards the center of the ballroom, where several others are starting to waltz to the soft music that is now playing

you rest a hand just below his shoulder, feeling the sturdiness of his muscles flexing beneath his shirt, as he places his other hand to settle on the dip of your waist

a little possessively, you might add

“you look beautiful today,” he murmurs lowly, away from any prying ears

“only today?” you quirk an eyebrow teasingly

his voice drops down an octave, “well it’s not every day that i can tell you, princess”

wooyoung’s eyes flicker down hungrily to look at your lips

you run your tongue slowly over your bottom lip, knowing it will drive him absolutely crazy that he cannot just take you right there and then in front of everybody

and you can see the moment his resolve snaps

“meet me for some fresh air in ten,” bringing his lips as close to the shell of your ear as he dares

and then he’s gone

you become progressively antsy as you wait out a generous amount of time after he leaves for you to also slip away from the ballroom

wooyoung pins you against a pillar as soon as you emerge in the garden, aching to kiss you and fight for dominance until you’re both breathless and light-headed

“you don’t know how desperately i wanted to kiss you in front of everyone - let the whole world know that you’re mine,” he nips at your bottom lip

you rest your hands on his chest, fingers curled around the pleated front of his satin shirt to hold yourself steady as he turns your lips into an artwork of swollen cherry reds

he tilts your head back a little more, your mouths moving in tandem, soft moans drawn out of you, when-

“what in god’s name is going on?”

you and wooyoung startle apart at the shriek

the blush dusting your faces pale almost immediately at the sight of not just your mother, but also queen jung and a few of the royal staff

it’s kind of amusing that of all things for the two queens to have the same mindset about, it is the discovery of you and wooyoung’s secret relationship that unites them, both sharing twin expressions of horror and revulsion

you’re ripped from each other’s arms as you are forced back into the confines of your bed chamber, royal ball long forgotten

your only solace is learned later that night, when jihye brings a trolley of food you have no appetite for, that the jung family have not yet returned to their kingdom

they are still in your palace somewhere

yet that does little to soothe your tears, overwhelmed by the drastic turn of events, and you do not know when you fall asleep that night

all you know is that it is to a bed too cold and a longing in your heart too gaping to ignore

“princess,” you look up to see jihye standing at your door the next morning, almost apologetic, “the king and queen request for your presence in the throne room”

as you approach the room after tidying your appearance, your breath hitches when you spot him just by the double doors

you barrel forwards into his waiting arms, uncaring of the staff following behind you

not that they have the heart to stop you either way

“i thought you would have been forced to leave,” you blurt, unable to believe that wooyoung is right in front of you

“i’m still here,” he chuckles. “i have been summoned by your parents”

your heart drops down to your stomach at his words as you realise what this meeting is about

“and i am glad they did, princess,” wooyoung is quick to interject before your apology makes it past the tip of your tongue. “i am going to ask for your hand in marriage. officially”

“what if they banish us from ever seeing each other again?” worry overwhelms you as your breathing quickens

wooyoung gently laces his fingers through yours, bringing up his other hand to cup your face and run his thumb comfortingly over the curve of your cheekbone to keep you grounded

“no matter what happens today, no matter what the outcome is,” he looks at you with the fierce determination of a man ready to give up anything and everything for your sake, “i will never ever stop fighting for you”

he presses his soft lips against yours

“for us,” he vows

your breathing evens out, and while your heartbeat still pounds inside your ribcage, you know that it marches in rhythm with the man in front of you

this time, not afraid to appear in front of the rulers of your kingdoms - your parents - you and wooyoung nod in reassurance at each other once more, hand in hand, before you both push the doors to the throne room open

together.

jongho

pov: you're under his protection as your royal guard

over the din of volunteered names in the meeting room, jongho steps forward

“your majesty, i will accompany the princess,” he declares

“choi jongho?” your father scans him up and down with regard before nodding in approval, “it is decided then”

“him? surely i need another person with me as well?” you protest

your father quirks an eyebrow at you, a subtle reminder that whilst he is your father, he is also the king

“no, you will need to travel in disguise and stay as discreet as possible. only jongho will accompany you as your royal guard”

your father looks away and starts to address the next item on the meeting agenda; it is quite clear there is no room for argument

meanwhile, jongho sidles up to you

“you trying to catch bugs or something? close your mouth, princess,” he teases under his breath

you nudge him with an elbow, “you’re the only bug i see around here”

he rolls his eyes but you both snicker in unison when one of your older sisters turns around to shush you with a dirty look

regardless, you stay silent for the rest of the meeting

you’re not sure why jongho stepped forward to take on this task

because for someone who is your main royal guard and is supposed to be loyal and obedient, he sure makes it clear that his job is about as gratifying as babysitting

(“you can’t talk to me like that. i’m the princess”)

(“no, you’re not. you’re an idiot”)

in fact, when you had been notified a few days prior that you would be traveling with one other royal guard - who had yet to be decided at the time - jongho had spent every single day gloating that he would finally get a break from babysitting you

and yet here he is

with the opportunity to hand you off to somebody else

but instead, baring his teeth at the other guards who offer themselves up for this scouting mission

he would never admit to it either, but jongho personally spoke to the king years ago about being rostered on as your main bodyguard since he’s “known the princess for the longest and so i can protect her the best”

you don’t want to travel to the border

you’re in charge of maintaining security and defense along your borders and with neighbouring kingdoms, usually dealing with complications remotely through the ministers and advisors who work for you

this time though, there has been recent unrest near the southern borders of your kingdom near denport, a city notorious for bandits and fugitives

the situation has worsened with increased risk of bloodshed, thus has the need for you to survey the borders in person

and as the youngest sibling of five, the king has made it very clear that this is your opportunity to prove your capabilities

jongho makes sure to remind you of this fact when you grumble your way through packing a satchel of essential items to take with you

(“your fluffy slippers are not essential, princess”)

(you listen and throw them back onto the floor of your bedchambers, but stuff in a few paperweights when he isn’t looking out of petty revenge because you know he’ll end up carrying your bag for you later when you ask him to)

it’s a relatively long journey to denport, so as soon as you are ready, jongho having long finished packing his own bag, you leave your kingdom with him at your side

by the time the sun is starting to set later that day, you’re passing through a small town

he suggests calling it a night and recuperating at one of the inns

you wait while he inquires about available rooms and then follow him through a small alleyway to the inn that he has chosen for the night

you take all but one look at the rotting wood and creaking sign at the entrance before you are crossing your arms like a petulant child

“there’s no way i’m staying the night in this sorry excuse of an inn”

he merely blinks

“you’re technically not the princess right now so you better listen to me or god help me, i’ll-”

“you’ll what,” you challenge, nose-to-nose

or nose-to-throat, you suppose

but before you can dwell any further on your height difference, jongho picks you up, slings you over his shoulder like you are nothing more than a sack of potatoes, and walks into the inn without a care in the world that you are screaming bloody murder

you resign to your fate and flop uselessly against his back as he carries you up the stairs

instead, when he throws you onto the bed upon entering the room, you look up at him sultrily and smirk, “ooh, now i’m turned on”

jongho shakes his head with exasperation but you don’t miss the redness that is creeping up the back of his neck as he turns around to close the door shut

“wait,” you sit up on the bed, “we’re sharing a room?”

“it’s safer. i’ll sleep on the sofa”

you scrunch your nose at the arrangement, but you do admittedly feel a little more at ease in the unfamiliar room of the inn

you start to take a shoe off before a thought flits through your mind and you point the shoe in your hand at him like a weapon, “you better not snore”

jongho rolls his eyes as he steps forward to take the shoe out of your hand, and then he is bending down to help slip off the shoe from your other foot

a thank you lies on the tip of your tongue

“you’re the only snorer in this room, princess”

nevermind.

it’s gone.

you’re settled in bed, waiting for jongho to finish washing up and turn off the lights, when you spot it

holy shit

your immediate reaction is to seek his protection

“jongho!”

the door to the bathroom swings open almost immediately as he rushes out, eyes alarmed, alert, and zeroing onto you

water drips off the ends of his hair and you can still spot suds on his exposed torso

“what’s wrong? are you okay? are you hurt?” his voice is laced with restrained panic

you point to the corner of the room and then he sees it too

his body stiffens completely

because, mere metres from the two of you, presence sinister and dangerous…

is a fucking spider

all is quiet and still for a while, your eyes flickering back and forth between your royal guard and the spider in a tense standoff

then, just as you are about to speak up, jongho grabs his bag and swiftly turns on his heels to head towards the room’s door

“where are you going?!” you shriek

he looks at you forlornly from over his shoulder, “to prepare for my execution”

“what the fuck are you on about, jongho?”

“for abandoning my duties and failing to protect you. farewell, princess. you are on your own from here-”

his sentence is cut short as the spider scuttles towards him

and that is how you two, disguised, but still a royal princess and royal guard no less, are given an eviction warning because he streaked through the corridors of the inn half naked and screaming at the top of his lungs

needless to say, the innkeeper ends up having to remove the spider for the two of you

“you’re so embarrassing,” you whisper to him once you two are finally settled in bed and on the sofa

“no, i’m jongho,” he cackles

you don’t humour him with a response, but you know he snickers himself to sleep that night

you can’t help but let the corner of your lips tug up as well

a few days later after leaving the town, you two are resting side by side against a tree trunk when you decide to grace jongho with the opportunity to redeem himself

he’s currently halving a sandwich so you two can share

“if i were trapped in a forest full of spiders and you were the only person who could save me,” you ask gravely, “what would you do?”

without missing a beat, he replies, “prepare to grieve your death and make sure your pet cat is well fed in your honour”

he passes you the bigger sandwich as you turn to look at him with the most scandalised expression

“can you at least pretend to think for a bit?” you grumble

there’s a hint of a smile on jongho’s face when he apologises, “okay, sorry. ask me again”

you hit him with a different scenario this time

“if you had to fight a giant spider who had taken me hostage, what would you do?”

he hums thoughtfully for a few seconds, unscrewing a canteen of water for you and placing it by your side

“i would say, she is all yours, your spidery majesty, and then i would bow and walk away”

“fuck you,” you shove him good-naturedly with your shoulder

he swipes the canteen before you can knock it over and presses it into your smaller hand instead, giving it a quick pat as he dismisses your insult, “sure, if you think you can handle my dick”

“like they say,” you waggle your eyebrows at him as your voice drops down lower, “practice makes perfect”

jongho’s stoic facade finally cracks when you lean in closer and he hurries to stand up and put some distance between you and him

he shifts his legs subtly, clearing his throat to say, “we should go, denport is close”

when you’ve finished off the last of your sandwich, you dust off your fingers and grab jongho’s offered hand to stand up too

“let’s go”

one thing you have both noticed is that the closer you get to the border between your kingdom and denport, the quieter and thicker the atmosphere seems to get

the small towns you pass through have less people roaming around; in fact, most people seem to flee back into the refuge of their own houses, locking their doors and closing their windows when they catch sight of your pair

and then it happens

your plan goes awry

you and jongho are harshly awoken by a commotion outside the small room you have rented for the night

there’s a sickening smell accompanied by wails of grief in the air

when you rush outside, all you can see is a huge crowd of people gathered and your ears strain to pick up on the broken hushes of information being thrown around

“his son is lucky to have been spared”

“lucky to have seen his father slaughtered by bandits?”

“i heard it wasn’t money that they were after, though”

“those damned denport devils are up to something”

that’s all you pick up on before jongho snatches your arm and leads you back into the inn, telling you that it’s too dangerous to be out there; too dangerous for you two to continue traveling

which leads to the very first argument you ever have with him

you two butt heads all the time with your own fiery fronts and hardheadedness but more often than not, he yields to you

you’re facing him in the dim room - it is shadier than that first inn you two made a stop at weeks ago, but you’re both sharing one room just like you two have done at every single inn since

“we need to go check it out!” you shout at him

jongho takes a shaky breath as he tries to keep his voice even, “no, we should go back to our kingdom, report on the situation and call for backup!”

you throw your hands up into the air, “we’re already here - we’re basically at denport! what if something blows up soon? it might be too late by the time we go back”

jongho steps in closer as his eyes narrow

you don’t cower because you know he would never hurt you, but you do step backwards because you don’t think you can keep a clear head when he is standing so close to you, proximity dizzying like the buzz of alcohol

“of all times for you to play hero and do something that you weren’t asked to, why now? why put yourself in danger?”

your back hits the wall as jongho corners you

your chest heaves, as does his, both of you overwhelmed with emotions

he holds your gaze but his eyes are rounded with agony and distress

you don’t understand why he is so against your decision

you don’t know what to say, until your eyes flicker down involuntarily at the movement of his lips parting to exhale-

“damn, jongho, your lips are real chapped. you should use some of my lip balm”

he blinks hard at the absurdity of what you chose to say

he looks at your lips

he makes a decision

“then give me some of yours,” he says, a little breathless

and then he’s pressing his chapped lips against your smooth ones, the taste of coconut filling your mouth as your lip balm smears

suddenly, he pulls back with the audacity to look shocked as if you are the one who kissed him

and then he leaves the room without another word

he doesn’t return that night and you don’t manage to sleep either

you wonder when you started becoming used to falling asleep with him in the same room

jongho clears his throat awkwardly when you open the door in the morning and find him leaning against the wall just by the doorframe

you’re not sure whether he came back not too long ago from god knows where, or whether he was actually standing guard outside all night

you think you know which one it is, even if he doesn’t confirm it

“we’re checking out,” he mumbles, shuffling briskly into the room to grab his few belongings he had left and exiting the room again with you trailing behind

neither of you say much more to each other

you think that he’s going to lead you back the way you two came, lead you back and undo the weeks’ worth of journeying and go back to the castle

but then he’s sighing, deep and burdened, and he gently takes your hand to continue on towards denport

he’s never held your hand before

not like this, at least, tenderly tugging you along with every step so that you are no more than a few inches away from his side

you want to bicker with him and chortle together like usual but you keep quiet, giving him the space that he appears to need even if he is physically ensuring you are tucked right into his side

you two walk until the sun has dipped below the horizon

from what you know, you are right along the southern border and denport will only be another half day’s walk away

jongho makes a small bonfire before he joins you to lean against a fallen log

he shimmies off his coat and drapes it over your legs and then the forest also settles into silence along with you both

it’s now or never

“why are you so against us going to the border?” you ask him

he runs his fingers through his hair

an unruly tuft of hair stays upright and you fold your arms to stop yourself from reaching out and smoothening it for him

he looks at you as he says, “i’m fine with me going to the border, it’s you i’m not fine with. you do remember that i’m your royal guard, right”

“is that all there is to your reason,” you push, “that you’re my guard?”

you both know you’re referring to more than just the argument itself

jongho’s gaze breaks away, looking ahead at the flames of the fire instead

he is silent

for once, jongho is unarmed; no immediate snark or teasing remark to toss back at you

you hear him swallow and take a breath

“i…i don’t know,” he starts. “all i know is that with each passing day, the more i want to keep you safe”

jongho looks at you again, eyebrows drawn down ever so slightly

“why do you make me feel so worried?”

at his words, your heart clenches in an unfamiliar way and you attempt to lighten the mood, “maybe you like me”

“maybe i do”

oh.

with the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes, it almost looks as though he is about to cry

“please, don’t go to the border, princess,” he begs softly

his plea remains unwavering and you find your heart doing the exact opposite

after a few seconds of silence, you say

“okay, jongho. i won’t”

the tension from his shoulders seeps out and he gently tugs you towards him so he can tuck you into his side once again

“you promise that we turn around and go back tomorrow morning?”

you nod against the warmth of the crook of his neck, then murmur, “do you think father will be disappointed in me? for returning?”

he rubs a hand up and down your arm soothingly

“of course not, princess. you’ve already done so much more than you needed to. he’ll be proud of you”

and then he adds on, “just like i’m proud of you”

this is the first time anyone has ever really validated your efforts; being the youngest of a large family means you are often overshadowed

caught off guard, all you can do is whisper out, “thank you, jongho”

he hums and you feel his smile against the crown of your head

you’ve never been drunk before, but you think that this is the closest you have ever gotten

you are intoxicated by him

“if you’re thankful,” the rumble of jongho’s voice against your cheek is pleasant, “can i ask for something?”

“whatever you want”

he eases you from the comfort of his neck and tilts your chin up slightly with a finger, cheeky grin plastered across his face

“can i have some more of your lip balm?”

3K notes · View notes

alisonfelixwrites · 9 days

Text

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

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

word count: 20,613

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lavender raised her brows, “Uh – yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry Styles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lavender chuckled, “Right. Okay, noted.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s pouring rain and I’m hungry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so what do we pick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” She bit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously? Oh come on, y-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, “Okay. See you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I read it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s safe. Forgettable.”

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

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

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

“Well don’t.” She bit.

“Why not?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking feels like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’ll just wipe off the blood.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, my entire strategy to shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowned, “Lav, I d-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lav.” Harry whispered again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t like you.”

“You will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe because he had never before wanted her attention.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is the ladies room.” Lavender spoke.

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

“I’m touching up my lipstick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

She avoided him, so much was clear.

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

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

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

So he watched her and made mental notes.

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

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

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

Lavender was the kind of girl who ordered black coffee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Lavender looked… astonishing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was before dinner that they shared their first conversation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This for me?” He questioned.

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

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

“Thank you for fixing the beamer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Obviously.”

Lavender softly smiled, “See? Agreeing again.”

“Must be something in the wine.”

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

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

“You were.”

“I beg to differ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first song.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was an idiot two weeks ago.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry smirked and nodded, “Deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” She nodded, “Please.”

“Please what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? The condom?” He frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry nodded, “Yeah. You?”

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doubt that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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shiny-jr · 10 months

Text

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia | Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done.

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue.

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream.

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink.

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue.

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.”

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.”

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks.

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier.

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed.

If you’re reading this,

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes.

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco.

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field.

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet.

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved.

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly.

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you.

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable.

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment.

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you.

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll.

I eagerly wait for word from you.

Until we meet again soon,

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest.

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time?

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?”

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago.

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.”

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...”

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read.

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries.

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...”

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.”

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!”

Dear player,

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies.

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise.

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain.

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us?

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay.

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor.

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient.

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace.

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you.

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now...

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace.

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask.

This is a pledge that will not be broken.

Cordially,

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly.

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either.

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.”

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?”

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.”

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile.

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there.

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind.

Great Player,

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary!

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you!

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self!

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth!

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well.

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know.

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds!

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be!

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written!

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste!

Faithfully,

Sebek Zigvolt

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again.

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you.

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster.

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve.

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!”

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

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harryslittlefreakk · 13 days

Text

too sweet

summary: essentially porn with little plot… or .. when her boss decides that letting her go is in her best interests, y/n decides to show him exactly what he’s missing out on.

warnings: swearing, light angst, smut (rough sex, oral m receiving, slight domrry) also don’t ask me how he can receive oral if she’s on the desk ?? it just happened

wordcount: 2.8k

a/n: much like the rest of the world, i can’t stop listening to too sweet :) and to me it has ceorry written all over it!! as always please let me know if you enjoyed!! I really want to start trying my hand at more tropes and aus so please let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see!!!

my masterlist & taglist can be found here 💖 love you

“Mr Styles, I-”

“I promise you, sweetheart. It’s not a set back, it’s just-”

“I can show you, please.” You were begging and pleading like this job hadn’t been draining the life out of you for months now. You knew that Harry was right, but you didn’t want to, couldn’t, accept another failure.

“Listen.” His words were stern but his face was soft as he reached over the table, placing a ringed hand over the top of yours. “It’s not personal. To succeed in this business you need grit. No one ever got to the top without a hint of cunt, me included.”

He held up his free hand as you opened your mouth, silencing you before the words had even begun to form. “You are special. You don’t have that mean streak, and I refuse to be the one to manufacture it within you. I will find a spot in this company for you, shift people around if I have to. You need to find a role that grows with you, not one that will tear you down.”

You nodded slowly, speechless as his words sunk in. How can you be fired for being too nice? Not cunty enough? You tugged your hand away from Harry’s as if it burned you, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Is this because of the cakes?” you asked, cringing as you thought back to all the nice things you’d done around the office. If you weren’t supposed to be nice, why not put that in the job description? Under requirements: IT skills, maths degree, asshole.

Harry laughed, leaning back in his seat as he grinned at you. “In a way, I guess it is because of the cakes. Just trust me, okay? This is for the best. I’d never forgive myself if I turned you into a monster. Finance is a cut-throat world,” he finished, staring out into the office.

When he didn’t say anymore, you stood up, smoothing out your skirt across your thighs. “Thank you for your time, Mr Styles. I’ll wrap up my work and send it over to you, I assume you won’t need me past lunch?”

“No, that’s all. Thank you y/n,” he smiled, nodding as you turned away.

“Dick,” you muttered, pulling the door closed behind you. You could hardly rant and rave to his face, especially after repeatedly hearing how nice you are, but you were inwardly seething. Treating your colleagues like shit would be a good reason to get fired, treating your clients like shit would be a better one. But to be too kind? You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make sense to you, but it was still downright unfair. You had grit, and you’d show him.

You sat silent and dignified until the office left for lunch, wrapping up with the clients you had and sending the remainder to Harry. No one stayed past lunch on a Friday, so the second the last stragglers left, you rushed to the Harry’s office door. You had no game plan, except for bursting in and proving him wrong. Only, as soon as you were about to reach out and knock on the door, it swung open. “Y/n.”

“I have grit,” you told him, slipping past him into his office. It was all you could think to say.

“I-”

“Close the door please,” you motioned your head towards Harry’s seat, signalling for him to sit back down. He was frozen in the doorway, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. “I have grit,” you repeated, gaze following Harry as he pushed the door closed and circled back around his desk.

“You said that,” he sniggered, loosening his grey tie as he watched you pace around the office. “If I didn’t have grit,” you started, willing something entirely different to come out your mouth, knowing that it wouldn’t. “I wouldn’t mention that I know you spent the entire Christmas party in here with Stephanie. With the door locked. And I wouldn’t mention that I’ve noticed the way you look at me,” you finished, eyes glued to the skyline behind Harry’s head.

His jaw clenched a few times, his hands flexing against the wood of his desk. “Good point,” he murmured, his expression totally unreadable as he looked at you. “Come and sit down.”

You padded over tentatively, fingertips gripping the back of the chair as you pulled it out in front of you.

“Not there.” He pushed his chair back, tapping on the wood between his hands.

“What are you-” you started, gaze darting between Harry’s icy stare and your feet, dragging themselves the short distance to Harry’s desk.

“You came here to show me you have grit, no?”

You nodded, heart in your throat as you perched on the edge. “How were you going to show me?” he continued, his eyes unrelenting in their pursuit of weakness within you.

You knew what your game-plan was, but you weren’t expecting Harry to catch on and call your bluff. His voice was muffled by the blood pounding in your ears, your jaw tight as you tried to remain composed under his watch. He leaned back when you stayed silent, one eyebrow raising slightly as his gaze raked down your body. “What were you going to do, y/n?” he asked again, hooking one foot around yours to pull your legs open.

A tiny gasp falling from your lips was the only sound you made, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Harry reached forward, pushing your skirt up around your hips until he saw a flash of your red panties. “I think,” he started, fingertips trailing down your exposed thigh. “You were going to show me that sweet little cunt, show me what it can do. Am I right?” he continued, satisfied as he looked at the trail of goosebumps his touch had left.

You nodded again, eyes fluttering closed in a bid to expel some of the anticipation creeping through your core. “Use your words,” Harry muttered, tugging on your thighs until you landed in his lap.

You opened your eyes, inches away from his face as he splayed a hand across your lower back. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, a shiver running down your spine. His cock twitched beneath your core at the name, his eyes dark.

“From this moment onwards, anything that happens within these walls is between us. Do you understand?” Harry asked, his voice husky and yet somehow softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Of course,” you replied, hoping your eyes communicated the sincerity that your words couldn’t.

Harry placed his free hand on your hip, pushing you down slightly until his firm cock bulged against your entrance.

“What are you and your grit going to do about this then?” he smirked, his fingertips digging into your clothed flesh. You almost choked on the lump in your throat, eyes bulging as you shifted on top of Harry’s girth. His stare was like a challenge, daring you to retreat or prove yourself wrong. But you’d gone too far to back down now, so you swallowed the first taste of tomorrow’s regret and locked your eyes on his, rolling your hips across his lap before stepping off of him.

You answered his questioning frown by sitting back on your heels between his legs, reaching forward with a tentative hand to palm him over his trousers. Harry let you feel him for a second, before swatting you away to unzip his slacks and push them down his thighs.

From the moment you’d first met him, you knew Harry was objectively hot. He was attractive in the same way a friend’s dad would be - enough to appreciate but too out of reach for it to be any more than that. But now as you stared up at him, the strained fabric of his Calvins tight against the cock he was about to fuck your face with, he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Harry tugged the waistband of his boxers down, only enough to set his length free, grabbing hold of your wrist. “No one is to know,” he growled, waiting for your confirmation before guiding your hand to his length.

“No one, sir,” you murmured, pressing your parted lips to the side of his shaft as he pulled his hand away.

“Good girl,” was all Harry could manage as your pout wrapped around his tip, your tongue swirling across the nerves. You let your saliva drip down him, rubbing it across his skin with an unsteady yet firm hand. It felt dirty, transactional almost as if he might let you stay if you performed well enough for him. But you knew you didn’t want that, and he wouldn’t want you working for him once you’d milked his cock for all it had.

You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled your mouth away from him, your hand still working up and down his length. Your gaze darted up to meet his, the hunger in his eyes unlike anything you’d seen before. He was almost animalistic, something feral juxtaposed in his features as he watched you silently, frozen in place. You willed yourself to look away as you bent further down, poking out your tongue to lick a wet line along his cock, but you couldn’t focus on anything but Harry’s face. Your arousal was pooling between your thighs, a breathy moan tumbling past your lips as you took more of him into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

You couldn’t take him all, not even close, so your hands worked at the rest of him, one wrapped around his base while the other found his balls, squeezing them gently as your cheeks tightened against his girth. Harry let out a small groan, his first display of your mouth having any effect on him, his hand instinctively tangling into your hair as if he’d been here with you before.

He used his grip to hold your head steady, directing your mouth up and down his length. His cock was knocking into the back of your throat, your whimpers mixing with groans and splutters, until he stopped suddenly, pushing back in his chair until there was distance between the two of you. You were too much, the sight of your pout wrapped around his tip too much for him to take.

“Up,” he demanded, placing a protective hand over the edge of the desk to save you knocking your head. You pulled yourself up to meet where he stood, resting against the desk to take the weight off your shaky legs. Harry’s thumb swiped across your jaw, his eyes fixed on your face. Your swollen red pout, your heavy-lidded eyes, mascara gathered under your lower lashes. You looked a fucking mess, and he was loving every second of it.

He bent down slightly, fingers slipping under your skirt to hook around the side of your panties. He pulled them off, helping you to raise both feet, before stuffing them into the pocket of his slacks.

“Turn around,” Harry murmured, nodding as you obeyed him. His fingers trailed across your hips, pushing on your back until your stomach hit the wood of his desk.

You let out a whimper as he pressed a hand between your legs, his fingertips dancing across your skin until they met your entrance, hot and sticky and so ready for him. Harry swiped a finger through your folds, a tiny chuckle the only sound he made as you squirmed, his free hand splayed across your back, keeping you pinned down. “Got yourself all worked up f’me, huh?” he drawled, voice so low it sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, too overcome with need to form any words. Harry pressed into you, collecting your juices on his tip before pushing himself inside, eyes screwed shut as your walls constricted around him. Your whimpers turned into a string of expletives, his girth too much for you to take. “Tight little cunt, all for me,” Harry whispered, stilling inside of you now that he’d bottomed out. His hands were digging into the skin of your ass, your curves engulfing the base of his cock. “All for you,” you panted, desperately trying to find something to grip on to, something to steady you while Harry tore you in two.

He pulled back, mouth hanging open as he watched himself emerge from your pretty pink lips, his length already smothered in your juices. He wanted to resist, to be gentle with you, but your cunt was begging him to destroy it, to instil in it some of the grit you claimed to have. It was between his head and his heart, yet Harry could only think with his cock.

He slammed into you hard, your hips knocking against the edge of his desk, the contents of his drawers rattling as he drilled into you. His office was far from sound proof, and any stragglers left in the building would hear nothing but your cries and screams as he rocked his hips into yours, his cock hitting every inch of you. But that only spurred him on further, the thrill of your pleasure coursing through his veins. He landed a blow on the curve of your ass, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he watched the red hand print appear, the skin bouncing with every snap of his hips.

“Fuck, Har- fuck,” you cried, breathless as Harry slammed his hips into yours before pulling out completely. He grabbed at your waist, tugging at your dress for you to turn over. “I need to see you,” he growled, eyes completely darkened when you turned to face him. You’d never seen him with as much as a hair out of place, yet now he looked possessed by his own lust. He was messy, curls hanging down his forehead and a blush to his cheeks, shirt half unbuttoned.

He circled around your clit as you looked him up and down, eyes never leaving yours. “Taking me like a fucking good girl,” he whispered, pushing back into your entrance.

“I can’t- please, sir,” you whimpered, chest heaving as he continued fucking into you with the same ferocity as before. Between his cock, his fingers, his face, you were coming apart. He was twitching inside of you with every moan that left your lips, his own climax creeping up as quickly as yours was. He stilled for a moment, his fingers never ceasing as they rubbed pleasure into your nerves. “You can, and you will. Come for me,” he urged, grabbing a hold of your waist as he thrust into you, each snap of his hips pushing you closer to the edge.

“I’m, fuck-” was all you could cry, your mouth falling open as you shook and writhed under him, his words coaxing out an orgasm stronger than you’d ever imagined. Your eyes brimming with tears, brows knitted as you cried out, hips bucking into the palm of his hand. Harry slowed down slightly, seconds between each thrust as he worked you through your high, your cream coating every inch of his thick cock.

The second you stilled, he slipped his hand under your back, pulling you up to sit as he pulled his cock from you. Harry dragged a thumb across your bottom lip, smirking at your tiny pout as you felt the emptiness in your cunt. “Open up,” he whispered, replacing his thumb with his tip, pushing it past your lips as he worked his hand up and down the length.

You took him into your mouth for the second time that day, the mix of your juices like sweet nectar against your tongue. You were dizzy from your climax, every inch of your core on fire from the sheer brutality of his cock, your walls still pulsing. Harry was grunting and groaning, even his moans husky as he twitched between your lips, his jaw tensing as he came undone, hot cum shooting to the back of your throat.

He held a hand to the nape of your neck, grounding himself as he bucked into you, filling you up at a much faster rate than you could swallow. “Good girl,” he cooed, letting you lick every last drop of cum from his tip before he pulled away, sinking down into his chair as his hand dropped down your body.

You leaned your arms back against the desk, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to catch your breath, the stinging of your entrance doubled by the sudden lack of touch.

Harry kept watching you, still under your spell, unable to will his eyes away as you panted. “You have grit,” he whispered, a glimmer in his eye. “But I can’t let you work for me after that.”

“As long as you know I have grit, Mr. Styles,” you smirked, rolling your head down to look at him again.

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7 @harrystylesluverrrr @cohnfusedarling @ell0ra-br3kk3r @stylesfever

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #harryslittlefreakk

473 notes · View notes

milkpup · 4 months

Text

｡⋆ʚ♡ bad luck comes in threes (and in me)

›› nsfw 18+ / 3 part fic

@ace_343 on twt

ch 2 ♡ ch 3

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› naoya zenin x f!reader ›› megumi fushiguro x f!reader ›› toji fushiguro x f!eader ›› naoya x f!reader x megumi / megumi x f!reader x toji ›› naoya x f!reader x megumi + toji ›› started: 1/12/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are close friends. He invites you to his family's estate where you start to notice how bad your luck really is.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, pseudo-incest (they all want y/n, not eachother), harsh language, abuse, power imbalance, dubious consent / rxpe / noncon

‹𝟹 tags: AGED UP CHARACTERS!, au - no deaths, au - toji and megumi are part of zenin clan still, power imblance, degradation, choking, loss of virginity, name calling, pet names, some fluff and LOTS OF SMUT, slight angst, all the zenins want you basically, vaginal, blow jobs, cunnilingus, face sitting, 4some, mdom, fsub, pseudo-incest, meet the family, breeding, cum as lube, cum swapping, light blood, aggressive choking, will update tags as more is added, praise, being called a good girl

‹𝟹 notes: this is a long time in the making. i probably started this fic over a month ago >< i've been working on it more than my lfls fic that i like more. just smthn abt naoya...... (usually i prefer naoya to be subby but this fic is diff oopsies :3!). lmk what y'all think.i'll be updating my other fic real soon but for now, crumbs of this i guess LOL. i was originally going to do a oneshot but it was already starting to get long and i hadn't even progressed much in the plot i have written up x-x so i figured i'd do 3 chaps since it's like the theme >:3 hope y'all like it!!!

i'll be updating tags as it progresses. i'm super excited abt this fic even tho it's like 99% smut. (idk how to write stuff w/o smut oops) what can i say??? 🤌

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 1: Exposed

“So, do you think you can make it?” Megumi asks, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at you inquisitively. “To my family event, the reunion thing, I mean.”

You hadn’t thought about it much. Sipping on your tea, you contemplated. You’ve never met Megumi’s extended family; you had no idea what they would be like. Megumi’s family is huge, and it would be a multi-day event held at their estate. “Oh, what the hell. I have nothing better to do during winter break anyways.”

His face lights up a bit at your confirmation, but Megumi tries his hardest to hide it. You can see the blush creeping across his nose, his cheeks, even reaching the tips of his ears. He was like a little puppy, excited to see you.

“Make sure to bring any nice clothes you want to wear, but there will be pajamas and toiletries provided to you.” He finished his drink and moved to throw his away. “Are you done too?”

You felt bad, you had a little bit of your tea left and he was patiently waiting for you to finish to throw your trash away for you. You hurriedly suck up the remainder of the tea through the straw, and hand him the empty cup. “Thanks, Megs.” You chirp.

Megumi blushes and looks away as he takes your cup from your hands.

You’re back at your house, frantically packing last minute before Megumi comes over to pick you up. You’ve always been an overpacker, and you have no idea what to expect. You throw all sorts of garments into a pile that you want to take: casual clothes like leggings and hoodies, dresses and formalwear, and intimates. You blush, picking up matching sets of underwear and bras. You decide to toss them onto the pile anyways, better prepared than not. You didn’t know who you were “preparing” for, but felt your cheeks flush anyways. I’m meeting my close friend’s extended party and I’m packing lingerie, am I a fucking creep? You shake your head, trying to shake the thoughts out too.

You finish stuffing your clothes into your bags, packing some makeup and skincare that they probably wouldn’t have available. Just as you finish zipping your second bag, you hear a loud knock on the front door. It’s Megumi.

You open the door with a soft smile, greeting Megumi. “Thanks for picking me up Megs! Can you help me with my other bag?”

He looks down to where you’re gesturing, noticing the other bag. “Jeez ____, it’s a 3 day party. How many clothes do you need?”

You blush, sheepishly. “I just want to be prepared… y’know?” Megumi huffs and groans before picking up both bags. A lady should never have to carry her own bags, and he noticed it seemed like you were struggling with how heavy these bags were, being packed to the absolute brim.

“T-thanks, Megs.” You croak out as you follow behind him to his car. He doesn’t reply, hoisting your bags in the trunk before slamming it shut. You open the door and sit in the passenger side, buckling your seatbelt with an audible click. He gets in shortly after you, adjusting his seatbelt and turning the car on.

The silence is thick, but not awkward. You and Megumi were comfortable around each other, not requiring a word to be said as you sat in comfortable silence on the drive to his family’s estate. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you ask Megumi, breaking the silence, “So what are the plans for the event? How big is it going to be, anyways?”

Megumi answers you, not taking his eyes off the road. “It will have pretty much my entire family, extended family, and family friends. There’s lots to do at our estate, from the gardens, movie room, bar room, and more. As for planned events, music and lots of food, maybe dancing?” His tone ends questioningly, he knows his family isn’t particularly fond of frivolous activities like dancing, but there might still be some as more people loosen up.

You nod, taking in his answer. This sounds almost a little exciting. Much better than spending time holed up in your room, studying or watching youtube.

Megumi pulled up to the grandiose estate. “Wow Gumi, I knew your family was loaded…. But not THIS loaded,” You gasped in awe. The entire property was large enough to be a mini village. You were shocked, to say the least. The beautiful landscaping, trees, the koi pond that connected into a river surrounding the main building… it was all too beautiful.

“Yeah, they are wealthy on a whole different level,” he responds, as he pops the trunk and retrieves your bags. “Usually they have servants around, but I’ll show you around the estate myself instead.” He starts walking towards the front entrance, you follow him closely behind, not wanting to get lost.

Megumi doesn’t even have to open the door, servants inside let him in as soon as he approaches. He briskly walks along the pavilion, turning left towards a long corridor. You try to match pace, but his long legs gives him an advantage. You take this moment, a few paces behind Megumi, to admire his raven locks bouncing as he walked.

As you’re walking, you pass an entryway, seeing a few figures to your right. Someone clicks their tongue. “I see my cousin Megumi understands,” he starts, eyes following your figure as you walk past him, “that a woman’s place is three steps behind a man’s.” This mysterious man, related to Megumi, smirks as your figure disappears.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s so full of shit it’s festering,” Megumi spits out. He seems to really hate whoever that guy was. Megumi leads you to a room down a quiet corridor and opens the door. “This will be your room for the next few nights,” He announces as he enters the room and sets your bags down. “My room is on the other side of the estate. These are the guest rooms. We can check mine out later, if you’re interested.” He flushes at that last part, looking down and uncomfortably shifting his weight. “Anyways, I have to clean up before dinner in an hour. I’ll be back to see you soon.’

Megumi retreats from your room and closes the door behind him. You decide to unpack, putting things in the drawers and hanging some items in the closet. The room was quite spacious, with its own bathroom attached and adjacent to this room.

You haven’t finished unpacking yet but decided to take a quick shower just to freshen up. You scope out the bathroom and quickly shut the door behind you. Turning the shower on to a scalding hot temp, you wait for it to heat up as steam fills the bathroom. You strip and enter the shower.

He stalks the hallway you were walking through but a moment ago. He’s insanely curious as to what you look like up close, intrigued by your fleeting form as you walked by behind Megumi. He wondered if you were his toy, you following Megumi like a puppy definitely gave off that message.

He can still smell a lingering scent of citrus and flowers. He knows it’s you, because women of the clan are usually not permitted to walk this side of the estate anyways. He’s following your trail, like a predator following its prey. He sees the faint glow of light coming from the crack of a door and approaches it.

He knocks once. No response. He knocks twice. Still nothing. Naoya Zenin believed he was a gentleman, but he had his limits. This was his future estate, he believed he had every right to know every single thing going on under this roof.

He lets himself in, and immediately sees the cracked bathroom door, a bit of steam escaping. He hears you humming while taking a shower, and smirks. He silently closes the door, and makes his way towards your plush bed. He sees a bag open, clothes strewn about. Something frilly and lacy catches his eye, and he walks towards the table instead. He picks the article of clothing up, noticing he was holding a black thong, laces and bows, adorned with gems along the thin waistband. He licked his lips, unholy thoughts flooding his brain.

He hears you shut off the shower, and quickly pockets the garment, swiftly moving to sit on the edge of the bed. A few moments pass, and the door of the bathroom swings open. Steam floods your room, quickly dissipating. You have a towel wrapped around your body, still humming as you walk towards your pile of clothes. You had set a specific set on top to put on after your shower. You could have sworn the thong was there, but as you rummaged through your bag the garment was nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for these, little miss?” You gasp and turn around to see a man sitting on your bed, holding up your thong with 1 finger, while smirking and eyeing you down. You nearly drop your towel, but regain composure.

“Who are you?” You ask, unsure of why a strange man you’ve never seen before let himself into your room.

“My apologies, doll, I didn’t mean to scare you. My name is Naoya Zenin. I’m set to be the next heir of the clan and estate,” he smirks, “And I figured I should personally introduce myself to you. It would be impolite of me not to do so. Who are you?”

“I’m _____, Megumi’s friend. He invited me over to meet all his family.” His ears perked up at you mentioning your friendship with Megumi, a devious thought crossing. You were still in your towel, cold air further cooling your already wet skin.

“You didn’t answer my first question, little miss. Were you planning on wearing these?” He practically spins the panties around his finger, staring you down intently. “I didn’t think such a good girl would bring something like this to wear when meeting her friend’s family…” He trails off.

A blushes creeps along your face, you didn’t think someone would know. You didn’t think someone would barge into your room, look through your clothes, and tease you about it. You couldn’t even look Naoya in the eye, shame clearly on display on your features.

“Don’t worry, woman, I won’t tell anyone. You wouldn’t want your close friend, Megumi, to know about this right? I won’t tell; however, my silence has a price.” He finishes his comment, smirking at you. His sultry gaze was locked on you, scanning your body from head to toe. He grinned and licked his lips, thinking about how he could manipulate you.

“What do you mean?” You look up at him, confused and unsure about the situation. “What do I have to do?” At that question, Naoya lifts himself from your bed to make his way towards you. His gaze never once leaving yours, making intense eye contact that sent shivers down your spine and left you trembling. You felt like prey being stalked by a predator.

Naoya is right in front of you now, as he grabs both wrists with his hands and lifts them above your head. You’re startled but have no time to react as he pushes you against a wall, wrists pinned above you. You can feel Naoya’s hot breath tickling your cheek, making you lose all sense of rationality. He grins at you, looking down as he has you in a position you can’t easily free yourself from. Your head hangs low, looking down, trying to stifle your heavy breathing. You don’t want him to know his actions are affecting you.

“I know women are dumb, but seriously, how can you not know what I mean? At least you’re pretty….” He leaves his sentence unfinished, bringing a cold hand to your chin and tilting your head to look at him. “Little miss, I’ll explain it to you once, in an easy way to understand. I want to use you. Your body, specifically. Will you be a good girl and let me? Or do you want me to make you.” Naoya’s tone drops a bit, almost grunting at the end. Thoughts about what “using you” entails floods your mind. You’re inexperienced, but not entirely clueless. Your blush deepens as you look into his eyes, now peering down at you.

You didn’t think being degraded and praised in the span of a few seconds would entice you as much as it would. Normally you’re a very independent woman, fully capable of realizing your own dreams and pursuing your own goals. But something… something about being put down but also called a good girl sent you driving up the wall with insanity. You were hooked near instantly.

“Yes sir,” you meekly respond, looking up at Naoya. Your emotions and lust are on clear display for him, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Good girl.” He smirks. “Just to be clear, I have very specific tastes and like to be pleased in a certain way. Try and make me proud, you dumb whore.” Your cheeks flared red at the insult. “Open your mouth, cunt.”

You made no hesitation to fulfill his command. He still had a firm grip on your chin, leaning down as he spit into your mouth. “Swallow, princess.” He instructs as he pushes your mouth closed. You comply, feeling more heat pooling between your legs. “Good girl,” he purrs as you open your mouth to show him.

He leans back into you, lips crashing into yours. He nips at your bottom lip, drawing a tiny bit of blood as he goes back to kissing you. He can taste the blood mixed with both of your saliva as he forces his tongue into your mouth, trying to push his way into every part of you he can. His hand previously at your chin is moving down toward your neck, resting into a firm grip across your neck. You can still breathe, but the firm pressure while he’s sloppily kissing you elicits a few soft moans from you into his mouth. You can’t tell, but he’s grinning as his grip increases a bit. He pulls away before taunting you, “Do you like that? Huh? Are you a masochist or something?” He’s not relenting, grip strengthening as you’re looking up at him, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

You’re unable to speak, so you try to nod your head to show him that he’s right. He notices and loosens his grip before moving his hand towards your chest. “Good girl,” he praises you. “I like that.” He leaves kisses in a trail from your lips to your neck, kissing over the faint marks his hands left before. You’re still against the wall, hands above your head, and he released his other grip before picking you up and carrying you to your bed.

“Next time, I want to see you wear that slutty fucking lingerie you brought. You’re such a dirty girl.” He peers down at you as you’re left exposed on your bed. He’s crawling above you, pushing you into the mattress. He gives you a few impatient kisses before moving back to your chest, grabbing one of your breasts while his mouth moves to the other. His other hand is fervently roamed your body, moving down your tummy towards your hips and eventually resting on your thigh. His hands were soft but rough trailing along your skin, as if he was searching for something.

Naoya’s hand slips to your inner thigh, just shy of your exposed cunt. He lightly grips it as he starts leaving a trail of kisses down your body as he took his hand from your breast and pushed your thighs apart. He left love bites and marks as he made his way to your cunt, stopping to look up at you. He grinned as he spit on one of his fingers, prodding its way through your folds to find your clit. He’s been with many women, and although he has an arrogant attitude, he does know exactly how to please a woman.

He rubs circles around your clit as his mouth leaves a little bite mark against your inner thigh. You softly moan at the pain as Naoya’s eyes flick up to meet yours. Although you can’t see it, you’re sure he has that asshole smirk of his. Your suspicions are pretty much confirmed when he says “Are you some masochist? Some dumb bitch who likes to be hurt. For real?” You think you heard a laugh as he moved his finger down to your hole, spitting some more before he fucked you with a finger. You didn’t need any more lube, you were practically drenched. He pushed his finger in, feeling how tight your hole was with only one of his fingers.

“You have the tightest cunt I’ve ever felt. I’m impressed. Are you a virgin too?” He looked up at you, expecting an answer.

“Yeah..” You tried to hide your face with your hands, embarrassed at your lack of experience. Naoya saw it differently though. His cock twitched in his pants as you replied, and he started moving his finger inside your tight cunt. He loved hearing the little moans you make as he slipped his finger in and out, a lewd wet sound filling the room. He was trying to get you used to it, but he was getting impatient. He was already working harder for any woman he’s ever been with.

His mouth moved above your clit, tongue flicking around the sensitive bud as he slipped in another long finger into your hole. He curled and scissored his fingers, trying to stretch you as his fingers fucked you faster. Your face was flush with embarrassment as you still tried to contain some of your moans. One more finger slipped in, stretching your walls while he moved above you, face aligned with yours.

He kept fingering your cunt as he aggressively kissed you, biting your lip before he shoved his tongue into your mouth. You could feel yourself come closer to the edge, your core tightening. You were moaning into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck pulling his body closer into yours.

“Fuck... Naoya…” you whined out as you felt the thread about to snap, “I’m gonna—cum!!” His fingers slammed into your cunt as he was leaving marks along your neck. You felt your walls tighten around his fingers as he expertly prepped your cunt for the main event.

“You’re such a good girl… I almost feel bad taking your virginity. Almost.” Naoya takes out his fingers, sucking on a few of them to taste you. He pushes one of his fingers into your mouth, commanding you to taste your own cunt. “Next time I’ll taste you myself… but I can’t wait any longer,” he says as he’s taking off his shirt and pants, pulling down his briefs to expose his large cock. He moves up above you again, grabbing your legs by the ankle as his body is pushed against yours. He’s putting you in a mating press. He moves the tip to your entrance and spits on his cock before slowly pushing inside, feeling your tight walls around his girthy cock.

He gives you time to adjust, but it isn’t nearly enough. Naoya has been kind enough, but he always takes what he wants. Still, he will be nice one last time. “I’m gonna fuck you how I want to now, okay whore? You’re gonna be a good girl and take it anyways, right?” He gives you no time to prepare as he slams into you, bottoming out, forcibly deflowering you. The pain hurts, but Naoya is relentless. He pulls out and briefly gives you a moment of respite before slamming his cock back into your cunt. Despite the pain, the feeling is like never before as his body is pushed against yours, cock ramming in and out of your hole. Your cute moans are like music to his ears.

He leans down towards your face, seeming like he’s going to kiss you but instead spits on you. He moves a hand to grasp around your throat as you’re looking up at, unable to make any sound as his cock abuses your hole. The pressure and lack of air make your head feel dizzy as he spits again, degrading you. “You like that too, huh, stupid slut.” He hips pick up speed, pulling out before repeatedly bottoming out into your cunt. He lets go of your neck, allowing you to gasp for air. He would never admit it, but the sound of you struggling to breathe drives him insane.

He spits on his hand and moves it to your clit, fervently rubbing your bud, bringing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. You feel the waves of pleasure overwhelm your body as he’s raw dogging your cunt and relentlessly abusing your clit. Your moans are laced with pleasure, dripping with your ecstasy as you cum over Naoya’s cock, tightening your walls around him.

Naoya mercilessly fucks your virgin hole like he deserves it, like it’s owed to him. Whatever he wants, he gets. He’s grunting as moaning as he picks up speed, fucking you like an animal. “Hey bitch, ah fuck—I’m gonna cum in you. You’re gonna take it like a good girl alright?” He lightly slaps your face as he’s finishing his sentence, bottoming out for the last time before he slams back inside your cunt and paints your insides white. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you; there’s so much of it that it leaks out, a lewd sight before Naoya as he looks down at where you’re both connected. Before he can pull out and clean himself, the door to the guest room slightly creaked open as if it had been left ajar, not fully closed. Naoya cursed himself for not closing and locking the door.

Megumi had been standing there for not even 5 minutes when he went to check on you and bring you to dinner. He was approaching your room when he heard faint moaning coming from your room. He was confused and curious, stopping in front of your door as he noticed it was left slightly open. What he saw left him shocked and speechless, unable to move or avert his gaze through the crack.

He heard you more than he could see you clearly, but your moans that are more beautiful than a symphony of angels was more than enough to make Megumi’s cock strain in his pants. He peered closer, unable to see who was fucking you but still able to see your bodies colliding. He couldn’t deny how erotic it was to see you get fucked, but a twang of jealousy and pain struck his heart that he wasn’t the one making your body shake in pleasure.

He hears a voice, it sounds familiar although he can’t quite place it, telling you he’s about to cum. Megumi leans forward more, slightly pushing the door as he watches the other man breed you. Just as the door squeaks, the man’s head whips to see the door and he makes eye contact with Megumi.

“____, what are you doing?” Megumi questions as he practically stumbles into the room. You lift your head to see Megumi looking at you and Naoya in horror. Shame and embarrassment overcome you, and you move to cover yourself with some blankets as Naoya got off of you and faced Megumi,

“I think it’s more appropriate to ask what are you doing, Megumi?” Naoya’s staring daggers into Megumi; he’s unaffected that his family member caught him in a compromising position, almost as if he’s used to it.

“I was coming to get ___ for dinner… I didn’t realize she was busy being a disgusting fucking whore and sleeping with my family though.” He looks over to you, making eye contact as he sees tears form in the corners of your eyes. He doesn’t actually think you’re disgusting, quite the opposite in fact. But he’s so upset that someone else got to be with you first, and Naoya of all people. As if that scum deserved to be with someone like you.

Naoya could instantly tell what was going on here. He can read Megumi like a book, and smirks as he grabs fistfuls of your hair and pulls you against his chest to taunt Megumi. “Looks like you lost. This is why I’ve always been superior to you. You wanted this little slut, huh? Mad that I broke her in first, aren’t you?” His voice is laced with amusement as he provokes Megumi. He pulls your head to be almost level with his as he spits onto your face. “Your little friend is quite the slut, I had a lot of fun using her like the whore she is. She probably wouldn’t even mind if you joined in, isn’t that right bitch?”

Despite the predicament you were in, you couldn’t help but feel aroused at Naoya’s manhandling and suggestion of Megumi joining in. It had never crossed your mind, although Megumi is quite attractive, you didn’t think he was interested. You were only able to mutter out a small “yes” as you look over to Megumi, noticing the flush in his cheeks reaching all the way to the ends of his ears, and the straining bulge in his pants.

“I’m sorry, ___... Be good for me, please?” He was almost pleading as he was walking over to the bed, already starting to strip.

“You can hurt her and call her names, that dumb whore likes it.” Naoya says, moving aside to let Megumi have easier access to you. You’re still lying on your back, barely recovered from getting your guts rearranged only minutes before. Megumi stands in front of you before kneeling down to get at eye level with your cunt. Naoya hadn’t been able to get up since Megumi stumbled into the room; because of this, your womb was filled to the brim with Naoya’s hot cum leaking out of your small hole. Megumi’s eyes were immediately locked on at the lewd sight before him when he used both hands to grip your thighs and spread them apart.

He moved a slender finger past your leaking hole, scooping a bit of cum up with his fingers as he dragged his finger across your clit. The sharp inhale and moan you made sounded absolutely divine to Megumi, urging him to keep going. “Good girl…” he purrs, as he moves his long fingers down to your hole again, once again scooping another glob of cum. “Sit up, slut,” He commands as he stands up. You comply, not willing to play any games in a situation like this. He shoves his cum covered fingers into your mouth; you lap it up and suck his fingers without having to be told anything. Megumi grins. “Good girl, ____. Such a good girl.”

“I bet you like that, don’t you slut?” You hear Naoya’s remark from aside you, he’s watching all of this unfold right before him. Megumi takes his fingers out of your mouth, Naoya grips you with fistfuls of hair and forces you to look at him. “Answer me, bitch.” He glares at you intensely.

“Yes… yes sir… I do.” You try to look anywhere except him but Naoya isn’t having it.

“When men are speaking, you show them the respect they deserve. That means you answer clearly and fucking pay attention. Got it?” He tugs your head to face him, leaning in closer until he’s only a few inches from your face. “Open your mouth, bitch. And don’t swallow until I tell you to.” You comply and he spits into your mouth, before closing the gap and letting his lips crash into yours. He bites your lip, drawing blood. The metallic essence mixes with his spit before Naoya leans back and instructs you to swallow. It feels perverse and humiliating to admit that it turned you on.

Megumi dropped onto his knees again, this time pushing his slender fingers into your cunt. It feels different this time for you; he’s gentler as he stretches you open. He takes his time adding more fingers, taking in every moment and feeling.

“Let’s change the position, yeah Megumi?” Naoya says it more as a statement and less of a question as he’s already moving to rest on the bed against the wall, pillows propping him up. He pulls you away from Megumi while simultaneously flipping you onto your tummy. He pulls you into his lap, supporting your arms until you’re able to prop yourself up above his cock. One hand grips the back of your head and pulls you closer to his thick cock. He pulls you by your hair, aligning your mouth with the tip of his cock as he forcefully shoves your head down. You nearly gag, pushing against him as he tries to use your mouth. Despite your resistance, Naoya doesn’t seem to care and is chasing his own high using you to get him off. You take him into your mouth, inexperienced but trying to adjust quickly. Naoya gives you barely any time to try and settle within the rhythm he’s created. You basically gag on his cock every time he plunges it slightly deeper than the last, but this only enhances Naoya’s pleasure.

While Naoya’s aggressive use of your mouth is going on, Megumi is taking his time to explore you from behind. His fingers are touching every part of your body he can get to, settling on your ass that he starts to spread apart. He’s entranced by the glistening of your cunt in the light, lost in thought about how lewd you look taking Naoya’s cock while bent over for him like a full course meal. He’s done with his “inspection” and moves one of his slender fingers to your entrance. He slips it in easily, listening to you moan with a cock stuffed in your mouth. Naoya pushes your head down farther along his length, trying to hit the back of your throat. You try to control your breathing in time with his rhythm.

Megumi slips another finger inside, stretching your cunt. “Fuck, ____, I didn’t think you were this tight.” He groans as he starts fucking you with his fingers. The lewd sounds he forces out you vibrate around Naoya’s cock. His other hand is grabbing fistfuls of your hair, face fucking you harder as your dripping cunt takes another of Megumi’s fingers. Megumi picks up pace, bringing another hand to your clit to add extra stimulation, but mostly so he can see you writhe and squirm under him while trying to hold yourself up.

“Will you be a good girl for me and cum, ___?” Megumi coos, stringing you along with his praises. “You look like such a dirty girl right now, already about to cum with just my fingers. So cute.” He finger fucks you harder now, making lewd wet noises as his fingers slam back into your pussy. His other hand is toying with your clit, drawing circles and rubbing the little button to bring you closer to your ecstasy. You can feel the knot tightening in your stomach, feeling yourself be pushed over the edge with his fingers alone.

Naoya thrusts into your throat, choking you and momentarily leaving you without air as Megumi pushes you over the edge. You feel your cunt tighten around his fingers as the waves of pleasure wash over you, the lack of air adding to your heightened senses. You moan as you’re cumming, giving just enough sensation to Naoya for him to creampie your throat. His cum is being forced down your throat, yet there’s still so much that some leaks from the corners of your mouth as his cock is pushed against the back of your throat. He finally shows mercy and pulls out as you’re coming down from your high. You force yourself to as much as you can before gasping for air, panting as you trying to calm down again.

“You did a good job taking all of me, slut.” Naoya grins as he lifts your chin with one of his fingers, leaning down to give you a kiss as you share his cum in your mouth. You didn’t think he’d be into some perverted shit like that, yet he’s basically tongue fucking your mouth still full of his cum. He pulls away, a long string of saliva and cum still connecting you two.

Megumi watches you two, his cock throbbing so intensely it almost hurts. He wastes no time in pulling his pants and boxers down before spitting in his hand and lubing his cock up. He’s shuffling behind you, lining himself up with your cunt before he pushes in at full force, giving you no time to adjust to his monstrous cock. You let out a yelp, air evacuating your lungs at the surprise intrusion. He’s balls deep near instantly in your tight hole, stretching you open with a cock that is even girthier than Naoya’s.

Naoya is watching you, grinning, and lazily stroking his cock. You have no idea how he’s able to keep going for multiple rounds, only a little bit of time in between. But you don’t care. The man in front of you is irresistibly hot even though his attitude is garbage. You would do anything he asked no matter how degrading it is in hopes that he would manhandle you again. As these thoughts cross your mind, Megumi reels you back into reality as he pushes so deep into your womb you’re sure he probably bruised your cervix.

“Your pussy is amazing, sweetheart. You have no idea… hah.. how long I’ve been wanting this.” Megumi praises you, unable to control his breathy moans as he continues fucking you with full force. One of your arms is pulled to your side, Megumi interlocking fingers and holding your hand as he drills into you. Even in a situation like this, he can’t help but do some cute shit.

His other hand lightly smacks your ass as you whimper in pleasure, unable to hide the fact that you like it a little rough. Megumi lets go of your hand as you feel both his arms snake around your waist, pulling you up and against his chest as he fucks you. Your back is to his chest, on full display for Naoya in front of you. His shiteating grin is plastered on his face as he has a front row view of Megumi’s cock sliding in and out of you. He gets up from his seated position to face you. Megumi’s arms are still wrapped around your body, supporting you as he drills into your cunt. You can feel his breath against your neck and hear his soft whimpers in your ear. “You’re doing so well, slut. Such a good girl for me huh?” He whispers into your ear. His words send chills down your spine as he keeps ramming his cock into you, abusing your poor hole.

Naoya moves closer to you, his face only a few inches away from yours. He kisses you slowly, before aggressively trying to fill your mouth with his tongue. He pulls away, spits on your face, and lightly slaps your face. “You love taking your friend’s cock, huh? Didn’t think it would be that good, did you? Who knew you’d be the family’s fuckdoll.” He chuckles at his degrading joke, but you couldn’t help but internalize his words. You have no idea how you got to be in this situation, but you were definitely not complaining. Something about multiple men of the same family using you how they liked made your cunt drip at the mere thought of it.

Naoya moves his mouth to your neck, leaving little marks on your skin to prove he was there. Little bruises of his lust for you, marking your skin like you’re property. Megumi start pulling out with only the tip left inside, before bottoming out into your cunt. He groans beside you, lost in the addictive pleasure that is you. Megumi was no virgin, but he believed you were the best person he’s ever fucked, your body insanely attractive and your personality catching and reeling him, unable to resist you.

Naoya moves back before bringing a hand to your neck, gripping your throat and momentarily cutting off your oxygen. “Megumi… fuck this bitch harder when I choke her, okay? She fucking loves it.” And he wasn’t wrong, you did love it. He gripped your throat, a smirk planted on his features as he watched you helpless and at his mercy. Some drool started dripping out of your mouth and you could feel your vision starting to haze around the edges. Megumi fucked into you harder, pulling you closer to his body. Naoya let his grip loosen a bit around your throat, enough to allow some air to fill your lungs again.

“I’m close, baby. I’m gonna fill you up okay? Be a good girl and take all of it for me.” Megumi purrs beside you. Naoya takes this moment to strengthen the grip around your throat, cutting off your air. You feel Megumi’s speed pick up, him desperately chasing his orgasm. You can hear his staggered whimpers as he empties his load into your cunt, filling your already full womb even more. Naoya releases his hand from your throat, making you choke and gasp for air. He’s looking down at you with sadistic satisfaction as you struggle to catch your breath.

Megumi pulls out and lets go of your waist, and you plop down onto the bed absolutely fucked out. Naoya is quick to get off the bed and start dressing. He finishes so quickly it’s as if he was speedrunning it (he has done this many, many, MANY times before). He gives you a quick peck on the lips and gently rubs your cheek before starting to walk towards the door. “See you soon, slut,” he says as he walks out, closing the door behind him this time. Megumi returns with a clean towel, gently cleaning you up as you just lay their like a limp fish.

“You did so well for me. Thank you,” he says as he kisses your cheeks and then your lips before pulling away and picking up some clothes for you. He tosses you a simple outfit to wear and begins dressing himself as well. “Ready for dinner? You’re gonna meet the rest of my family now.” You nod your head yes, anticipating who else you’re going to meet.

‹𝟹 notes: this was originally suppsed to be a oneshot, but i felt like it was getting too long. i have plans for all of them and wasn't going to be able to execute it in just a oneshot. let me know what y'all think!

feedback is always appreciated!! thank you all!!!

ch 2 (soon)

‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

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popcornrya · 24 days

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Remainder of me AU- we just need a favor...

(Deconstructed version here!)

Oleander: "hush now, don't fight to stay awake, it'll be easier for everyone this way..."

Donatello: "reach for your gun and it'll be the last thing you ever do..."

Oleander: "Please... We're not here to hurt anyone, but it's not like you'll just let us walk out of here now..."

Never met a “poison Yōkai” before? … yeah, that’s not surprising… there’s only about 47 left… and most aren’t approved to leave the temple…

Olly is one of the few approved by the high council to do so, she’s “harmless” for the most part, well, until you throw the first punch at least, then you’ll most likely be hit with a paralytic… she’s careful about overdosage though, after all, killing someone could get her approval revoked… not that she’s as mindful about it anymore after losing her friends…

#rottmnt #rise of the turtles #rottmnt fanart #rise donnie #remainderofme #Remainder of Me AU #donnie tmnt #tmnt donatello #donatello #rottmnt donnie #bad future rottmnt #bad ending #Earth protection force #heist #poison yokai #oleander #Olly

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osaemu · 4 months

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REUNION: GETO SUGURU

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: hunger games!au: you come home to your mentor, who has every intention of giving you all the pleasure you've been deprived of for weeks. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. mentor x tribute (who is 18-19, duh). lil bit of plot, lil bit of angst. oral (f. receiving), squirting, pet names. mentions of starvation. mentions of prior sex before the games. age gap isn't specified—for all i care, he could just be a year older than you. not lore focused.

“holy shit, you’re actually alive,” suguru whispers, lips pressed to the top of your head as he holds you against his chest. you nod shakily, tears streaming down your cheeks. “holy shit,” suguru repeats, pulling away to study your face. his rough thumbs instinctually wipe away the flood of tears wetting your cheeks, but they just keep coming—so he gives up.

“c’mon, let’s get you back home,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and shielding you from the onlookers of your reunion. you lean into his side, too teary-eyed to care about the hundreds of capitol citizens watching your every move. suguru whispers bits of praise here and there as he leads you back to the building deemed your “home” by the capitol—at least, for the next couple days, before you’re shipped off back to your district.

the elevator ride up to your floor is excruciating—it’s quiet, painful, and strained, because neither of you know if it’s bugged. it probably is, and even though you have nothing wrong to say, you both want to keep your hearts private. it’s hard not to collapse on the way to your room, but thankfully, suguru’s there to hold your weakened body as you stumble to the ghost-white door that separates you and your bed.

“missed you so much, suguru,” you whisper as he scoops you up bridal-style. your mentor nods, dark eyes inspecting every part of you he can see as he lays you down on your perfectly-made bed. suguru starts to leave, presumably to get you food or water or something, but you grab onto his sleeve before he can get too fast. “stay,” you plead, eyes wild with an emotion he can’t identify yet.

“you need food,” suguru reminds you, lips curving upwards with a little smile. you shake your head and, with the remainder of your strength, pull him a centimeter forward. you know only too well that if he wanted to, suguru could shake you off as easily as a fly—but he lets you tug him down next to you, breath held in his throat.

“i need you,” you insist, and that’s enough for him. one way or another, both of your clothes end up discarded to who-knows-where, save for a hoodie that suguru snatches up from the floor and pulls over your shoulders.

“in case you get cold,” suguru explains, gently manhandling you into a position that’ll give his mouth easy access to your neglected cunt. his soft, dark eyes lock with yours from where his chin rests on the bed in between your thighs. you stick out your bottom lip in a pout and attempt to pull the hoodie back over your head, but he shoots you a warning glance before you can do you. “you’re still weak, sweetheart. i shouldn’t even be doin’ this for you.”

“i’m fine,” you insist, reaching out and threading your fingers through his hair. “just… do this for me, ‘kay?” you whisper, rounding your eyes pleadingly. “please, suguru, i’ve missed you so much—”

the rest of your sentence is lost when he turns his head and presses his lips to the soft inside of your thighs. maybe you’re just imagining it, but his lips feel drier than you remember—although, that soon changes.

“you’re still as sweet as you were before the games, honey,” suguru mumbles, tongue lapping at your needy cunt. “so sweet f’me, heh,” he continues, fully immersed in the way your pussy eagerly welcomes the warmth of his mouth. the games starved you in more ways than one, but the only hunger you find yourself focusing on is for suguru.

“missed you s-so much, sugu,” you breathe, moaning when suguru’s tongue toys with your clit. he kitten-licks the sensitive spot, drawing out gasp after gasp from your lips. “too much, too mu—”

“i missed you too, pretty girl,” suguru murmurs, hands secured around your thighs. he maneuvers his tongue all over your cunt, and places you forgot existed throb with pleasure from the way suguru treats them. he treats you delicately, as always—but that doesn’t stop him from giving you the best time of your life.

“make me cum?” you ask softly, eyes fluttering open and shut with every movement of suguru’s mouth. he smiles, nose brushing against your folds from how deep he is in your cunt.

“whatever you want, baby,” he affirms, squeezing the inside of your thigh and sucking on your sensitive clit—hard. it’s enough to make your thighs involuntarily squeeze around his head, making suguru laugh into your cunt. “keep ‘em just like that,” he mutters, holding your legs in place even when you try to spread them again. “good girl, jus’ like that.”

“sugu, m’ close,” you gasp, back arching from the pressure of his mouth on your cunt. at this point, you’re so sensitive that even the soft puff of air suguru exhales as he eats you out makes you shiver. “gonna cum, gonna c—”

“then do it, sweetheart,” suguru interrupts, looking up at you, a challenge in his eyes. “cum on my face, honey. c’mon, you can d—”

this time, you cut him off with a long, drawn-out moan as you release all over suguru’s face. it’s a feeling that’s almost unfamiliar—you can hardly remember the last time you got treated this good, save for the last night you spent with suguru before the games. you repeat his name over and over again as the orgasm hits you like a truck, leaving your chest heaving and legs trembling.

in the aftermath of you squirting all over your mentor’s face, you’re dizzy—the world doesn’t seem right, and maybe it’s just you, but you’re so cold. if it wasn’t for suguru’s hoodie, which is still wrapped around your shoulders, you’d be shaking like a leaf. but thankfully, suguru’s warm as ever—he scoops you up again and holds you to his chest, gently massaging you as you come back down to him.

suguru kisses the side of your face, murmuring praises on how good you did and how sweet you tasted. “t-thank you,” you whisper, lips trembling as the words leave your mouth.

suguru raises his eyebrows curiously and asks, “for what?”

you shrug and rest your head on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with every heaving breath he takes. “for this. and for helping me get out of that hellhole alive.”

suguru’s lips curl upwards, forming a soft smile as he presses his lips to your forehead. his hair falls onto your face, brushing your cheek and filling your nostrils with his warm, comforting scent. “that’s my job, sweetheart. now c’mon, let’s get you some food. i’m sure you’re starving.”

#osaemu #geto x reader #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n

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byhees · 7 months

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you being asked out in front of them.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 600 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read kissing skinship petnames light jealousy — more

a/n. requested— plagiarism notice

heeseung would gape at the person in pure disbelief; the nerve of them to approach you, especially when he has an arm wrapped around your waist? unbelievable; clears his throat to gain the attention of said stranger, a brow raised in light judgement; would lightly tug you close to his side, his hand very obviously resting on the dip of your hip; “me? jealous? as if”, he’d sulk afterwards, a scoff leaving his lips; and although those are the words falling from his mouth, the way he’s pulling you towards his embrace speaks otherwise…

jay would have noticed the person’s intentions right away; their eyes seem to wander and land on areas that are definitely off-limits to mere strangers. and judging by the shimmer in their eyes, they’re most definitely interested; drapes an arm around your shoulders, and pulls you close, eyes shifting to catch a quick glimpse of their reaction. “oh, babe”, he’d start, particularly emphasising on the petname; would instantly complain in sheer bafflement the moment they step out of the picture— “did you see that? you saw that, right? they were practically goggling at you!”…

jake would get so protective; in the blink of an eye, his arm’s wrapped around your build, closing any form of distance between your bodies; blatantly, and very shamelessly, asks for a kiss, his free hand raising to point at his lips— makes split eye contact with the stranger whilst doing so, because he wants to be sure that they’re witnessing all this; “c’mon baby, don’t be shy— give me a smooch right here”, he’d say, puckering his lips…

sunghoon would stare in silenced disbelief, because why is there a random person getting all up in your business— and face, with his phone? would definitely step in to help you out, even before things turn for the worse; engulfs you in a back-hug, his hands resting on the curve of your waist, his chin lightly perched atop your shoulder; “who’s this, love?”, he’d ask in faux curiosity, a small, forced smile etched onto his features; clings onto your side for the remainder of the night, because in his words, “you’ll never know when they’ll pop up! i’ve got to be here to protect my girl”…

sunoo would immediately, without a second of hesitation, tug you close; he’d make it so obvious that you two are romantically involved— initiates so much skinship, well, even more than usual, at that; slips in the petname ‘babe’ about five times in a single sentence, inadvertently emphasising the presence of said “boyfriend”…

jungwon would be flabbergasted beyond belief; is this stranger really outright, shamelessly at that, flirting with you, right in front of him? walks towards you both, and casually wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his own body; clears his throat with an obvious “ahem”, his eyes narrowing with every horrendously invasive line from the uninvited company; “she’s taken”, he’d snort in ever-growing irritation, his head lightly nodding towards your direction…

riki would be bewildered; they sure have got the guts, is what would whisk past his mind; would approach you two, an arm of his outstretching to drape over your shoulders, inadvertently towering over said stranger; “baby, who’s this? a friend?”, he’d ask, a forced smile making an appearance; would hold you close immediately afterwards, gaze absentmindedly trained on the disappearing figure beyond— “they were looking at you funny..” he’d say, a little pout falling on his lips…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

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doobea · 6 months

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✰⋆⁺★ I SURRENDER ALL OF ME ─ CHOSO KAMO

synopsis: choso takes a lot of things seriously - this includes childhood promises and vows.

contents: very fluffy, sfw, no curse AU, childhood friends to lovers, gn!reader, death jokes thrown around, umm just imagine the rest of the curses as humans LOL, sorry mahito - ur interesting word count: 1.4k a/n: bye this meant to be a small drabble but ended up being semi lengthy... sorry i havent been active as much ;;

Two fruit punches, a full bag of grapes, and four sandwich halves in a colorful lunch box sit between you and Choso. It isn't until it's down to one fruit punch, half of bag of grapes, and three sandwich halves left that you decide to build up the courage to blurt out a burning question.

"Do you want to get married?"

Your best friend doesn't bat an eye at your inquiry as he finishes the remainder of his drink and rips off a piece of crust from his meal, tossing bits of it into the pond in front of him. The moment a flock of ducks fight over the the pieces, he answers.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Yeah, but—" Heat rushes to your cheeks as you force the next words. "Do you want to get married to me?"

This time, Choso turns his head and tilts it, eyebrows creasing and the birthmark on his nose scrunches just ever so slightly. The eight year old looks mildly offended that you even asked that.

"I only want to be with you," he proclaims with all the vigor that a child has. Then, with another chunk of crust thrown in the pond, Choso continues with all seriousness. "But you need a ring to propose, right?"

"I..." you trail off, fumbling with your empty juice box as you try and search for the right words.

To be honest, you didn't expect that response from Choso. If he isn't interested, he would've your question, and that would be that. It isn't like you two can actually get married anyway. And yet, watching Choso fiddling around with the patch of grass next to him, examining and ripping the longest blade he can find, you can't help but to anticipate a response from him.

Choso looks satisfied with himself when he raises the makeshift ring in your face. You only had a split second to inspect the 'jewelry' before his voice rings in your ears. "Will you marry me?"

You find yourself answering without much second thought. "Yes."

Both of you hold onto your breaths as he slides it on. It's not the perfect size, a bit too big for your finger, but there's a little bow at the top that's tied with a small yellow dandelion. Your chest swells with happiness and did the next thing that an eight year old would do - you lean in and press your lips to Choso's cheek, the way you've seen your parents do to each other hundreds of times. When you pull back, Choso is staring, cheeks inflamed.

You smile brightly at him.

You're going to kill Satoru and Suguru.

They just had to decide that a maid and butler themed cafe wasn’t going to raise enough money for the college fundraiser this year. They both just had to decide to set up another booth, and not just any booth — a kissing booth.

And Satoru, for some reason, thought it would be funny to put you in charge.

You're not entirely sure how the rest of the elective board approved of this idea. And you're still not entirely sure why you have to wear a stuffy uniform along with it.

You're going to kill Suguru first, and then give Satoru a slow painful death.

"Pfft, oh my god!"

No, scratch that. You're going to kill every student that comes up to this dumb booth. The first victim starting with Mahito.

Your stomach churns as you watch him and his little group of friends trail behind him, edging closer to the booth with a wide grin plastered across his face.

It takes every fiber in your body to not physically lunge forward and punch him. Getting this booth shut down not even ten minutes in would have you running around the track field as part of Suguru's punishment. You're ignoring the sweat trailing down the back of your neck and pray that Mahito isn't serious about putting his lips anywhere near you.

"Fuck off," As long as it's not physical, you plan to verbally assault him as much as you can.

You force yourself to look pass Mahito and sneer at the rest of his friends. It doesn't surprise you to see all of their lips quivering, trying their best to not just burst out laughing in the middle of the campus courtyard, which they're all failing miserably at. All of them are giggling to themselves like middle schoolers but one man.

His eyes catches yours, looking mildly unfazed before tired eyes suddenly widening at recognition. You have to do a double take and, upon closer inspection, you let out a small noise at the sight of the distinguishable birthmark on his face.

"Choso?" You haven't seen him since he moved away several years ago. Who knew he would've ended up at the same university as you, let alone hang out with an annoying guy like Mahito.

Before he could even respond back, Mahito begins fishing for something in his bag. Then, your worst nightmare comes to life as he pulls out a fucking wallet. You're mentally preparing yourself to throw up on the spot, then calling your club presidents announcing your leave as treasurer, then killing yourself. That is, until Choso slams down a couple of bills of his own.

You take a moment to process what just happened before staring bewilderedly at your childhood friend, who just kept a straight look.

"What the fuck?" The voice comes from Mahito.

"That's cheating," Choso begins and now you're really confused.

"You guys are dating?" Another voice chimes in, you think it belongs to Jogo.

With a firm head shake, Choso responds, "Married, actually."

You can't tell if this is his way of protecting you from Mahito but you go along with the act anyway.

"Married." Mahito repeats slowly.

"Married." Choso confirms.

Then, the other male points a finger at your direction. "Since when?"

You smile. "Since we were kids."

You awkwardly clear your throat, stuffing your uniform in your bag as you stride out of the bathroom back in your regular clothes. Choso greets you right outside with a subtle smile, signs of his friends from earlier gone and the small shoebox in his hands, the one specially for today's event, has a total of twenty dollars. Twenty of his dollars and zero kisses were made.

According to Suguru math, that's, like, ten miles around the track field.

"Thank you, I don't know what I would've done if you weren't there," you finally speak after he offers to walk you back to your dorm.

"Technically it would've been cheating," Choso jokes nonchantlanly.

You snort, shoving the male just slightly along the empty gravel path. "Well, you're a terrible husband because I haven't heard from you in over a decade."

Choso winces, rubbing his neck and mumbling a soft, "Sorry, I forgot to ask for your house number before my family moved."

Choso has always been relatively quiet as a kid, and even now you can still see that he keeps to himself by some of his habits, but your days spent throughout middle school to high school were relatively much quieter without him by yourself. Thankfully, he saved your ass today, so you suppose you can spare Choso's life for now.

"Social media is free, you know?" You tease back.

He laughs. "Didn't get my first phone until second year of high school, and that year I found out I had a half-sibling."

You stretch your eyes wide, almost tripping over your feet, and then your gapping mouth evolves into a smile. "Okay, wow—that's huge news, I guess I can forgive you for that."

"He's a senior in high school, might be thinking about coming here next year."

"He similar to you?"

Choso shakes his head and looks fondly ahead. "Livelier. Kinda like jock but one of the nice ones."

After rounding a corner, you speak again, eyes now glued to his messy pigtail buns. "Your hair is cute, you've always kept it down as a kid."

Choso self-consciously runs a hand over his scalp, tints of pink paint over his face. "Thanks."

You decide to be bold and interlock your arm with his. You watch closely as his body flinches at the contact but he doesn't pull away, doesn't say a word.

Your stomach does a few threatening somersaults. "I thought about you almost everyday, you know?"

For a moment, Choso says nothing and you're starting to wonder if you're going to be left in suspense but, after he reaches to the steps of your dorm building, he says, "Me too."

You elicit a sigh of relief and tug his arm closer. "So, you planning to start walking me to classes and getting lunch every day now?"

Choso brushes the hair out of your eyes before resting his forehead against yours. "If that's what will make me a good husband, then yes."

#doobea writing #choso x reader #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #MY BOYFRIEND <3

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blueywrites · 1 year

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turtle dove and the crow, part one

A 1940s Farm AU, featuring bsf!neighbor!eddie x fem!reader

story tags: 18+ (minors dni). smut; true love; unexpected pregnancy; angst, angst, angst; parental issues; corporal punishment; scheming, plotting, and betrayal; hurt/comfort; period-typical stigma regarding unwed pregnancy; angst with a happy ending.

chapter tags: 18+. oral (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink.

PART ONE: THE HOLE IN THE LEAVES (15.1k)

And the sweat will roll down our backs

And we’ll follow animal tracks

To a tree in the woods

And a hole in the leaves we’ll see

The bright baby eyes of a chickadee

Animal Tracks — Mountain Man

“Mama!”

Your call flattens in the August heat, weighed down by thick, humid air and the drone of the cicadas chirping outside the open window over the sink. You cup your hands around your mouth to make sure she hears you; you don’t want her to accuse you of galavanting if she finds you gone. “I’m gonna take Guinnie out now!”

You drop your hands and wait for an answering call, scrambling to pick the broom up where you’d leaned it against the wallpaper as you hear the brisk shuffle-thump of her footsteps approaching the kitchen. She appears in the archway, hands on hips and eyebrow cocked.

“Y’finished sweepin’ yet?” she asks you, turning a discerning eye to the floorboards to search for any errant specs you may have missed.

“Yes, Mama,” you reply obediently, knowing better than to even think of sassing her. You know if you sass her, there’s no way you won’t end up confined to your room for the remainder of the day, less supper and having foiled your own plans before they’ve even begun. “I was just looking to take Guinevere out to the field with a blanket and my book now I’m finished with my chores for today.”

Her discerning eye flicks from the spotless floor to you, and you resist fidgeting with your dress's cotton skirt under her sharp gaze, which lingers for a moment before she humphs. “Fine, then,” she says, and you’re about to beam before she continues as if returning to a subject you’d been discussing before. “And I mean it, missy. Y'arent to go off with Wayne's boy anymore, y'hear?" She shakes her head in preemptive consternation. "Off in the woods gettin’ up to God-knows-what. It ain't appropriate at your grown age.” The irrythmic tapping of her foot and the exaggerated hunch of her back as she leans toward you would be almost comical if it wasn’t for the injustice of the accusation.

You purse your lips but swallow your indignation when one of her brows goes skyward— a clear warning. “No, Mama,” you concede. “I’m just goin’ to read by myself, I swear it.” You widen your eyes hopefully. “Would it be all right if I fill a canteen with sweet tea to take with me? Please?”

Your mother straightens slowly, face twisted as if considering, and you nearly sag in relief as her hands leave her hips and she folds her arms beneath her ample bosom instead— a clear indicator that she’s easing now. “That’d be fine,” she says, and the snap is gone from her voice. You lean the broom carefully against the island counter and spin to quickly collect your tea from the icebox and the canteen from where it hangs near the screen door.

As you sling the canteen over your shoulder along with your knapsack, you hear her mutter, “Speaking of, that boy desperately needs a haircut.” She squints at you. “Think y’could convince him to trim that mop? Wayne’s been tryin’ for years, and he only seems to listen to you.”

“Oh, no, Mama,” you say sweetly, hands clasped behind your back as you face her, edging in tiny steps back towards the door— that screen that stands between you and freedom. “I couldn’t possibly.” Blindly, your hand finds the handle, and she's still eyeing you as you turn it and slip out.

Unimpressed, she humphs, but the screen door is already snapping closed behind you.

“Be back before sundown!” she shouts, but you’re already bounding down the back porch steps.

“I will!” you call, but the cicadas have already drowned you out as you skip toward the paddock. “Thank you for the tea, mama!”

Your mother is a woman of few mistakes, but she’d made one today. She told you you’re not allowed to see Eddie, and you’d sworn to obey her, and that was that. But her mistake lay in not asking you to show her your hands.

Because she made you swear not to see him, but she hadn’t see your fingers crossed behind your back.

You haven’t spoken to Eddie yet today, but you know exactly where he’ll be.

He’d called to you this morning; you heard it through your cracked window, where the white embroidered curtain swayed as the cackle of a crow cut through the early morning heat yet to fully settle in. You knew what the sound was right away: the call you’d come up with together five summers ago that meant to check the stump. You glanced toward the open door across the hall, the room beyond its threshold empty and still. It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught yet, that none of the adults have cottoned on that the caw of the crow sounds an awful lot like a certain brash mischief-maker’s voice. You crouched down to the open window in your nightgown and coo’d your own answering call, the call of the turtle dove. Your musical voice is loud in your ears, but it needs to be in order to reach the red house across the way, separated by a sea of shorn grass and the thick wooden fence between.

Over these five years, none of the adults have cottoned on that the turtle dove always answers the crow, either, and for that you’re grateful.

There was a pause of silence following your melodic coo. Your hair rustled in the slightest breeze whispering through the cracked window, puffing like a cool sigh against your skin as you turn your ear toward the opening and wait. You waited, and waited, oh, so patiently…

And then you heard it: a quick and faint whoop-whoop of boyish delight that, like always, made you shake your head and snort.

Later that morning, you’d put the kitchen scraps out for the goats and edged alongside that thick wooden fence towards the gnarled stump that rests between your family’s farm and the Munsons’. It’s almost dead-center, nearly bisected by that wooden demarcation, but you claim a sliver more and never cease to remind Eddie of that fact. ‘It’s my stump,’ you declare, triumph in the corners of your smirking lips. ‘I’m just allowin’ you to use it out of the grace of my heart, Eddie Munson.’

This morning, you’d reached deep inside the hole, the one that’s rotted straight through to the other side. The one which, if you’d crouched to peek, would offer you an unobstructed view to the grass field of Eddie’s yard, identical to the one you occupy, differing only in its status as his homestead and not yours.

But you didn’t peer through that opening. Instead, you reached your arm in blindly up to the elbow, feeling around for the note you knew would be wedged inside. When your fingers brushed smooth paper, you pinched it and pulled it quickly back, casting a furtive glance around the yard to ensure you were still safe from watchful eyes. With nimble fingers you unfolded and read the note quickly before tearing it to shreds, cupping it in your palms and letting it free to be scattered in the wind.

The note had been memorized almost as soon as you’d read it. Its instruction was simple; you and Eddie have developed a sense of brevity in your message-leaving, writing only as much as necessary to communicate what is needed. Today, it had read, ‘three after noon, hop’s, creek.'

At three o’clock on the dot, you ride Guinnie out to the treeline and hang left, picking your way to the edge of Mr. Hopper’s property which just kisses the corner of the Munson’s farm opposite your family’s land. Eddie is already waiting for you there, nestled in the ferns, hand shading squinted eyes as he sits astride his horse Merlin. You guide Guineveire to meet him in a trot, but she ignores you when you pull the reigns to slow her, too eager to approach her friend. You sigh in exasperation but can’t help but smile when the two horses nicker softly and nudge their faces alongside one anothers’ cheeks.

They make a strange pair, these two. One gargantuan blue roan, his haunches coiled thick with muscle, downy gray and speckled with deep spots of dark to match his mane, tail, and socks; and one pale blonde palomino, stomping daintily as her cream ears flick when the other knocks her with his neck a bit too hard in his enthusiasm. Merlin and Guineveire— a mismatched pair, just like the ones who named them. Yet it little matters when Guinnie sways forward, leaning fondly against her larger companion and, incidentally, drawing you closer to the boy astride him.

Eddie lightly kicks you in greeting once Guinnie makes a slow circle and comes to stand alongside Merlin rather than let her face be flicked by his tail, which twitches away the flies that came to investigate while he and Eddie waited for you. Eddie’s feet are bare and dirty, his trouser hems rolled sloppily above the ankle, and you grimace at him as you swipe dirt off the top of your foot where he’d left smudges on your bare skin. He interrupts before you can work yourself up about it, asking, “J’your ma make you sweep the whole house?”

“No, just the kitchen. I must be doin’ somethin’ right this week because she barely even fought me when I told her I was takin’ Guinnie out. And—” You lift the canteen near your thigh, shaking it so the liquid sloshes inside. “I brought us sweet tea.”

Eddie stares at the canteen with exaggerated rapturous relief, his reply a dramatic sigh. “Good, ‘cause I’m so parched I could drink a lake.”

So quick it’s almost automatic, you unthread the strap and pass the canteen over, watching as he unscrews the cap and throws his head back to gulp it in huge, desperate swallows. And he must be thirsty, because as you watch his adam’s apple bob while he guzzles the still-cold tea, you can see full beads of sweat dripping down the pale cords of his neck to disappear beneath the collar of his white work shirt. The top two buttons have been popped open for some hasty relief, the bottom hem still half-tucked into his trousers but rumpled now from heat and disregard, scrunched around his suspenders. You wonder how long he’d been waiting for you; sitting still like this for just a short while has already made the heat almost unbearable, and the sight of Eddie’s thick curtain of heavy, dark curls is enough to make even you feel hotter.

Eddie’s mouth pops from the canteen with a ragged gasp, lips blushed pink and shiny before they’re concealed behind a hasty swipe of his forearm as he wipes off his mouth and passes you back the canteen. You take a small swig yourself, careful not to let any spill on your dress as the sweet liquid fills your mouth and cools you fractionally, not enough to truly combat the thick, hot soup of the air. Capping the canteen, you ask, “Did you bring our book?”

The answer is written in the sudden sheepishness of your best friend’s expression, and yours flattens as he confirms it. “Nah,” he says, more rueful than dismissive. “I forgot.”

His brows pinch when he sees how clearly crestfallen you are to hear it; he angles quickly to appease your disappointment, adding, “But I did nip some of the cookies Ms. Willard left for Wayne.” You barely have time to brighten before he’s scrunching his nose, saying, “I think she’s actually sweet on ‘im,” like the thought makes him want to scrape the words from his tongue.

You swat at him, and Merlin chuffs disgruntledly when Eddie leans back to avoid you. “Stop that!” you chastise him. “I think it’s darling.”

Eddie is unrepentant, brown eyes lit with the hazy gold of afternoon sun that glints in them mischievously as he doubles down rather than relenting. “It’s disgusting. I might chuck if I have to think about them all wrinkled and bumpin’ uglies.” Before you can retort, he tilts his face at you, coaxing in a sing-song, “The cookies are lemon and lavender— your favorite.”

Your lips fall open in delighted surprise as you anticipate the crumble of tart lemon and sweet, earthy lavender on your tongue. Such a treat truly is your favorite, and mama never bakes so indulgently except for special occasions. Eddie beams at you, his mouth split in a fond, lopsided smile at the sight of your happiness, and his smile washes away any lingering reproach you feel at the insinuation that Ms. Willard would carry on in such an inappropriate way with Wayne. She may be aged and unmarried, but she’s still a lady.

It takes a moment to realize that, in your enthusiasm, you’ve begun wiggling your hips, the hem of your dress pulled tight over the saddle as more bare leg inches out when you swing your feet in little kicks of glee. You realize it when you watch Eddie’s eyes dart down to your exposed calf for a split-second and then back up to your face, his broad grin softening to something stickier, something forbidden and decadent like the cookies he’d stolen for you to share.

It’s not the first time Eddie’s looked at you like that this summer. His gaze has been lingering a little too long for some time now, his fingers a little too eager to graze and tease, his breath skating a little too close along your cheek when you’re alone. And when you’re not, he’s a little too eager to position himself beside you when you’re seated at the table with others, to shout and cackle and make himself big so you’ll look at him across the room at a party, to act the fool in front of crowds of townsfolk if only to hear you giggle, however slight it might be.

Not to say that his manner is entirely new. He’s always been a handful since the day he moved in next door ten years ago— wild and frenetic, brash and mischievous, quick-witted and imaginative, restless and wanting and oh, so hungry for something, only heaven knows what. It took no time at all for you, at eight years old, to befriend the odd boy on the farm beside yours. There was something about Edward Munson that appealed to you. He was too much for many, but he was never too much for you— to handle, to temper, to thrive beside. And because you were the only one who Eddie felt truly understood him, he’d quickly become covetous of your attention, and you of his. You wanted to know him, and he wanted to know you. And over years of playing pretend, celebrating birthdays and running errands in town, exploring the landscape beyond your farmsteads and rescuing one another from boredom, sadness, and the ire of your adults— giving just as much as you receive— you feel you know Eddie Munson as deeply as one friend can know another.

But the attention Eddie has paid you lately is not the same as it’s been in years past. You feel that difference in the pit of your belly when his eyes catch yours across the room, in the tingling of your skin as his fingertips graze it incidentally, in the flutter behind your ribcage when the sun shifts and the softness of his nose or the slant of his jaw or the ruddiness of his knuckles looks suddenly more captivating than it had the moment before. But it’s not the sun that’s made it so; it’s not Eddie’s features that have suddenly changed. It’s a feeling inside you, growing restless and wanting and oh, so hungry for something that both thrills and scares you in equal measure.

So when Eddie’s eyes hold yours a beat too long, you quickly look away, lifting one side of Guineveire’s reigns so she’ll turn from where she’d been comfortably lazing her head against Merlin’s. Your horse rouses, alert now as she feels the shift in your energy, the way your thighs tighten against her sides in preparation for what you have planned. “Come on,” you say, tossing Eddie a smirk over your shoulder as Guinnie snuffs in anticipation, hooves shifting against grass and fern. “I’ll race you to the crik.”

Any protest about unfairness from Eddie is drowned out by your joyous whoop as you snap the reins and Guinnie takes off like a bat out of hell. Merlin may be stronger than Guineveire, and Eddie more wild than you, but no one rivals you in conviction once your mind is set.

You’ve set your mind to beating Eddie, and so you do. You beat him by almost a full minute, heart pounding and hair mussed as you emerge from the thicket to the welcome sight of the creek. Down by the bank on the right, a towering weeping willow steals all of the attention; its branches dip full and low over lazily flowing water, the edges of those leafy tendrils grazing its surface like a languid caress. You’ve been here many times before, sometimes with Eddie and sometimes without, and the sight of the ferns tapering to short clover in the clearing between forest and water and then to cattails at the bank’s edge is as familiar to you as the back of your hand.

You’re suddenly glad to have beaten Eddie to the creek for a reason other than bragging rights: dismounting Guinnie exposes enough knee and thigh beneath your dress to thoroughly scandalize your mama, even with a copse of trees and two farm-fields between you. You don’t much care how unladylike it is to travel astride in a dress as opposed to sidesaddle— you’d rather hike up your skirt than try to navigate through the woods sitting so insecurely, but it does force you into a rather compromising position for a moment as you climb down. Thankfully, no one is around to see it, other than the chickadees trilling in the branches of the willow, the turtles sunning themselves on flat river rocks, and the bullfrog croaking inside a dead log at the water’s edge. You lead Guinnie over to the trunk of a nearby cedar, and you’re still tying her off when Eddie bursts from the trees, huffing and swiping errant leaves from his hair as Merlin wanders over toward you and Guinnie independent of his rider’s direction.

“Took you long enough,” you sass, pursing your lips against a smug smile when Eddie grunts sourly.

Eddie swings himself down to the ground, his pale forearm flexing as he catches Merlin’s bridle to keep him from tossing his head impatiently. “Yeah, I know, I know, you beast,” he mutters, and though he glowers, there’s a touch of fondness in it, apparent as he smooths his hand so carefully along Merlin’s powerful neck. “You’ll be all snug next to your girlfriend in a jif. Just wanna get this saddle off’ya first.”

As if falling into a practiced routine, you and Eddie prepare your lounging space for the afternoon. He tends the horses while you clear rocks and twigs to lay down the woven blanket in your knapsack. Wordlessly, you take Guinnie and Merlin’s saddles from him, laying them across the mossy boulder at the edge of the clearing; wordlessly, he passes you the canteen and the paper bag of cookies, and you carry them over to the blanket, laying them in the clover nearby. You’re watching how the light plays through the leafy canopy above you, casting shadows that dance on the weave of your blanket when Eddie lopes up from behind, brushing past you in a rustle of cloth and a blaze of body heat before flopping down unceremoniously onto his back in the middle of the blanket.

Your voice comes indignant and quick at the sight of his filthy toes. “Ed, your—”

With a jolt, he snatches his feet up where they’d been threatening your blanket, shimmying himself down until he can bend his knees and plant those filthy toes in the soft clover instead. He tucks his hands under his head, closing his eyes and nestling in with a contented sigh as you lay out much more carefully beside him. As soon as you’re prone on your tummy, skirt fanned across your calves and elbow grazing the side of his buttoned shirt when you prop your chin on your fists, you’re eyeing him expectantly. Your gaze roams his peaceful face, unconcerned about the tick in his brow as you demand, “Tell me a story.”

Eddie cracks his eyes just barely to slant you a glance, and their umber is nearly concealed by his long, dark lashes as he drawls, “Can’t a man who’s spent the whole day breakin' his back take a moment to rest, you pesky woman?”

You’re entirely unphased by his snark. “Firstly,” you challenge him, “you spent a good part of the day futzin’ around on your guitar, and don’t you try to argue the point ‘cause I heard you playin’ over the fence. And secondly, you’re the one who forgot to bring Don Quixote. I wanna hear a story about knights and dragons and princesses, and it’s your responsibility to deliver,” you finish haughtily.

Eddie sighs heavily, pretending to hem and haw just to get a rise out of you. It doesn’t take long for his frown to melt into a grin when you play along, kicking your feet in the air and raising your voice to be heard over his griping. “And now you gotta put in a giant and a windmill just ‘cause you’re vexing me!”

“Fine, fine, Christ Almighty,” he relents, and you drop the charade immediately, walking your elbows over to angle toward him for optimal listening, your eyes trained on his pale face.

Almost effortlessly, Eddie begins to weave you a tale about knights and dragons and princesses as his eyes go far away, watching the puffy-clouded sky, and your eyes go gooey and soft, watching him. His gaze flicks to yours when the giant and windmill each are introduced, his plush lips curling when you smile at him, inordinately delighted that he’s humoring you even though he always does. The buzzing hum of August’s voice sings along as he regales you, the sounds of the forest a welcome melody to accompany the theatrical accents he gives to each character.

The longer he goes, the more animated Eddie gets, and it’s almost— almost— enough to forget just how hot it is today. While the creek offers some indirect relief, cooling whatever slight breeze occasionally wavers through the fronds, the humidity and sun are formidable beasts, palpable and oppressive as they crowd in against you and Eddie both. Eventually, Eddie’s gesturing and facial expressions grow visibly weaker as his bangs begin to stick to his glistening skin and sweat pools in the hollow of his throat. The dampness pops along your skin, too; the nape of your neck begins to itch, and when you swipe at your upper lip, the heel of your hand comes away wet.

It’s clear when Eddie’s voice cracks that it’s time to take a break. Your dress's fabric clings uncomfortably to your skin when you twist to grab the canteen, passing it to Eddie first, who takes two conscientious sips before promptly handing it back so you can loosen your sticky tongue and soothe your own throat. You snatch up the cookies next, your stomach growling as you see the evidence of their decadence— the bottom of the paper bag has grown dark as it soaked up their butter, making your mouth water with anticipation. You reach eagerly inside to pull out two cookies, passing them into Eddie’s waiting palm before taking one of your own.

You nibble as you sit up, crossing your legs underneath your skirt, your knee pressing into Eddie’s hip as tart lemon and earthy lavender burst within your mouth, the cookies more dense and sweet than you’d even remembered. You don’t stifle your moan of satisfaction as your head tips back and sags in bliss, lips puckering so you can keep chewing though they want to smile.

“That good, huh?” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, warm and teasing, but you don’t bother to reply, entirely taken in by your favorite flavors. Instead, you just nod and impulsively stuff the entire cookie in your mouth.

The rasp of Eddie’s barking laughter has you huffing amusedly through your nose in turn as you dig in the bag, swallowing a little prematurely but resolved in savoring this next one. You eat the second cookie much more slowly, gazing out at the creek as it undulates in little swirls of blue and green and white, unrelenting in seeking its way around whatever may jut into its path— a branch stuck between rocks, a tangle of leaves caught in strands of rivergrass near the shore. It’s a comfort to see it flow so steadily, endlessly churning and ever-changing, but nevertheless a reliable constant you can return to time and again.

The second treat tastes just as good as the first, and you lick the crumbs from your fingertips as you glance down at Eddie once you’ve finished. He has eaten his cookies lying down, one hand propped beneath the splay of his dark wild curls and the other resting on the flat of his tummy. In between them, marring the white of his half-unbuttoned shirt and stuck against the skin exposed by that gaping triangle, is a conspicuous heap of golden-brown crumbs. The mess is entirely unsurprising, considering how sloppy Eddie often is, but the result is no less distasteful for it.

You scrunch your nose and lean over him, planting one palm in the space his bent elbow makes beside his ear and briskly swiping the other along cotton and damp skin. Your chuckles color your admonishment as you exclaim, “Sit up if you can’t help but make a mess of yourself! You’re such a pig, I swear—!”

Eddie surges up, capturing your wrist in a grip light enough to break if you were to want to. “Take it back,” he says warningly, and when he tilts his head this time, the glimmer of mischief in his eye tells you it’s not to coax you. A thrill alights in your chest at the promise of the game, the way his long fingers circle your wrist so easily.

A giggle squeaks out of you before you declare loudly, “Never!”

Your gleeful shriek echoes off the willow and the cedars, the creek and the clover as Eddie grapples with you playfully. You try to fist one of his suspenders with your other hand, but the attempt puts you at his mercy; he uses that advantage to bully you down flat to the blanket, though even in this semblance of roughhousing Eddie’s attempts are light and easy, nowhere near the latent power coiled in his biceps from years of chopping wood in winter, tilling earth in spring, and hacking hay in fall. Husky chuckles rain on your skin as you squirm and wiggle in his grip, not really trying in earnest to escape until his hand leaves your shoulder and dips instead to your waist, fingers digging with devilish precision into the most ticklish parts of you.

Your glee turns to desperate gasping and involuntary, wheezing giggles as Eddie tickles you mercilessly while you try harder to buck away from his touch. Your attempts are entirely ineffectual, and the sensation of his deft fingers writhing against your ribs and the soft of your waist coupled with the stifling heat of his body where he has you half-pinned beneath him to keep you from escaping, has your face utterly burning with discomfited hysterics.

He doesn’t let up until you call for mercy, though at the first stuttered “St-stop—” that falls from your lips, his fingers immediately cease their cursed torture. Boneless, exhausted, your head tips back against the blanket as you heave for air, the fuzz in your head from lack of breath slowly dissipating as Eddie’s palm drags firmly and briskly up and down your waist, rubbing away the residual ticklish sensation almost contritely.

Once you’ve gotten your bearings and recovered your senses, you realize that while Eddie has stopped tickling you, he hasn’t moved from his position half on top of you. His belly presses into yours with each breath, firm and solid just like the rest of him, and you can smell the evidence of the August day clinging to his dark curls where they’re pinned against your nose: the sour tang of sweat, the earthy snap of tobacco smoke, the natural musk of his body, and, beneath it all, the scent of wild rain, of summer wind and petrichor, subtle but heady like an approaching storm. That feeling within you stirs, awakening at the press of his solid weight across your ribs and breasts, but the heat of him, while in some ways welcome, makes the heavy August humidity edge beyond extremely uncomfortable to utterly unbearable.

You express your discontent with an exaggerated shimmy of your shoulders; Eddie stirs, grunting as you make his resting place unpleasant to continue resting on. “It’s too dang hot for wrestling,” you gripe, “get offa me, you big oaf.”

Eddie’s head pops immediately from your shoulder, his nose nearly brushing yours as he pins you with a wide and eager stare. The gleam in his umber eyes should alarm you, but all you feel is that stirring inside again until his breath ghosts over your lips when he declares proudly, “Then let’s go swimming.”

His face shines like it’s the best idea he’s ever had, but exasperation floods to stifle that warm stirring within you. Eddie pouts when he sees your face contort skeptically, pink lips poking petulantly at your immediate resistance. “Eddie,” his name is mostly a sympathetic sigh, “I can’t. My mama would roast me alive, you know that.”

Your best friend’s eyes narrow at your tone, and you suck your lips into your mouth almost apologetically, knowing Eddie really doesn’t like it when you treat him like he’s simple. The remorse fades when he quirks a brow, glancing down at the slick skin of your throat and collarbone exposed above your neckline before teasing, “You’re already roastin’ alive. You’re sweatin’ like a whore in church.”

Your indignance is instant and fierce. “Edward Munson! Well, I never—!” You shove him bodily off of you, and he lets you, rasping with easy laughter as he leans on a palm to the side of you, looking down at your burning face with a smirk.

Eddie is smirking, but you know he doesn’t mean to call you a whore, that he only really says things like that because he likes to goad these reactions out of you. And you’d keep playing his game— keep being angry at him— if it weren’t for the way the light was filtering through the leaves, playing on his frizzy curls and lighting them beautifully amber at the edges. If it weren’t for the way his collar had fallen further open when you’d been roughhousing, exposing more of his pale chest as it bunches around his suspenders, making him look more like the cover of some two-cent romance novel than the sloppy farmboy he’s always been. If it weren’t for the way he's looking down at you— you lying prone on your back with him beside you, towering over you from your vantage point, with that sharp jaw and the plush curl of his lopsided smirk and the veins popping on the forearm he’s braced on, his skin flushed pink beneath the rolled sleeves of his white shirt.

Your anger dissolves at the sight of these things, and if it had remained, perhaps this next conversation would have gone differently.

You lean up slightly, your eyes sliding from your best friend’s face to the scenery behind him. The slow journey of the creek’s water over rocks and sticks, the soothing sound of its trickle and flow, the sight of those willow leaves dragging against its smooth surface…

It looks so mouthwateringly refreshing.

With the lack of your anger comes mournful regret. “I can’t go home soaking wet,” you lament, and your tone makes your internal conflict clear.

Your eyes slide reluctantly from the creek back to Eddie, and you see a peculiar look cross his face. “I mean,” he says, hesitating for the briefest moment, “we could just take our clothes off.”

You blink at him, thrown entirely for a loop at the outlandishness of that suggestion, rendered mute as you try— and fail— to process it. In your muteness, Eddie keeps talking, as if he’s working it out to himself while he speaks. “Yeah. Ya know, that could actually work. Could swim for awhile, cool down, get out, dry off with the blanket.” He grins. “Bet we’d even air dry in no time in this heat.”

The proposition is absurd. It’s entirely inappropriate, and just… just lying there, staring up at Eddie’s face as he leans over you, makes your skin feel suddenly too tight for your body. You sit up abruptly, folding your knees and wrapping your arms around them. When Eddie clocks the look on your face, he huffs, his voice going a little sharp in defensiveness. “What? What's wrong with that? We've been friends for ages; I’d say we’re way past the point of gettin' embarrassed.” He snaps and points at you, shaking his finger as he gets on a roll. “‘Member when you came to me all upset because you bled through your dress and had to turn your apron around to keep your ma’ from seeing? I even helped you get the blood out. Didn’t I?” He doesn’t give you a chance to confirm or deny before continuing smugly, as if he’s got you beat, “And I showed you that nasty wart on my toe when you asked me to, even though I really didn’t wanna. See? Like I said, no reason to be embarrassed.”

You’d stopped listening at the mention of his wart, craning your neck to try and see his foot where it’s tucked against the clover over the edge of the blanket. “How is that now? Is it still there?” you ask earnestly. Eddie just snuffs a wry breath through his nose; his curls sway as he shakes his head.

“Uh-uh. Already showed y’once, I’m not doin’ it again. Plus, you’re provin’ my point.” He smiles at you crookedly, digging his toes further into the clover to hide them before eyeing you smugly. And you can’t fault his logic when you’d walked right into it like that.

“Yeah, I guess,” you reluctantly agree, to which he adds,

“Plus, s'not like I haven't seen you nekkid before.”

You can’t help but scoff at that. “Yeah, when we were, what, eleven? It's different now.”

The smugness on Eddie’s face melts; his eyes fill with that stickiness from before, like when he looks at you a little too long. His voice a quiet murmur, Eddie asks you, “What makes it different now?”

The question could be answered easily enough. Because we're grown. Because you're a man now, and I'm a woman, and it wouldn't be proper. But after this summer's changes, and with that feeling awakening in the pit of your belly— wanting, yearning, hungry— you can tell that it's more loaded than that. Suddenly, the air feels heavier than it was just a moment before, thicker with something other than summertime humidity as you stare into Eddie’s umber eyes. Nervousness dances along your limbs, but it’s not that terrified kind of fear— it’s closer to anticipation.

Rather than answering the question directly, you avoid it, lifting your chin to reply as nonchalantly as you can, though you feel anything but. “Fine.”

Eddie’s eyes bug out. “R-Really?”

His immediate shock makes you rush hot with embarrassment, feeling caught out and self-conscious. Your voice bursts from you in defensive indignance as you drop your knees, crossing your arms tight beneath your breasts. “You cannot be serious. You're the one who proposed it, Ed!”

He scrambles to keep you from getting upset, brow pinched and eyes wide in a different way. “No, no, I…” He flounders for a moment, looking at a loss. “I just didn’t… I didn’t think—”

With a sharp shake of his dark curls, face scrunched as if to clear the cobwebs from his head, Eddie cuts himself off. He blinks at you silently for a moment, finally saying, somewhat more hoarsely, “We can do it. I wanna do it.”

You watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob as his eyes scan quickly down your cotton dress, lingering in your lap, though the swaths of fabric conceal even the innocent outline of your legs. A pulse of heat tingles low as his gaze sweeps over you, and you resist the urge to jam your hands down to cover yourself, feeling exposed though there’s nothing to see. Fiercely, you warn him, “Just keep your back turned ‘til I get in the water, or I'll whoop you."

Eddie snorts loudly, countering, “You really think you could whoop me?"

“Yes,” you snap back sassily, your faux-confidence deflating slightly as you add, “...if you let me.”

You smile at the warm chuckle he rewards you with, but when Eddie starts peeling his suspenders down, your heart seizes in your chest. The anticipation feels a little more like fear now that you’re confronted with the reality of what you and Eddie are about to do. You pop to your feet, rocking on your heels and fidgeting with your fingers, and Eddie’s brows jump when he looks up and registers your nervousness. Your voice wavers slightly as you ask half a question, letting it trail off into implication. “Are you gonna, um…?”

“Yeah, no, yeah,” he says quickly, scrambling up and wiping his palms on his trousers. Haltingly, cheeks pink, he rushes, “I’ll just… I’ll go behind the willow. Meet you in there.”

“Yep,” you say, the word bitten off a little too short in your awkwardness. “‘Kay.”

“‘Kay,” Eddie echoes, shooting you a sheepish smile before hurrying off in that direction. Only once he’s ducked behind the willow trunk does the hammering of your heart begin to calm, that nervousness settling back to anticipation, though it’s a little queasier than it was before now that there’s nothing technically stopping you from preparing to swim.

You kick off your shoes first— the simplest to remove— and, with a deep breath, you begin to undress.

With trembling fingers, you undo the buttons on your dress and peel the sticky fabric from your arms and decolletage. Your silky chemise comes next, and you aren’t sure whether to be grateful or rueful that in the summer, you’re wearing so few layers. It’s an odd sensation to feel the sun on every part of you— the small of your back, the valley between your breasts— as you fold your chemise and neatly tuck it between the bodice and skirt of your dress to maintain modesty before laying them both on the blanket.

And that’s it, then. The chickadees titter in the branches, the turtles sun themselves on flat river rocks, the bullfrog croaks in the dead log at the water’s edge, Merlin and Guinnie nicker gently at the edge of the clover clearing— and in the middle of it all, you stand there, buck-naked as the day you were born.

It feels distinctly uncomfortable at first, being naked anywhere but in your bedroom or bathroom back at home. You half-suspect your mama to come barreling out of the trees, ruddy-faced and angry as the devil to drag you back to the farm by your ear and lash you, both with words and with papa’s belt. But as the seconds tick by, and you begin to settle into the feeling, the weak breeze that wavers the fronds whispers along your sticky skin, tickling you pleasantly. You look towards the creek— the whole purpose for your nakedness— and you begin to covet the sight of the flowing water, to imagine how it will slither against your ankles and knees, cradling your body in cool refreshment. Discomfort eases; eagerness at the thought of that relief takes its place.

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to stray to the thick trunk of the willow overhanging the creek. You imagine Eddie behind it and begin to ponder all sorts of questions. What does he look like underneath his clothes? Is he lean? You’ve seen the muscles on his arms and back earlier this spring when he’d take off his shirt to work in the field as the weather got warmer; you couldn’t see much, though, as you had nary a birds-eye view from your distant bedroom window, and no way could you have chanced trying to peep over the fence. You find yourself wondering now, Are his thighs as muscular as his arms seem to be? Are his calves? Do the freckles across the bridge of his nose echo on other parts of his body this late in the summer, maybe on his shoulders?

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him bare— seven years, give or take— and you know you can’t reliably compare what you’d seen then with what he looks like now; Eddie’s more man than boy lately. The nature of your wondering changes. What does a bare man look like, anyway? You’ve never seen one. Naturally, a question follows: Has Eddie seen a bare woman before?

That wondering flusters you, and you can only begin to think about why before heat is rushing to your cheeks and you need to abandon the thought. Unconsciously, you go to smooth your skirt, but your hands hit the flesh of your thighs instead, unencumbered by clothes. You glance down and your breasts are there, sloping gently from your chest, your nipples soft in the warm humidity. It makes you wonder how Eddie’s chest has changed, whether he has hair there now. It can’t be thick if he does, or you probably would’ve seen it from the window. Does he have hair any other places? You suppose he probably does, since you’d grown hair under your arms and between your legs when you reached your maturity, too. You only barely conceive a thought about what lies between Eddie’s legs, and that flusters you so thoroughly that when you press your palms to your cheeks, your skin feels hotter than you imagine the surface of the sun must be.

You wonder then if Eddie is thinking about you and how your body has changed in the same way that you’re thinking about him. It makes you self-conscious to picture him imagining you beneath your clothes, drawing his own conclusions about your shape, and then glimpsing the truth of what your clothes conceal. No one has seen your naked body except for mama and your older sister, who couldn’t give two hoots what you look like, and the thought of someone looking at you and being disappointed in what they see is a crushing thought. Not that you think Eddie will see your body, really, but you can’t help but—

A sudden whoop, wild and boyish, startles you out of your thoughts, and with a blur of pale flesh and dark curls, Eddie takes a running leap into the creek.

The dramatic smack of Eddie’s body against the water has you bolting for the willow tree, your hands colliding with rough bark as you peek around it, beratements hissing through your teeth. “What a reckless, stupid idiot you are, Eddie Munson!” The words are cutting, but the crinkle of your brow and the squeezing of your chest bely the true meaning behind them. Your breath catches as beats pass without any sign of him, anxiety rising until his head bursts from the surface of the water, fixing you with a waterlogged but manic smile as you peer at him from the other side of the trunk, body shielded from his view.

The only way you could possibly convey the depth of your vexation and relief is by childishly stomping your foot, and you do just that. “Gosh darn it!” you shout, face all screwed up, “You’re so—! Ugh!” You stomp again. “You coulda hit your head on a rock and drowned!”

Eddie ignores your shouting, dark curls plastered to his cheeks that round with the force of his joy. “Git over here!” he calls, “It feels like heaven in here!” He laughs raucously, disturbing the water as he swishes his arms through it in boyish delight.

Seeing his joy and yearning for that refreshment for yourself, you put aside the tightness of your worry for him. “Turn around!” you call, and obligingly, Eddie straightens and does, showing you the plane of his pale back and the wet tendrils of his drenched curls covering his shoulder blades. “And no peeking!” you tack on, snorting as you hear him slap both palms over his eyes, though the gesture warms your heart nonetheless.

You edge down to the bank, keeping one hand on the willow’s trunk as you test your footing. The bottom of the creek bed is a little slippery with stones but mostly soft with peat and algae, and the water feels so rapturously cool on your ankles that you sigh audibly in relief once both feet are in. You wade further toward the center of the creek until the water reaches the tops of your breasts, at which point you finally toss a glance in Eddie’s direction again.

Even with a few feet of distance separating you, knowing Eddie is naked underneath the water has your nerves churning up again; you duck down so that the cool water covers your clavicle, making sure your breasts can't be seen before you finally call out to him again, much more quietly now with your proximity.

“Okay,” you say, chewing on your bottom lip, “you can stop covering your eyes. My virtue is protected,” you joke, though it comes out a little more tremulously than you had hoped.

Slowly, Eddie’s jutting elbows straighten as he drops his hands from his face, and your eyes dart over everything you can see— the chapped ruddiness of his elbows, the veins in his arms, the bend of the skin at his waist as he begins to turn around. And then you’re just looking at his face as it emerges— the curve of his ear, the darkness of his hair, normally a frizzy stormcloud around his head but now flattened silkily against his jaw; the hollow shadow between his jaw and throat, the softness of his nose, the beads of water clinging to his dark brow.

And then, all at once, Eddie is facing you. His umber eyes never stray from your face, not glancing for a peek of exposed skin, though you’ve ensured barely any can be seen, just the tiniest sliver of the tops of your shoulders, plus your neck and face. Not much he hasn’t seen before. Nevertheless, he doesn’t try— doesn’t attempt to look below the water to see what your bare body looks like. He’s a gentleman, perfectly adhering to your instruction not to peek, but you can’t decide if you’re more relieved or disappointed by his compliance.

For a long moment, there’s just the sound of the creek flowing between you as you look back at Eddie. He's taller than you, and he isn’t hunched; he’s standing tall, seemingly unconcerned about you seeing what flesh is exposed above the water. Your eyes glide over the water running off the ends of his curls and down his pale chest, making little ripples when they slide into the creek where they belong. You remain composed until you notice the dusk of his nipples beaded with water, hard and puckered in the water’s chill. Your eyes widen slightly as the sight awakens that hunger again, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind in an effort to keep him from noticing your reaction.

“Oh, my word, this is so refreshing!” you say, perhaps overly enthusiastic, your smile a bit too broad as it aches in your cheeks. “Probably the best idea you've ever had, in fact. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

Eddie’s brow twitches in confused amusement at your exaggerated cheer, but he blessedly decides not to comment apart from saying, “Think that’s the first time you’ve ever willingly apologized to me.”

“Mmm…” you pretend to deliberate, wobbling your head back and forth. “Yeah, maybe,”you reply, chuckling to lighten the mood.

But your laughter weakens, going a little uneasy as Eddie wades closer, head tilting like a curious hound. “You didn't get your hair wet,” he observes, and you glance up like you’d be able to see it atop your head.

“I don't wanna get my hair wet, Eddie,” you say, an edge of warning in your voice already. Because you know Eddie Munson, and you know that, though the observation had sounded entirely innocent, those umber eyes are already gleaming with mischief.

“Awww,” he goads, and the word goes husky with laughter as he sees the alarm on your face, the way you tense warily as he edges closer. “Come on, turtle dove. You gotta go under.”

“No, Eddie.” You attempt to be firm, glaring at him in an attempt at intimidation. “It'll mess it all up and it’ll never dry in time—”

“Here,” he says lightly, disregarding your protests as his smile goes wolfish, “I’ll help you—”

Quick as a copperhead strike, Eddie makes to grab for your arms. But you’d been prepared for this— you dodge backward, squealing and splashing him directly in the face.

Eddie halts and sputters, running his hands roughly over his eyes and dragging them down the expanse of his face. And you know— you know— with how Eddie’s wolfish smile goes manic and wild when it’s revealed again that now, you've really done it.

Desperation drives you as you begin to scramble backward, wetting the ends of your hair in your haste to get away. He pursues you almost languidly, with a sense of confident assurance that has you crumbling and grasping for your final defense, which is to declare shrilly, “Edward Munson, don't you dare. I swear on all things holy—”

When Eddie lunges for you, you know with a sense of certainty that you won’t be able to escape the cage of his hot hands as he traps you, holding you firmly around the upper arms. In fact, you don’t even try very hard at first— you just let him grab you, freezing in his grip as if in hope that your compliance will convince him to take mercy on you. But then, with a bright grin of triumph, Eddie begins whipping his head side to side, shaking his curls to coat you with water like a dog.

You brace your palms on his chest and push then, crying out in dismay as you feel the droplets rain down on your hair and face. “Eddie!" you protest, but as you squint at him, you begin laughing— laughing at how silly he looks doing that, laughing at the fact that he could’ve easily shoved you under the water but has chosen to do this instead. You're laughing, and then Eddie starts laughing, your voices overwhelming the sound of the cicadas as they bounce off river rocks and cedars, filling the August air with your shared joy.

Eddie is still holding you, still shaking his head, though more slowly now, as you suppose he’s likely getting dizzy. And this becomes one of your games— you press your palms harder against his chest and his fingers tighten around your upper arms, pulling as you push, keeping a careful equilibrium in maintaining distance.

You maintain distance until, with the river water and sweat combined, your slippery hands slide on his chest.

One moment, you’re pushing and he’s pulling, equally and carefully matched in strength to continue your game. The next instant, before you can think or react, you’ve lost purchase. Eddie has no time to think or react, either; not expecting that sudden lack of resistance, he tugs you bodily against him.

Suddenly, his hot skin is everywhere, slick and firm and soft all at once. A ragged gasp rips from your throat as you’re overwhelmed by sensation: your hard nipples rasping against the dusting of hair on his chest, your nose now smushed against the hollow of his throat, the entire length of your body buzzing with the utter foreignness of feeling someone else's bare skin touching your bare skin. And there's something else, something inexplicably hotter than the rest of Eddie’s body, somehow hard and silky soft all at once where it presses between you against your belly. You’re uncomprehending for only a fraction of a second before it becomes very obvious what it must be.

Oh.

You spring apart from him at the same time that he releases you, no more than a second after the impact, though it had somehow felt much longer than that in the moment. Your face floods with searing heat as you stare at him, barely registering the look of wide-eyed, visceral horror on Eddie’s face as your heart pounds in your ears. His mouth is moving, but you don’t hear it— you’re consumed by the feelings flooding your body, reeling from shock and mortification but also from dizzying, fluttering euphoria. Because that feeling inside you— the one that hungers for something more with the boy standing across from you, who's still blathering something you can’t hear— has now had a taste of what it yearns for. Liquid heat pools low in your belly, pulsing much more intensely than the typical tingle you feel when thinking about Eddie in this way, rushing up to buzz through your body until your pupils dilate and you burst with heady need.

Eddie’s dismayed rambling eventually becomes discernable above the pounding of your heart. You register distantly what he’s saying— “I'm so sorry, oh fuck, please, i-it was an accident, I didn’t mean to—” but all that matters is that he's babbling, hysterical, face contorted and fingers fisted in his curls in a way that must be painful. And how can you talk to him like this? How can you even begin to think when he’s yammering on in such a way?

So you stomp forward, grab the back of Eddie’s neck and yank his face into your outstretched palm, which clamps over his lips. “Eddie Munson,” you huff, ignoring the way his lips feel against your palm as he keeps trying to speak, though you suspect it’s more in befuddlement now than remorse as his eyes are wide as kitchen saucers. “Would you just shut it for one dang second?”

All at once, Eddie’s stifled speech ceases, and his lips grow still against your palm. You sigh, relieved to have finally put a stop to that noise, but the look on Eddie’s face pierces you, holding you fast.

He looks terrified.

Eddie looks more scared than you’ve ever seen him, his brow scrunched up tight, his eyes so dismayed that they appear glassy with unshed tears. It pierces you deeply to see him looking at you this way, tugging behind your ribs until your chest aches like the deepest bruise. Your brows marry in the middle, crinkling up as your eyes go big and soft and sad for him. “Eddie,” you whisper, cracked with compassion at the sight of his distress, though fear and longing have knit you up just as tightly inside. And though you let go of the nape of his neck, you don't pull your palm away from his face. Instead, slowly, tentatively, you shift your hand to Eddie’s cheek, dragging against his warm skin in a slow, crawling path as he stands stock-still, watching you like a deer in headlights. You pause for a long moment, just holding Eddie’s cheek, before your trembling thumb lowers, petting featherlight along his cheekbone.

It’s not something that can be explained away by one best friend attempting to comfort another after a mortifying accident. Your thumb traces Eddie’s cheekbone once, twice, and then again, prodding against the boundary of your friendship in a way that cannot be ignored. Stroking Eddie Munson’s cheekbone is the scariest thing you’ve ever done because on the other side of this choice can be effusive bliss or rending sorrow, and nothing in-between.

Your breath is shallow as you wait for Eddie to react— to say or do something, anything, to indicate what he’s thinking. Because he doesn’t look scared anymore, but you can’t place the look on his face, either. You’ve never seen it before. And then slowly, as if he’s half afraid to move and shatter the illusion, Eddie’s hand emerges from the surface of the creek, droplets running down the length of his forearm and falling in little ripples back into the water as he reaches up and brushes his fingertips so gently, so lightly, against your collarbone. It’s a graze of skin you can barely feel, but you tremble nonetheless.

“Eddie,” you whisper again, but compassion doesn’t crack your voice this time.

Wanting does.

Eddie swallows thickly, voice hoarse and choked with the weight of what he is about to ask. “C-can I kiss you? Please?”

There is no hesitation, only sweet, euphoric relief when you nod, and then your best friend is kissing you.

Fluttering, dizzying desire bursts in your belly when Eddie slots his mouth against your mouth; all you can feel is warm wetness as his breath flows down to mingle with yours in your lungs. It isn’t tentative, or questioning, or timid when Eddie kisses you, grabbing up your face and moaning past your teeth as if he’s never wanted anything more in his life. Your fingers scrabble for purchase along his muscular shoulders, clutching slippery skin as you whimper and move your lips frantically against his. The heat of his skin and lips contrasts with the cool slick of the water enveloping your bodies from the chest down, and the sensation makes you break out in goosebumps that he soothes with restless stroking of his broad palms over your arms and back. You’ve wanted to touch him like this— be touched by him like this— so desperately that your bones cried out for it, and they sing in praise as Eddie hikes you up against him, kissing you insistently, crushing you so tightly to his body that it’s almost uncomfortable. But it’s exactly what you need— your breasts pressed up against his chest, your belly heaving into his as you gasp and kiss and lick into his mouth, brain fuzzy, body following only instinct. Eddie’s palms find the small of your back, clutching you close as he angles his muscular thigh between your legs. You whine, body electrified with the feeling of his hands pressing your hips forward until that place between your legs rubs against him, sparking delicious friction that seems to be the physical culmination of that hunger inside you, never before explored.

When you undulate your hips experimentally, mimicking the movement Eddie has coaxed you to follow, his palms leave the small of your back to pull you closer, wrapping you up in his firm embrace. With how tightly you’re pressed against him, you can feel that the hardness trapped between you is even hotter and stiffer now against your hip, and it makes that hunger flare in the pit of your belly, desiring more, more, more. You’re panting, overtaken as Eddie licks across your bottom lip, and you whimper; with shaky fingers, you reach down beneath the water, seeking blindly between your bodies until your fingertips brush against the very tip of that hardness.

You stiffen in surprise as it jumps against your belly; abruptly, Eddie pulls his mouth from yours but doesn’t retreat completely. He continues to hold you, chest heaving, staring into your eyes for a dazed moment before his lips crack and his voice leaks out hoarsely. “Have you ever lain with a man?”

Your cheeks heat at the brazenness of the question, but considering the position you’re in— pressed up against him, having just been rubbing yourself along his thigh and feeling his hardness dig into your hip— you suppose talking about this is far less brazen than you’ve already been today. Mutely, you shake your head. “Have you,” you ask, “with a woman?”

After a moment, Eddie nods. Your stomach falls; you feel yourself grow sour with jealousy, and Eddie misinterprets the sudden pinch of your brow. “We don't have to,” he says quickly. “We don't have to do anything you don't wanna. Hear me?”

He cups the side of your neck, gently, so gently, wetting the hair at your nape as his calloused fingertips brush there. His tender touch eases your sourness, and you think instead about his assertion, about the implication of what you could do with him— what you could allow him to do to you. And you know how it works. You've seen geldings mount mares before, however ineffectually; you know the wheres and the hows and the whens of it all, though your knowledge is all theoretical and in no part practical.

But when you think about Eddie’s hot stiff flesh still pressing against your hip, about that hardness sinking between your legs, you can’t deny you’re curious. And with him… you feel safe. You feel cherished. And part of you can acknowledge how you've been yearning to know him in this intimate way for a long time.

Since the beginning of summer.

Since before that.

Maybe since always.

“I want to,” you tell him, and at last, all the hesitation melts from Eddie Munson’s face. He smiles, and the stretch of his lips is sticky, forbidden, and decadent; the softness of his umber eyes is filled with simmering heat. Your best friend has been looking at you like this all summer, and you finally know what it means.

Eddie goes first, guiding you to the edge of the creek. As he does, little by little, the water recedes from your bodies, revealing more and more of his pale skin as he climbs out before you, planting his feet and holding out his hand to help you up after him. You set your smaller hand in his, and his grip is unwavering as you use what he offers you to climb out onto soft clover.

On the bank of the creek beside the weeping willow, you see all of Eddie for the first time. He is tall, lean, and still a little gangly in the length of his arms and legs like he’d been as a child, but far more solid now, with firm muscle from toiling on his family’s farm. His shoulders are broad, his neck strong, his waist narrow but padded with a healthy layer of soft fat that fills him out more than you remember. The hair on his legs and arms is sparse, same as it is on his chest, but it thickens near his belly button in a trail leading downward before spreading low on his pelvis.

He’s at the very tail end of that transition from boyhood to manhood. And there's one part of him that's very much man— it's staring you right in the eye between his legs. Ruddy, curved, nestled in that dark thatch of untrimmed curls. You pulse with desire as you see it, heat tingling low as you shift on your feet; nevertheless, your eyes jump sheepishly from there to his face as if you’ve done something wrong.

But Eddie merely looks back at you calmly, allowing you to look at him. And when his eyes drag over your exposed skin in turn— over your breasts and soft stomach, your hips and pillowy thighs, over the curls between your legs, and even over the gentle curve of your calves where they meet your bony ankles— he looks so in awe over you that you resist the urge to cover yourself from his gaze, not wanting to take it from him.

You aren’t concerned about dirty feet or cookie crumbs when you lay with Eddie on the blanket again, the heat of his body radiating against yours as he stretches out beside you. When he cups your jaw to meet your lips with his, you relax into his touch with an ease that feels like passing through the threshold of your back door and feeling the weight of the world leave your shoulders.

Eddie’s tender touch feels like coming home.

As Eddie kisses you unhurriedly like he’s savoring every brush of tongues and smack of lips, your fingers wrap around his wrist where he still supports your head, thumb stroking against the firm veins on its tender underside. And he was right— it takes very little time for your bodies to dry in the heat, though the water in his hair lingers. Damp and cold, it brushes against your cheeks; you try to ignore the tickle, but after some time you huff sharply through your nose, pulling your lips from his with a wet pop. “Your mane’s a menace, Ed,” you say dryly, huffing again when he grabs the ends of his curls and tickles them across your neck. You scrunch your head to your shoulder, giggling through your protest. “Stop that! Be nice!”

Eddie grins, sticky and thick again. “I am being nice,” he murmurs, dropping his hair and cupping the back of your neck to pull you closer as he descends on your lips more intently now. He rolls you over onto your back, and his hair becomes nothing more than a vague nuisance as Eddie’s kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, nipping and sucking on their path downward to draw out little breathy moans and sighs from you. He kisses from your throat to your clavicle, from the valley of your breasts to the edge of your ribs, his cold curls dragging against your nipples as he travels lower on your body. You watch him with curiosity as his lips trail over your belly button and down to your hips before he finally settles between your legs, which part only enough to make the barest amount of room for him. He glances up at you, thumb ghosting over your curls. "Can I taste you here?” he asks, eyes dark like liquid smoke, pupils nearly swallowing the iris. He stifles a groan in his throat as he looks back down, rasping, “Bet you taste so sweet."

The suggestion feels distinctly naughty, and you rush with mortification at the idea, but above that is the hunger and the heat tinged with unmistakable excitement. “Okay,” you say, voice small, and Eddie rests his chin lightly against your pubic bone, folding his arms across your hips, very clearly ready to wait and follow your direction.

Gently, he tells you, “If you don't like how it feels or want me to stop, just say the word, okay? I mean it.”

“Yeah,” you reply, lips curling in a smile as your chest flutters. “Okay, I will.”

“Okay.” Eddie nods, his chin dragging against your skin as he unfolds his arms and looks down again. More hoarsely, he says, “You’re gonna have to spread your legs.”

Slowly, you do, heart thumping as your thighs peel apart and you expose yourself to his gaze. You want to squirm in discomfort with how intently he’s looking at you, but the heat on Eddie’s face, the unadulterated excitement and want that shines in his eyes as his plush lips fall open, is undeniably thrilling. You suck in a tiny gasp when his breath ghosts hot against that intimate place, a whimper escaping at the anticipation of his mouth on you. And then there’s the faintest brush of his wet tongue, snaking just slightly between your lips; you hiccup and moan, thighs twitching against his shoulders.

“S’it ok?” Eddie’s voice puffs against your heated flesh, cooling the place he’d just licked, and you exhale shakily, pushing out your confirmation.

“Y-yes,” you say, and after a brief pause, Eddie licks you again, and again, moving his tongue more boldly with each pass. He tips his chin down, lengthening the strokes of his tongue, dragging low to high for the first time; he groans deep in his throat, and you jolt as it buzzes against your lips. “Knew it,” he mutters to himself, voice tight with desire, and you moan as he wiggles his face in closer to you, his nose parting your folds.

It feels so good, his mouth on your special place; it begins to satisfy the hunger inside you in a way you’ve never felt before, not even when you’d dragged yourself against his thigh. You relax into the feeling as he laps at you, wet tongue broad and flat as it drags against your pussy, sparking pleasure with each pass. And the sight of his curly head between your thighs makes you bloom warm over your whole body, your belly buzzing for more, more, more.

“Eddie,” you moan, unable to fully articulate your desire but attempting to in the way his name falls so hot and sweet from your tongue. “I want you, Eddie, please…”

He lifts his face from between your legs to press feverish kisses up your slit to the top of your mound. You tense when he digs his nose into your curls and inhales there, breathing deeply against your hair and skin. A whimper eeks from your lips as you squirm inside with self-consciousness, legs tensed to remain still. You worry suddenly about how you must smell, how the August heat and the creek may have made you unpleasant in some way. But when Eddie’s chest rises and falls with a heavy, contented sigh, and he wraps his arms beneath the backs of your thighs, your self-consciousness fades; when he nuzzles against your curls, dragging his cheek along your mound so affectionately, you positively melt.

“Are you sure?” Eddie murmurs, lifting his head to peek up at you. You push onto an elbow, and he kisses the pudge of your tummy as it folds when you sit up. Smiling softly, you tuck his curls behind his ear, touch lingering against the side of his face.

“Yes,” you say, so light and delicate but oh, so sincere, “Eddie, I really want it. I want you to…” you trail off, biting your lip. His eyes darken.

“You want me to fuck you,” Eddie says, voice hoarsened but also sticky and thick and sinfully sweet like honey. You rush with feeling all over again— shock at his language, mortification at the crudeness of it, but also thrilling anticipation that tingles low in your belly, mixing with the heat and tightening to an aching need. You nod, gasping, “Yes. Yes, I want you to do that.”

Eddie’s moan rumbles low in his throat, and you feel it against your inner thighs where they’re pressed against his chest. He drops one last hasty kiss to your belly before unwrapping his arms from around you. You lay back against the blanket as he climbs up your body, spreading your legs so he can settle between them. Your brow pinches when he mounts you, his pelvis pressing flush with the juncture of your hips and his hardness wedged between you. He stares down at you, and the curtain of his thick curls seems to conceal the two of you from the rest of the world; the cicadas and the creek fall away as you meet his eyes.

His face is flushed, his lips swollen and wet, but his eyes are wide with concern when he shifts his weight to one hand to stroke back your hair with the other. "It might hurt at first," he says, voice soft, and you nod.

"I know," you reply, and he traces the side of your face with his thumb before lowering from his hands to brace his weight on his forearms. You take a shaky breath as his belly brushes yours with his new proximity, your vision filled only with Eddie’s pretty face.

"But,” he continues, “I'll take care of you, okay?" He shimmies his hands under your shoulders, tucking you closer to him, and as your bodies press lightly together, you can feel him trembling. "I'll take such good care of you,” he rasps, “Always will."

Your breath hitches in your chest, lungs burning as you well up with some emotion. Not hunger, not desire, but something more poignant. Something soft, like the down of a feather.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you say, and your hand trails up his back, tracing the warmth of his skin almost reverently as you lift your chin to kiss him softly.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, voice wavering as he sways his hips, untucking one hand from beneath your shoulder to reach down between you. You spread your legs wider as you feel that stiffness shift, poking against you as he maneuvers it down to line up with your entrance.

Eddie kisses your lips so tenderly, and he pushes in slowly, so slowly, but nothing he could do could prevent the pain you feel when the head of his cock pops inside your entrance. He freezes as you gasp sharply at the intrusion, your lips clamping tight in a belated effort not to alarm him, though the crease in your brow tells the whole story. Eddie looks pained to see you in pain; he rains kisses down on your face, and you tangle your fingers in his damp hair to ground you as he waits until you’ve relaxed to begin moving again. As soon as he does, though, the sharp sting returns; it continues as a burning and insistent pain while Eddie stretches you open in a way you’ve never felt before.

He starts and stops as many times as you need until his hips are flush with yours and he’s seated fully inside. He’s panting, one hand fisted in the blanket as he tries to stay so perfectly still, wincing and murmuring against your hair, "Aw, hell… I'm sorry, y/n. I'm so sorry it hurts… Don't wanna hurt you—"

You whimper, tucking your face against his neck, and he strokes soothingly up and down your waist with his other hand until your body has adjusted and the burn has faded to a barely a pinch. You kitten lick the salt from his throat, and you enjoy the way he shivers. “I'm ready, now, Ed.”

He lifts his head to examine your expression. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you reply, and after a moment where his eyes dart back and forth between yours as if to check for any hesitation. He rocks his hips slightly, not pulling out, just testing to see how you respond to him moving. When you sigh with relief, he sighs with relief; when he rocks again, and you bite your lower lip, he swipes along his with a tiny dart of his pink tongue; and when you buck your hips up lightly against him, Eddie groans deep in his throat, a guttural sound of deep want that makes your chest rush hot and your nipples prickle up tight.

Eddie fucks you languidly in the heavy August heat, the chorus of cicadas blending with the soft moans and panting breaths you hush against one another’s faces. Your bodies slowly grow slick with sweat again as you move together, lips exploring lips, hands exploring skin, the steady, even rocking of his hips predictable and soothing. The slide of Eddie’s warm skin against yours, the rasp of his hair, the slick of his hot mouth against your lips, and the pressure of his hard cock inside you all build until you begin to tingle low in your belly again. As you sigh and whimper against his mouth, licking against his teeth, Eddie pushes in suddenly deep, pressing his pelvis tightly to yours and rotating his hips. Your breath catches as the head of his cock brushes against a spot that makes that tingling tighten. "Yeah?” he husks, his lips brushing yours, “That feel good?"

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, “please, don't stop.” Eddie keeps circling his hips slowly, pressing tight and groaning in satisfaction as you wrap your arms around his back, seeking to be closer. When you rotate your hips in time with his, his pubic hair rubs sparks against that sensitive spot above your opening. You whine open-mouthed, eyes heavy and glazed as you stare into his, rubbing your nose against the damp skin of his cheek.

He nudges into your touch, murmuring, “You want more?”

“Yes,” you pant. “More.” But when he stops circling his hips, falling still, you're quick to pout, protesting with a frown, “That's the opposite of more—”

His hips jolt back and forward suddenly and sharply, and your back arches as he punches a moan out of you, cutting off your protest. He smirks knowingly as you cling to him, fingernails scrabbling for purchase on his sweaty back. He begins fucking you at this faster pace, a little rougher than before, and it is the more you wanted. It's more, more, more.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie grunts, “you feel so good inside. So tight and warm.” You whimper at his words, blooming with heat as he adds, “Wanted to do this for so long.”

You manage a question even under the onslaught of his pounding, desperate as you are to know the answer. “H-How long?”

Eddie’s hips falter slightly, continuing more slowly as his adam’s apple bobs. He hesitates for a moment before answering, “Since the Fourth of July party at the Byers’ when you wore that new dress.”

You scrape your teeth against your lower lip, looking up at him with big eyes, and his head falls to your shoulder as he chuckles wryly, his hips stilling entirely. “Aw, hell. Y’look at me like that, and I can’t…” Eddie huffs, and you shiver as it puffs hot and damp against your neck. Without lifting his head, more quietly, he says, “Wanted to be with you like this ‘lot longer than that, if I’m bein’ honest.”

You burst with flutters at the revelation— low in your belly, high in your chest, tingling in your fingertips, tightening in your scalp. The feeling is hot and hungry, soft like feathers. You gasp a shaky breath to reply in a whisper that wavers with the depth of your emotion. “Me too.”

Eddie’s moan is broken and vulnerable as he presses a hot, urgent kiss to your throat, trailing desperately up to your mouth. He cups your face, fingers pressing in against your cheeks as his hips begin to slap with fleshy smacks against your spread thighs, his cock moving hard and hot and insistent deep inside you. And more than ever before, that feeling— the hunger, the coil in your belly, the heat between your legs— is building to something new, something intense, something that looms over you as it begins to tighten and tingle between your hips.

It scares you.

Your hands flutter and tap at Eddie’s shoulders as you whimper his name differently from before. "Eddie. Eddie—"

The urgency in your voice gives him pause, and his hips fall instantly still as he cups your face, tilting your chin up as his eyes dart over you restlessly. “What’s wrong, turtle dove?”

Your heart leaps at the nickname, and he must see the way your eyes soften because his fingertips draw gentle and featherlight along your brow, a touch of comfort and reassurance. "I don't know what's happening. I feel... strange."

His alarm is instant. “Does it hurt?” He asks, tinged with urgent distress. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, no," you soothe your palm along his jaw, and he lists into the heel of your hand when you cup his cheek. His concern makes you rush warm with pleasure in a different way. "It feels… I think it feels good," you clarify, feeling strangely ashamed like you shouldn't be talking about this. "But it's just… odd, I guess."

Eddie’s face softens to match yours. "It's okay, it's supposed to feel that way.”

Uncertainly, voice small, you ask, “You promise?”

Eddie pulls from your hand cradling his cheek to mash his nose to the side of yours, and the huff of his chuckle brushes sweetly over your lips. It's not exasperated or amused. It's nothing but fond. Almost, you’d say, if you didn't know better... almost loving. "I promise. Never led you astray yet, have I?"

“Well—” you start to hedge, but when he pokes your cheek aggressively with his nose, you give up the game and giggle. “No, you never have,” you say, and it’s not teasing, not wry. It's nothing but fond. Almost, you'd say, if you didn't know better... almost loving.

Something shifts then as Eddie begins to move inside you again. There’s a certain inevitability to it as his hips pound into yours, his cock pumping hard inside you as you rock your hips to meet him. “Wanna make you feel so good, turtle dove,” he tells you, and you drink in the sound of his voice. You feel dazed, drunk, almost, entirely caught up in the feeling of Eddie all around you, inside you, tangled not just with and in your body but also with your soul.

“It does feel good,” you tell him, voice soft and thick with feminine desire. “Feels so good, Eddie.”

Your encouragement spurs him on; his hips pump harder, his breath harshening with the effort. The inevitability grows more imminent as you feel the evidence of his exertion— the slick of his sweaty chest against your breasts and his tummy sticking to yours, the way the unrelenting rhythm of his hips begins to falter just slightly. “I’m getting close.” You look up at him, and his eyes are wide and hazy, his bangs clinging wetly to his forehead— it’s pink, with one vein throbbing over his left brow. You’re thinking idly of licking along that vein when Eddie interrupts you with a husky question. “You wanna take my seed?"

Caught up in him entirely, you can envision only one answer. You moan at the idea, nodding frantically. "Yes, please, please, Eddie—"

He groans gutturally at your enthusiasm. "Shit, yes. Gonna fill you and fuck it up into you all deep—"

You whine at the filthiness of it, the forbiddenness of it, but mostly with a deep yearning for him to possess you entirely, for him to spill inside and for you to know that, even when he pulls out of your body, some of him will linger for longer.

Eddie’s forehead dips to yours, pressing against it lightly, and you pant into his mouth. You keep your eyes open and wide, wanting to see everything— every fleck of gold and brown in his eyes, every pore, every freckle, every strand of hair in his brows, every line at the corner of his eyes. Every tiny detail of his beloved face. You watch that face start to twitch and contort, and you thrill deep in your chest. “Ed, are you about to—?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… oh, fuck—” he whines into your mouth and you gather him closer, tangling your hands in his curls as he huffs and his hips press tight against your thighs. You swallow his stuttered groan like it’s the only sustenance you need as Eddie reaches the pinnacle of his pleasure.

There’s a burst of reciprocal pleasure low in your belly when you feel him pulse and spill inside you, and as the rocking of his hips slows, your burning need and pleasure fade to a pleasant buzzing warmth. You’ve not reached that pinnacle yourself, but you are content nonetheless as Eddie falls still, panting and spent in your arms. You are sweaty, hot, and sticky in a way that would, in any other context, have you grumbling and seeking relief. But here, with Eddie’s heavy weight on top of you, his arms curling around your body to hold you close to him, and his cock softening inside you, you couldn’t muster a grumble if you tried.

Eddie rolls you onto your sides but doesn’t relinquish his grip on you, and you hold one another other until his seed starts to leak between your thighs. You stir then, and he looks down at you as you glance towards your tangled legs, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “I should wash up,” you say quietly, and reluctantly, Eddie loosens his arms so you can rise and pad over to the edge of the water.

You’re about to crouch to cup water in your palms when a broad hand finds the small of your back, the light touch almost reverent. “Let me,” Eddie says quietly behind you; you turn, looking up into his face as he offers to cleanse you of his seed. That poignant welling of emotion, soft like the down of feathers, fills you toe to tip as he gets on his knees before you, cupping water in his palms and gently washing your sticky folds until your skin has been thoroughly cleansed.

Eddie Munson washes you off between your legs in the creek, and it feels almost more intimate than having relations with him.

When he straightens up, you make to walk back toward the blanket, but when he lingers near the water’s edge without following, you pause and look at him curiously. Eddie pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, fidgeting as his eyes flick between yours before the words burst out of him.

“Y’know you're my girl now, right? If you wanna be,” he adds quickly, and the blush of his cheeks, the sudden sheepish nervousness in his expression tugs at your heart.

But it’s such a silly question— if you wanna be.

Of course, you wanna be his girl. You’ve coveted Eddie Munson’s attention since he was that eight-year-old boy, odd and awkward, gangly and wild, your new neighbor next door. You’ve yearned to know him and be known by him as deeply as a best friend can, and now you’ve begun to know him in a way that, somehow, feels even more right than that.

You’ve wanted to be Eddie Munson’s girl for what feels like your whole life, now, or close to it.

“Yes,” you say, sticky and sweet and so utterly enamored with the boy standing beneath the willow at the edge of the creek. “I’ll be your girl, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie beams so bright and beautiful that your breath shudders in your chest, a poignant squeezing of your ribcage that only intensifies as he says with reverence, almost like he can’t believe it, “You belong to me, and I belong to you.”

You kiss him again, wrapping him up in your arms as he sways you happily back and forth. You wish it would last forever, but with a lurch in your belly, you realize the light casting Eddie’s curls in a deep amber glow is more than golden now— it's edging on orange. Hastily, you pull against his grip, and he releases you as you groan with dismay, “Aw, hell, Ed. We gotta race the sunset!” You bounce on the balls of your feet, shaking your hands by your sides as anxiety tangles in the pit of your stomach. “Mama’ll skin me alive if I’m not back before sundown!”

Eddie’s eyes dart to the sky, widening with equal alarm. “We’ll make it,” he says breathlessly, “I got the horses, just get your clothes on!” He lurches around the willow while you rush to the blanket to pull on your rumpled chemise and button your dress, smoothing your hair and slipping on your shoes just as he’s miraculously finished saddling both horses, already dressed. You’re impressed until you hurry closer and realize Eddie’s suspenders are twisted thrice each and his shirt is buttoned one-off from the top.

You sigh and tug him closer by the trousers, and he stumbles as you briskly unwind his suspenders and rebutton his shirt.

“Much obliged,” Eddie pants breathlessly, his lips curled in a delighted smile as you tend to him. His beam widens when you duck your head, going shy under the intensity of his gaze; Eddie cups your cheeks and kisses you wild and hard, leaving you dazed for a moment as he hoists himself deftly onto Merlin’s saddle. “Betcha I’ll beat you back,” he says, towering above you atop his giant horse— your best friend, roguish and mischievous, clever and brash, beautiful in the deepening light.

A wicked grin blooms on your lips as you look up at him, grasping hold of Guinnie’s mane and cantle to pull yourself up smoothly beside him. “Betcha you won’t,” you counter, and with a squeeze of your thighs, you rise to the challenge.

You ride Guinnie hard and fast through the forest, racing Eddie until you both burst together from the treeline onto the field at the edge of Mr. Hopper’s property. In the distance, you can see the tall fence that separates your farmstead from his, the red house that he calls home sticking from the earth beside the blue shingles of your own, in permanent company with one another. You expect Eddie to call the game over now, but he tosses a smirk over his shoulder at you, his curls whipping as Merlin rears and gallops on, spurred by a whoop of boyish delight.

Your legs will be sore tomorrow, and between your legs will be sore too. But as the sun sets on this August day and you ride through the fields, chasing the young man you cherish, and the bugs erupt in puffs like clouds from the tall grass, you’ve never felt so known, nor so damn alive.

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