summary: y/n is a stubborn, clumsy baker and harry is a stubborn, overbearing firefighter
warnings: none!
wordcount: 4k
a/n: hi my friends 💐 this is basically just setting up the story lolll it was meant to be longer but who has the time for that!! stay tuned for part 2 <3
masterlist 🫶🏼
Nothing felt better than a warm shower after a long day. Steam swirled all around you, the hot water pounding away the day’s fatigue - the morning rush, the non-stop hum of the mixers, the relentless work to keep trays filled with gingerbread men and warm cinnamon rolls.
You had always been proud of the bakery. The satisfaction of seeing customers bite into your creations - it was all yours. Every flaky croissant, every gooey cinnamon roll, every crusty loaf bore the unmistakable mark of your hands.
And that’s why, no matter how many times Claire told you to hire some more help, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “You can’t keep this up alone,” she’d said in mid-October, standing in the doorway of the kitchen while you worked. You were wrist-deep in bread dough, kneading away as though the flour had wronged you.
“I’m fine,” you’d replied, the words curt and clipped. “It’s my kitchen. I’ve got it under control.”
Claire didn’t look convinced. She never did. “Christmas is coming, y/n. Orders are already piling up, and it’s not even December. This is too much for one person.”
You waved her off, refusing to look up. “I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.”
But you hadn’t done it like this before. Back then, the bakery wasn’t so popular. There weren’t stacks of orders for holiday cakes, tins of cookies, and towers of Christmas pies. There wasn’t the constant pressure of phone calls and emails asking if you could squeeze in “just one more order.”
By the time December rolled around, you were drowning.
The days started earlier and ended later, the hours slipping away as you raced to keep up. You woke in darkness, stumbling into the bakery before the sun rose. Your hands ached from kneading, your back throbbed from bending over the ovens, and your head buzzed with the endless list of things to do. And yet, you’d refused to admit you needed help.
“I’m worried about you,” Claire had said one night, her voice soft but firm. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen again, watching as you haphazardly piped frosting onto yet another tray of sugar cookies. Your shoulders were slumped, your apron streaked with berry juice and chocolate.
“I’m fine,” you’d mumbled, though even you didn’t believe it.
“You’re not fine. You’re exhausted. You’re going to make mistakes.”
“I’m fine,” you snapped, louder than you meant to. The words echoed in the kitchen, the air growing heavy. Claire didn’t reply. She just shook her head and left you to your chaos.
She was right. You knew she was right. And you knew that she’d snitch to your brother, who’d stop by to ask why you weren’t listening to his wife. Only to be followed by your parents, who’d ask why you weren’t listening to your brother.
They only cared for your well-being. They wanted you to succeed as much as you wanted to succeed. But you didn’t remember a time when the bakery wasn’t your baby. It had been your dream, your refuge, and your pride all wrapped into one - a living, breathing extension of yourself. The idea of sharing that, of letting someone else touch what you had built, felt like carving off a piece of your soul.
You squeezed your eyes shut until the screams of voices and thoughts were tiny whispers in the back of your mind, letting the water cascade over you, enveloping you in its warmth. The sound of the spray drowned out the noise in your head, a momentary reprieve from the chaos of orders, burnt loaves, and your own stubborn pride. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the water, the steam curling around you, and the faint rhythm of your breathing as you tried to piece yourself back together.
Every muscle ached, but the heat soothed it all into blissful numbness. It was pure paradise - at least until a rock came flying through your bathroom window, shattered glass crashing all over your tiles. What the fuck?
You turned the shower off with shaking hands, adrenaline coursing through your body. The cold winter air filled the room quickly, the evening wind whistling through the smashed pane.
You slipped your robe on with a groan, the fleece clinging to your damp skin.
That’s when the sound reached you - the incessant wailing of the smoke alarm from downstairs. Your stomach dropped. The bakery.
You’d sworn to be more switched on, to actually check the ovens before you retreated to your apartment. But the days were long, and your brain was goo by the time you waved the last customers out of the door.
The floors were wet beneath your feet as you slipped and skidded down the stairs, your mind cycling through every possibility of what would await you. A burglar who decided to commit arson? Your entire kitchen alight? The flower store next door burned to the ground, your beloved bakery an unfortunate casualty?
You reached for the light switch tentatively, your eyes landing on a curl of dark smoke seeping from the oven door. The entire bakery was dim, your soft lighting no match for the cloud hanging over the room.
That fucking deafening beeping was doing nothing to calm you down. You grabbed the broom, jabbing at the smoke alarm, and of course, missing the button every time, your hands shaking as the panic turned to adrenaline in your veins. Your free hand flapped wildly under the sensor, desperately trying to just Stop. The. Beeping.
“Hello? Let me in!”
A deep, husky man’s voice. The same man who was also pounding on your front door, his face pressed up against the glass.
If good things came in threes, how many bad things were you supposed to get at one time?
Your priorities might have been skewed, as they usually were, but getting rid of the axe murderer at your door was suddenly the most important thing in the world to you.
You charged towards the door, broom still in hand, throwing it open with a noise not too far from a growl. “It’s really not ideal for you to murder me right now! Come back later,” you shouted over the smoke alarm.
“I’m not- what?”
Okay, the murderer had a hot voice. But he was still a murderer. You pushed the door closed with your shoulder, but he wedged his shoe in the doorway, halting your attempt to shut him out. You glared down at the offending foot, your grip on the broom tightening.
"Look, I'm just trying to help," he said, holding his hands up. "I’m a firefighter. Saw smoke pouring out of your oven.”
“Help with what, exactly?” you shot back, trying to ignore the way his broad shoulders filled the doorway, or how his green eyes sparkled with the thrill of, presumably, rescuing reckless strangers. “Didn’t know firefighters made house calls.”
“Only the off-duty ones with nothing better to do,” he replied, a hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. "Now, can I come in and shut that alarm off for you, or are you planning to fight it out with your smoke detector all night?"
Reluctantly, you let go of the door, allowing him to step inside. He wasted no time reaching up to the beeping menace, silencing it with a practiced jab at the button. You couldn’t help but notice the sleeves of his t-shirt tighten around his arms as he reached up, the sliver of tattooed skin poking out from above his belt.
"Thanks," you muttered, crossing your arms as he looked back to you, his eyes sweeping over your chaotic kitchen, over your clearly naked body, and then back to your face, as if assessing the full scene. The corners of his lips quirked up as he turned to the oven, waving a hand at the remaining smoke.
You sighed, letting the last of your defenses fall. “You’re really not going to murder me, are you?”
"Not today," he chuckled, a low, warm sound that filled the small space. Your eyes caught on the way his strong hands moved, sure and gentle as he maneuvered around your kitchen. You leaned against the counter, pretending you weren’t staring at the way his arms flexed under the faded fabric.
He caught you looking, and to your utter embarrassment, he gave a small grin. “So… what exactly was this supposed to be?" he asked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he stepped closer, holding the charred remains of whatever had been inside.
“Oh shit. Mrs Fuller’s birthday cake,” you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. “I completely forgot I was baking that.” Great. Just another obstacle in the way of your early night.
“Hey, sorry about the window,” he murmured.
“Hm?” you asked, your voice distant, not really processing his words.
“The window,” he repeated, gesturing upward, your gaze following his hand to the ceiling. “Was only trying to get your attention,” he continued, his voice dipping into something apologetic. “Didn’t mean to break it.”
You shook your head, finally dragging your focus back to the mess in front of you. “It’s whatever,” you muttered, keeping your tone neutral, though your chest ached with the effort. “Just another point on my to-do list. Thanks for…” You gestured vaguely at the bakery, your voice trailing off.
“I can come by and fix it,” he offered, his voice tentative, like he wasn’t sure if you’d bite his head off or accept the help.
“I can do it,” you snapped, your words sharper than you intended. The burning behind your eyes grew stronger, and you could feel your control slipping. You needed him to leave, needed the space to let the tears spill over before they choked you entirely.
When you glanced up, you saw the change in his expression. The slight upturn of his lips faltered and turned into a somber frown. He looked at you like he wanted to ask something but thought better of it.
“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, the heat of guilt flushing your face. “I’ve got it covered. Thanks, though.”
For a moment, he stood there, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. He glanced between you and the broken cake, the smoke still lingering above, and something in his eyes softened. He looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it, nodding instead.
“Alright,” he said, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “But if you change your mind…”
“I won’t,” you cut in, desperate now. “It’s fine.”
He hesitated, his brow knitting tighter as if he wanted to say something else, but after a moment, he nodded. "Alright. If you’re sure."
You nodded back, barely looking at him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if holding yourself together. The silence between you stretched until, mercifully, he turned and walked away.
The door creaked slightly as it began to close behind him, the faint sound of his trainers scuffing against the floor fading. You thought that was the end of it, but then the footsteps stopped. For a moment, the room held its breath, the silence pressing down like the weight in your chest.
Then, the door eased back open, just enough for him to lean his head inside. His dark eyes met yours, hesitant but determined, like he wasn’t sure if this was a mistake but decided to do it anyway.
“Harry,” he said, his voice soft but clear as it cut through the stillness. He lingered there in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame, his shoulders tense as though bracing for rejection. “That’s my name. Harry.”
The corners of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but not far from it. You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden reappearance, the unexpected vulnerability in the way he said it. He waited, his eyes searching your face for some kind of response.
Your lips curved, just barely, into a weak but genuine smile. “Harry,” you repeated softly, like you were trying the name on for size. Then you added, “I’m…” Your voice faltered for a split second, but you pressed on, offering him your name in return. “Y/n.”
A spark of something warm flickered in his eyes, a hint of relief mingled with curiosity. He nodded once, as if committing it to memory, before straightening up and gripping the edge of the door.
And then he was gone.
You let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the counter. Your knees felt weak, your chest tight, and the dam you’d been holding back began to crack. You stared at the mess around you, the cake you’d worked so hard on reduced to a heap of blackened crumbs, the endless pile of orders still waiting for you, and the tears you’d been fighting finally broke free.
It wasn’t just the window. It wasn’t just the cake. It was everything. The weight of trying to do it all alone, the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin, the constant feeling that no matter how hard you worked, it was never enough.
You slid down to the floor, your back against the counter, letting the sobs come. For a moment, you allowed your emotions to swallow you, the frustration, the helplessness, the crushing loneliness. But even as you cried, part of you knew this couldn’t keep happening. Something had to give.
You pulled out your phone, typing a quick text to Claire. we’ll start looking for help tomorrow. promise.
You didn’t know how long you sat there, slumped against the counter, staring blankly at the mess surrounding you. The tears had stopped at some point, leaving behind a dull ache in your chest and the gritty sensation of salt drying on your cheeks. But soft rapping on the door pulled you out of your misery.
Wiping at your face with unsteady hands, you forced yourself to your feet, every movement feeling heavier than the last. When you opened the door, there he was: Harry, standing in the dim light, his arms full of cardboard, duct tape, and what looked like sheets of plastic.
“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice raw and quieter than you’d meant it to be.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he nudged his way past you into the bakery, not waiting for permission, and glanced down at the materials in his arms. “You can’t leave the window broken in this cold,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Harry, it’s fine—” you began, stepping toward him, but he cut you off without looking up.
“It’s not fine,” he said firmly, his voice calm but resolute.
You stared at him for a moment, his gaze hard as he looked back at you.
“Come on. Help me with this window,” he murmured, waiting for you to lead the way upstairs. When you didn’t move, he shifted the materials in his arms, freeing up his right hand before reaching out and pulling at your wrist.
It sent a chill straight through you, sharp and unexpected.
You froze for a second, your breath catching in your throat. His touch was fleeting, a playful tug, but it left behind a heat that spread across your skin, unbidden and unwelcome. You pulled your hand back too quickly, clutching it to your side as if it had been burned, though the sensation was far from painful.
He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He kept waiting, his focus unwavering, but you couldn’t say the same.
There was a hum beneath your ribs now, something restless and alive, thrumming just below the surface. Attraction. You recognized it immediately, though you almost wished you didn’t. It didn’t make sense. You barely knew this man. He wasn’t someone you’d invited into your world, not really, and yet here he was - ready to fix your window, trying to fix your life, filling your space, making you feel something you hadn’t expected and didn’t know how to handle.
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to push it down, to smother the thought before it took root. It was nothing. A moment. A reaction to being exhausted, overwhelmed, and vulnerable. But when he turned to look at you, his gaze steady and clear, it was all you could do to keep your knees from buckling.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and soft, and you swore you could feel it reverberate somewhere deep inside you.
“Fine,” you said too quickly, your voice tight and uneven. You cleared your throat, pushing past him to the stairs. “I’ll show you the bathroom, but I need to get started on redoing this cake,” you told him, cocking your head back towards the kitchen.
Harry raised his eyebrows, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “No.”
His hand pressed into your lower back, pushing you closer to the stairs. “I know better than anyone that being tired in the kitchen is a bad idea. When does Mrs. Fuller need her cake?”
“Tomorrow evening,” you mumbled, hesitating as your toes hovered over the first step. Your voice was low, almost apologetic, but the weariness that gripped you made it impossible to summon anything stronger.
“Then you can deal with it tomorrow,” Harry said firmly, cutting off any protest before it could begin. His tone softened just slightly as he added, “After you’ve had a full night’s sleep.”
You turned back to face him, scowling instinctively. You were used to handling things on your own, not being told what to do, no matter how reasonable the suggestion might be. “You’re kind of overbearing, you know that?”
Harry only grinned, his expression as maddeningly charming as ever. “Wouldn’t be doing my duty if I wasn’t.” The hand on your lower back nudged you gently, urging you up the stairs as if you were a stubborn child refusing to go to bed.
You bit down on your lower lip, the indents of your teeth starting to feel like a permanent feature. As much as Harry was overstepping, he was clearly just as stubborn as you were, and it felt good to have someone forcibly taking care of you - not backing off in the hopes that you’d come around to their suggestions.
“In here,” you murmured when you reached the top of the stairs, an icy chill already filling your apartment. “I’m sure you can work out which one it is.”
You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as Harry slipped past you, your heart almost stopping as you realised for the first time that you were still just in your robe, a deep flush creeping up your cheeks, the scarlet heat of embarrassment burning through you just as Harry’s gaze flicked back toward you. His eyes swept over you briefly, lingering for only a moment at the hem of the robe before he cleared his throat and turned away.
“I’ve got it from here,” he said quietly, his voice steady and measured as he moved toward the window. He nudged a shard of glass away from your bare feet before giving you a pointed look. “Go on.”
You hesitated, torn between retreating to your bedroom and stubbornly insisting on staying. Ultimately, the embarrassment won out. You turned quickly, rushing to your room, your mind racing as that small, insistent voice in the back of your head screamed at you to not pull on your ratty old pajamas.
And yet, despite the voice, that’s exactly what you did. A threadbare cotton t-shirt and a pair of faded sweatpants found their way onto your body as you sat heavily on the edge of the bed, cradling your face in your hands.
There was a man in your bathroom, a man who quite clearly only wanted to help you - the same man you’d practically forcibly removed from the property. The same man that was causing some sort of chemical imbalance within you.
You’d have to grovel if you ever wanted to see him again - as if he’d ever want to see you again. You’d done nothing but snap at him and act like he was inconveniencing you.
Harry had seen you at your worst, your very worst, and you weren’t entirely sure you owed yourself the chance for him to see you at your best.
But you wanted him to.
You shook your head, forced yourself back to your feet and padded toward the bathroom. You stopped in the doorway, stunned, as he worked quickly, fitting cardboard over the shattered glass, layering plastic sheets on top, securing everything with careful strips of tape.
“I could’ve done it,” you muttered after a moment, your voice shaking despite yourself.
He glanced back at you briefly, his strong hands still busy with the repair, a smirk on those taunting lips. “Maybe. But you didn’t.”
You didn’t know what to say to that, so you stayed quiet, staring at the makeshift patch and the man who had put it together. The tightness in your chest eased slightly, though a storm of inner turmoil was brewing.
“Thanks,” you said finally, the word coming out soft and uneven.
He nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Don’t mention it.” He hesitated, glancing at you with a look that felt entirely too knowing. “You should take a break,” he said, his voice gentler now. “Get some rest, maybe. You look... worn out.”
You huffed a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a scoff. “Gee, thanks,” you said, trying to mask the lump rising in your throat.
He flashed you that dimpled grin, straightening up as he placed the last strip of tape on the window.
“That’ll hold for now. But you’ll need to get it sorted properly before the weather turns,” Harry murmured, stepping back to admire his handiwork.
You followed him back downstairs, reiterating that yes, you’d get it sorted. Yes, you’d stay out of the kitchen that night. Yes, you’d double check how to work your alarms. Yes, you’d double check the ovens before you went upstairs. No, you didn’t want your business and home to burn down.
He turned to you when he reached the door, his green eyes laced with sincerity. “Take care of yourself, y/n. Seriously.”
And then he was gone, leaving behind a patched window and an unsettling quiet. But for once, you couldn’t find a reason not to follow the advice given to you. You were exhausted, and suddenly desperate to dream of the firefighter who’d all but swept you off your feet.
Summary: Harry's a protecter, a good man. She's a shy librarian with a dog named Pickle. He can't stand her, so why does it fuck him up when he finds out she's scared of him?
(Enemies-to-lovers)
Word Count: 17k+
Warnings: Harry being a dick, smut
Harry always tried to be a good person.
Key word: Tried.
Growing up, it was just him, his sister, and his mother, so he always felt as a natural protector for women, not implying that women can't hold their own, but he always keeps extra lookout because he can't count all the times his mother and sister have been put in uncomfortable situations with men.
So, he can't understand why all that being said, he can't feel anything but disdain for her.
Y/N has been a part of Harry's friend group almost as long as he has, and he can't stand her. She is the fakest person he's ever met.
He remembers his sister dealing with girls like her in high school. They start off kind and sweet, but then suddenly they have everyone wrapped around their fingers and doing anything they ask. He remembers his sister crying to him about girls like her, so he can't understand why he has to entertain her presence.
He's talked to Niall, his closest friend who's also in their group, about it, but Niall doesn't see the problem. Hell, Y/N has Niall and the rest of them wrapped around her manicured finger.
He really just can't stand her.
"Y/N, tell us how your job interview went!" Harry rolls his eyes and shoots back some of his beer. It was rare that his friend group actually went out to a bar instead of gathering at one of their homes, usually because Y/N hated going out. He feels Niall hit his leg at his eye roll.
"Oh, yes! It went really well, in fact, you're looking at a professional librarian!" Y/N says, her excitement evident in her voice.
"That's so great, Y/N. I'm so proud of you!" Sarah says while the others all chime in with their own praise.
"Awesome, a job almost as boring as you!" Harry says snidely. He usually isn't so blunt, but he's had a few drinks in him.
"Harry- dude, c'mon," Mitch sighs.
"N-no, I get it," Y/N interjects. "It definitely sounds boring just saying it, but I'll be fixing binding on really old books and helping people out with-" Y/N is interrupted when Harry starts dramatically snoring. Y/N looks around the table, getting visibly embarrassed.
"Alright, H, I think you're tapped out. You're being an asshole," Niall says and tries to push him out of the booth.
"Oh, come off it. I'm just joking," Harry rolls his eyes.
"It's fine, I got the joke," Y/N tries to laugh. "I'm going to go get another drink," she says before sliding out of the booth.
"Do you want me to come with?" Sarah asks, knowing about her friend's social anxiety.
"N-no, I'll be okay," Y/N reassures her and grabs her purse before walking off to the bar. She's wearing a big sweater and jeans to a bar, and it's pissing Harry off.
"You need to fucking lay off, man," Mitch says and throws a napkin at Harry. "Just because she doesn't work with lumber and hammers and whatever else manly shit that you do, doesn't mean her job isn't any less important."
"Actually, to be correct, I am a project manager for a multi-million-dollar company-"
"Shut up," Sarah groans.
"You're so mean to her- that's not you," Mitch sighs.
"I'm not fucking mean- she's just annoying. And look at all of you, wrapped around her finger, just like she wants."
Niall goes to speak but is interrupted by Sarah reading a message off of her phone.
I'm so sorry, but I started feeling really sick, so I went home. Hope you guys have fun!
Once Sarah finishes reading the message she looks at Harry with a glare.
"Well, how the hell is she getting home? Didn't you drive her?" Harry asks Sarah.
"Oh, are you worried?" She asks with a condescending tone.
"Shut up."
Y/N thinks this is the first actual party she's been invited to. Sure she went to her fair share of birthday parties and sleepovers, but they were all PG. Never had she seen so many red solo cups in one place before. One of her friends released an EP, and they're celebrating by hosting a huge party at their apartment.
Sarah helped her pick out her entire outfit and assured her she looks amazing. Y/N has always struggled with her appearance because her parents weren't around very much. Between business trips and trying to live their own lives, there wasn't time to acknowledge their daughter. She would be dragged to their business parties, and she would just feel surrounded by a bunch of white bigoted men who thought they were superior just because they get fat checks.
When they arrived, they were immediately greeted by the stench of alcohol and weed. The apartment was crowded and loud, and Y/N was beginning to get nervous.
"Hey, it's okay," Sarah assures her, and she nods in agreement. "Let's go find our people," Sarah suggests and loops her arm with Y/N's.
"I think I see Niall," Y/N points out, and her theory was proven correct when she hears his booming laugh. It eases her nerves, and she wraps her arm around her shoulder when she finally gets next to him. He's standing with Mitch, Harry, and a few other people she's casually met before. Sarah greets Mitch with a kiss and settles into his side.
"Y/N!" Niall shouts when he finally realizes who's hugging him. He embraces her, and she can tell he's a bit drunk with the way he leans his weight on her. "I didn't think you'd come!"
"None of us did," Harry interjected lowly under his breath, but she still heard him. They hadn't really interacted since that night at the bar.
"Harry," she nods to him when Niall releases her. He barely acknowledges her before he turns back to the guy he was talking to, but he can't help the way his gaze would sometimes drift back to her. It's so annoying how pretty she can be without even trying.
Harry hates how enamoring she is.
"Harry, oh my gosh, how are you?" He hears a voice come up from behind him then feels a hand wrap around his arm. Emma. A clingy girl he hooked up with about a month ago- a good distraction from the thoughts he's facing at the moment. He wraps his arm around her shoulder as if he cares about seeing her.
"Hey, babe, I'm good," he tells her.
Y/N watches the scene and tries to limit the disgust that wants to appear on her face. Niall wonders off, and she's left alone with the pair.
"Who's this?" Emma suddenly asks Harry, as if she is entitled to any kind of ownership over Harry. He wants to be pissed off, but he also wants Y/N to go away.
"My friend's friend," Harry tells her. Y/N feels her heart pang. He couldn't even call her his friend out of convenience.
"Oh, interesting," she says, and Harry can tell she's not convinced.
"Yeah, I'm Y/N! It's actually my first party, and you're really pretty! Do you-" She's cut off by the girl who's practically hanging off of Harry's arm.
"Do you have a thing for Harry?" She asks.
"Oh! What? No- no-"
"Chill, Emma," Harry says, and Y/N almost thanks him before he continues, "Don't worry, she's the complete opposite of my type," he assures with a cocky smirk. The two laugh, and Y/N wills herself to walk away.
It's an hour and a half later, and Y/N is more than ready to go home. She's leaned against a wall, her phone dead and her head hurting. She doesn't have the strength to go find her friends, and she's kind of hurt they've all left her at her first party. She knows that this isn't about her, but she's scared and nervous, and they knew that but still begged her to come. She's just sad and scared and wants to go home.
"Hey, are you okay?" She hears someone ask in her ear, and she almost jumps out of her skin.
"Oh gosh, you scared me!" She gasps and meets the eyes of who's talking to her. He's a very cute boy who's holding a red solo cup.
"Sorry!" He apologizes and touches her shoulder with a smile. She smiles back. "I'm Ian," He introduces himself, shaking her hand in his.
"I'm Y/N. It's nice to meet you," she tells him.
"So, I take it you don't usually come to parties," He asks, and she nods.
"My first one actually," she grimaces.
"Let's go get you a drink," he suggests and takes her hand in his, not waiting for an answer before taking her to the kitchen. It's surprisingly empty when they walk in.
"I don't- I uh- I don't drink," she admits.
"Ah, c'mon. One drink won't hurt," he tries to persuade her.
"No, thank you," she says again.
"Alright," he settles. "I think this punch is non-alcoholic," he says to himself and grabs her a cup. She zones out as he pours her a cup. She thinks this guy is cute, but she really just wants to go home. She's broken out of her thoughts when a cup is being handed to her, and an arm is being thrown around her shoulder. Her eyebrows furrow as 'Ian' leans closer to her. "Are you going to say thank you?" He asks, and his tone makes her skin crawl. She laughs awkwardly and tries to shift away from him, but his hands move to her waist and his grip is too tight.
"Ah- that hurts," she tells him, but he only tightens his grip, so she can't move. "I- I want to leave," she whimpers.
"Yeah? Let's go to mine," he says and tries to lean forward to put his mouth on her.
"No- no," she says and tries to push at him.
"Just one little kiss," he tells her. Her first kiss was about to be took from her. Tears roll down her cheeks as he gets closer, but fortunately, he's suddenly being roughly pulled away from her.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Harry's loud and rough voice makes its way to her ears.
"Ay- the fuck, man? We're a bit busy," the scumbag tells Harry. "Didn't realize she was already claimed."
"A woman doesn't need to be claimed for you to not force yourself on her. Walk away, or I'm going to drown you in this punch," Harry warns, and the dude scurries off.
Harry's glare makes her want to cry all the more.
"C'mon," he says gruffly and with a gentle hand, he wraps his hand around her wrist, pulling her all the way outside and to his car. She doesn't even think twice about getting into his car and buckling. Her mind is a state of fog. Harry starts the car and rests his head against the steering wheel, his breathing rapid.
"Are you okay?" She asks gently.
"You- You're asking me if I'm okay?" He laughs condescendingly and buckles himself in before putting the car in drive.
"Well, you seem really mad, and- and maybe you shouldn't drive if-"
"I need you to stop talking," he says suddenly. "I mean seriously- what were you thinking, Y/N?" He asks with his voice raised.
"I don't- I don't-"
"Yeah, you don't think." Harry doesn't think he's ever been this mad before. He saw the beginnings of her and the guy- him practically dragging her to the kitchen and her just going along with it. He saw red. "Did you even watch as he poured you a drink? Do you even know this guy before you just ran off with him?" His questions upset her further, making her feel stupid.
"I was- I was just flustered, and I wanted to go home, and I didn't know what to do-"
"You don't fucking follow a random dickhead alone at a party!" His voice is loud in the small car. It's quiet for a moment, giving him a second to just focus on the road in front of him as he heads to her house when he hears a stifled cry that breaks him out of his moment. "Are you crying?" His anger falters.
"Well, yeah!" She sobs. "I was left alone at my first party- then I almost get molested- now, I was forced to get in the car with you, and- and- and I'm just scared!" She cries.
Harry doesn't particularly know what to do in this situation. All he knows is that his heart is twisting and pulling in his chest.
"There's nothing to be scared about now." His voice is incredibly softer than before.
"I'm stuck in- in the car of the guy who hates me, and I'm scared," she whimpers, her chest heaving as she tries to suck in air between each word.
Harry's heart dies.
"You're scared of me?" His voice is quiet and insecure.
"Yes," she says simply as if she doesn't understand the gravity of her words. Harry continues driving as he feels wet droplets fall down his cheeks. "Are you- Are you crying?" She asks, concerned but also confused. The tables have turned.
"Well, yeah!" He laughs sadly. He's never felt more like a piece of shit.
"Um- I don't- I don't know what to do," she admits. The car is silent until they pull into her driveway. Harry still has tears running down his cheeks, and Y/N feels frozen.
"Okay- we're um- we're here," he announces as if she doesn't know she's at her own home.
"Harry, why don't you come inside. I don't feel comfortable letting you drive home," she tells him.
"I'm f-fine," he tries to laugh it off, wiping roughly at his red eyes.
"If not for you, I really don't want to be alone right now," she admits.
"But I thought- You're scared of me?" He questions.
"I was merely being dramatic. Tonight was heavy, and you're the most unlikely person to be with at the moment," she explains. "C'mon. I'll brew us a pot of tea," she encourages and gets out of the car. Harry thinks for a moment before ultimately getting out of the car and sheepishly following her up. She unlocks the door and ushers him inside quickly before her mut could escape.
"Hi, Pickle," he greets her dog quietly.
"You remember his name," she says, shocked while bending down to scratch at Pickle's ears.
"'Course," he agrees and also pets her dog.
"Okay, I'm going to go put on a pot of tea. Make yourself comfortable," she tells him before scurrying off to her kitchen.
Harry, still feeling emotional, wanders around the room, looking at pictures. He notices he's not in any. He knows he had no right to be. Still, it makes him cry harder.
"Okay, I've got- oh," she freezes with two cups of tea in her hands as she watches Harry breaking down in front of her. She sets the tea down on her coffee table. "Why don't you come sit down, Harry?" She suggests with a soft voice and sits down on the couch herself.
"I'm sorry. This is so em-embarrassing," he cries and plops down on the couch, covering his face with his hands as his shoulders shake.
"Um do you- I can-" Y/N splutters words as she tries to figure out what to do. "Do you want a hug?" She finally asks. She thinks she's the one that should be being comforted right now, but it almost makes her happy to see this side of Harry. Not that she enjoys anyone's sadness, but it's nice to see him vulnerable instead of conniving. Harry slowly looks up at her, and she holds her arms out. He cries as he shuffles into her arms. His face is buried in her chest as she rubs at his back.
"I'm sorry, that's not who I am," he repeats over and over even though she shushes him. They stay in this position, Harry's arms wrapped around her and hers around him as Harry starts to calm down. Harry takes in the moment. She smells fucking divine and feels so soft against him. He never wants to move. Then her phone rings. She starts to get up, but he shakes his head groaning, "No."
"Okay, then," she sighs before shifting to get her phone out of her back pocket. Harry lays flat against her body as she answers Sarah's phone call, his nose nudging at her tummy as he continues to sniffle. She courses her fingers through his hair making him stifle back a moan. He can't believe the full 180 his brain has done on him, but he can't find an ounce of hatred he once felt towards her. He doesn't want to either.
"Hello?" She answers.
"Y/N? Oh, Y/N, I've been looking for you. Where are you?" Sarah asks frantically, and Y/N can barely hear her over the loud party music.
"I uh- I left," she tells her, and Harry rests his chin on her chest to look up at her. She hates to admit it, but her breath gets caught in her throat looking at Harry's red, puffy eyes. She's always thought he's the most attractive person she's ever met, but right now, he looks so effortlessly pretty. He looks gentle for the first time ever.
"Are you safe? Where are you?" Sarah continues to ask.
"I'm home."
"Oh, Y/N. I'm so, so sorry. I thought Niall would have stayed with you, so I thought it was okay to leave you with him, but he didn't and-"
"It's okay, Sarah," she assures. She doesn't want her friend to feel bad. The thought makes her stomach churn.
"No, it's not," Harry counters, and Y/N presses a finger to her lips, but it's too late.
"Is that Harry?" Sarah asks.
"Um, yeah. He took me home. There was a slight problem at the party- some guy wasn't leaving me alone," Y/N explains.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry. Can I come over? Mitch and I will bring food, and Niall can-"
"No, no, Sarah it's okay! You don't have to do any of that. Harry's not bothering me- we're good." Harry smiles at that and lays his head back down on her chest.
"Okay," Sarah replies, doubtful. "I'm going to make it up to you. It was so fucking inconsiderate of me, especially with your past and anxiety-"
"Okay, Sarah, I got to go!" She says. Harry caught the last of what Sarah said, and his eyebrows furrow. They say their goodbyes before hanging up. Y/N sighs and tilts her head up to stare at the ceiling. They sit in silence as Harry's sniffling comes to an end. "Feel better?" she breaks the silence.
"Uh, yeah," Harry answers. "What did Sarah mean by 'your past'?" Harry asks. He feels Y/N tense, and he immediately regrets asking. "I'm sorry- you don't have to answer. I was being-"
"No, it's okay," she sighs. "I just- my parents weren't the greatest, and I just struggle with crowded environments," Y/N explains loosely.
"Oh," Harry answers. "I'm sorry," he adds.
"It's fine. People have it worse than me."
"It's still okay to be upset by it," Harry rebuts.
"Thanks, Harry, but you're kind of the last person I will take advice from. No offense," she tries to explain gently.
"Fair enough," he laughs without humor. He feels her push at his shoulder, so he takes the hint and gets off her. He wants to whine from the loss of her touch, and it confuses him.
"You're really confusing me, Harry," Y/N admits as she sits up. She grabs her own tea and takes a sip before continuing. Harry doesn't think he's ever seen someone so beautiful doing something so domestic. "I mean, you've done a complete 180 in your behavior, and as much as I enjoy you not tormenting me anymore," Harry winces, "I don't understand it, and I don't trust it. I don't trust you."
"I know, I know," he sighs and covers his face with his hands. "I don't understand it either," he admits. Y/N scoffs and puts her cup down. "What?" he asks.
"You don't want to hear it," she mutters.
"Tell me," he encourages.
"It's just- It's really unfair, Harry. You do understand that, right?"
"I don't-" He looks at her in confusion. She continues.
"You can't just completely change your behavior in the course of an hour. I let you have peace for a while because I could tell you were really upset, but if you want to move forward- it's going to take a lot from the both of us," she explains.
A long silence ensues.
"I'm stupid- I'm sorry. You probably don't even care about any of that. Jesus-"
Harry realizes at the moment the exact mental state his actions have and still put her brain in. He makes her insecure and scared. His mom and sister would be so disappointed.
"Stop, Y/N, stop," he pleads. She stops. "Don't talk about yourself that way," he grimaces.
"That's how you talk about me to my face," she counters. "What the fuck else am I supposed to think?" Harry thinks that's the first time he's ever heard her curse. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice like that," she sighs and ducks her head. Harry can't help but admire her now. His brain is so mushed and confused with this sudden switch.
"Don't- don't apologize. I deserve much worse," he admits.
"I just don't understand your motive. Is this a joke?" she asks.
"Y/N, I'm being honest when I say I don't understand myself either. When I used to see you, you would just anger me. You reminded me of girls in high school that would bully my sister. They all started out super nice and kind, but somewhere along the way, they would realize that they had my sister wrapped around their finger, and they would toy with her. I love my mom and my sister, and I will always protect them and those around me, and so I just hated you. Dad was never around, so I had to step up."
The confession makes Harry feel as if a pile of bricks was finally removed from his chest. He realizes this is how he would have felt if he had just talked to Y/N in the beginning.
"I guess I can understand more now where your behavior came from but- I'm not like that. You've known me for so long, and I've never- I'm not-"
"Y/N, I don't think you realize just how completely entranced everyone is with you. Anyone would do anything for you because of the spell you put on people," Harry explains. "And I see now that it's not a bad thing to be under your spell. You're kind and patient and good. I've always known that. I just didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to like you, but how can I not?" By the end of Harry's speech, they're both in tears.
The draw he feels for her is indescribable.
He's leaning in before he knows it. His hand on her cheek, her eyes wide in surprise and confusion. Their lips are close when she speaks.
"What- What are you doing?" she stutters.
"Please," he whispers.
"Please what?" she asks. He doesn't know if she genuinely doesn't know what he's doing, or if she's asking him to beg, but both ideas make his dick harden.
"Please let me kiss you," he begs. He places his lips against her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, relishing in the way she sighs and softly moans. He cups her face with both hands, but before he could place their lips together, she stops him. She places both her hands on his wrists and turns her head.
"Harry, no," she whimpers. He immediately stops.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"I don't- I don't know," she stammers.
"Talk to me, what's wrong?" Harry presses.
"I just- Harry, I want my first kiss to be with someone who actually likes me," she admits.
"I- I do like you," Harry tells her. "Wait- your first kiss?"
"Yeah, my first," she says sheepishly. "And I want it to be with someone who is attracted to me."
"I am attracted to you!" Harry encourages.
"No- Harry, you said it yourself- literally tonight- that I am 'the opposite of your type'," you counter while using air-quotes.
"That wasn't-" Harry realizes he's dug himself into a deep hole.
"It's okay, Harry. I know that it's going to be harder to find someone who likes me, but I know it can happen, and I want all my firsts to be with that person," Y/N explains. "I'm not going to kiss someone who just feels bad for me," she says, shaking herself out of his grip to look away, but he turns her face back to him.
"I am, Y/N. I am so attracted to you, and I think that's why I was even more of a dick because I hated that I was so fucking attracted to you," Harry tries to tell her, but she softly shakes her head with a sad smile.
"But you don't like me."
"I do."
"I can't tell. You have to realize how absurd your behavior is to me, right now. Harry, you've been so awful to me for so long, and I'm just not ready to forgive or believe you, I'm sorry- it's too quick," she tells him, her eyes holding all sincerity. Harry feels his own well up again, and she cups his cheek because even though she doesn't trust Harry, she never wants to see anyone sad. "Thank you for- for explaining to me why you acted the way you did- while it doesn't excuse your actions, I do appreciate it and your heart for your family and friends, and I'm more than willing to begin trying now with you." Her explanation ends with Harry in tears and her thumbs whipping them away. "Do you- Would you want to stay the night?" she asks.
Harry feels new hope in his chest.
"You sure?" he chokes out. She nods her head with a soft smile and stands. Harry looks up at her with all the wonder in the world and presses his chin to her stomach while she holds his hand.
"C'mon," she whispers, and she gasps quietly when he presses a gentle kiss to her clothed stomach before standing up with her.
They hold hands as they go to her bedroom, and Harry can't help the way he smiles.
"Let me go get you a change of clothes," Y/N says before disappearing in her closet. He looks around her room for a minute and can't help the comfort and warmth he feels. It's just so her. After a moment, he hears her talking in the closet and thinks she's telling him to come in. He opens the door, and his eyes grow wide when he sees her standing in front of her mirror in just her jeans and bra. Harry purses his lips as his eyes take in her body, and he fights the groan that wants to fall from his mouth. "Harry!" She gasps and covers her chest.
"Sorry!" He's finally broken out of gaze. "I thought I heard you- Hey, what is that?" His eyes zero in on the bruises that cover both sides of her waist and ribs. She looks down as well and bites her lip.
"Um, I think they're from that guy," she whispers defeatedly. He slowly moves closer to her, giving her time to back away or tell him to stop, but she just stares at him with wide glossy eyes. He carefully and with the utmost gentleness he can muster, places his hands on her hips. Softly caressing them, and the bruises littering her skin. He takes a moment just to take her in before speaking.
"I'll kill him," he sneers. It makes her softly laugh.
"No, you won't," she disagrees and shakes her head. "I'm okay," she says. dipping her head down to meet his eyes.
"You're very pretty," Harry counters. She blushes before moving away to get him clothes. Once she hands him the oversized t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, she leaves the room to let him change. She finds and extra toothbrush for him, and once they both finish their night routine, they crawl into her bed, keeping to their own reserved sides and both staring at the ceiling. "Thank you for letting me stay," Harry says, his head turning to look at her. His breathing falters as he looks at her. She just smiles in return.
"Just no funny business," she says softly before reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. They sit in silence before Harry adjusts himself. They both quietly gasp when his hand skims her own. His hand freezes over hers for a moment before he gently intertwines their pinkies. She makes the bold decision to, with her free hand, lean over and feel for his cheek before planting the softest kiss on the tip of his nose. "Good night, Harry."
Harry falls asleep with a smile on his face and new hope settling into his mind.
Y/N wakes the following morning to a loud banging sound and a heavy weight on her chest. Her eyes squint open, the sun shining through her curtains and to her irises. She groans and closes her eyes again until she hears the banging continue. Her eyes are wide now with fear and confusion. She tries to move to grab her phone but quickly realizes her body is immobilized because of a big sleeping Harry laying on her, his shirt now off his chest. His mouth is slightly agape, laying at the top of her breast. His arms are encircled around her waist and holding her tight. It was much different from the pinkies they had entangled the previous night.
"Harry," she whispers and tries to budge his shoulder. He doesn't move, just continues to heavily breathe against her clothed tit. The banging, which Y/N has realized is just loud knocking, continues, and she really needs to get up. "Harry!" she says louder and pushes at his head. He groans and yawns sleepily. "Get up!" she demands, but he's barely conscious.
"Morning," he sighs dreamily and settles back down on her, pressing a wet kiss to the top of her boob. He's broken out of his dreamy state when he finally hears the knocking. "What the hell?" he groans and sits up on his elbows, still caging her in.
"I need to go see who's at the door," she whines and pushes at him. He whines as well and gets up, taking her hand in his to take them both to the front door.
"I'm going to kill whoever is out here," he tells her, and she laughs because she doesn't believe he's fully awake yet. She likes morning grumpy Harry a lot more than normal grumpy Harry. As soon as he opens the door, people are barging in.
"Finally!" Someone yells, and Y/N's able to place the voice to Niall. She watches as he, Mitch, and Sarah all welcome their selves into her home with bags of food. The chill from the outside makes her shrink into Harry's side, and he wraps an arm around her before shutting the door. He rubs his hand up and down her arm to create heat for her.
"Is someone going to tell me what you all are doing in my home on this Sunday morning? Not that I mind, of course," she says and hugs each one of them as they get their coats and hats off.
"We felt like shit after being the shittiest friends ever last night," Sarah explains.
"Hey-" Y/N begins to stop her, but Niall cuts her off.
"No, it's true, Y/N. Felt like my heart shattered in my chest when Sarah and Mitch came to me all panicked cause they couldn't find you," Niall explains. His eyebrow quirks as he watches his best friend, who seemed to still despise the girl not even twenty-four hours ago, wrap his sleepy body around her, his chin resting on her shoulder as his body pressed against hers from behind. "Though it looks as if it might have been for the best that we lost you," Niall suggests and cocks his head. Y/N shrugs her shoulders and purses her lips, saying 'yeah, I don't understand it either'.
"Anyways," Mitch breaks the silence. "We thought we'd bring you breakfast then go to the winter festival in town."
"Sounds perfect," she says and moves away from Harry to set the table. Harry has to physically stop himself from whining, but Niall, Sarah, and Mitch all see his pout and look at him with questioning eyes. He blushes under their questioning stares. When she walks into the kitchen to retrieve silverware, they start asking the questions.
"What the hell is going on?" Sarah asks first.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry says innocently.
"You're acting like her pet, and not even a full day ago, you couldn't stand her. I'm definitely not saying it's a bad thing, but what-" Niall stops speaking because he genuinely doesn't know what to ask.
"Look, I don't understand it either," Harry begins, "But I just- I don't know. Something's changed. There was some weird fucking pervert at the party that was scaring her, and then when we were in the car, she admitted that she was scared of me, and it genuinely killed me to know that I was grouped in the same space in her head with that dickhead from the party," Harry explains. "I don't get it, but my mind has completely flipped, and all I want to do is just be around her."
"Wow," Mitch was the first to speak.
"Yeah, I know," Harry groans. "We had a really good talk last night, and I think she's willing to move forward."
"You know, Harry," Niall speaks, "There's a saying that there's a very fine line between love and hate," Niall sings with a mischievous voice.
"I'm not even going to argue with that," Harry sighs, and none of them have any time to speak on Harry's crazy admission because Y/N is coming back into the room with silverware, plates, and napkins. She eyes the tension in the room.
"What were you guys talking about?" she asks.
"Nothing, Angel. Let's get you some food," Harry tells her.
The town was decorated in the most beautiful festive decorations. Y/N felt real joy for the first time in a long time as she walked through the streets filled with vendors with her friends. She couldn't help how cute she thinks Harry looks as well. He borrowed a hoodie from her and was in his jeans and sneakers. He wore the hood up as he munched on a soft pretzel he bought. She couldn't help the urge to whip out her digital camera and snap a picture, not realizing the flash was on. She blushes when she realizes he caught her.
"Hey!" he accuses her. "I'm trying to eat my pretzel here!" He complains and pouts.
"Sorry," she laughs. "You just looked really cute," she admits. His cheeks flush red before he quickly shakes it away.
"Yeah? Well, you're cuter, and I'm keeping this hoodie by the way," he tells her before walking away. She follows him quickly and loops her arm around his waist to catch him.
Harry's cheeks seem as though they're now a permanent blush around her. He'd always seen how affectionate she was with their friends, and he thoroughly enjoyed finally being a receiver because he loves physical touch- especially from a very beautiful woman.
"You can't keep my hoodie, you thief. I barely have any as is," she complains and slips her hand under the hoodie to feel the plush at his hips. He always hated the extra skin at his waist, but now he thanks his mother for it. He feels overtly bashful at her touch, like he wants to smile and kick his feet like a teenage girl with a crush.
"I'll buy you some more, Angel. Just tell me if there's a shop you want to walk in," he tells her gently and wraps the arm that isn't holding his pretzel around her shoulder.
"Give me a bite," she suddenly says. Harry gawks.
"Uh- sorry, what?" He stutters.
"Of your pretzel, you perv!" she laughs at his flustered expression.
"Oh!" he laughs and reaches his hand out in front of her to let her bite the pretzel from his hand. He gasps when she takes the rest of the pretzel into her mouth. "Hey!" he whines and pouts at his empty hand.
"Sorry," she apologizes once she finishes chewing. She squeezes his side as she speaks, "I was hungry," she says with an evil smirk.
"Rude. Very rude," he comments though he pulls her tighter against him.
Little did they know, all of their friends were snapping pictures of them from behind, snickering and chatting about the newfound lovebirds.
Y/N and Harry seemed to be attached by the hip as the weeks went on. It had been almost two months since their new friendship was born, and neither of them realized how much they would click. Many nights were spent having dinner, singing karaoke, and watching movies together. When they were with their friends, they were always attentive to each other and sitting by one another.
It's a Friday, and Harry was on his way to visit her library right now. He'd been visiting her a lot and using it as a nice place to get work done. Work had been pretty stressful for Harry recently. He was managing a project for his company that's building a new stadium, and it's challenging in ways he hasn't been before, so while he's thankful for the opportunity, it comes with a lot more planning and map-outs than usual.
When he walks in, he sees her at the counter. Her shift is over in an hour, and he told her he'd pick her up once she got off, but he decided he could get some work done while he waited.
She's re-binding a book when he walks up, totally engrossed in the practice. So much so that she doesn't see Harry looming over her across the counter. He rings the bell that sits next to a box of tissues on the counter. She jumps and gasps when she looks up. A bright smile quickly covers her face.
"You're here early, puppy!" She walks around the counter to greet him as he blushes over the nickname. Ever since they became friends, their friends joked about how Harry follows her around like a dog, so she decided the nickname was fitting.
She squeezes him tight and wraps her arms around his waist as she looks up at him. Her chin rests on his chest as she speaks.
"How was work? Are you sore? I can give you a massage when we go to mine. I've been watching a lot of videos because I know your back hurts you a lot, and-" She tends to lose all sort of mind whenever he's around, and he has to reign her in.
"Angel," he interrupts her and laughs when she pauses abruptly.
"Sorry, I was rambling," she blushes. He kisses her forehead.
"It's okay. I love hearing you speak," he tells her honestly.
Harry never takes for granted the way she speaks to him because there used to be a time when she was too afraid to.
"I would love a massage, my love," he tells her and kisses her temple. "Work was good- fun. Got to tear down walls today, and that's always really fun, and before you ask, I promise I was wearing all the right gear, so don't go scolding me," he eyes her, and she smirks.
"Good boy," she says.
Harry damn near busts in his jeans at her praise. She continues talking like nothing happened.
"Why are you here so early? I don't get off for another hour."
"I- um. I- I know. I was- I figured I could get some work done," he stutters out.
"Okay, silly," she laughs at his speech. She unwraps herself from him and walks behind the counter. "You can sit back here with me. I'm the only one working," she offers, and he nods his head. She places a stool next to hers, and they both get to work for the next hour.
"We've watched this movie a billion times, H! Not again!" Y/N complains when Harry tries to put on The Notebook for the millionth time. They're both cozied on her couch after eating some takeout sushi. Harry's wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. Y/N's wearing a new purple hoodie Harry bought for her and a pair of tiny sleep shorts. Harry had been fighting the urge to stare at her thighs since they got back.
"Well, until you get some good movie taste, we're watching mine." They're banter was playful and not harmful.
Y/N huffed as he started the movie and scooted to other side of her couch, away from him.
"Don't be mad at me, sweet girl," he says before pulling her sideways into his lap. "Be mad at yourself and your terrible movies," he laughs and tightens his arms around her when she tries to escape his hold. She continues to squirm until he pulls her close and bites down on her neck. She lets an airy moan escape her lips as he sucks and kisses at the spot.
"Teething at me like a needy puppy," she tells him and cards her fingers through his hair. Y/N has never been with a boy before, so she doesn't know if what her and Harry are doing is normal or not for just friends, but she doesn't care. She just likes what he does. "Are you seeing anyone right now?" she asks him out of nowhere. The angst she would feel if he said yes would make her cry.
"I'm seeing you all the time," he tells her and kisses at her chin and jawline. It was when Harry got like this that she had a hard time thinking clearly. She thinks she would say yes to whatever he asked if he was being as lovey as he gets.
"I mean are you dating any girl right now," she corrects him.
"I know what you meant, Angel," he tells her. "I haven't seen anyone but you since the night of the party," he says honestly, and it makes her smile and place her head against his chest. He runs his fingers through her hair as he speaks. "It's totally okay whatever your answer is to this, but I wanted to ask you." Her head quirks up to look at him with a confused face. "Have you uh- Have you forgiven me?" He asks, and he immediately looks away. "It is more than okay if you haven't because I was incredibly awful to you for so long, and I know if I was you, I would have a hard time-" She presses her hand against his mouth to shut him up.
"I forgive you, Harry," she says. "Forgave you a long time ago," she tells him honestly and releases her hand from his mouth.
"You serious?" he asks, and she nods. His eyes well with tears, and he hugs her to his chest. "Thank you. I don't deserve you," he whispers into her hair and kisses her head. They watch the movie for a while until Harry speaks again. "You remember that night when I tried to kiss you?" He asks.
"'Course," she tells him, wondering why he's bringing it up.
"Have you kissed anyone since then?" She sits up to look at him.
"Now when would I have had the time to?" She gestures to his hold on her. "You've got me locked down 24/7," she laughs.
"Would you say no if I asked to kiss you now?" he asks, bracing himself for the answer. She takes a moment to think about it.
"I would definitely let you kiss me," she tells him, and he grabs her face, about to plant a big smooch on her lips until she stops him, laughing at his eagerness. "But wouldn't that make this weird?"
"Make what weird?" he asks.
"Us," she tells him.
"Nothing has to be weird unless you make it weird," he tells her.
"But- but we're in such a good place as friends-"
"Friends kiss all the time!" Harry counters, though it makes his heart clench at the thought of them just being friends. "Though I do think we're a bit more than that," he adds, and she smiles. He becomes serious again, holding both sides of her face in his strong, rough hands. "I'll make it so good for you," he promises.
"I don't know, puppy," she sighs, but they both know she wants it. She just wants to make him work for it a bit.
"Please, please," he whispers.
"Just one little kiss," she tells him. He nods his head and begins to lean forward. She cups both of his wrists like she had done that first night and breathes shakily until his lips finally meet hers. She sighs, her first kiss finally taken. She doesn't even know if it counts as a kiss because their lips are just pressed together until they start smiling against each other. She pulls back to giggle, but he pulls her back in, this time actually kissing her. His lips massage her own, and she doesn't really know what's she's doing, but she just tries to mimic his actions. He moans as she picks up on it quite quickly. "Okay," she breathes and backs away. Harry whines and cups the back of her neck to try and reel her in.
"Please. A little more. You're so good- taste heavenly," he comments. Harry feels like he's experiencing his first kiss again as well. Nothing had ever felt like that before. Nothing had ever felt so good. He could feel himself chubbing up in his pants just from the one kiss.
"I told you one kiss, Harry," she reprimands him, but he shakes his head.
"Was it not good for you?" He asks. He knows she enjoyed it. She's panting like a dog in heat, and he can see her subconsciously pressing her thighs together. He just wants her to kiss him again. "My lips not good enough for your perfect mouth, pet?" he asks with a pout and lets a finger caress her bottom lip.
"No, that's not it at all, Harry!" she says eagerly. "It was perfect. The best first kiss I could have asked for. I just don't want to complicate things," she tells him.
"It's already complicated, babe. That's our thing," he tries to reason, and she laughs. He can see her slowly start to let down her wall, and he takes the opportunity to lean down and kiss at her neck and jaw, trying to coerce her more.
"It did feel very good," she sighs and grabs the back of his neck, holding him against her own.
"Yeah?" he mumbles against her skin before sucking a hickey into her neck.
"Yeah," she moans softly. "Okay, okay, I don't care anymore. Just kiss me," she begs.
"Sound so sweet begging for me," he tells her and cups her cheeks, caressing her cheekbones with his thumbs. Her eyes well as she waits for him to lay one on her.
"Harry, c'mon," she whimpers.
"Don't cry on me," he coos. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you wait. I'll give you what you want, my love," he assures her and with that, plants his lips back on hers. She's more eager this time around. Her lips move more feral against his, and he groans deeply when she nips at his bottom lip. The exchanging of saliva makes her feel dirty in the best way possible. She's still sitting sideways on her lap, but her body is aching for her to straddle his thighs and grind against his crotch as she pushes her tongue against his. Harry realizes very quickly how dirty she is for being a virgin. Her tongue found its way into his mouth first, and she didn't hesitate to mold hers against his. Harry fights the urge to move his hands lower and grasp at her body, but he doesn't want to scare her by moving too quickly. Luckily, he doesn't have to wait much longer until she's requesting exactly what he wanted.
"Can I sit in your lap?" she asks breathlessly. She doesn't let him speak, instead missing the way his mouth felt against hers too bad that she kisses him again, her fingers tangling in his hair and pulling in a way that makes him whine.
"You are sitting in my lap," he mumbles against her lips.
"No, I mean like- Can I just show you?" she asks impatiently. He nods his head and chokes on his own spit as she straddles his thighs and presses her crotch down onto his roughly. "This okay?" she asks.
"S-so okay," he tells her and grips her hips.
"Why does that feel so good?" she asks rhetorically and continues to roll her hips against his.
"Baby- I don't think you know what you're doing," he tells her. She shrugs and continues to do it because it feels good against her pussy. "Wait, wait, wait," he makes her pause.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
"More than," he assures her. "But I want to talk to you first before we go any farther."
"Okay, well hurry up because I would like to continue." He laughs at her horny, foggy mind that's making her bolder than usual.
"I need to know what all you've done- sexually speaking," he tells her.
"You know I'm a virgin, Harry," she says. "I've never done anything with anyone- well, until now," she smiles, and he reciprocates.
"Right, but what have you done by yourself?" he asks, and she blushes. "Nothing to be embarrassed about," he reassures her.
"I've touched myself before," she admits, and he tries his best not to whimper at the thought.
"Okay. Do you know all the terms of anatomy down there?" he asks.
"Yes, professor," she laughs.
"So, when you touch yourself, do you just play with your pretty little clit, or do you put fingers into yourself? Or do you have a toy?" She becomes bashful at his blunt speech.
"I usually do one finger inside and my other hand playing with my clit," she admits shyly.
"You're so fucking hot," he tells her honestly before grabbing her face to kiss her. She moans at his roughness. "Okay, okay, wait," he stops himself. She whines. "I need to know what you're comfortable with us doing, my love," he tells her.
"I just want to keep doing what we're doing," she whimpers.
"Okay? You like grinding yourself against me?" He asks, and she nods her head while biting her lip. Harry wishes he had his phone to take a picture of her. The embodiment of sex, and she didn't even realize. "We can both cum from that," he tells her. "You want to- Do you want to go that far?" he asks, and she nods her head eagerly. "Words," he commands.
"Yes, yes please," she begs.
"How would you feel about both of us stripping to our underwear, so we can feel each other a bit better?" he asks.
"Sounds really good, Harry," she says and immediately stands up to take her shorts off, but he stops her.
"You're incredibly cute with how eager you are," he laughs, and she turns red. He kisses her clothed stomach to assure her it's nothing to be ashamed of. "Let me take them off," he suggests. What she didn't expect was for Harry to sink to his knees in front of her and kiss at her thighs a bit first. It makes her feel extra hot having his mouth so close to her core. "Have you ever watched porn?" he asks suddenly as he bites a hickey into her thigh.
"Yes," she says breathily.
"What do you watch, dirty girl?" he asks as he sinks his teeth into the waistband of her shorts and starts to pull them down her legs.
"Um-" she stutters at the question.
"It's okay," he assures her. "It's just me," he says and squeezes her thighs in support. It was like those three words were all the encouragement she needed. He rests his chin between her thighs as she begins to speak.
"Well, I like to watch men um- eating out girls. I like to watch rough stuff, and I think I would like that a lot, but I think I would also like to just make love," she explains. "I also like watching girls giving blowjobs," she says suddenly like she had almost forgotten. "I also," she begins but stops herself in embarrassment.
"What is it? You're safe to talk to me, Angel," he assures her.
"I like to... read about things," she says.
"Okay. Explain," he tells her.
"Well, like- smut. I like to read little things people write about people fucking," she admits shyly.
"And what are the people doing in your favorite ones?" he asks.
"I like when they write the guy just being completely overtaken by his natural instincts to- to fuck the girl- almost feral- he's just taking what he wants, you know?" she explains.
"Did you know you're perfect? Like actually fucking enthralling?" he asks and basks in the way her face reddens. "I'm serious, Y/N," he tells her.
"Thank you, H. You're very captivating yourself," she comments.
"Oh?" he questions as he stands. His nose meets hers and they play tag with their mouth for a moment before she just leans forward and pecks him.
"You're an incredibly beautiful man. Always thought so- even before," she says honestly. His heart twists a bit at the mention of before. "The most alluring man I've ever seen," she tells him.
"You can't mean that," he disagrees, and his breathing shakes when he feels her play with the waistband of his sweatpants.
"I can, and I do," she tells him and presses her hand over the large bulge in his sweatpants. He actually moans from the contact- not expecting it from her.
"You're dirty," he gasps, and they both laugh. She doesn't waste another second before pulling his sweats down his legs and letting him step out of them.
She sits on her knees to love on him a bit. She's always loved his meaty sides, and now that she has the opportunity, she doesn't think twice before sinking her teeth into his loves handles. She smiles when he gasps as she kisses and nipples at his flesh. She surprises him once again when she presses her mouth against the bulge, letting her hot breath feed into the fabric and to his cock. He wants to push her away because he's afraid he's going to cum too soon, but he also knows that's the stupidest idea when he's got the most irresistible woman in the world with her mouth on him. It's when he feels her lick at his tip through his briefs when he back away and sits on the couch, shielding his clothed dick with his hands as if to protect himself from her.
She smiles at him as devilishly as an angel could. "You have an oral fixation," he notes, and she shrugs.
"Let's get to the fun stuff," she whines and crawls all the way to the couch and onto his lap. Harry doesn't think he's ever been so fucking turned on.
"You know you're every man's fantasy?" he asks, and she cocks her head in confusion. "A hot librarian," he expands, and she laughs.
"Yeah? You want me to read you a bedtime story, baby?" she asks, trying to make her voice sound sultrier, and it works. Harry's dick twitches in his boxers.
"I'm gonna cream in my boxers," he warns, and she laughs.
"Please, don't. We haven't even had any fun yet," she complains, and he shakes his head in amusement.
"Just start rubbing your cute little cunt on my cock," he instructs her, and she wastes no time before she puts her hands on his shoulders and begins to rut against him.
"Oh," she gasps. From the way his dick is positioned in his underwear, it's perfectly laid out for her to rub her clit against. "Is your- Is your dick big?" she suddenly asks. Harry, who was in a trance already from the way she was shamelessly grinding on him, splutters for words from her question.
"W-What?" he asks, his hips jutting up to press against her roughly out of instinct. They both moan at the sensation.
"It just- It feels really big, and sometimes you get a big bulge in your pants," she moans and bounces on his lap, trying to catch her clit on his tip.
"I have been told it is- yeah," he tells her. To be honest, he knows his dick is big. He knows it's really big. He usually would be cocky about it, but he doesn't want to scare her.
"Can I see?" she asks breathlessly.
"What?" he asks, his eyes bulging out of his head.
"Well," she begins, her hips stopping their movement. "I was just thinking that if maybe you were naked that it might feel better," she tells him. Harry's frozen in shock, but she takes it as him being unsure. "C'mon, please," she begs. "I'll let you cum on me," she adds.
"Where?" he asks.
"My- my pussy," she says quietly.
"Hop up," he tells her, and she quickly crawls to the spot on the couch next to him. She's about bouncing from how excited she is.
"Take your shirt off too." He laughs at how demanding the virgin is being.
"Need to spank your attitude out of you," he says as he takes off his shirt.
"Yeah, right," she scoffs but is silenced with his glare.
"I'm not going to show you my dick if you're going to be mean," he tells her and watches how her eyes round with wetness.
"I'm not being mean!" she complains.
"Yeah, you are, pet. And I'm being so nice to you- showing you everything, and you're acting like you don't care," he reprimands her. He's surprised when he feels her arms wrap around his shoulders in a hug.
"I'm sorry, Harry. Please, puppy. Show me, please. I'll be so sweet to you," she pleads, her voice muffled in his neck. Harry smiles, feeling like he's won the jackpot in life.
"Give me a kiss first," he commands, and she acts quick. Because she acted on fast movements, her hands lands his neck to stabilize herself. Harry moans at the pressure it provides for him.
"You like my hand around your neck?" she asks. He feels himself begin to nod submissively but remembers that he needs to be in charge for the moment. He switches on her, instead cupping her neck with his hand. She gasps, and her jaw falls from the movement.
"I do, baby, about as much as I like my hand around yours." He uses the grip he has on her throat to pull her closer and spit into her mouth. She moans and swallows easily. "Okay, enough foreplay," he tells her and releases her neck to shimmy his underwear off. The gasp he hears from her when his dick comes into view is welcomed gladly.
"It's so big, H," she tells him and continues to stare at it. She gulps at the thought of it being inside of her.
"Don't have to worry about it being inside you tonight, pet," he tells her as if he could read her mind. "It's gonna make you feel so good though."
"It's so pretty, puppy," she tells him, and she feels the urge to put her mouth on him, but she holds back, not wanting to upset him.
He pets her hair as he talks to her, "Can we try a different position than last time?" he asks.
"Whatever you want to do," she tells him, and he smiles.
"Just make sure to let me know if you don't feel good or like what I'm doing," he asks as he cups her face. She smiles softly and leans forward to lightly kiss him.
"Thank you for doing this, Harry," she tells him sincerely and places another kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you for letting me," he says. They both lock eyes and their lips meet again, completely forgetting about what they were supposed to be doing. The kiss is passionate instead of rough. Their lips are eager but not rushed. Harry ends it with pecking her lips a few times, making her giggle. "Okay, enough sap. We can do that after. I feel like I'm going to burst," he says, and she laughs.
"How do you want me?" she asks.
"On your knees, face pressed against the couch," he tells her, and she blushes before complying. Harry moans as she sticks her ass in the air. He's quick to get on his own knees behind her. He holds his dick up and places himself against her, grabbing her hips once he's in place. They both groan at the contact. He slowly starts to use the leverage he has on her hips to grind her against him, making sure to angle her up, so her clit is grinding against him.
"That feel so good, puppy," she whines and begins to throw her hips back at him. His hold on her tightens, but he allows her to help his efforts in making them both feel good. Harry has never done anything like this before, and it feels so fucking good. He raises her up enough so that her clit is catching at his tip before he lowers her back down to rub along his length. He thanks his job for the strength he has to lift her up and down on him like this. He takes a break from the rubbing to harshly thrust his hips against her as if he was fucking her for real.
"I can't wait to have my dick inside you," he moans.
"Yeah, baby?" she asks breathlessly, and he whines a yes. He groans when he feels her wetness seep from her panties onto his cock.
"Creamy little pussy," he moans and takes his dick away from her for a moment to rub his finger on her clothed clit. Her hips just forward at the surprising touch, but he lightly spanks her as a warning to stay in place. His finger ventures up to press at her hold through the opening, and the whiny moan that she releases only makes him press harder.
"I wanna see your face," she says quietly, and he could almost cry from how sweet she sounds. He taps her hip, so she takes the hint and turns around to lay flat on her back. She smiles up at him once she can see him, and he can't believe there was ever a time where he hated this girl.
"You're so beautiful, and you're doing so good for me," he tells her as he cups her head and kisses her hair. "Do you feel good?" he asks.
"Very," she answers quickly. "I want to try something though," she says shyly.
"What is it? Whatever you want," he assures.
"Can I show you?" she asks, and he nods his head. He gasps when she wraps a gentle hand around his dick, a bit of precum slipping from the tip when she gives a little tug. He thinks he dies when she slips her underwear to the side and places her bare dick against her naked pussy. She throws her head back at the contact and more cum oozes from Harry's dick.
"Oh, baby," he moans and places a hand on the length of his dick to press down on it as he glides against her pussy. She isn't shaved, but she's trimmed and well-groomed like Harry is, and it makes it feel so much better with the extra sensation. He uses two fingers to spread her open, so his dick rubs right over her clit, and he thinks she might die at the expression she makes. Her mouth is dropped, and her eyebrows are scrunched together in pleasure. She holds her thighs up and apart for him, and he doesn't think he's ever felt so attracted to a human.
"You're leaking so much," she moans as she looks down at them together.
"It's for you- It's all for you," he whines and ruts against her harder. She loves seeing him so whiny and submissive. She moves her panties so that her dick is actually inside of them now, so he doesn't have to hold it down anymore, and it makes them both moan to watch the erotic scene unfold. Her cotton panties are becoming see-through with their combined wetness.
"Love your dick, H," she moans and presses on him through her panties.
"I love your pussy," he moans back. "So fucking creamy and soft," he adds.
"I'm gonna cum," she tells him and grabs him by the back of the neck to kiss him. It's sloppy, and they're basically just trading saliva, but it makes it so much hotter. They're both so far gone.
"Please, Angel. Baby, please cum for me. Let me feel it," he says and moans when he feels her push on his dick harder, the pressure making her orgasm. It's intense and prolonged because Harry never stops moving. He can't help but cum as well when he feels his tip catch her hole. He fights the urge to just stuff her full with his dick, instead cumming against her pussy that's still covered by her, now, ruined panties.
"Wow," she breathes as they both feel the aftershocks. She pulls her panties to the side, and they both moan at the mess they created. He takes his softening dick and spreads his cum all over her. He leans down to smear a wet kiss against her lips, and they both sloppily make-out until Harry's weak arms give out, and he lays on top of her. They fall asleep in each other's embrace.
It's Y/N's second party.
This one is already going much better than the last. Harry hasn't let one second go by that he doesn't have some sort of physical contact with her. It's been two weeks since their moment at her house, and he hasn't let her forget about it.
Right now, Harry and Y/N are standing in the kitchen talking to some of Harry's friends. Well, Harry's talking to them, Y/N's basking in the way he has her back pressed against his chest, and how his hand is casually resting at the bottom of her throat. His casual dominance makes her pussy throb.
"You okay, pet?" his voice in her ear spooks her until she relaxes back into his hold. His friends are occupied with themselves for the moment, so he takes the opportunity to love on her, pressing a kiss to her cheek and discretely squeezing at her throat.
"Y-yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought," she explains.
"It's okay. Just let me know the second you're ready to leave, and we can go," he promises her. She rolls her eyes and turns around in his hold to look at him. His hands gravitate down to hold her ass with a smirk.
"You know you don't have to babysit me, right?" she asks.
"Not babysitting. Why would I want to be without you?" he asks like she's acting dumb. She goes to speak, but she's interrupted by his fratty friends.
"Hey, H! Come play beer pong with us!" One of them shouts at him and shoves at his shoulder, making both him and Y/N stumble a bit. He goes to reprimand him, but Y/N stops him.
"He would love to!" she tells them when she turns around.
"Y/N-"
"No, H. Go have some fun. I'll be fine, I swear. I'll go find Niall," she assures him.
"Harry, dude, c'mon. Tell your babe goodbye for like twenty minutes, man," they all laugh at how whipped he is. Harry glares at them. Y/N makes the decision for him.
She kisses his cheek and says, "I'll see you later!" Before she scurries away to find Niall. Harry's grumpy as he goes to play beer pong.
Y/N somehow found Niall easily. All she really had to do was stop for a second and listen for his laugh to follow it. It had been about thirty minutes since she had seen Harry, and she was certainly missing him.
"Can't believe how whipped H is for you," Niall tells her as they walk outside to find the firepit. His arm is slung protectively around her shoulder, and her hand is holding his that's wrapped around her.
"He is not," she counters. "We just like to spend time with each other," she explains, and Niall gives her a knowing look.
"He told me about the other night," he informs her.
"He did not!" she says suddenly and releases herself from his hold.
"He's my best mate, of course he did," he says easily.
"I'll kill him," she says seriously and starts to walk off to find him.
"Oh, c'mon, Y/N!" Niall whines and hugs himself over her shoulders as she storms off, trying to find the culprit. "It's not like he told me what all did! Just that you got a bit intimate but didn't go all the way," he explains. She grimaces when she spots where Harry is with his friends playing beer pong. Well, where he's supposed to be playing beer pong. Instead, he's talking with a girl who's a bit too close for Y/N's liking. Y/N also doesn't like how into the conversation Harry looks. He's talking with his hands, and his facial expressions are animated.
"Let's go inside," Y/N says suddenly, and Niall furrows his eyebrows.
"Why-" he begins to ask but then stops himself when he sees the reason she wants to go inside. "C'mon," he tells her and doesn't give her an option to say no before he's wrapping a strong arm around her shoulder and pulling her along.
"No! I don't want to see this!" she complains, but Niall says nothing as they approach the group. Harry's telling the girl something when his eyes land on Y/N. It's like his whole world stopped, and Y/n doesn't have time to process anything before she's being engulfed in a rough embrace and kisses are being pressed all over her face.
"Y/N!" His voice is loud and joyful. "Niall, get off her," Harry scolds, and Niall just laughs.
"Don't be rude, H," Y/N tells him, and Harry pouts. He sinks his head into her shoulder and holds her tightly around her waist.
"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Niall," he says loud enough for Niall to hear. His words are slurred.
"It's alright, H," Niall just laughs.
"Harry, this is nice, but I can't breathe," Y/N tells him.
"I wish I was small, so I could climb in your lap," Harry says randomly, and Niall's loud laugh is heard for miles. "It's not funny!" Harry complains. "Oh, wait!" Harry abruptly turns around to face the girl he was talking to who's looking at him unamused now. "This is my wife, Y/N. She's who I was telling you about and why I did not want to make-out with you at all!" Harry looks and sounds disgusted at the thought of making out with the girl, and Y/N gasps. Niall's laugh somehow grows louder. "Once you've tasted her fucking mouth- oh, fuck," Harry groans just thinking about Y/N's mouth. "And her pussy- holy shit!"
"Harry!" Y/N scolds. The girl walks off coldly.
"Bye!" Harry tells her, but she doesn't even look back at him. Y/N turns around to find Niall bent over, hugging his stomach in amusement. "What are you laughing at, Niall?" Harry asks him and goes over to hug him.
"Nothing, H," he says once he's put himself together enough. "You drink a little bit, huh?"
"Oh, yeah," Harry says with an evil smirk. "I was so shit at beer pong, so I drank like so much, dude," he tells Niall.
"I think we should get you home, buddy," Niall tells him, and Harry whines. Y/N comes up to Harry's side and wraps her arm around his hip. He seems to remember that Y/N was there and gasps.
"I missed you so much," Harry mumbles into her hair.
"Harry, I would like to go home," she tells him.
"Okay, let's go!" he agrees with ease, and Niall rolls his eyes. Y/N, Harry, and Niall all make their way outside and to Niall's car. Y/N gets into the backseat because she expects Harry to sit in the front, but she's surprised when he climbs in right after her and sits so close he should practically be on her lap.
"Oy, what do I look like? An uber?" Niall says when he realizes he's alone in the front. He starts his car up and starts driving towards Y/N's house.
"Sorry, Niall," Y/N says and grunts when Harry encircles her waist with his big arms and smushes his face into her neck.
"It's alright. I'm just messing with you, babe," he tells her.
"Hey, don't call her that!" Harry grumbles.
"Don't be rude, Harry," Y/N scolds and lightly swats at his head.
"She is my babe, H," Niall tells him, just to mess with drunk Harry some more.
"She's not your anything!" Harry cries.
"Niall, stop messing with him," Y/N now scolds the Irish man, and he just laughs in return. She suddenly feels a hand on her cheek and Harry planting kisses all over her face. He moves his hand down to rest at her neck, so he can angle her face however he wants. "Niall, can you hurry up? I'm being attacked," Y/N says.
"I'm a law-abiding citizen, Y/N," Niall tells her.
"Oh, please. I've seen you speed to go get a donut," she grumbles and grimaces when she feels a tongue lick her cheek. "Ew, Harry!" she pushes at him, but he doesn't move.
"You taste so good," he says before he erupts into a fit of giggles. "Fuck, I wanna suck on your tits," he groans randomly, and Y/N thanks God when they finally pull into her driveway. "Alright, goodbye guys," she sighs before getting out of Niall's car. She raises her eyebrows at Harry when he tries to follow her out. "Um, what are you doing?" she asks him.
"Uh, spending the night with you," he responds like she's acting dumb.
"H, I'm going to take you to your house," Niall tells him.
"What? No!" he cries and hugs Y/N's waist tight when she tries to walk away from where she stands outside the car.
"H-" she begins to say, but she's stopped when she sees Harry's eyes full of tears and his whimpery voice begging.
"Please, I'll be so good for you," he pleads, and she sighs. Niall doesn't know whether to laugh or be disgusted. He settles on taking a picture of a sad Harry practically wrapped around Y/N to send to him later. "Please, Angel. I don't want to be away from you," he cries, and how can Y/N argue with his pitiful little state?
"Alright, H. C'mon," she tells him and leads him out of the car.
"Good luck," Niall tells her before she shuts the car door and lets him drive off. Harry suddenly grabs her face and plants a sloppy wet kiss on her lips. She doesn't even have time to react before he's running up to her door.
"We're going to have so much fun!" he yells, and she shushes him, grumbling about her having neighbors. He waits impatiently for her to open the door, and once it's open, he's running inside in search of her dog Pickle. Y/N shakes her head, wondering what she's gotten herself into especially when she sees Harry laying on the floor with Pickle licking at his face. She grimaces, setting her stuff down and taking off her shoes before she makes her way to Harry.
"Let's get up and go to bed," she tells him, but he shakes his head and pouts like a toddler.
"I don't want to go to bed! You're being boring," he spits, but there's no real spite behind it.
"Fine, you can stay out here by yourself then," she says, knowing it will make him get up and follow her. As she's walking off to her bedroom, she hears Harry get up and scurry off in search of her. She quickly shuts herself into her closet to change before he catches up to her. Once she's changed into a large t-shirt and just her panties, she opens her door. She's not prepared to see Harry in just his boxers sitting at the edge of her bed pouting. She pretends to not notice him as she makes her way to her bathroom and does her nightly skincare and brushes her teeth. He follows after her quickly and shadows her routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth while looking at her expectantly the entire time.
Drunk Harry was needy for her.
Once they're both finished, they crawl into her bed. The lamp isn't even off before Harry is laying on top of her, weeping into her neck.
"I'm sorry," he cries. "Don't ignore me!"
"Why should I talk to you? Being so mean to me. Where's my sweet boy?" she asks, willing herself to not put her hands anywhere on him to mess with him more.
"I'm here, I promise," he whines. "You're not boring- not boring at all. You're the best person, and I love you." Y/N feels like the blood from her body was being drained at his drunk confession. "Don't be mad at me. I'm sorry. Am I being annoying? Oh, I am. I'm so sorry," he continues to cry.
"Puppy, I'm not mad at you," she tells him with a giggle. She finally lets her hand card through his hair, her other hand going to rub at his back.
"Okay, good," he says and begins to kiss at her neck again.
"You're incredibly needy," she sighs and leans her head back to give him more access to her skin.
"Yeah? Fuck, I'm so needy for you," he tells her, and her eyes grow wide when she feels him start to subconsciously hump at her leg. She feels his dick start to harden in his boxers.
"Maybe we should stop, H," she warns him.
"Why?" he whines like the thought of stopping brings him physical pain. His hips thrust into her thigh with more determination.
"Because you're drunk," she tells him.
"So? I want you just as bad when I'm not. I'm just better at being chiller about it," his speech slurs. "Can I suck on your tits?" he asks, and she feels one of his hands snake under her shirt to feel the bare skin of her stomach.
"Um," she stutters.
"Please? It'll help me sleep," he claims. "You can even turn off the lamp if you don't want me to see," he tries to convince her even further.
"Okay," she relents. She reaches over to turn off the lamp, so they're welcomed into the darkness. Harry wastes no time before his legs move to straddle her thighs, and he's lifting her shirt to feel at her breasts. They both moan when he glides his fingers over her taut nipples. He squeezes at them in handfuls and moans at the sensation.
"Fuckin' perfect," he sighs. She feels him scoot down so that he's resting his body weight against her now, and his mouth wraps around one of her tits. She gasps at the feeling and tries to work out the horniness she feels because she genuinely does want them to sleep. He spends some time swapping at both her breasts, biting, sucking, and kissing at both of them before he rests his head on her and keeps one of her tits in his mouth to lull him to sleep. The feeling begins to feel relaxing for her, and she feels herself start to drift to sleep as Harry sucks on her breast. She falls asleep with her hand in his hair and her boob in his mouth.
When she wakes in the morning, she's surprised to be in an empty bed. She thought for sure that Harry would still be resting on her chest or in her bathroom heaving over the toilet, but instead she feels no weight on her chest, yet she smells bacon and pancakes through her nose. She does her business in the bathroom and makes her way to the kitchen when she finishes. What she walks into is a sight she would love to wake up to every morning. Harry is in nothing but his boxers as he flips pancakes and sears some bacon on her stove. She says nothing for a long moment, just observes him. She finally decides to make her presence known when he walks over to the sink to wash some of his dishes once he finishes cooking the last pancake and piece of bacon. She feels his body tense then quickly relax when her hands wrap around him from behind and rub at his tummy.
"Good morning," his rough voice greets her, his body tensing with delight when her hands run over his abs and lower belly.
"Morning handsome," she greets him as well and rests her cheek on his back sleepily as her hands continue to wander. "How are you feeling?" Referring to his intense night of drinking.
"Better than I deserve," he laughs in self-deprecation. She laughs as well. "Honestly don't feel bad at all," he tells her and once he finishes the dishes, he turns around in her hold to see her beautiful morning face. He brushes a few strands of hair out of her face. "Are you feeling okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, I barely drank anything," she shrugs.
"Um, how are your- your uh," he stutters, and she's confused until he looks down at her chest. She laughs lightly.
"Not sure. Haven't seen or felt them yet," she says honestly.
"Can I look?" he asks. She gawks. "I just want to make sure I didn't hurt you!" he explains honestly. She eyes him.
"Okay," she agrees nervously and begins lifting her shirt. She looks away as he looks at her.
"Oh, shit," he gasps.
"Are they ugly?" she whines and goes to bring her shirt back down, but his hand stops her.
"No- they're- they're fucking perfect, but I- I fucked them up a bit," he admits honestly. Her eyebrows furrow before she takes a look for herself. She gasps too when she sees the damage he did. They're littered beautifully with hickeys and a few bite marks. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he tells her, and she looks up to see his eyes watering. She shakes her head as if to tell him not to feel bad.
"Is it messed up that I kind of like it?" she admits.
"You do?" he asks.
"I really do," she says and bites her lip. She finally drops her shirt to cover her abdomen again. She felt awkward just having her tits out in the middle of her kitchen.
"I really like them too," he admits as well and wraps his arms around her waist, bring her closer to him and leaning his face close to hers. He kisses at the corner of her mouth, and she sighs in contentment.
"Do you remember anything from last night? Anything in particular that you might have said?" she asks.
"Are you asking about me telling you I love you?" he asks boldly.
"Possibly," she replies.
"Well, what's to ask about it?" he wonders.
"Well, is it true?" she asks quietly and looks away from his gaze out of nerves. She feels his fingers gently grip her chin to make her look at him before he leans down and presses his lips against hers. She sighs into the kiss and wraps her arms around his neck to press him against her harder. Both of his hands cup her throat, and his thumbs rest at her jaw to direct her in any way he likes. He parts once he feels he's running out of breath. He rests his forehead against her own, and she looks up at him with expectant eyes.
"I love everything about you," he admits.
"You also called me your wife," she says with a grin.
"You are my wife- just without all the legal papers and rings and whatnot," he explains, and she shakes her head with a laugh.
"Harry, I want to have sex with you," she admits breathlessly and watches as his eyes grow wide at her statement.
"Are you- Are you sure?" he asks.
"The surest," she tells him honestly.
"You want me to be your first?" he asks and presses a quick, light kiss to her lips.
"And my last," she adds and sees him swoon. He takes a deep breath before speaking.
"Okay. Okay- um. Well, let's eat first. We need- It's good to have energy," he stumbles his way through his sentence. She whines in complaint.
"No, we can do that after," she says and goes to pull at his briefs, but he snatches her hands and leans in close to her face. The dominance radiating off him makes her sink into herself.
"I'm not going to fuck you if you don't listen to me," he warns. Her eyes gloss over. "Be sweet for me and go set the food on the table. I'll get our drinks," he instructs, and she scurries off quickly to obey. She's standing awkwardly by her own table when he walks in, and he chuckles lightly. He sets the drinks down and slowly approaches her. He cups her cheeks, and she nuzzles into his touch. "You're not scared of me, right?" he asks, wanting to make sure her behavior isn't out of fear. She shakes her head quickly with furrowed brows.
"No, no," she assures. "Just... want to please you," she explains and turns her head to kiss the inside of his palm. He smiles at that and leans in to slowly kiss her.
"Good," he says against her lips. "Then be good for me and sit on my lap while we eat," he tells her and smiles when she blushes. He sits down first and guides her by her waist to sit down sideways on his lap. She wraps one arm around his shoulders, lightly scratching at his hair as he cuts her up some pancake. He feeds her a few pieces with one hand on keeps the other arm wrapped snug around her waist. He goes to give her another piece, but she shakes her head and takes the fork from his hand to feed him instead. It goes on like that until all of the bacon and pancakes are ate. There's a tension that settles in the room once the plates are cleared.
"Please," she whispers, and that's all Harry needs to hear before he's carrying her off to her bedroom. She giggles when he throws her on her bed and crawls after her, hovering over her excited body. She moans when he rests his body weight on her and kisses her like he's starved. His tongue finds its way into her mouth quickly, and the once innocent kiss becomes messy and sloppy. Harry's pulling away from her panting and with swollen lips. He moans at the sight of her- bare-faced and fucked out just from a little kissing.
"Can I take your shirt off?" he asks roughly.
"You can do anything you want," she answers seriously, making him laugh.
"Don't speak too soon," he tells her before shedding her of her shirt. He moans at her only clad in underwear, her breasts beautiful and littered with his markings. "Oh, baby," he whines and gently tweaks her nipples with his fingers. She gasps and arches her back away from the bed. "Are they sore?" he asks before leaning down to flick his tongue against her nipple.
"A bit, but that feels good," she tells him. She moans when he kisses down her body and to the edge of her underwear. He bites the waistband of her panties and pulls back only to let go of them and let them snap against her skin. She whines at his teasing and buries her hand in his hair to encourage him to do something. He grins at her impatience.
"Bratty little virgin," he remarks, and she tugs at his hair as a warning.
"Big annoying man-whore," she retorts back, and he laughs before lightly slapping her clothed mound. Her body jumps at the sensation, but he's quickly tugging her back into place. He presses his mouth against her clothed pussy and blows hot air against her. She squirms at the new sensation.
"You need to stay still," he tells her and places his hands against her thighs, spreading them in the way he likes. He spends more time licking at where he assumes her clit is by the sounds she makes. He flattens his tongue and licks over her panties, moaning when he begins to taste her wetness. "Can I take these off?" he asks, but his hands are already dipping into the waistband to take them off.
"Please," she tells him and lifts her hips to help him take them off. She feels a bit exposed now that she's naked. She nervously closes her legs, but he quickly snatches them open again.
"Don't do that," he warns her. His jaw drops when he sees her bare pussy, a moan tumbling from his lips. "I missed her," he groans, and she shakes her head in annoyance. "Let me tell you what I'm going to do to you," he tells her, and he's suddenly hovering over her face, her eyes wide. "I'm going to make you cum on my tongue- finger you a bit until you're stretched," he pauses to act like he's going to kiss her, only to pull back at the last second. "Then, I'm going to fuck your sweet little virgin pussy. That sound okay?" he asks, though it's not really a question. Y/N nods her head vigorously and throws her arms around his neck to kiss him. He moans against her mouth, but before she could slip her tongue into his mouth, he pulls away. "We can do more of that later. Let me taste you," he says, and she bites her lip as he pushes down her body.
"Harry, do something please," she whines and grips his hair in her fingers. He pries her thighs apart and begins with a long lick from her hole to her clit. She throws her head back and lets out a long moan, her fingers fisting in his hair hard enough to make him whine, so she immediately let's go and apologizes. "Sorry! I'm sorry!"
"No, baby," he tells her and places her hands back in his hair. "I like it, I promise, so pull all you want," he assures her and quickly gets back to eating at her. He essentially makes out with her pussy, not caring about how messy or wet anything was getting. He pushes her thighs apart farther and shoves his tongue as deep as he could push into her hole. Her moans and whines could barely be heard over his own. His tongue curls and tries its best to get all of her in his mouth. He's addicted to the way she tastes. He takes his thumbs, using them to spread open her hole wider, so he can really insert his tongue inside her and taste her better.
"Fuck, Harry," she moans. It's like nothing she's ever felt before. It's so much better than anytime she's gotten herself off. Harry himself is pure sex, and it's hard to not let her brain get all muddled around him. "I'm gonna cum," she warns and digs her fingers deeper into his scalp when he switches to flicking at her clit quickly and moving his head side to side. Her orgasm is strong and continuous, taking her a few moments to actually breathe her way to the end. She has to push his head away when the overstimulation begins. He crawls up her body and kisses her cheek.
"I'm gonna have to go down on you again some time tonight," he admits, and she laughs at his eagerness. "Do you feel good? Was that okay?" he asks.
"Yes, and yes," she answers.
"Let me know when you feel ready, and I want you to cum on my fingers at least once before I fuck you," he explains, and she blushes and is a bit taken aback by how he can just talk about this stuff so easily. He sees her blush and smiles. "Don't worry. You'll be as dirty as me soon." His hand moves to her throat, and he teases her lips with his. "Corrupt your innocent little pussy and have you begging for me all the time," he tells her and kisses the corner of her mouth. She shudders.
"You sound very sure of yourself," she tells him.
"And your pussy already loves me. Just let it happen, babe," he sighs, and she giggles.
"M'kay," she agrees in content. "I think I'm ready now." He smiles before he begins to move.
"I'm going to sit behind you, so it will feel a bit safer and more comfortable for you," he explains, and she could almost cry at how thoughtful he is. They maneuver around so that Harry's is against the headboard, and Y/N is leaning back against his chest. He starts by reaching around and grabbing her throat, turning her head so that he can kiss her. They make out for a bit until Harry gets too impatient. "I'm going to start with one finger. Let me know if anything doesn't feel right, okay?" He kisses her cheek for reassurance. "Why don't you rub at your pretty clit while I finger you," he encourages, and she nods. She starts to rub at her clit, and her body sinks further into Harry's. His hand wraps around her, and he brings it to her mouth. "Get it wet, baby," he instructs, and she doesn't waste another second before welcoming his finger into her mouth and getting it wet with her tongue. She sucks on it like it's a dick and swear she feels Harry's dick twitch in his boxers. He takes his finger out of her mouth and rests his chin on her shoulder, embracing her from behind to see what he's doing.
"Feels so nice already," she admits and leans her head back, so they're faces are pressed cheek to cheek. She kisses his cheek right as his finger begins to circle her entrance. She bites her swollen lip and rests her forehead against his temple. He slowly enters the finger, and her hips grind upwards to push it in deeper. "I can take it, H. I promise," she assures him.
"You're tight," he hisses, his own jaw dropping as he feels her warm gummy walls embrace his finger. "And so wet, fuck," he groans, and he can already feel her wetness dripping down his finger.
"Feels really good," she admits, her own fingers still working circles around her clit.
"Can I add a second?" he asks.
"Please," she begs and nods her head in encouragement. She moans when he feels his second finger prod at her hole. She's tight, but there's no resistance as the second finger slides into her.
"You're going to be my perfect cocksleeve," he tells her, his head turning so his mouth is pressed against her cheek, her jaw wide in pleasure. She's almost panting. "Pussy's gonna make me cum so fast and so fucking hard," he admits. "Are you on birth control?" he asks suddenly.
"Yes- yes," she nods her head, throwing it back when his fingers begin to curl inside her.
"Shit- you gonna let me fuck you raw?" he asks and punctuates his words by beginning to thrust his fingers inside her faster. Her pace on her clit quickens to his speed.
"Yes- Oh, fuck- that sounds so good. Wanna- I want to feel your cum in me. Want you to- oh- fill me up," she fights to speak as her orgasm approaches.
"Oh, yeah?" he asks, meaning for it to sound condescending, but it comes out whiney. He's on the verge of cumming himself.
"I'm cumming," she warns, but he just keeps his fingers moving inside her. Her orgasm seems stronger but doesn't last as long. The overstimulation comes quicker. "Okay- Okay," she winces and pushes his hand away. He removes himself gently as to not give her any pain. He doesn't waste a second more before he's sucking all her orgasm from his fingers, his eyes rolling into his skull at the taste. Once he cleans himself off, he wraps his arms around her waist to hug her to his chest as she gets her breathing under control.
"You did so fucking well," he praises, and she smiles.
"Thank you," she tells him and kisses his cheek. He looks at her, and when their eyes meet, they both feel the intensity. Their lips meet instantaneously, and she begins to turn around to straddle his lap. One of her hands goes to the back of Harry's head while the other cups his cheek tenderly. His hands settle on her waist, being careful not to make her grind over him in case she's still feeling any overstimulation. When she begins to mess with the waistband of his underwear, he pulls back.
"If you- We don't have to do anything else if you don't-" He's cut off by her hand groping his clothed dick. Harry's back slightly arches off the bed, and he moans quietly at the surprised touch.
"Trust me, I want to," Y/N assures him with a grin. She helps him get his underwear off and then gets back on his lap. They're positioned so that Harry is sitting up at her height as well, making it more intimate than if Harry was just laying down below her.
"It's going to feel deeper this way," he warns.
"Good," she says with a sly smirk, and he shakes his head with a smile.
"You're amazing," he says randomly. She smiles softly before leaning forward to kiss him. It doesn't last long because she's eager to have him inside her.
"I don't- I don't know what I'm doing," she suddenly admits with a laugh, and he laughs as well.
"I'll do all the hard work," he tells her. "Rub at your clit. It will help relax you," he explains, and she listens obediently. She has to raise herself a little so that Harry's dick can be placed at her entrance. "I'm going to push in, but I'll go very slow," he assures her with a serious look. He was so scared to hurt her.
"Thank you, Harry," Y/N smiles and continues to rub her clit when she feels the head of his dick press into her hole. They both gasp at the sensation, and Harry's presses her down until only his tip is inside her.
"Good?" he asks.
"Yes," she moans and fucks herself on the tip, in the process she sinks down about another inch.
"A fuckin' natural," he tells her. He's a little bit over halfway when she presses at his stomach. His eyes dart to hers that are closed shut. "Are you okay? Do you want me to take it out?" he asks in a panic. She laughs at his worriness.
"No, puppy," she tells him. "It's just a lot, and I've never felt anything like this before," she explains, and he nods his head in understanding. "Starting to feel really good, though," she admits and scratches at his abs. She sinks herself a little farther down.
Harry's trying to be on his best behavior, but his instincts are telling him to just grab her hips and start fucking up into her. It's the best pussy he's ever been inside of, and he knows she can feel him throbbing inside her. His balls are tight and round, stuffed with cum that belongs shoved inside her tummy. The thought almost sends him over the edge, picturing her belly and tits, that are still littered with his marking, round and swollen with him. His baby in her womb. The thought makes him whine.
"Are you okay?" she asks with a chuckle.
"Feels- feels too good," he whines and has to throw his head back when he feels her seated on his lap, having taken him all the way in. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing his orgasm away. He thinks all it would take at the moment is the sight of her innocent little body being corrupted, his fat cock shoved as far as it can be inside her pussy.
"It's deep," she comments, her voice almost as whiney as Harry's. Her eyes narrow at him and his distraught expression. He's still refusing to look at her. "Seriously, are you okay?" her voice suddenly worried.
"Yes. I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I'm trying not to cum yet," he explains. "You feel- really, really lovely. The best pussy I've ever been in," he moans.
"It's okay if you want to cum, Harry. I've already cum so much, and this alone feels really good," she assures him, leaning forward to kiss his lips. He whines into her mouth.
"No, no- I think I'm okay for now," he sighs and finally looks at her. He feels as if he just brought himself back to square one. She looks so perfect sitting on top of his cock it almost makes him cry. She's rubbing at her clit and biting her lip with the cutest smirk on her face. "I won't last long," he admits.
"Me neither," she agrees and begins to move herself on him. Her hips grind against his pelvis, making his dick press into spots she didn't know existed. She stops rubbing her clit and instead presses her hands against his shoulders for extra help.
"Fuck- don't even need my help," he comments. "Already the perfect slut," he says through a moan. Her eyes narrow at him.
"I can f-feel your dick throbbing inside me. Who's the- the real slut?" she stutters, the feeling of him stretching her out making her brain foggy and incoherent. He whines at her assertive tone and feels his balls tighten. He sits up further so that he can hug her waist, pulling them close together. He uses his leverage on her to bounce her on him, and the new feeling makes her third orgasm approach quickly. The intimacy of the moment adds to the intensity of her approaching orgasm. They stare deeply into each other's eyes as they both begin to finish with each other.
It's like nothing Y/N's ever felt before when his balls start to leak his cum inside her. Her own orgasm hits her like a truck when Harry's seed starts to fill her womb. He looks so beautiful fucked out in front of her, his eyes welled with tears of pleasure much like her own.
"I love you," he moans and dips his head into her shoulder.
"I love you too," she moans back, wincing when she begins to feel the overstimulation, though Harry's still finishing inside her. "Damn, you had a lot in there," she laughs, and he blushes into her neck. His hips rut into her on their own accord until he finally begins to calm down.
Harry's face leaves its hiding spot in her shoulder, and he looks up at her like she's everything in the world to him. And she is.
She's his whole world.
+++++++++++++++++
im never fucking looking at this story again. took tooooooo long. hope you enjoy though 🤪
Warnings: smoking, swearing, light angst, making out
A/N: Got a request for Outgoing Harry/Shy reader and then this happened. I'm actually so in love with this so I hope y'all enjoy :)
Summary: Your band is out of a main singer after a petty feud. The hunt for someone new is pure torture, not a single audition has peaked your interests. None until he walked in.
"Next!!" your band's drummer, Maeve, exclaims with an exasperated tone. The person who was auditioning scurries off the small stage, too embarrassed to say goodbye. They were the 10th person to audition today. Ten people have gone on stage and tried to show off their singing skills but no one has been even remotely close to good. You're starting to suspect that all of these people are pranking you. There's no way that this many people are tone-deaf... Right?
You look back up when you see someone new walking on stage. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see who's next to audition. Harry Styles, the myth, the legend. He's a star member of the swimming team, captain of the rugby team, honorary member of the debate team and the most sought-after guy at your university. He is probably the last person you expected to show up for your band's audition... You don't even know if he can sing.
"This is going to be hilariously, so happy we are filming" Riu, your band's bassist, chuckles under his breath. You shrug with a small smirk, guess he wants to join today's humiliating compilation of failed auditions.
"Hello everyone, I'm Harry Styles auditioning for lead singer? I guess" he laughs at himself, now this is something you've never seen... a nervous Harry? Could this be an act??
"Don't sound too excited now" Maeve rolls her eyes, "What are you going to sing?" she clicks her pen ready to write the title down.
"October by Broken Bells" he speaks more confidently into the mic now. Your eyebrows raise, shocked. You would have expected something a little more mainstream maybe something currently in the top 10 chart or even an old classic. Riu presses the record button on his camera and rearranges the tripod to better capture Harry.
"Whenever you're ready," You say softly as you hope for the best, your behind is really starting to hurt after sitting for so long hopefully you can leave the auditorium soon.
The man onstage takes a deep breath before pressing play on the acoustic track on his phone.
Soft guitar strings start playing and only a few seconds in Harry starts harmonising with the instrument before the lyrics come in. And when they do... Your jaw hits the floor. The voice that comes out of his mouth would have been impossible to imagine. It's not a very vocally powerful song but requires a certain knowledge of music to get it right. He sounds beautiful and enchanting.
Riu, who's sitting next to you, shakes your arm making you turn your head to him. He mouths "What the fuck?" and you only nod as an answer completely bewildered.
He doesn't move around the stage or anything, just stands in the same spot and sings. Sings better than anyone you've heard today. Better than your past lead singer you're sure. His eyes are shut in what you have to assume is concentration but he could just be too nervous to look at you and your bandmates. His dark hair is pushed back out of his face letting you see his features, his furrowed brows and the sheen of sweat on the tip of his nose.
The song ends and he finally opens his eyes, gagging your reactions. You make sure that you've closed your mouth not wanting one of the first times he really looks at you for your mouth to be wide open...
"Do you write your own songs?" Maeve breaks the silence.
"I have some written yes" he answers quickly, a small jitter going through his body. Excited that he wasn't immediately shooed off stage.
"Is this a serious audition or are you just joking around?" Riu then asks having had enough of this long and boring day.
"Serious, I love singing" he nods quickly, "And I think I'm pretty good at it" Ah! There's the cocky attitude you've gotten used to from him.
Maeve grabs your arms from across the table tugging you towards her, Riu in the middle simply lowers his head closer to hear what's about to be said.
"What do you think?" She asks looking deeply into your eyes. You nod before answering already conveying your approval.
"He's really good guys, winning the UK universities competition good" You definitely see him adding a lot to your group. He's got the charms, the voice and the confidence to get you all the way to the finals.
"We're really accepting Harry Styles into our band?" Riu sounds annoyed but you know that he approves of this choice too...
Here goes nothing.
-
It's officially been two weeks since Harry has become your lead singer and he has not been on time for any of your practices. He's always got some elaborate excuse explaining his tardiness. More often than not he demands multiple breaks to go out for a smoke "Helps the vocals ya know?" he laughs before leaving the room. Maeve is one hair off of kicking him straight out but you've unfortunately entered his name down for the UK competition... and Harry knows this. Both of your other members have tried to reason with him, without success so they've told you that it's your turn to try, and try you will.
There's one hour left and Harry is out on another smoking break you choose this time to go out and attempt to talk to him. You haven't had many one-on-one conversations with him since him joining you. You're still intimidated by his status, his popularity, his reputation, his looks...
After leaving your guitar behind, you head out to find him leaning against the brick wall of your school, his head is tipped up and cigarette hanging off his bottom lip. You take a deep breath before walking up to him, mentally preparing yourself for this conversation.
"Is it your turn to tell me about the importance of punctuality, darling?" his lips form into a smirk as he hears your thick heels crunch the gravel as you move towards him.
"I guess so, the other two didn't work" you shrug leaning on the wall next to him. "Why did you audition if you don't care?" you ask him in a hushed tone, still surprised you have to have a conversation like this with him.
You don't see it but Harry's body tenses. Guilt flows through his veins and he looks at you but you're looking at the ground.
"I do care" is what he answers.
"I'm sorry but I don't believe you" You shake your head and finally meet his gaze, "Are you late for any other extracurricular activity you're part of?" your tone is unbothered but Harry feels it sting him, as if you insulted him... maybe you did. He thinks about it and... well he's not. He prides himself on being a stellar member of everything he's a part of.
"Why don't you treat us like equals? We are all part of the same team here" you add with a tilt of your head actually curious for an answer.
"I... Look, our other two members treat me like I'm lower because of how I act and who I'm friends with" he plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and stomps it under his shoe. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs, "I've gathered that you're the reserved quiet type but not one of you has tried to get to know me, why should I make an effort when none of you want me here?" with how rapidly the words are leaving his mouth you know he's been holding all of this in. You're stunned to silence.
"I don't feel welcomed so I'm not making an effort anymore" he walks away from you and from the building, "I tried to mend the gap by inviting all three of you over to my mates party last week and none of you showed... my message was left on read in the group chat" he looks at you and you don't see any malice or anger just... sadness? Disappointed? You're not sure.
His confession pains your fragile heart. He was trying, he had tried and your bandmates and yourself had only damaged the already non-existent relationship.
"I've never been to a party, I'm not great in crowds" you try explaining, "I barely even make it through our gigs, I'm always the first to go home" Harry nods in understanding, grabbing another cigarette from the packet he has in his pocket and lights it.
"Still could have said something... I know Maeve and Riu hate me so I guess there's not much I can do about that" he shrugs as he takes a drag. He's trying to brush off the emotions he just let himself have in front of you.
"I should have, I'm sorry" you mumble your apology still shocked that you've managed to get this far.
It's quiet for a few minutes. Harry focused on finishing his cigarette, seemingly needing to ease the tension he felt.
"I'll be better about my tardiness," he says after a while. You nod, smiling slightly when he looks over at you.
"Let me know when your next party is, I'll try and go" you offer, a peace offering between you and him. He laughs and shakes his head.
"Sure, darling" he stomps his second cigarette out and walks back over to you "Won't invite those two losers tho" he smirks at you before walking back into the building. You roll your eyes with a laugh and follow him back inside.
-
Harry S
10 Pleasing Road, Tomorrow 9 pm
See you there?
You
What should I wear? Should I bring anything? How many people are going?
Harry S
Whatever you're comfortable in, nope just yourself ;) And about 20 people nothing crazy
You
Okay, see ya
-
Oh god. You have no idea what to wear and you can't possibly ask Maeve or Riu for advice they'd need to know what you're dressing up for. You've been procrastinating your outfit choice all day. Your makeup is done dark and mysterious just how you like, your hair is up and out of your neck predicting that it'll be too warm wherever you're going but you're only wearing underwear... a matching set sure but not an appropriate outfit for a public outing.
You look at the time on your phone and your breath hitches, you're already past your maximum departure time... you're going to be late. This is not good. You contemplate texting Harry and telling him you can't make it but you want to have a better relationship with him you want to make an effort.
You find a long dark red floral dress that you haven't worn in forever and decide that tonight it will stop gathering dust. There is a slight chill in the outside air so you grab the crochet bolero Riu made you for your birthday. It's black with a ladybug charm in the center of it, she lands perfectly in your cleavage. You rush out of your room and out of your shared flat with Maeve before she starts asking questions. You slipped on your go-to heeled boots before running out of the building.
The address Harry sent you is, surprisingly, only a 15-minute walk away from where you live. Keeping a rapid pace is all you're focused on so you can make it with as little delay as you can. Being late gets your anxious gears running like crazy, your internal and external clock always chanting "Early is on time, on time is late and late is unacceptable!". You can thank your mother for that one.
You make it to the one-story townhouse at 9:28, you hear music from the outside and a few cars parked in the driveway and on the sides of the roads.
You breathe in and out deeply as you make your way to the door, calming your heartbeat and yourself. This is your first uni party, the first party that isn't family or Maeve/Riu related. Your first big girl party. It's nerve-wracking but also a little exciting.
As you're about to knock you realize the door is already ajar, you don't overthink it and head inside.
Turns out Harry had been pretty spot on with the number of people at this gathering. Doing a quick scan of the living room, after going through the small entrance, most people are sitting down, drinking and smoking different things. Only a few people look your way but they go back to their original conversations quickly, unbothered by another presence. You spot a table filled with different liquor bottles and mixers and make a beeline for it. Before you start mixing a drink for yourself someone calls out your name.
"You made it!" you turn your head and spot Harry making his way towards you. He's all smiles and bright eyes, he's got a beer in his hand and a cigarette in the other.
"I did, sorry I'm late" you grimace thinking about it again.
"Pff, no one's on time at a party" he waves it off before taking a drag, he blows it out away from your face and looks down at the empty cup in your hand.
"Why isn't there a drink in your hand, darling?" he asks you in mock shock. You shrug and gesture to the table, "I don't know what to make"
He nods and asks for your go-to spirit. Once you tell him he starts making a mix, only using the one liquor, finishing it off with a scoop of ice and a straw.
"Voila!" he winks as he hands you the now full cup. You take a sip and hum appreciatively.
"This is really good thank you" you smile in gratitude. Any worries that have been clawing at you since the moment you accepted to come are slowly disappearing. Harry seems genuinely pleased that you've shown up and that makes the overwhelming feeling large crowds give you dissipate. You should be able to stay like this for a while now.
"You look really nice, darling, I love your style" he lifts himself onto a stool, carefully not to spill his drink or drop his cigarette.
You can feel heat crawl up your neck and onto your face, not used to getting compliments. It's not that you haven't dated or hooked up with people but it's not something that just happens. Flirting requires a lot of energy from you, you're quick to feel embarrassed and shut yourself out just to process it all. Not that you think Harry is flirting or trying to get with you, he's just a socialite who's not shy to say what he's thinking.
"Just threw on whatever" you shrug avoiding his gaze.
"I'm sure that's an understatement but nonetheless you look gorgeous" he winks as he takes one last long drag before putting out the cigarette in the ashtray next to him and then throwing it into a trash can.
He's quite captivating to watch; his eyes are dark, an attractive smirk is always present, and wavy hair moves around with him and his tattoos. God his tattoos! You knew he had loads just by having seen his arms but now his button-down is pretty much unbuttoned at this point. You see many more that you never knew existed and it's only making him more handsome. The butterfly on his sternum, the two swallows beneath his collarbones, the fern leaves peeking out of his jeans; a very dangerous and tempting combination. You'll let your imagination run wild later...
"Mh, so um what does one usually do at a party?" Ah yes, a very natural change in conversation! You go Y/N, you mentally mock yourself with a subtle shake of your head. Harry doesn't seem to mind the switch or notice your mental scolding because he answers truthfully.
"Depends what you're up to doing honestly, I know someone has weed somewhere so you can join the stoners..." you shake your head, not your vibe. "You can dance in the basement that's where the music is playing and people are grinding" You shrug at that option not completely opposed to it. "Or you could go in the yard and join one of the many drinking games happening" That is a good option for later in the evening.
"Take me dancing?" your voice is a little high pitched, not completely confident in yourself but you want to make the most of this. It's not every day you'll be doing this kind of thing.
Harry doesn't answer verbally but he does grab your hand and guides you. His grip isn't tight you could easily free yourself if you wanted to but you want to make it to the dance floor... and holding Harry's hand is quite pleasant.
As he had previously said, the dancing is happening in the basement. This is where you realize Harry is probably the worst counter you've ever met because in this room alone there are at least 30 more people. The space is huge and open; no walls just another makeshift bar, large speakers, some funky lighting and some overused-looking sofas.
Feeling brave you pull Harry towards the other people dancing, and he follows with no hesitation. The beat of the pop song is good and gets your hips moving quickly, you'll never admit it but cheesy pop music is your guilty pleasure. Harry quickly matches your moves, smiling as you dance together he almost looks surprised that you're doing this with him. When you realize you haven't let go of his hand you quickly spin away in a somewhat casual attempt to free yourself, not that the handholding was bad. You just don't want to make him uncomfortable or maybe get anyone he's into at this party to think he's unavailable. The thought of him leaving you right now does make your skin crawl but you focus on dancing back towards him to finish your super duper casual and unnoticed freeing.
"You're a natural, who knows under all that eyeliner and glitter you liked bubblegum pop" Harry jokes as you get close to him again. You laugh and shake your head.
"It's all a distraction, Styles, I'm good at distractions" You wave your hands in front of his face with a spooky witch tone of voice.
"I don't doubt that..." he grabs your hand again and pulls you close to him, careful not to spill either of your drinks.
You feel the heat of his palm travel all the way up your arm and down the other. He's now deliberately taken your hand twice. Twice in the same hour. Hell in the same 5 minutes! God, he's so intoxicating. Your friends would not approve of the thoughts you're having. Riu would scream bloody murder and Maeve... Maeve would never look at you in the eyes again.
You chug the remainder of your drink and toss your empty cup onto a nearby table, you mentally apologize to the person who will pick that up later. Harry follows your lead and places his now free hand on your waist pulling you even closer to him.
"What do you think of the party so far?" he leans into your space even more, softly asking his question right next to your ear. You hum first as you angle yourself towards his own ear to answer.
"Not as crazy as I've seen them in movies or TV shows... but I think I watch too much American television" You laugh at yourself but you quickly still when you feel Harry's lips touch your ear.
"What? You're missing some cheesy games and making out with strangers" he teases you, tightening his hand grip on your waist.
"Something like that yeah, ha" Your breath is quick and uncertain. Overthinking how you're even supposed to breathe normally because you know Harry hears and feels your every breath.
"Mh, let me satisfy your wishes then" he pulls back and winks. "Hey!", he exclaims, "Anyone wanna play truth or dare?" at his question many people cheer affirmatively and he drags you towards one of the couches where everyone else follows suit.
The couch you're now sitting on has obviously been occupied by many other butts and now your own but you try to get that thought out of your head.
"You go first Haz, you initiated" you hear someone with a thick accent say.
"Fine, fine... who wants to ask me?"Harry playfully rolls his eyes as he leans back, his arms splayed across the top of the couch.
"Truth or dare?" someone new calls out.
"Truth let's keep it tame for now" he answers the crowd. You hear some people whisper to each other, debating what question they should ask now that they have free will.
"Did you actually fuck Olivia Flores while she was dating your mate Niall?" a high-pitched voice calls out. Harry rolls his eyes and breathes out deeply.
This rumour had spread all over the school through all clicks and social groups. Olivia was the most beloved student you could think of. She loves speaking with anyone and everyone, she volunteers every other day, and she's never in a bad mood or at least never lets anyone see if she is. The only time that you've ever seen her smile gone was when the rumours started. When everyone was whispering about her cheating on her boyfriend with his best friend. Niall is basically the embodiment of a golden retriever and people took the news of him being cheated on very badly. She denied it endlessly and tried to get people back on her side because her friends ended up turning on her. Harry and Niall both denied the rumours but there was no stopping everyone else from saying what they wanted. Especially after their break up and her decision to switch schools...
"I've said it a million times before, no. Never. I never have and never will because I know how much they still care for each other" he clicks his tongue at the end, annoyed at the question.
Some questions still cross your mind but you decide that his answer is enough. You choose to believe all three of them in this, that their denial is truthful and that Niall and Olivia breaking up after had nothing to do with the rumours.
"Y/N, in honour of your request, truth of dare?" Harry brings your thoughts back to the present, where everyone is now looking at you... analyzing. These people don't know you so you let them watch you even if it makes your skin crawl.
"Dare" might as well go past your boundaries even more. You're getting to know a whole new you tonight, it's exciting.
"Kiss me" he murmurs close to your ear, having leaned into your space. You chuckle pushing him away playfully.
"Come on! Be serious this is my first party game!" you poke his chest with your nail and squint your eyes. He can't just tease you like that! Pfff.
"Serious? You don't think I'm serious" he tilts his head to the side. His expression is unreadable and it makes you question whether he's being a goof right now or if he really wants to kiss you. Why would he want to kiss you out of anyone here?
You roll your eyes and push his face away from you. He looks shocked for a moment before letting a breath out, it almost sounds disappointed... can air sound a certain way? You're definitely overthinking this.
"A real dare please!" you squint your eyes at him in a playful manner. He shakes his head at you with a crooked smile, he's bewildered but you don't know that. You don't know how much he yearns for you right now. How much you attract him or how much it means to him that you're trying. Really trying to know him and make him your friend.
"Fine, I'll settle for the cheek" he winks and points to his right cheek which is inches away from your face.
You assess his expression, he's smirking again obviously happy that his teasing is affecting you. Ever so slightly furrowing his brows in worry that you'll reject that too. So. In honour of your first-ever big girl party, you do it. You kiss his cheek and you play dirty a little bit. Pressing your lips right to the corner of his lips. Right where they merge into the skin of his face.
"There! Now who's next?" you exclaim excitedly turning back to the group of people. A girl you don't know raises her hand and you dare her to do a shot of her least favourite alcohol. She walks off in search of it and your head is turned back towards Harry by a gentle hold on your chin.
"You're such a tease, gorgeous" his voice is soft but rugged almost sounding bothered by something... by someone?
"How so?" your lips form a small smile as you take a sip of your beer, you're conveniently sat next to a cooler full of them.
"You're irresistible" he replies with dark eyes, the hand on your chin moves to your cheek. The tips of his fingers tangling in your hair almost scratching at your scalp.
You don't completely understand how he's saying that about you when he looks the way he does. His hair is falling gorgeously onto his face as he looks at you, his eyes are dark and inviting, lips parted and numerous tattoos still on display.
"What are you going to do about it?" Wow! You're feeling brave tonight good on you! It might be the drinks you've been working at starting to make the anxiety you previously had melt away. Making the nerves calm and the fear of embarrassing yourself much less important.
"What do you want me to do about it?" his lips brush your own as he whispers his answer. You hadn't realized how close you'd gotten to each other; your chest is pressed to his, thighs seemingly glued together at the side, hands holding onto whatever part that isn't yet connected...
Before you can answer and quite possibly take him up on his first dare, your phone rings in your lap. You jump in surprise but Harry's strong yet gentle hold on you doesn't waver, he keeps you close to him. You glance down at the screen and see that Riu is calling you, the terrible selfie he took for his contact picture staring back at you. He has the habit of "stalking" you and Maeve on the Snapchat map, he says it's to make sure you're all in your usual spots. And... well... right now you're definitely not in one of your usual spots.
"Are you going to answer?" Harry asks with a slightly annoyed tone. You look at him again breaking eye contact with Riu's picture. You shake your head and take a deep breath, encouraging yourself. Harry's eyebrow raises in confusion but before anything else can be said you surge forward. You connect your lips to his desperately, forgetting everything else around you.
Harry's hand, the one that was on your cheek, reaches to the back of your head and pulls you closer. Deepening the kiss more than you thought possible. His other hand wraps around your waist and pushes you forward making your chest completely stuck to his. Your hands busy themselves as well, your right one tangles into his curls and your left grabs onto his forearm almost in an attempt to brace yourself. His tongue meets yours making you moan in pleasure. Who knew making out with someone could feel so good?
Harry doesn't stop, not for one second, as if he'd been wishing to do this for a while. He has but you obviously don't know that. He's been interested since his audition, he had seen your band before but never interacted. He always thought you were gorgeous but never had a chance to see if there could be any chemistry between you both. And now? Lord.
Someone around you hollers and it snaps you out of the bubble that surrounds both of you. You jerk away from Harry putting as much distance between you as you're able to on the otherwise cramped sofa.
"You two better go off to somewhere more private before we all need to bleach our eyeballs" The person sitting next to Harry laughs as he nudges him on the arm, shaking both of your bodies against each other. Harry shakes his head and playfully punches the person but you stare at him shocked. Shocked that you were just fully making out with him, shocked that he wanted to make out with you... Shocked that you're kind of wishing it kept going.
When Harry's head turns back towards you, you can't help but meet his gaze. Your own eyes are wide and just now getting back to focus, they had gone hazy with want but you won't admit that to yourself just yet.
"Let me walk you home? I know you have an exam first thing in the morning tomorrow" He asks sincerely, wanting to make sure you don't miss any essential studying you might want to do.
"Um, sure, a party on Wednesday is weird..." You shake your head in thought now just realising that you had completely forgotten about the test.
"Makes hump day less humpy I guess" he shrugs with a teasing smile before standing and helping you up off the sofa.
The walk back to your flat is entertaining. You get to know your new bandmate even more, truly getting to know him as a person. You share about yourself as well not wanting the conversation to seem one-sided. Turns out drinking a little alcohol makes you chatty.
Somehow, your left hand has interlocked with Harry's right one. How and when this happened you're not sure all you know is that you've had a painfully obvious blush on your face and neck ever since. You don't attempt to break the hold because... well... you really don't want to.
"Well, this is me" You turn to face Harry as you speak. You gesture to your complex vaguely still wanting to talk with him.
"Mh, quaint," he says without even looking at the building.
"Guess this is goodnight then" Your lips form into a small pout, disappointed that you have no real excuse to stay around Harry anymore.
"Guess so... I'll see you at practice tomorrow?" his hand tugs you towards him gently, leaving only inches between you. You bite your lip and nod as an answer all words having vanished from your mind. He smirks and bends down to press his lips on yours one more time. This kiss is much different than the one you previously shared, this one is only a short peck barely even qualifies as a kiss. You instinctively follow when he parts from you desperate for a real kiss.
"What's wrong pretty?" he's teasing you and you know it.
"Kiss me properly... leave me regretting coming back home to study instead of staying at yours" There's a sentence you never imagined yourself saying. You're feeling like a completely new you. Maybe it's the liquor in your system but Harry stops the nerves and the overthinking that's always going on in your head. He feels like a breath of fresh air and that is so fucking hot.
Harry doesn't hesitate to reconnect your lips again for a real kiss. He bites and drags your bottom lip towards him you moan at the feeling, quickly wrapping your arms around him to deepen the contact. Your tongue meets his between your mouths, it's not a battle, feels like they've been waiting to reconnect since they parted ways at the party.
"You're so hot Y/N" Harry practically moans out before slamming his lips back against yours.
Kissing someone has truly never felt this good.
-
The exam you only spent about 45 minutes studying for ended up being a total breeze as it was open book. Your nerves had immediately vanished when you'd stepped into the auditorium and read that on the board. But now your nerves are back up as your final period is about to end. Band practice is after this. You'll have to face Harry in front of both of your other friends... who have no idea that you've made out with the new member... twice.
Harry hasn't stopped messaging you all day thanking you for giving him a chance again and asking if he could take you out after practice. You haven't answered yet, every time you try to write one up your fingers word vomit and you end up deleting your drafts. You want to say yes to him but you feel like you might be braver telling him face to face.
When you hear your professor announce that he's dismissing you early you practically jump out of your seat. This could be the perfect opportunity to go see Harry early. He's been done with class for about an hour now and is already at the auditorium waiting so you rush over. You don't take the time to put away your pencil case or your notebook, keeping them in your hands as you make your way.
"Hope you haven't been ghosting me, sweetheart" Harry calls out immediately as you walk into the auditorium. He's lying down on the edge of the stage, a leg hanging off the side with his phone in hand above his head. He doesn't turn to look at you but you can't blame him so you're quick to walk to him ready to explain yourself.
"I wasn't I swear! I just kept overthinking my answers... thought I'd have an easier time answering in person" you tell him as you put down your things on one of the seats.
"Understandable, things can be more complicated to convey through a screen" his answer lifts a weight off of your shoulders. You were so worried he wouldn't understand.
"So, I'm glad you gave me a chance to get to know you" you start, "I know we weren't very welcoming and I'm sorry" You tentatively place your hand on Harry's chest, between both of his pecks.
"It's okay gorgeous, I know it's cause you were just so intimidated by my hot bod" he lightens the mood with his joke and you're so grateful.
"Mh, sure" you tease him with a shake of your head.
He gasps in mock offence batting your hand away from his chest. You laugh at his antics,
already thinking up your next answer. Harry doesn't let the hand that was on him go far grabbing it and tugging you closer to him.
"As for your other texts... I'd really like to go out with you later tonight" Your voice turns very weak at the end of your sentence, shyness taking over. Harry chuckles and tugs you to him again.
"You're so cute, darling" he smiles softly, "I'm glad I didn't scare you off" his free hand reaches out and wraps around your neck to cup your nape. He pulls your face down to his kissing your lips, once, twice, thrice...
"Riu and Maeve are going to be so confused when I tell them" you chuckle. Your friends might actually faint when you tell them you're going on a date with the Harry Styles.
"Let's just let them walk in while we kiss, easy way to announce it," he says with a wink. You smile and bend back down to lock lips... addicted to the way he feels.
"Or, you could write a song about how good kissing me is" you joke as you whip your hair backwards in an attempt to joke. Harry, however, takes your suggestion seriously.
"I've already got five written in my head, six if you kiss me again right now" And who are you to deny helping his creative juices?
You do end up shocking Maeve and Riu with your "very inappropriate spit swapping" Maeve's words, not yours.
in which you and Spencer conduct a custodial interview with a serial killer - Spencer's first since he was released
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader
category: angst
content warnings: post prison reid, fwb but also mutual pining, serial killers, prison, panic attack, chiromancy
word count: 3.66k
a/n: i originally came up with this idea in 2023 😭 😭 it's about time i finished it lol. defintiely suffers from exposition overload but i don't caaaaare.
Fourteen times.
You had asked him fourteen times if he thought he was going to be okay doing the custodial interview. No one else was available to do it, but you still had your reservations. Sending Spencer to a prison felt wrong, even if he wasn’t on the inside of the bars anymore.
Without telling him the reason, Emily elected to send you with him to the facility, she said it was because you had never done one before, but you knew it was deeper than that. “How many victims?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the road as you drove to the destination.
“Eight,” Spencer answered, looking through the case file. The killer had asked for the interview, hoping to be transferred to a minimum-security facility. The odds weren’t good, but you needed to oblige the request even if it wouldn’t prove successful.
You hummed, turning down the road, you pulled up to the security station. Presenting your credentials to the guard, he lifted the gate for you, and you found your reserved parking. “Do you want to take the lead?” You asked him, trying to gauge how he was doing.
Nodding, Spencer got out of the SUV. You shut off the engine and followed suit. “Unless it doesn’t seem like he’s responding to me, I’d rather not present him with someone who fits in with his victim pool.”
“And they say chivalry is dead,” you said sardonically, grabbing your bag from the backseat before locking the car and following Spencer inside.
The two of you went through security, locking up your weapons and going through metal detectors. It wasn’t until you went inside the first gate that you noticed it; Spencer was fiddling with the belt loop of his slacks. “I can feel you staring,” he whispered so only you could hear. You watched his posture relax when the gate buzzed and opened in front of him.
You smiled softly, “I can see you fidgeting,” you responded. At work, the two of you were merely coworkers who knew each other really well, so you couldn’t just reach out and take his hand. Not that you’d want to, in a prison full of serial killers.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, implying that he wasn’t right now. The smile fell off your face as the two of you followed the guard into the warden’s office.
At the sight of you, the warden stood and smiled, “You must be Agents Y/L/N and Reid, thank you for making the trip down here.”
Raising your eyebrows, you reach out your hand for the warden to shake, “He’s Dr. Reid, actually.” You corrected, seeing as Spencer didn’t seem to have noticed.
“Ah, my apologies, Dr. Reid,” he responded kindly, gesturing for the two of you to follow him.
Spencer gently brushed your hand as you followed the warden. It was so subtle that someone else could’ve brushed it off as an accident, but Spencer Reid never did anything without purpose.
“Marshal Lukins is the most prolific killer we’ve had in my time here, we aren’t expecting anything to come of this, but you know as well as I do that we have to humor the psychos,” Warden McCall told you, stopping in front of a gate and calling out for it to be opened.
You raised your eyebrows, deciding against telling the warden that Lukins profiled as a sociopath, not a psychopath. “How’s his behavior been here?”
The warden shrugged, “He won’t be winning any merit badges any time soon, that’s for sure. Spends most of his time in solitary, really.”
“His file said he had gotten into an altercation with another prisoner, what was that about?” Spencer asked.
McCall cleared his throat, “turf war. You know, prison gangs can get rowdy. Especially when they find out the feds are coming.”
You raised your eyebrows, grateful you couldn’t see Spencer’s expression. “Oh, yeah,” he said quietly.
Then you were in front of a serial killer, someone who had been put away years ago, but the way he looked at you sent shivers down your spine. “Marshal Lukins?” You confirmed.
“Why hello, pretty lady,” Lukins responded, rising from the chair. His legs were chained to the ground, but his hands were free.
Behind you, Spencer cleared his throat, “Sit down,” he ordered. Taking a tone of authority that you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him.
Taking your seat across from Lukins, you looked him in the eyes, “You may call me Agent Y/L/N.”
Your interviewee shrugged, “I’ll call you whatever I want in my mind later.”
Ignoring the hairs that stood up on the back of your neck, you rolled your eyes at the skeevy pervert. “If you want to be transferred, you’re not making a very good first impression,” Spencer intervened, likely aware of your discomfort.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first criminal to make a pass at you, and in your line of work, it likely wouldn’t be the last.
“I’m not much worried about first impressions, people usually have a first opinion about me before they even hear my voice,” he responded, leaning back in the chair.
You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from responding, yeah, that happens when you murder eight women. “What would you rather our opinion of you be? That you’re misunderstood? Did you find god in prison, Marshal?” You asked him.
He leaned over the table ever so slightly, yellowed teeth flashing beneath the fluorescent light that hung above the interrogation table, “Would you like me to show him to you?”
Raising your eyebrows, you maintained a bored disposition while flipping open your files, “No.”
With custodials like this, you weren’t allowed to have photos in your files. Lukins was a sexual sadist, and the profile that Aaron Hotchner had put together was damning, describing the man in front of you to a T. He even got the age correct, right down to the receding hairline. Even though Lukins was in prison, you’d never provide him with visual aids to relive his crimes.
“Why did you request this interview if you weren’t interested in playing nice?” Spencer asked, setting his own files on the table in front of him, but he refrained from opening them. He managed to memorize their contents on the drive from Quantico, enabling him to weaponize his memory.
Lukins put his hands up in mock surrender, “I was hoping they’d send me someone nice to look at, make a good conversation with, and boy am I glad I took that chance.”
Spencer clasped his hands together and set them on the steel table, “Thank you,” he responded, keeping himself stone-faced in the presence of the killer.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” the criminal in front of you snapped, jutting his chin in your direction.
Bored, your partner spoke up again, “Yes, you are,” he corrected. You were unable to communicate with Spencer without tipping off Lukins, so you let him continue, trusting that he knew where he was going with this. “In your trial, you said all of your victims were your sheep,” Spencer recalled from the file, “Is that why you shaved their heads before gutting them?”
Lukins scoffed, bored easily within the confines of the interview, “My sheep were my friends, but every sheep needs a wolf. Isn’t that right, Bo Peep?” He asked you, meeting your gaze despite the fact that Spencer all but told him not to engage with you.
You narrowed your gaze at him, tilting your head innocently, “Would you have let me be one of your sheep?”
He gave you a look that made you feel like you needed a shower, “You would’ve been a nice addition, could’ve rounded out my numbers.”
He reached out a hand, trying to take a piece of your hair between his grimy fingers, but you stood up quickly, stepping back from the table and almost tripping over your chair in response.
A few prison guards came in at the sudden movement, and Spencer had a vice-like grip on Lukins’ wrist, keeping him away from you. Tossing his arm back at him, Spencer glared at the killer, “No touching,” he instructed, looking back at you to check-in. He opened the door to the room, ushering you out before looking at the guards, “I want him in cuffs.”
With a hand on the small of your back, Spencer herded you to the private space that the two of you were expected to inhabit for the day. “Hey,” you spoke to him once the door was shut behind you.
Spencer was filled to the brim with nervous energy, shaking out his hands in an attempt to expel his nerves, “We should just go back to Quantico.” He shook his head, brown curls fanning out around his face, “There’s no way he can tell us anything that will get us to endorse his transfer.”
Watching him like this made your chest ache, and you had no idea what to do with that emotion. Your relationship with Spencer was strictly horizontal—usually—and you found yourself floundering when it came to how to act outside of bed. You wanted to take his hand, desperate to run your fingers over his knuckles and find the familiar callus from where his pencil rests on his finger, but you just couldn’t get yourself to reach out.
You hadn’t known Spencer before he was arrested in Mexico, but you made your mark on him without ever letting him lay his eyes on you. You sent letters to him along with the rest of the team, refraining from talking about cases and instead choosing to use your letters as a personal diary, chronicling your first three months with the Behavioral Analysis Unit with your prison pen pal. Periodically, you put money in his commissary account, despite the rest of the team telling you that you shouldn’t feel inclined to.
Pressing your lips into a thin line, your eyes tracked his pacing in the conference room before you started to voice your concern, “We have to go back in, Reid.” You grabbed a water bottle from the counter and twisted the cap off before handing it to him.
He took the water begrudgingly, glaring at you as he did so, “Why do we have to go back in, exactly?” After taking a sip of the water, he handed it to you so you could have some. You could’ve grabbed your own, but surely this was quicker.
“Lukins said I would’ve rounded out his numbers,” you told him, nervously fiddling with the cap of the water bottle as you waited for him to get it.
Spencer adjusted his tie, pulling the silk fabric further from his neck, “Yeah, I heard him.” It bothered him, the slightest implication that you were endangered in that interview room put him on edge, but all you could do was sit down and watch him.
You sighed, “We only have a record of eight victims. We don’t know what he’s rounding to, but that’s at least two more bodies that we don’t know about.” Lukins could be rounding up to ten, which would be the closest option, or you were looking at the possibility of a considerably higher body count. Your fear was that he would use those additional kills as a bartering tool to get a transfer.
He stopped in his tracks while he processed what you were telling him. Spencer turned to you, lips parted before he nodded, eventually agreeing with you even if it pained him to do so. “We should call Emily and let her know what’s going on,” he told you, taking a seat across from you and placing his head in his hands. “I’m gonna step outside for a second,” he said, getting up just as quickly as he took a seat and swinging the door open, leaving you alone in the conference room.
Holding your tongue, you stopped yourself from voicing your approval, even though you did think some fresh air would be good for him. Instead, you watched the door click shut before fishing your phone out of your pocket, tapping on Emily’s contact before bringing the phone to your ear.
“How’s it going?” Emily asked you as soon as she answered, and you couldn’t help but picture your unit chief waiting by her phone, hoping to hear from you or Spencer.
You sighed, inadvertently cluing her into how the custodial interview was going, “We might have a problem,” you told her. Continuing on to explain what had happened between you and Marshal Lukins, all the way up through your discovery that he might have a higher victim count.
Prentiss clicked her tongue on the other end of the line, “What does Spencer think?”
The question didn’t come as a surprise to you, neither did the fact that her inflection told you that she was sneakily trying to ask you how Spencer was. Wiping your free palm along the fabric of your pants, you leaned against the table, “Reid thinks Lukins is out for blood.” You opened your mouth to continue but were interrupted by an alarm being tripped, your head snapped up as lights started to flash on the walls.
“What’s going on?” Emily questioned you over the phone, but you could barely hear her over the blare of the alarm, a low-pitched buzzing sound that made your brain feel like it was vibrating within your skull.
Clambering to your feet, you grabbed your water bottle and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you as you looked aimlessly around the prison for someone who could offer you an explanation. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurted into the receiver, stuffing your phone in your pocket and making your way to the front of the prison, ignoring the men who shouted at you from behind bars.
You looked down the walkway, watching as the failsafe on the doors was triggered and they slowly started to shut, triggering you to try and make a run for it. “Y/N,” Spencer called out your name, picking up his own pace from the opposite direction.
It didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t going to make it, skidding to a halt as the bars clicked shut in front of you. You weren’t scared until you watched Spencer pull at the door, frantically trying to slide it open, “Reid,” you said his name, trying to get his attention. “Reid,” you shouted that time, trying to make sure he heard you over the alarm.
He didn’t pause to look at you, he simply continued to pull at the bars.
“Spence,” you said desperately, and that time his eyes snapped to yours. Wide brown eyes bore into yours as you placed one of your hands on his, both of them encircling the bar. “It’s not going to open,” you reminded him. A fact he was well aware of but didn’t want to acknowledge.
Silently, he leaned back into the wall, sliding down the side of it and looking up at the ceiling, pulling at his tie again, this time taking it all the way off. “It’s a lockdown,” he panted helplessly, “They’re in a lockdown.”
You nodded softly, having drawn that conclusion on your own, “It’s okay,” you told him softly, reaching through the bars and taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re alright, Spence,” you continued, your tone bordering on a coo.
He pulled his knees to his chest and slung his free arm over his legs, hugging himself.
It broke your heart to watch him like this. You pointed in the direction he came from, “Look. Hey, you could be free to leave, I’m the one who’s locked in,” you told him, highlighting the fact that the bars were blocking you, but Spencer could make his way back to the entryway.
“Not helping,” he told you, his voice almost a gasp as he tried to regulate his breathing.
Your shoulder’s slumped forward slightly, “I’m sorry. What can I do?”
Spencer just shook his head, squeezing your hand in response when you started sweeping your thumb over his knuckles. You ignored the buzzing of your phone in your pocket as you watched him, completely focused on making sure he was okay before you did anything else.
With your free hand, you grabbed the water bottle that you took from the conference room and slipped it through the bars. “Here, take this,” you murmured, setting it on the ground next to him when he didn’t take the bottle from you.
He visibly relaxed when the alarm stopped going off, but the lights were still flashing, which offered somewhat of an explanation as to why the door hadn’t opened yet.
You fiddled with his hand, opening up his palm and tracing the lines on his hand with your index finger, “Have you ever had your palm read?” You asked him, twisting your head to get a better look at it.
He looked at you, the panicked look in his eyes had subsided, promptly replaced with incredulity, “When have I ever struck you as the kind of person who would get my palm read?”
Shrugging, you slowly traced his love line, “You like Halloween, I thought maybe you’d let your curiosity get the best of you.” Although you supposed if Spencer really wanted to have his palm read, he’d just do it yourself. “When I was in college, my summer job was reading palms in a booth at an amusement park,” you informed him.
Spencer chuckled at your revelation, and the sound made your heart sing, “That is… oddly endearing.”
Nodding, you looked at his hand again, “Chiromancy says men were born with their left hand, and their right is what they accumulate throughout life,” you told him softly, sliding your other hand through the bar.
“Actually, I was born with both of my hands,” Spencer responded, a teasing lilt in his voice.
You rolled your eyes, studying his left hand intently, “You have water hands,” you said, showing him his own palm as if he’d never seen it before.
Spencer raised his eyebrows at you, “Well, now you’re just making things up,” he openly teased you that time, but he didn’t pull his hand away.
Humming, you furrowed your brows and pointed at his hand, “This is your head line,” you explained. “See how it’s long and straight? It sort of tapers off before the end of your palm—that means you tend to think realistically.”
“I could’ve told you that,” he challenged, but his eyes were following along as you pointed at his palm.
You shook your head and sighed, “Here’s your life line,” you said, pointing to a different line and tracing it with your fingertip. “It’s straight and goes down to the edge of your palm, which means you’re cautious about relationships,” you continued softly, leaning your head against one of the bars of the door.
He was silent after that one, briefly taking his bottom lip between his teeth and looking down at his hand. You could tell that even though he didn’t quite believe what you were saying, he was perfectly fine with humoring you.
“This is your fate line,” you told him, entirely expecting to lose him the moment you began discussing fate. “It’s broken down the middle and curved in different directions, and that means you’re prone to a lot of changes in life. Changes influenced by external forces.”
Gently, Spencer pulled his hand away from yours, flexing his hand before looking down at it, “You’ve officially lost me.”
The corner of your mouth quirked up, “I’m surprised you lasted this long.” Just long enough apparently, the doors buzzed soon after, and you withdrew your hands from the slots as the bars slid into a hole in the wall.
Spencer got up first, dusting off his hands before he extended a hand to help you up. Your hand lingered in his for just a moment too long, the exchange oddly intimate for the two of you before his arms dropped to his side, “Thank you,” he murmured, a shy smile on his face.
Shrugging, you crossed your arms in front of your stomach, “There’s nothing to thank, Reid.”
If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that it was disappointment that flashed across his face at your reply.
The warden had rather unceremoniously asked the two of you to leave, citing security concerns and letting you know that he’d be in contact with Emily to reschedule. Emily had called you six times during the lockdown, but you’d texted her once everything was clear.
Which left you heading back to the SUV with Spencer, there were prisoners out in the yard, so he walked on the inside, blocking your body from the view of the inmates. “Are you alright?” You asked him, feeling more free to inquire now that you were in the open air.
He nodded, “I’m fine, I just really wasn’t expecting something like that to happen when I asked Emily to send me on this custodial.”
Your footsteps faltered at his words, “You asked to go on this custodial?”
Spencer frowned, “I was on this case originally ten years ago, so I asked Emily to let me go.”
“And she said yes?” You asked incredulously.
Spencer opened the back door for you to place your bag in, “Not initially, but eventually she realized that I’d be her only option if she wanted to get it done today.” He shut the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, “It’s a lot earlier than I thought we’d be getting back, do you want to stop and get lunch on the way back to Quantico?”
Your eyes went wide and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your expression, “Uh, sure. Why not?”
“Perfect,” he said, “Maybe I can get you to tell me why you avoided reading my love line.”
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