" No, but they will show up to the fundraising gala run by the Y/N L/N, you're a genius!" Her heart gives a flutter at his kind words. Charlie decided he had had enough applesauce and wanted some of the good stuff, gripping onto the front of Y/N's shirt pulling down not only her shirt but the breastfeeding bra she was wearing, flashing Harry completely. | Or Harry is nanny Y/N’s recently divorced
This story contains mentions of drinking, sexual acts, big MILF energy, infidelity and violence including domestic violence. If any of this could or would trigger you, or are under 18 I recommend you stay away from this fic and DNI with this post.
{masterlist}{taglist}{carrd}
" Good Morning Harry, sorry to call you in today but I have a meeting in an hour with a sexual assault accusation from the manager in the Seatle branch and no one will take it seriously, so I have to."
" It's really no problem Ms. Raymond," Y/N winces a little at the use of her ex-husband's last name.
" Harry, call my Y/N or Ms. L/N if you really have to. But I prefer to not be associated with that man."
" It's really no probelm, Y/N." He ansates her name, it quickly shoots and tingle down her spine and straight to her clit. "I love Charlie, I think we'll watch some Disney movies today, y'know for winter and all that. Maybe when you're done with your meeting we'll meet you for lunch." He gave her a smile, grabbing a mug out of the kitchen cupboard and pouring himself a cup of coffee, using the oat milk creamer instead of the regular to avoid the effects of being lactose intolerant.
Harry being Y/N's midwife is something that was decided when the father was still in the picture, Richard always had wandering eyes and she felt it was the only way for her to have a chance at a family with him. Unfortunately, his love for barely legal girls got him thrown out and removed from Charlie's life.
" It'll be a late one though, I'll have Alex call for a 2:30 reservation? That place on Bowery that knows about the kiwi allergy?" He nodded with her recommendation and walked out of the kitchen to wake up Charlie. Y/N checks her iWatch and sees a message from Alex- her assistant- saying that Kristin was trying to back out of the meeting and that she should call her.
Typing her phone number in her cell and pushing the call button, it rings once before a teary voice answers it. " Hello?" a quiet sniffle follows it.
" Hi, is this Kristen Indigo? This is Y/N L/N," she kept her maiden name for business purposes. " I heard that you wanted to cancel the meeting today and I wanted to ask why?"
" M-Miss L/N, I-I-I," the woman is obviously in shock so Y/N cuts her off.
" I really would like this meeting to happen, if Mr. Wilson did do something I need to know. I need to know so I can make my company safe for everyone, including you Ms. Indigo." As she finishes her sentence a very sleepy and cuddly baby boy comes down the stairs clinging to Harry, to come to say goodbye, " One second Miss Indigo."
" Hi baby, I'm going to see you at lunch okay?" Y/N uses her acrylic nails to softly go down his back while his head is tightly tucked into Harry's neck. Sometimes she thinks Harry was made to be a father with the way he cares for Charlie.
" Bye-bye Momma." Charlie's words are muffled by Harry's skin.
" Bye-bye Charlie, I love you." Y/N's words are soft and warm against Harry, her breath tickling his neck as she leans in to give Charlie a kiss.
" Love you," Charlie murmurs out.
" Now Miss Indigo I'll see you in 30 minutes."
-----
Harry and Charlie’s morning routine was usually never altered, today was no exception. Harry gets Charlie up at 7:00, breakfast by 7:15, blocks from 7:30 to 8. Everything mapped out. After Richard was no longer in the picture Harry stepped into the other parenting role automatically.
By 9 Harry was getting Cinderella loaded up so he could work on the Christmas plans. Charlie's birthday was conveniently enough on January 5th, so directly after the holidays, Charlie was going to turn 2. This was going to be the first year that Richard wasn't going to be there, and Harry wasn't going to force Y/N to take it on by herself.
So as the mystical whispers of mice came from the flatscreen, Harry was planning the birthday party and making a Christmas list for the child who couldn't. His 3rd peppermint-flavored coffee still lightly emits steam when his phone rings.
" Harry," he answers, not caring to check who is.
" Hi Harry, how are you?" A rough-sounding voice came through the phone.
" Richard? Why are you calling me? I thought the deal was you don't contact any of us and we would get a restraining order."
" How's my boy?"
" Charlie? He's fine, still alive thank god." At this point, Harry was getting aggravated. The nerve of this absent father to ask how his son is, after feeding him kiwi and blaming Y/N for his throat closing one of the last times he saw him.
" Still giving it to my wife better than I did?"
" Richard I never slept with Ms. L/N, I do believe you were getting secret hotel rooms with my girlfriend is why you two split." After Y/N sent Dick the divorce papers he tried to claim that she cheated with Harry to try and get the prenup revoked.
" Yeah, too bad Elizabeth wasn't too fond of the whole ' sleeping with me after you left her' thing." Richard reminces.
" I'm going to hang up if you're not going to tell me why you called."
" I called to see what time I should show up for the Christmas party, I know that bitch is throwing one and Alex won't tell me."
" And what makes you think that I will? Try to contact me again and I will call the police, go to hell bastard." With that, Harry hung up the phone and looked over at Charlie, who was blissfully sleeping for his nap as the credits rolled. " Let's move you to your bed?" He said to himself before moving Charlie to his crib.
Turning on the baby monitor he decided it was time to take a shower, something he did rather often. He had his own room and bathroom, kept well stocked with everything he might need in case he was needed overnight.
Stripping and jumping in to wash his greased hair and release some pent-up energy from the conversation he just had. Nothing ever got him going more than Y/N, everything about her made his heart race and cock throb.
The way he would imagine her eyes glossed with need and how swollen her lips would be if he got the chance to have a go at it. He started to stroke himself the way he pictured she would. Beginning with his balls, cupping them gently and tugging them slightly. A scratching moan left his throat, slowly bringing his hand up to the tip and thumbing to the slit. The hot water hitting his back only added to the sensation.
He thought that only if she could see him now, mouth open, moaning and groaning at only the thought of being able to see her in such a personal and vulnerable state. Other things like if she liked to take charge or let someone else take the wheel. If she'd let him fuck her face or would she fuck his?
Vision after vision came to his head, too soon it was all over. Thick white ribbons of cum shoot out onto the shower floor, his orgasm almost sending him to his knees and leaving him like a rubber band breaking its tension.
----
Lunch came rather quickly, the meeting taking longer than Y/N thought it was going to. Ms. Indigo showed up with written reports of other assault and harassment claims that she found on his desk. Mr. Wilson claimed he never took that out of the complaint box that was mailed off once a month to his higher-up. At the end of it all. Y/N decided that Kristen Indigo was more than qualified to run the branch by herself considering that Mr. Wilson's position was basically a middle man between his boss and her.
Y/N encouraged Kristen to use the company lawyer to file a suit against him, as Y/N was already doing considering the more serious claims lead to stalking and drugging employees.
She ordered Harry's usual and herself something she deemed tasty as she arrived first. As the bell to the door rings Y/N looks up to see her baby and Harry walk in, bundled up like it was a snowstorm.
" Momma momma momma momma momma," Charlie ranted on wanting to be held by his young mother.
" Is that your mom? She awfully pretty Charlie, I gotta say I see where you get it from. Practically a carbon copy." Harry joked to the baby as Y/N laughed.
" Hi, baby! How was your nap, Charlie?" She looked at Harry to get the answer as Charlie stuffed his face into his mother's neck still feeling cuddly.
" Had to cut it a little short so he could get ready for our outing, fell asleep in the car on the way over." Harry took off his puffy jacket, setting it on the back of the wooden chair revealing a rather tight, gray textures long-sleeved shirt. Y/N looked back down at her son only to see him blissfully asleep again in a matching outfit.
" I should buy you two more matching clothes, it's adorable. He looks like a little person." Kissing Charlie's head, she relishes in the infamous baby smell. " I ordered your usual, and some warm apple sauce for this one."
" Mr. Raymond called me." Y/N's train of thought crashed as she looked up at him to see what he was talking about. " Wanted to know when the Holiday Party was, told him to fuck off and that if he tried to contact us again I was going to call the police."
" Oh. Well, that's good. Thank you, Harry."
" It's not a problem Mrs. Raymond-" cutting him off she decided she was over being called the name of the man she left.
" Just call me Y/N, please." Harry nodded in agreement and continued the conversation.
" Y/N," he emphasized, " when is the Christmas party?" Y/N sighs at his question.
" I've made it into a gala-type thing." their food comes and Y/N starts to feed her son.
" What do you mean ' gala type ting'? are we not having it in the banquet hall on 3rd like usual?" Hary questions her. She shakes her head no at the wondering man.
" No, Alex suggested that we should invite clients to the party and we both know how uptight the celebrities can be."
" Well Miss Forbes Women of the Year, wouldn't you be one of those 'celebrities'?" Y/N giggles at his clever remark.
" No, I mean the Kardashian-Jenners, Julia Micheals, Micheal Buble, they won't just travel to New York for an office party because their marketing team invites them." Harry nods his head.
" No, but they will show up to the fundraising gala run by the Y/N L/N, you're a genius!" Her heart gives a flutter at his kind words. Charlie decided he had had enough applesauce and wanted some of the good stuff, griping onto the front of Y/N's shirt pulling down not only her shirt but the breastfeeding bra she was wearing, flashing Harry completely.
" Oh god!" She exclaimed as Charlie latched onto his primary food source. See if this had been Harry's first time seeing Y/N's breasts, things would have been different, instead of wasting a minute, he’s pulling out the cover from Charlie's diaper bag. Covering her for her own comfortability, knowing that she was still not ready to show the world her tits. " Thank you, thank you. Harry, I am so sorry I-"
" It's not like it's the first time I've seen them, I'm just glad I grabbed a cloth before the creep in the corner wanted to come to take a peek," Harry states to try and release some of the tension but in turn only causing more. " I- I mean when you're feeding him not that I break my neck to look at them or anything, that would be gross." Once again not making it any easier on himself, he rambles on to try and fix it. " Not that you or breasts are gross, they're good breasts! Great event! I think our tits are great! NOT THAT I THINK ABOUT YOUR TITS, I JUST MEAN-" Y/N having enough of hearing about her tits from her nanny, cuts him off.
" Harry! It's okay! You're okay! I promise!" She lets out a light laugh, Charlie's eyes drooping, enjoying the nourishment entering his body. " Nothing wrong with having seen my breasts, nothing wrong with thinking about them either for the record. I'd be a little concerned if you didn't think about them if I'm honest. I'd probably think something was wrong with 'em or something." Looking up at him after having cooed at the nursing baby in her arms.
Harry's face was relaxed, red with surprised eyes. Running a stressed hand through his hair he spoke up, " Let's just not cock about it," quickly realizing what he had said he rushed to fix it, " I mean TALK about it! Wouldn't want to have to stroke it- HAVE A STROKE OVER IT!"
Y/N began laughing about it before her phone rang, " sorry it's Alex." She quickly answered it.
"Y/N RICHARD IS AT THE LEVEL 3 FRONT DESK DEMANDING TO BE LET INTO YOUR OFFICE, HE'S ALREADY BROKEN THE POTTED PLANTS ON MY DESK AND I HAD TO LOCK MYSELF IN YOUR OFFICE!" Alex was quick and obviously frightened.
" Oh my god! Alex, call the police. I will be there in a second!" Hanging up the phone, she unlatches her baby boy and hands him off to Harry. She fixes herself and gets ready to leave. " Richard just showed up at the office and is threatening people! He broke Alex's collectors' pots he had on his desk! I have to go!" Harry standing up putting Charlie in his carrier gasps.
Pulling out a fifty and throwing it on the table, " Wait, I'll just come with you-"
" What about Charlie?" She sounds panicked and in charge at the same time.
" We can leave him with-" She cuts him off once again.
" Martha on the first floor, smart. Let's go!"
--
It was only a 10-minute walk to the offices, " Look who's here to see you, Martha!" The old Nigerian woman heard Harry before she could see him.
" Baby Charlie!" The 80-year-old woman jumped up from her desk and quickly walked to the baby. Leaving Charlie and the diaper bag with her with a promise of not being more than half an hour.
Before they even reached the main source of the problem- Raymond -they could hear it on their way up. Y/N walked out of the elevator first, Harry only wanting to intervene if he had to.
“ YOU CALLED HER?” Richard county yelled in the direction Alex was hiding. Y/N’s ex husband had moved into the desk and cubicle area, papers, pens, and staplers thrown everywhere. “ EVERYONE LOOK! IT'S THE BITCH WHO STOLE MY SON FROM ME!”
“ Lower your fucking voice when you are talking to me. How dare you come into my office, my place of work, and tear shit up!” Raymond goes to open his mouth but Y/N cuts him off before he could. “ I'm still talking!" She seethed when hs ehad to raise her voice to get his attention. "I didn’t ‘steal’ your son from you, you gave up your parent role to my son when you fucked my barely legal personal assistant when I was pregnant, then almost killed him. Dick, you are 42 and you are throwing worse tantrums than Charlie.” He was almost at a loss for words, but then he saw Harry.
" SHE WAS 18! IT WAS ILLEAGL!" He shouted.
" And your son's nanny's girlfriend!"
“ OH YEAH! You’re such a GREAT mother! If his fucking nanny is right there, then where is our son Y/N?” Thinking he had the upper hand, he hadn’t planned on Harry sticking up for her.
“ That’s none of your business, is it mate? You don’t get to criticize her OR me in how Charlie is being raised, you were too busy trying to get your little dick wet when he needed you so you could leave him out of it.” Harry spits from the wall he was leaning on. Raymond stared at him, fist up ready. “ You really want to also get charged with assault?” Harry asks. Richard looked at him, sizing him up it seemed. Taking Harry's height into account he decides to go for Y/N instead.
When he gets within a couple feet of each other, Y/N takes her dominant hand and launches it forward, knocking him straight into his nose. Y/N could feel the bone crack under her fist, the pressure on Raymond's bone causing him to take a couple steps back.
" YOU FUCK HIT ME!" Her ex-husband screams. " I'M PRESSING CHARGES! SUCKS TO BE A FUCKING BITCH NOW, DOESN'T IT?" Raymond looked as if he had won the lottery.
" I have cameras dumbass." Y/N states as the police conveniently come out of the elevator. " My lawyers will be in contact, expect a restraining order."
----
Y/N ended up just sending the whole floor home for the day on a case of " emotional distress", she sent Alex home and booked him a trip to a spa near Central Park that she likes to go to.
Harry ended up carrying Charlie home because Y/N's hand hurt so bad it was only a matter of time before it turned purple and blue. She refused to go check if it was broken because one of the cops said if it was, she would definitely know. But they don't know Y/N like Harry does.
Harry knows that she blew out her knee in high school by falling down the stairs in her at the time boyfriend's house and took ibuprofen for a week before she went to the ER because she said it was still " a little sore". Or how she has a combined total of 6 concussions under her belt, 2 of them being caused by the 4th one she had ( she had been hit in the head with a baseball, then when the concussion had finally gone, she fell into her dresser from still being woozy from the past one.). Or how she delivered Charlie via natural birth in her home without pain meds and said she would do it again.
So instead of arguing with her about it, when they got back to hers he just put Charlie down for another nap and offered to disinfect where it had gotten cut off of Dick's tooth.
" I am so sorry Harry, genuinely. This is my consequence for trying to fix him, not yours. You don't have to be here." She whispers to him and he was cleaning up her minor wound. she winces at the pain of her hand being moved in a certain way. Harry standing in between her legs as she sits on the counter looks up at her eyes.
" If I didn't want to be her, I wouldn't be," Harry states simply as if it was already said. She just shakes her head at him looking up at the fancy light fixture that holds the color-changing light bulbs she put in not too long ago. A single tear slips out of her eyes, betraying the self-restraint she was trying to use. " Hey, why are we crying? If it hurts that bad then we need to go get it checked out" She once again just shakes her head at him.
"He's just got so violent, it scares the shit out of me." She breathes in deep, tears now free-flowing out of her eyes. " Y'know I tried to make it work with him for so long." She lets a sob rack through her body, " he slept with Elizabeth, I got over it. I chose you to Charlie's nanny just to prove that I was over it!" Her eyes quickly glance up to his.
" That isn't saying it didn't work out for the better, you're amazing with him and he loves you more than he even thinks about me. " She lets out a sad giggle before cutting Harry off before he could even start. " But then he just kept doing it, and then he Charlie almost," she pauses to hopefully contiune, but then doesn't get more than a word out. " Amost-."
" Hey hey hey, Y/N. You're okay," Harry pulls her into his chest, careful of her hand. " He can't get you now, not while you're here with me okay?" She just continues to cry. " Know what always makes me feel better?" Harry asks her.
" What?" She plays along.
" Tequila!" Harry squeezes her as he emphasizes the word in excitement. Y/N laughs for a minute then starts bawling her eyes out even more. " What? What? Don't like tequila? That's okay, I think y'also have vodka or wine or beer or," Harry stops his theatrical list-making when he notices that she is still crying. " Hey talk to me Y/N, what's wrong."
" I have to protect Charlie from him, you'd think that would be enough, right?" He hums in agreement before speaking.
" Yes, but you don't have to do it alone, okay? I will be here for both of you. I promise." He means what he says, truly.
" What if there are more of us to protect from him?" She asked quietly.
" Then I will be here for all of you, hypothetical or not. If you get a boyfriend I will still be here, I will still take care of Charlie. You won't be alone." Harry continues to hold her during his speech.
summary: y/n needs a new place to live, and somehow, like most things lately, it doesn’t go to plan
10.9kish words
warnings: none! harry isn’t very nice but it’s for the plot!!!
a/n: happy new year? 😭 i really hope you like part one! i wanted this to only be two parts but….lol please. also, this feels very fanfic. like i don’t know how to describe it other than that but pls tell me you get it. lmk what you think!!! update me on life!!! how have you beennnn???? enjoy <3
(Y/N) remembered exactly when she got the email confirmation.
She was in the middle of printing off a million copies at the printer for her boss when she felt her phone buzz. Any other time, she might just let it go, she’s working, but this felt important. (Y/N) knew what it was as soon as she read over the subject line.
It was such a relief. Finding the place she did, during the time of year it was. She was just really hoping it wasn’t a scam. Her application was squeaky clean and the only reason she was even looking for a place to stay was because of her ex. The bastard.
Really, it was just their time. Moving in together was a rushed decision but it was too late because all of her things were already neatly arranged beside Lucas’s and while that should’ve been a red flag, she didn’t bother mentioning it. They were good, she had a place to stay, someone who cared about her enough, there was no reason to complain and make everything complicated for everyone. She just tried to be grateful.
The house was move-in ready. It had three bedrooms, a big backyard, a decent front porch, a fireplace, and its own washer and dryer. It was much more spacious than the tiny apartment she's been sharing with Lucas. It was a one bedroom in a tall building and none of the windows had a view. It felt like a prison sometimes even when she tried really hard to make it feel like a home. Despite her efforts, it never did. It just felt like a place she came to sleep and that was pretty much it. The new place, from what she can tell from the pictures, will be such a change from what she's been used to for the past three years.
Lucas was nice enough to let her stick around while she found a new place. That didn't mean it wasn't awkward though. She would normally spend the night at her friend's but when that wasn't possible, she slept on the couch in the living room. He did offer up the bed, but she didn't want to get too far into his personal space since it was technically his apartment now.
It took a month. It was grueling. And it caused her a lot of stress, trying to find something affordable and something that wasn't terribly far from her job. She ended up setting up an account on one of those roommate matching sites. There was no way she would've been able to pay for something on her own. Most of her friends either had their own place or roommates already. And the last thing she wanted to do was be a bother. So, she decided that matching with a stranger on the internet and at least being able to have her own space and bed couldn’t be worse than half-living out of her ex's apartment. The website guaranteed that everyone had been vetted with background checks and a whole list of other things that she barely skimmed over while hurrying to fill out the application on her lunch break last week.
It felt like her only option. Just like when she moved in with Lucas in the first place. But she wouldn't let this time be a mistake. She got to put in several traits and lifestyle habits so that they could match her with someone who was similar. It felt simple. She would get matched with someone she was compatible with and there should be no issues at all.
But if there is anything that (Y/N) knows for certain, it's that most things are never as good as they seem. With this though, she wants to be optimistic. She doesn't have to be fearful that she'll be matched with a roommate from hell. Or at least, she shouldn't be preparing herself for that. This has to be a good thing. A fresh start, a new beginning.
She quickly pressed confirm, half-reading the email from the site, and shoved her phone back in her pocket once the printer stopped. Then, she hurried back to her desk with a stack of paper taller than her, feeling so very relieved that all this stress can be lifted from her shoulders.
Lucas hovered the whole time she was packing her things for the last time.
Like there was something he wanted to say. But (Y/N) really didn't want to have a heart to heart with him when she was leaving tomorrow. He wasn't going to change her mind either, if that was what he was going to attempt to do. He just watched, standing off to the side with a look on his face she was doing her best to ignore.
Nothing between them went wrong. He felt more like a friend now if anything. Maybe she outgrew him. She's not sure but nothing is the same as it was. It was time, plain and simple.
"Do you even know if that's a real website or not? Did you check the reviews or—"
"Of course, I did." She didn't in too much depth, but she did know that it was the better of the other roommate matching sites. "I already have her name and everything." That bit was true…ish. She only had a first initial and a last name, but that was good enough for her situation.
There was an option for them to meet beforehand, after they'd been matched, but it was seeming like this was a rush for both of them, so she didn't mind skipping over that if it meant she could get off the couch in Lucas's living room. She'd have to go shopping for a new bed as soon as possible and whatever else she'd need for a room to herself would come in time. A bed of her own was all she cared to have right now.
"Did you even talk to her? What if she's like, the worst or something? You can always come back if you need to." He stepped a few steps closer and she turned to him, tossing the shirt she was in the middle of folding on the bed.
"Thank you for your concern, but I'm going to be just fine. It's really not your place to even care." (Y/N) could tell that hit him a little harder than she meant to, but it was true. She wasn't going to be worried about anything that Lucas was up to as soon as she shut the door behind her.
He was very agreeable when she told him about breaking up, so she's not sure why he's feeling differently now that she's actually leaving. It has her a little suspicious, honestly. Like he didn't think she was really going to move out, but he wanted to break up? It confuses her, but she doesn't question it and hopes that he stops his worrying.
"Fine. But you can move back in if things don't work out. Just call me." He offered once more before leaving his spot in front of her to go back to the living room.
Her eyes rolled and she went back to folding the shirt she'd dropped a second ago.
Tomorrow was Saturday and officially move-in day. She didn't have much to bring with her, so she didn't have to bother her friends to help her move all her things. It was really just clothes she had. Everything else, furniture-wise she was leaving for Lucas. This was a fresh start. She didn't want anything that reminded her of her time here. Not that it was bad, she only wanted a change of scenery. And with the way he's acting now, makes her want to forfeit her last night in their used-to-be-shared apartment. She wanted to call Raven and beg to spend the night there.
She shot her quick text once she zipped her second suitcase shut. Raven responded with a few laughing emojis before telling her that she was welcome anytime. And that if she needed any help getting out, or if Lucas was being difficult, she'd be there in an instant. (Y/N) was hoping it didn't come to that, but she had a slight feeling that it was possible. Especially with how he'd been acting so far.
Lucas caught her in the middle of a chuckle at Raven's texts and that same look overtook his face. Like he was a scared puppy who was afraid of getting kicked. She didn't feel bad for him, it just made things even more awkward and made her even more eager to get away from him.
"I made dinner."
"Oh." He'd never picked up a pot or a pan or anything the entire three years they lived here and now he's made dinner all of a sudden? "Raven's on her way to help me get my things now." She fibbed, quickly typing off a message telling her to be en route because this was just getting to be too much.
"You don't move in until tomorrow. You're leaving now?" His voice switched to the whiny tone that she hated, but she tried not to show her irritation. She didn't know what he'd do at this point and she really didn't like the direction it was going.
"Yep." She kept it short and pulled her stuffed suitcase from the bed and rolled it to the side so she could collect her other bags before she had to rush out. She grabbed the duffel bag and started toward the front door, dragging one of the suitcases behind her. Once those were placed by the door, she went back to the bedroom to gather the rest of her things. Lucas was still standing where he'd been when she slipped past him. Like he couldn’t believe she was leaving now. She really didn't know why he was making it a big deal, as if she wasn't going to leave the next day or something. But she was going to ignore that too and continue collecting her things so she'd be ready for Raven to come help her with her bags. One trip was the limit. She didn't want to have to come back. Not anytime soon, anyway.
"We can have dinner first?" He followed her to the door this time, trailing behind her with a pitiful look on his face. "Just tell her to come in an hour and we can sit down one last time."
"She's already on her way, Lucas. It's okay. Some other time." She waved him off, doing one last scan of the area to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind that she really, really needed.
"Okay. Can I help you with your bags at least?" So insistent. (Y/N) didn't know how else to word it. She's not sure why he's feeling so responsible for her when it was the opposite when they were together. But she nodded anyway. Maybe after this he'd leave her alone for good.
"Fine. But hurry, she'll be here any minute."
Just as Raven was pulling to the curb, Lucas was stopping beside her with her suitcase in tow. (Y/N) is hoping that this will be the easiest part of leaving because so far he's made it kind of difficult.
Raven was out of her car the second she put it in park, walking around to stand next to her.
"Ready to go?" She smiled, shooting Lucas a look as she assessed the situation between them. It probably wasn't hard to see that (Y/N) is practically running out on him.
"Yep. My car's right over here." She started off in the direction of the building's lot and luckily, Raven stepped in and took the bag from Lucas before he decided to tag along. Unfortunately, he did anyway. The bags were kind of heavy, but they managed while he stood there and watched, another pathetic expression covering his face.
"Well, that's that." Raven tapped the closed lid of the trunk. "Let's get going."
"Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to, I have plenty of room here for you, you know. If you're doing this just because we broke up, it's okay—"
"Lucas. Please, I'm done with this conversation, goodbye." There was no nicer way to put it. He didn't understand the subliminal messages she's been sending him for the past several months. Even when they were still together. That's a big part of the reason why they didn't work out too.
"Well, aren't you going to hug me goodbye?" He hurried to say when she started toward the driver seat.
"Lucas, seriously? Lay off. Go ahead, (Y/N). I'll follow you." Raven waited until she got in the car and Lucas stepped far enough back before getting in her car, preparing to follow her back to her apartment.
She turned right out of the lot, not daring to look back in the rear view mirror.
*****
Raven had to work during the time (Y/N) was supposed to be moving into the new place. She kind of wanted someone to go with her, just to scope the place out and meet her new roommate, but she didn't want to interrupt Raven's routine any more than she already had in the last two months.
So, she reassured her that she would be fine and send a text when she was settled in. It doesn't have to be scary and if things do get weird, she'll just leave. And then try to find another place in the meantime.
She did pay a deposit, so while it wouldn't be ideal, she still would if there was anything amiss about the house or the roommate.
The site did give the option to meet with the person before accepting and signing the lease, but (Y/N) was too desperate. She signed, not even looking over the other person's profile or anything. The house looked good, rent was decent, it was in the perfect location. There was no reason to mess that up. So, she signed and decided to worry about who she was actually living with when it came to it. Which, looking back, was probably a huge mistake, but there was nothing she could do now because she had already parked outside the house, taking a moment to look around and to take a deep breath. She'd done it. Her hard work had finally paid off. This was her home now.
It was a two story brick building. Like it was probably a really old house before they remodeled the inside. It looked nice. The door was painted a soft green color and the shutters matched. Three steps led to the top of the porch. There wasn't much as far as decor outside. No flower pots, nothing planted beside the stairs. She supposed that would be something they could work on. To make it feel more like home.
(Y/N) finally pushed the door open and stepped out. The longer she waited, the longer she'd have until she could get settled in and meet her new roommate. She really, really hoped for the best.
She knocked, one bag on her shoulder and the other beside her on the porch. She took another breath right as she heard movement on the other side of the door. Then, it opened.
And…it really was the last thing she expected.
A man, appearing to be very unpleasant about her presence on the front porch, looked her head to toe, and then asked, "Can I help you?"
It took (Y/N) a second because of his tone alone, like she was bothering him. Like opening the door for her was the last thing he ever wanted to do. She tried to compose herself.
"Uh, yes, I live here." Maybe he's the landlord or her roommate's boyfriend. God, she'd heard so many horror stories about roommate boyfriends when she was doing all her research about the site she was using and living with people you don't know in general.
"You live here?" His brow scrunched and his eyes narrowed as if he was having trouble with simple sentences.
"Yes. I'm (Y/N). I live here. Who are you?"
"I live here."
"Looks like it." She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, exhausted already from holding it for so long. "Can I come in?"
"You're (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?" Like that was terrible.
"Yes." She stressed this time, trying not to get irritated when she's just met him even though he hasn't said who he is yet.
"I didn't know you were…" A sigh, quite dramatic. "Come in."
He finally stepped aside and let her into the foyer. As soon as she let the bag drop from her shoulder, she heaved a relieving breath before looking around her, excited to see it in person. All of, what looks to be, the original wood flooring is intact and polished perfectly. There's a big staircase right in front of the door leading to the second floor. Off the the right of it is the living room and around to the kitchen. The left is what appears to be a dining room with a table too small for the space. There was definitely some work to do and that honestly excited her. To decorate her space for the first time sounded so good. Lucas barely let her put pictures up and he definitely wasn't going to let her paint anything because he wanted his security deposit back when he finally did leave the place.
This would be a welcome challenge. As long as her and her roommate could compromise on a few things.
"Wait, so, who are you again?" She spun around to face him, interrupting his silent scrutinizing of her from more than a few steps away, nearly toeing the line of the dining room.
"I can't believe I didn't bother to check who was moving in." It almost offended her but she was feeling really confused all of a sudden. What on earth is he talking about.
"What do you mean, you didn't check?" Her hand clutched onto the handle of her suitcase again, worried about what he means. Maybe she should've made Raven come with her, no matter how much of a nuisance it would've been.
"We matched, somehow. Even though I made sure to…" Another sigh. "I just wasn't expecting you." The you sounded like he was disgusted by the idea of her. It definitely wasn't a welcoming feeling like she was hoping for.
"What do you mean? You're my roommate?" The dots started to connect. He was her roommate, there was no one else here, and they were so totally fucked by that website she feels like writing a review because she would have never in a million years signed up or been okay with living with a man. Not at this stage in her life.
"Apparently. Are you sure you're at the right house? This could all just be a misunderstanding."
"Am I sure I'm at the right house? Of course, I am!" She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and swiped to find the confirmation email. She read him back the address and when the look on his face turned even more grave, she spoke up again. "I didn't even think to read your profile, I was just happy to be approved, but I would never, ever, ever set myself up like this." She can air her grievances too. This is definitely not ideal.
"You didn't look over my profile? How stupid is that.”
"You didn't look over my profile either!"
"Well, I was too busy with my own stuff. I didn't ask to be paired with you."
(Y/N) could feel the heat in her face. This was not what she wanted to have to deal with. This was supposed to be easy. The website was supposed to do all that for her, no worrying needed. That's what the tagline says anyway. But now she knows that's all bullshit. This might just be the worst possible scenario besides still being stuck with Lucas.
"Maybe I can call the customer service and fix this." She scrolled to the bottom of the email, looking for the number to call.
"Fix it how? I paid to stay here, I'm not going anywhere."
"I paid to stay here too! I just, I don't know what to do." She paid the deposit, she didn’t leave Lucas on a great note, and she definitely wasn’t going to ask Raven to hang out at her place until she found a different apartment. This has already been such a huge thing she thinks that she can just stay here for now. It’s not that weird. He is an unknown man who seems to have some kind of very deeply rooted annoyance with her for no real reason at all. While that will probably be difficult eventually, this is much, much better than staying with Lucas and having to deal with his theatrics.
“That’s all you brought?” He pointed to the two bags she’d brought in, looking dissatisfied about that as well.
“No. I have two more bags in the car. But yeah….that’s it.”
“There’s not a bed upstairs so I don’t know what you’re going to do.”
“Here’s an idea. I’m going to go buy one.”
He looked as if he didn't know how to respond for a moment. He probably wasn't expecting her to snap at him like that, but he didn't seem too bothered by it either.
"Well. Good luck. Your room's at the top of the stairs." He said, before disappearing down the long hallway off of the living room. She hasn't even seen the whole house yet. She's argued with that man longer than actually looking around and taking the whole place in.
That was almost four months ago.
Harry and (Y/N) have been civil. For the most part.
There are times that (Y/N) considers packing her things and leaving without telling him. Like the time he watched her push her mattress in a box up the entire flight of stairs on its side, not once offering to help. He just stood there with his hands on his hips, seemingly very unimpressed by all of it.
And the fact that she doesn't know anything about him. His name she figured out from a piece of mail. He never even directly told her. She doesn't know where he works, just that he leaves early in the mornings and gets back in the afternoon before she's home from work.
She's tried to get him to open up. She's tried to ask questions. Like what his favorite food is. What kind of soda he likes from the store, anything. But most of the time, they eat dinner separately. They make different things at different times and one or both of them escape to their rooms so things don't get awkward. (Y/N) really wished she had a roommate that wanted to be around her, even if it is a guy. He's so disinterested, it almost hurts.
He doesn't want to get to know her, he doesn't want to spend more than three seconds in the same room as her, and he won't even talk most times. He never says good morning or goodnight and he never tells her if he's going to be out all day.
Not that they need to communicate so closely like that, but it sure would be helpful if they did. She never knows when or if she can have friends over because his schedule is scattered. And she can never ask because he can barely stand her presence for more than two minutes at a time.
It feels unfair. Like she got unlucky with a roommate who hates her just because she rushed out on Lucas. Maybe if she hadn’t jumped at the first chance at getting out of there, she would be somewhere much better with a roommate that doesn't glare at her every time he sees her.
"Harry!" Her panicked shout interrupted the still air of the house.
Regardless of how Harry truly felt about her, he always came rushing to her whenever she sounded in distress. Like the time she tripped the fire alarm from a pan being on the stove too long. She couldn't reach the button to shut it off, but he came and did it for her. Or the time her front tire deflated just enough for her to notice on her way to work and all she did was ask. And he got the tire inflator from the basement and had it fixed in minutes. He always comes, he just never sticks around long enough for a thank you.
Even if it's only for the teensy tiny spider on the bathroom ceiling.
He was up the stairs in just three strides, standing beside her, trying to assess the situation. She was only in a towel, unfortunately, but he really didn't seem to even notice.
"What is it?" Harry looked her over quickly, his gaze not lingering for even a second, he was just making sure she was immediately okay.
"I'm trying to shower and there's that…thing up there." She pointed, seeing his shoulders drop from the corner of her eye. "I wouldn't even mind it if it was anywhere else, but they always have to be right over the shower, don't they?"
When she turned back to him, his jaw was set. She knows she interrupted him for something that he doesn't care one bit about, but she honestly wouldn't be able to get in the shower until it was gone. And if it got to simply roam the house freely, that would freak her out even more. She probably wouldn't end up sleeping.
"Are you kidding me?" He blinked a few times and then shook his head.
"I know, it's silly, I just—"
"It's fine." He cut her off, shifting his gaze back to the spider that hasn't moved an inch. "I'll take care of it."
"Thanks."
He didn't bother with a response, instead he grabbed the glass she left in the bathroom from last night when she forced herself to drink some water before bed and reached toward the spider. He could touch the ceiling flat on his feet. It was almost impressive, though the ceilings weren't too incredibly high.
(Y/N) watched from the hallway as he very, very gently brushed the spider into the glass. She gasped, taking another step back, sure that he was going to push it to the floor and have it run somewhere where neither of them could see it. But he didn't.
It went right into the glass and he examined it before looking back to her.
"Done." Was all he said before stepping around her and making his way back downstairs. She didn't call out another thank you, even though she would probably be forever grateful for just that. She started the shower and got on with her day, trying not to think too much about any of it.
*****
There are a few things that (Y/N) has learned about Harry that she's not sure he's noticed.
He has a secret stash of chocolates and sour candies in the cupboard that's too high for her to reach. She only knows because she was putting away the clean dishes one day when he wasn't there and had to actually get on the counter to reach the very top shelf. And that's where she found it. She really didn't take him for someone who would like sour candy or anything sweet, but apparently he does. It's nothing that she cares for, so she left it alone. But she kept that information in the file in her brain about Harry which is slowly collecting cobwebs from how little she actually knows.
He watches the weather channel religiously.
And she really didn't understand why he watched on the couch and looked so unsettled about it. The end of next week was bringing a downpour of rain. Scattered storms and above normal winds. Nothing out of the ordinary for this time of year, but Harry didn't seem too excited about it. She didn't ask though. Maybe he had plans for the weekend that were now going to be ruined by the rain. She didn't know and she really didn't care too much. But she was curious why he sits there and watches the same thing every day.
Since (Y/N) and Harry have silently agreed to only coexist and are rarely ever in the same area at the same time, that means that she doesn't go anywhere near his personal space. His bedroom, the office right next to her room, his bathroom. She's not sure what's going on with the basement area, so she hasn't asked. But she doesn't want him thinking that she's being nosy and invading his space by allowing herself anywhere near those places.
She is trying though. To loosen him up but not push it too far. She made lasagna one night while he was out. There was plenty left over after she had her fill, so she might have discreetly put some out for him. It wasn't obvious that it was for him, but it was obvious that it was up for grabs. He never said anything about it, but she did find that exact place stashed away in the dishwasher after being scraped clean.
(Y/N) prefers to think optimistically, so she's telling herself that he ate it and didn't toss it in the trash before he went to bed, deeming her crazy for even thinking of cooking something and sharing it with him. So, she just tries to be as courteous as possible without ever really saying anything to him.
Raven was starting to get impatient about not meeting her roommate yet when it had been months. She explained that he really just liked to keep to himself and he barely ever talked to her unless she forced it out of him. Raven laughed for ten minutes when she told her her new roommate was a guy but then asked her if she felt comfortable with him and if things were going okay. And they were. Harry and (Y/N) barely spoke. If that's what kept this arrangement afloat, she'd continue. Even if she thought they could be really good friends if he allowed her to know him a little bit.
It was a Saturday and Raven came to sweep (Y/N) up so they could do some shopping. There were still things she wanted to look for decor-wise and Raven had a free Saturday. So, they went to a few stores and found a couple things that (Y/N) just had to have for her space.
Around one they decided to stop off and get a late lunch. It was nice to have things feeling normal again after she'd finally gotten away from Lucas. He was a big downer when it came to things she enjoyed doing. He thought she hung out with her friends too much and he never wanted to do anything she wanted to do. Meanwhile, Lucas was always out with his friends on a Friday night and always dragging her along to do things that she either didn't want to go to or had no interest in. But she just thought that was what a relationship was about. Trying to like the same things your partner likes or at least participating once before you decide to completely write it off. The same things did not apply to Lucas that applied to (Y/N) and it felt unfair. That was another reason why she started thinking it was best to end things.
"Hey, there's this cute little pie shop around the corner. Have you ever been?" Raven had just polished off her drink and mentioned this to her. (Y/N) never knew there was a shop just for pies, but it sounded good, so she agreed.
It was in walking distance so they didn't bother with the car. Maybe three blocks from the tiny bistro they sat in for lunch. (Y/N) didn't recognize the shop when Raven ushered her inside, but she assumes it's been here for a while without her noticing. Which is strange because a place like this, she would definitely know about.
There were a few people in front of them when they got in line, so (Y/N) took that time to look over the very extensive menu. A lot of it was pies, but there was also other desserts. (Y/N) was really only interested in the pies at the moment and was stuck between lemon meringue and key lime. She was right in the middle of asking what Raven thought when she glanced over her shoulder and flinched at the sight of Harry sitting at a small table by the window, writing something in a notebook.
At first, she had to double check that it was him. But it really didn't take her long to realize that he wasn't her imagination. He was right there, looking over a notebook, and marking things in it occasionally. He’s in his usual charcoal gray trousers and some type of graphic tee shirt, but this time under an unbuttoned blue and white pinstriped shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off the many tattoos that she rarely gets to see.
Is this where he goes when he leaves? She almost didn't know what to do for a second. He apparently hadn't seen her yet, but did she want him to know she was there? It felt like another invasion of privacy. And she figured he wouldn't be too happy if she went up to him to say hi, just because.
"Raven." She tugged on her sleeve, trying not to draw attention to either of them. "Uh, Harry's here." Raven's eyes went wide and she quickly scanned the entire room in search of him. (Y/N)'s never really described what Harry was like, only that he wasn't too friendly and liked it better when they weren’t too involved with each other.
"Aren't you going to say hi? Where is he?" She beamed at her like this was such an amazing thing that's happened. (Y/N) just thinks that Raven is extra curious because she's kept them away from each other for so long.
"By the window," She pointed as nonchalantly as she could. "And no. I don't want to disturb him. He looks busy."
Raven looked him over and raised her eyebrows when she met (Y/N)'s gaze.
"No wonder you've been hiding him. He's hot."
That comment made (Y/N) want to melt into the floor. Because she's never let that thought enter her brain because it didn't seem appropriate. He was just her roommate that could barely stand to be in the same vicinity as her. So she never even let herself get too carried away with ideas like that. Because although it might've been true, it might've been something that she observed when she first met him, it was instantly overshadowed by his attitude and the way he spoke to her sometimes. It was pretty glaring, but she never let her mind start to wander off too far.
He was good looking. But the more she acknowledged that fact, the more she wouldn't know how to behave around him. And that just wouldn't do.
"Raven, that's not—" She tried, but they were at the counter now, and Raven just started rattling off their pie order. The man behind the counter didn't seem to be the most enthused, but he was polite about it.
Luckily, they were taking their pie slices to go, so (Y/N) was positive that she might be able to get out of here without him seeing her. It would just be better that way.
Raven took the bag from the man and thanked him before turning to (Y/N) with a pointed look.
"You have to say hi."
"I don't think I do." She replied, taking a step in the direction of the door. Raven caught her arm.
"Yes, you do. What if already saw you and he's waiting for you to come over and have a normal conversation? And you just leave instead? He probably thinks you don't like him." That sounded impossible. All (Y/N) had ever been was nice to him. How could he think she didn't like him?
"Raven. That doesn't even make sense."
"Just go. And then we can enjoy our pie in peace back at my place. You don't have to be scared of him." She teased, grinning at her. It wasn't that she was scared, she just didn't want to approach him in a public place when she would never do so in the home that they share. It sounded ridiculous but that's their current dynamic.
"This is going to go horribly. I hope you know that." (Y/N) said over her shoulder before reluctantly making her way over to the table he was at. He hadn't noticed them at all it seemed, even though Raven was causing quite a scene over the whole thing.
She wasn't sure how to announce herself. Should she just sit down in front of them like they’re best friends? Should she tap his shoulder? Should she just stand next to the table and wait for him to see her standing there?
She really didn't have to do much because as soon as she was standing two feet from him, he was glancing up from his notebook and scrunching his eyebrows.
"Hi." Her fingers tangled behind her back as she waited for him to say something. He just blinked at her before looking back to the paper in front of him. And then he looked back at her, more confused than the first time.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was out shopping with my friend. We just had lunch and then came here for pie—"
"Are you following me or something?"
"No?” Following him? He must really think she has nothing better to do. “I didn't even know this place existed. Raven told me about it. We ordered and I saw you sitting here. That's all." She hurried to try to keep the tension out of his shoulders. He was relaxed and focused a few seconds ago until she came over and now everything is much different. She felt bad for disrupting him now, even if it was against her wishes. "Do you come here all the time?"
"Yeah. Why?" His voice and expression went flat. She knew he hated questions just based on how he acted any other time.
"I never knew it was here. I can’t believe I didn’t know this place was here. ." She tried to keep it light not ask too much of him. If he didn't feel like talking, that was fine. This still felt like progress.
"Hm." His hand hovered over the calculator she didn't notice that was sitting next to the notebook, like he was itching to get back to what he was doing. "Crazy."
"Yeah. It's really nice and quiet here, isn't it?"
"It was."
(Y/N)'s entire body deflated. She thought they were almost getting somewhere. He was answering nicely enough until he wasn't.
"I just wanted to say hi. That's all. I'll go." Her voice shrank and she didn't want to get upset over this interaction but she couldn't help it. He didn't enjoy her presence anywhere. Even it was outside of the house and she was trying to be polite and say hello.
She hurried back to Raven who was silently observing from next to the counter. (Y/N) didn't look back once and instead tried to keep her face from looking as hurt as she felt. If Raven heard anything he said to her, she would definitely give him a piece of her mind and (Y/N) just wasn't interested in dealing with that right now. So, she faked a smile for Raven and waved her toward the door.
"What did he say?" She asked when they stepped outside and (Y/N) shrugged, leaning towards not telling how annoyed he seemed.
"Nothing much. Just that he'd see me at home." She wished that was so. She's not sure why it hurt her feelings so much when she was fine with pretending he didn't exist. But this had deeply messed with her head for some reason. She guessed she'd been telling herself that he was tough to crack and that with time, he'd open up and they would be on good terms. But this almost proved that theory completely wrong. (Y/N) doesn't have much hope for it at all anymore.
This is why she didn't want to come over to him. Saying hi to someone you see out was reserved for people that were friends. And Harry and (Y/N) probably never would be.
She lightened up a little when they got back to Raven's and had the pie, but when she was dropping her home and driving off, (Y/N) felt that same feeling all over again.
Mainly, embarrassment. He could've been fake nice at the very least. She didn't know what he was doing there but she didn't think she deserved for him to act so irritated by her talking to him.
But if that's what he wanted, she wouldn't do it again.
She hurried to make herself something she could have for dinner and do whatever she needed to do to stay out of his way when he got home. She shut herself into her room just as she heard the front door opening. And she didn't leave make a single sound for the rest of the night.
****
It had been two weeks since she saw Harry at the pie shop.
And she hadn't seen him or spoken to him since. If he was home, she was in her room, hoping that she wouldn't have to leave there for anything while he was roaming downstairs.
She wasn't trying to get his attention by doing that. He wouldn't wonder about her, she was certain. He probably liked it better that she was out of his way. It was like he lived alone, but the other half of the rent was paid mysteriously every month.
It was still better than living with Lucas. She didn't feel the need to leave, even if she felt unwelcome here. She still had her own space and she could still come and go as she pleased, for the most part. But the lengths she had to go to avoid Harry was almost getting to be too much. That part started to get hard because he's everywhere all the time, except for in her room. He's in his office next door with the door slightly ajar, but he never says anything to her. He's on the couch, watching tv or a movie with the dinner he made for himself.
So the best thing she could think to do was keep quiet around him. If he was there and she was too, she just wouldn't speak to him. Even if it felt super weird to not say hello to someone when you entered the house or a room. She just didn't.
Even when another spider made its way to the ceiling in the bathroom. She just let it be, hurrying to wash the shampoo from her eyes and make sure it hadn't moved anywhere too close to her. It hadn't, but she had to be sure.
By the time (Y/N) had finished her nightly routine and was ready to make her way to her room, she noticed that rain had started pounding on the roof. It instantly relaxed her. She would have a good night's rest with the sound of the rain. She did double check her phone to see that it wasn't supposed to storm tonight, just heavy rain. Either would be fine with her.
She was just about to crawl into bed for the night when got the sudden craving for a hot tea. It would fit perfectly in with her getting ready for bed a little earlier than usual, with her favorite show playing on her tv, and the rain on the roof. And it would probably help send her off to sleep quicker. Now that the idea was in her head, she wouldn't be able to properly settle until she had a cup.
Groaning, she dragged herself from the bed and made her way to the staircase after opening the door. She wasn't sure where Harry was, but she was going to be quick about it and do her best not to run into him.
She crept down the stairs, cursing silently when she heard the tv on in the living room. But she would just do like she always does. Ignore him in the same way he ignores her.
Except, (Y/N) doesn't think she's that great at ignoring him. Especially when he's hunched over on the couch, hands over his eyes, looking very unwell despite not being able to see his face totally. His hair is mussed from his hands and he's sitting very still. Maybe because he can hear her moving about, but she's not sure. She keeps walking though, into the kitchen to grab the kettle that actually belongs to Harry that she's been secretly using when he's not around.
She tried to not glance over her shoulder at him while waiting for the kettle to heat, but she couldn't help it. He hadn't moved an inch. But she did notice his breathing was a little heavier.
Rain was pelting the kitchen windows. She watched for a moment. It really was quite the downpour, but considering spring has just started, she knew the rain was necessary. It calmed her greatly, watching it run down the tall pane of glass in front of the sink. It was dark out, so there was really nothing to see beyond there since the rain was coming down the way it was.
When she popped the tea bag in her mug of choice and poured over it, she took another glance.
She could've taken her tea right back to her room and forgotten about all of it. He would do it to her. But (Y/N) can't be that person even if she tried to be.
She lingered behind the couch, trying to decide what to do, what to say. He probably won't react kindly if she does say something, but she does anyway. He already hates her. If he wants to hate her for checking in on him, he can. At least she did what she thought was right.
"Harry?" His body tensed further than it was. She took half a step closer to the back of the couch. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." He replied instantly. Like he barely heard her question. She knows he doesn't want to talk about it, so she shifted the conversation.
"I made tea. Do you want some?"
"No." Another clipped answer. Any normal person would probably leave it there and go back to their room, but (Y/N) wanted to push him just a little bit.
So, she made him tea anyway. She doesn't know how he likes it or anything, but she made it the way she takes it, hoping that it would be good enough.
She quietly made her way around the couch with both mugs in either hand and stopped for a second. She'd never sat on the couch with Harry. She never sat on the couch when he was home. It was here when she moved in so it was obviously his, she just didn't want to overstep.
But she sat down a good distance away and leaned to set the mug on the table in front of him.
"It's there if you want it."
Again, (Y/N) could've left it there. It was a nice gesture, making him tea when it seems like he's a little anxious. And if there’s anything she can do to sway his current ideas about her, she might try once. Or twice.
She turned her attention to the tv. The weather channel. The sound was low, so she couldn't make out what they were saying but she could see the radar and judging by the map, the rain wasn't going to stop anytime soon.
The rain outside picked up for just a few minutes and she saw Harry shove his face further in his hands from the corner of her eye.
She grabbed the remote and changed the channel to something different. And turned up the volume a little more.
(Y/N)’s not sure what his real problem is, but she has a tiny idea now that she's connecting some dots. Keeping quiet was probably the best thing though, so she just sipped her tea and focused on the tv.
It was probably fifteen minutes into the show she was half listening to when Harry dropped his hands. She felt him glance over at her for a long moment before he spoke.
"What are you doing?"
"Drinking tea."
"Why are you sitting here?"
"I can't sit here?" She finally turned to meet his gaze and his eyes rolled like she knew they would. "In my own home?"
"I didn't say that." He looked to the tv before looking back to her. "You just don't have to sit here right now."
"Your tea's going to get cold if you don't drink it." She folded her legs, getting even more comfortable on the couch and went back to her tea.
Harry seemed not to have anything to say as he stared at the side of her face for a beat longer before reaching for the tea. (Y/N) almost felt a sense of accomplishment but as soon as he sipped from the mug, his face soured.
"You call this a cup of tea?"
"It's bedtime tea. To go to bed." She could've guessed that Harry was very particular about his tea, and she also should've guessed that he would definitely let her know how it's not to his liking.
"Yeah? Well, it's shitty."
"I was being nice. You should try it sometime." This time, she rolled her eyes. It didn't surprise her one bit that he wasn't happy about her attempting to do something decent for him. She just thought he'd be a little kinder because he was obviously going through something difficult and she wasn't asking the laundry list of questions she had.
"I don't need your help." He grumbled, settling back into the couch with the mug pressed to his mouth.
"Never said you did." She muttered, trying to seem unbothered. It was silent for a few minutes. Almost peaceful with the sound of the rain. He hasn't run off to his room or said something hurtful enough for her to go back to hers. This could be normal. Eventually.
"Why did you come to my job?" That had her turning her head.
"Your job? When did I do that?"
"The pie shop. I own it."
"You own it?" That was why he seemed so startled when she walked up to him. He honestly thought she was following him.
"That's what I said, isn't it?" Another long sip of the tea she made. She almost cracked a smile. "I was doing the numbers when you came over. I prefer to do it on paper first." A small detail that he shared. Even though it really didn't mean anything, he mentioned it on his own accord.
"Oh. Makes sense." She kept it short, not wanting to scare him off when they're having their first real conversation since she's moved in. But she couldn't help it. "Why pie?"
"Hm?" He hummed over the lip of the mug, meeting her gaze again.
"Why a pie shop?" She tried not to get too excited about him letting her ask him a couple questions, but it really felt like they were getting somewhere. For the time being.
"I like pie." He answered simply, settling the empty mug on the edge of the table in front of him.
"You must really like it."
"I really like pie, then."
(Y/N) slowed down for a second. He's getting slightly testy, so she wanted to draw it back a little bit. She can't mess this up right now, it's so good.
"The key lime was great. It's my favorite kind actually."
"Leave a review." His arms crossed and he leaned back into the couch again. He didn't seem pleased by the compliment when she really meant it. It was probably the best key lime she's ever had. But he just didn't want to hear it.
"I'm gonna head to bed." She stood slowly and he didn't even look her way. "I hope you get a good night's sleep."
She didn't pry even though she wanted to and went back to her room, shutting the door behind her.
It would take time, but she's sure she can get Harry to open up a little bit.
*****
It got more comfortable as time went on.
Ever since that night, (Y/N) didn’t mind sitting on the couch when he was nearby. He never sat with her but she didn’t feel like she was in the way anymore.
Her journal had been in her lap for the past half hour. It felt good to just write out every thought she had. The good and the bad. No one was ever going to see it, so if she did write something that she’d be ashamed of later, it was only her that was going to be looking back and seeing how ridiculous she was being.
A sour straw was hanging from her mouth as she tried to concentrate on the lines in front of her. Harry had just come in from the backyard. She’s not sure what he was doing, but she didn’t ask or go looking for herself.
She felt his eyes on her momentarily before he went to the fridge and shuffled around in there.
This felt peaceful. Like they had finally made it to a place where they could truly coexist in the same areas in the house. They didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to. She wouldn’t look at him either, if that made him a little more relaxed in her presence. So, she kept on with her journal, jotting down the smallest things about her day that weren’t all negative, although she was really tired when she got to work this morning. The coffee helped.
“When did you get home?” Harry spoke up all of a sudden, pulling her from cursing the work vending machine for running out of the little cookies she liked. It was a real disappointment, she must say.
“Not too long ago. ” She hadn’t quite looked up from the journal yet, but when she did, Harry was standing on the other side of the couch, just beyond the kitchen. Closer than he had been.
“Hm.” He asked her a question. She tried to keep from smiling.
“How was the pie today?”
He was just about to step back into the kitchen when she forced herself to say something. She wanted to keep the conversation flowing. Maybe eventually this wouldn’t feel so hard to do if she kept slowly working towards getting him talking.
“How was the pie?” He paused, shooting her a discreet look that she would’ve missed if it wasn’t for her undivided attention focused on him.
“Yeah. What was your favorite you made today?” (Y/N) isn’t sure exactly how he runs his pie business, but he probably makes fresh pies daily. She’s guessing. She’s hoping that this is going in the right direction. He has to like to talk about pie, right? Has to be a little passionate about it to own an entire shop selling it. This seems like a safe topic.
“Coconut cream.”
“Really?”
“No.” His eyes rolled and he turned his back to her, returning to the kitchen. She thought he was refusing to answer her easy question but instead he took a second. Like this was something he really had to think about. “The blueberry.”
“Blueberry? That sounds so good.” (Y/N) can’t recall if she’s ever even had blueberry pie. She thinks she can guess what it’d taste like, but she doesn’t dwell on it for too long because Harry is getting too far away.
“Of course it’s good. I made it.” She thought she heard him mumble. He wasn’t doing anything in particular in the kitchen. It almost seemed like he was lingering around just to see if she had anything else to say.
“Do you want a sour straw?” She reached for the package next to her on the couch and held it up. “They’re cherry.”
(Y/N) was a thousand percent sure he was going to deny her. He looked as if he was going to. Initially. And then he kept getting closer until he had the packaging in his hand.
“Sure.”
Harry always does the most unexpected things. Because she thought he was going to take one, maybe two at the most. But Harry walked away with the entire thing, not looking back once as he made his way upstairs and shut the office door behind him.
(Y/N) was in complete shock for a moment. Did she make it sound like he could have the whole thing? She asked if he wanted a straw, meaning one or a couple. Not for him to rob her of the only sugar she had yet today.
She let it go. Maybe that softened him up a little. Back to journaling, but nothing about that incident. Nothing about it at all.
*****
Harry has been in his office for hours.
He left work a little earlier than planned, got home, made himself lunch, and shut the door to the office behind him.
There wasn't much to do because he'd done a lot of the paperwork he was supposed to do while he was at work, but he didn't know where else he could go in the house to be left alone. (Y/N) got home later in the afternoons and he just didn't feel up to being subjected to her right now.
She was okay. Didn't ask too many questions. But there was something about her that bothered him.
She was pretty much the perfect roommate. Her schedule complimented his nicely. She didn't stay out late, she went to bed at a reasonable time, she cleaned no matter who made the mess. She makes a killer lasagna. He didn't tell her that, but it was true. He would've finished the rest of the pan if he knew she wouldn't notice.
She has an irrational fear of spiders. Even the ones you have to squint to see. He doesn't mind catching them for her, he just hates that she panics so much about one measly spider.
He doesn't know much more than that about her. That's all he cares to know. He's not sure how long they're going to be living together. At least another six months with the lease renewing at the end of the year.
He does wonder, however, where she was living before. Because she brought four bags. Four. Maybe she doesn’t have a lot of things, but four bags? No furniture? He’s interested to know, but not enough to ask. Just because it’s odd. And she was in such a rush she said when accepting the application. He wonders what happened. Not that it’s his business, but he can wonder.
Harry was shocked more than anything when she knocked at the door that day. He was hoping for and he thought he signed up to have a guy roommate. So, (Y/N) being there didn't make much sense. There must have been a mix up somewhere, but he didn't look too far into it after scouring the website, trying to find a way to fix it.
And he wouldn't say she's grown on him because that wouldn't be true. He'd just say that they've come to an agreement of sorts that lets them live very separate lives in the same home. He doesn't care to be around her, he doesn't care that she gets that little dejected look on her face when he tells her as much. Having her in his space and speaking to him pushes him too far. But it seemed that (Y/N) knew when to back off a majority of the time.
He knew why he felt that way, but it wasn't something that he felt needed to be explained to her. (Y/N) kept at a distance would be the best thing for the both of them. So he didn't think he needed to know everything about her. Her likes and dislikes, her favorite pie. It was useless information that he absorbed for no reason other than she said it directly to him and he wasn't trying hard enough to ignore her.
There was a knock on the closed door behind him and he huffed, wondering what she needed from him now. He never even said come in, she just pushed the door open and smiled at him with that same smile that made him want to stand up and shut the door back in her face.
“Hi.”
“Yeah?” He didn’t bother with a greeting. She’s here for a reason, he’s just waiting for her to get on with it.
“Um. I was thinking about ordering in for dinner. Take out maybe. Or pizza. Not sure yet really, but do you want something before I call?” She held up the phone in her hand and smiled again. “Oh, and I was also thinking about doing a puzzle. Do you like puzzles? It has like a thousand pieces or something so it’ll probably take a while.”
“I hate puzzles.” He said almost instantly, readying himself to watch all the hope of a decent night melt from her face. And it did. Her smile dropped along with her shoulders, like she’d given up on him. It was a good sign. Maybe she’d remember that next time she wanted to ask him something similar.
“Well, do you want something to eat? I can just leave it for you.”
He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone who doesn’t get social cues like (Y/N) does. He wonders how she’s made it this far.
“Nice of you. But no. I’m not hungry.”
“Are you staying in here all night then? No dinner, no nothing?”
“Don’t know. If I did I’m not sure how that would affect you at all.” He wanted to make it clear, hopefully for the last time.
“I was just asking. Did you have a bad day or something?”
Harry also wonders why (Y/N) keeps on him. It’s no secret that he wants to be left alone right now but she doesn’t seem to understand anything he says if it’s not in plain words.
“I wasn’t having a bad day until you showed up and started interviewing me, no. Anything else I can help you with before you go somewhere else?”
“Yeah. Who’s that?” It was like she hadn’t heard a word he said and instead asked about the picture frame on the desk beside him. He’d forgotten it was there in view, but he didn’t think she’d even ask about it. He thought he could be mean enough and get her to go away before she really saw it. But, of course, (Y/N) exceeds all his expectations, always.
“None of your fucking business.” He hurried to place the frame face down and this time he stood. If he had to physically get her out of the room, he would. That was just crossing the line. “I never said you could come in. I don’t want to eat with you, I don’t want to do a puzzle with you, I don’t even want to be around you. Just leave me alone.”
“I was just—”
“You were just nothing. You shouldn’t even be in here.” Her expression crumbled and while he wanted to feel bad about being so harsh, he also knew she wasn’t respecting his space, even if it was in the name of being “nice.” She needed to learn quickly that he wasn’t an open book and she shouldn’t expect him to answer any of her questions. Especially ones like that. It just set something off inside him.
“I won’t ask again then.” Was all she said before he could reach her at the door. She was shut inside her room before he made it to the hallway actually.
The conversation might not have gotten here if she’d left it alone. But she had to ask about the picture on the desk and push him to his very limit, so it really is not anyone’s fault but her own. So, he doesn’t feel bad when he knows he’s clearly hurt her feelings.
He shut the door before sighing into his hands. It has to be this way until she decides that she doesn’t want to live here anymore. And she will. If he cuts all the bullshit and never entertains her or her questions again, maybe then she’ll realize that living here isn’t for her. Maybe she already has.
He sat back in the desk chair and replaced the frame how it was, letting his eyes run over it. It was a portrait style photo of a person he’d never see again. Probably the most beautiful and brilliant woman he’s ever met. He wasn’t ready for questions, he wasn’t ready to explain or talk about her when he was still grieving so deeply.
He just wanted to be left alone.
*****
hiiii. as usual, tag list is crazy so lmk if i missed you! hope you liked!
READ PART ONE: CASA AMOR
READ PART TWO: CRASH OUT
READ PART THREE: TRUTH OR DARE
TONIGHT ON LOVE ISLAND...
PART FOUR | RECOUPLING || a harry styles x you love island series.
word count: 9,892
content warning: tension & arguments & love island antics
summary: y/n and william take their first date; harry tries to pull everything back together, but he seemingly gets tangled when someone else gets involved. a love square, if you will.
author’s note: this has been so fun to write, and I'm so glad that you guys still care - I receive messages about this daily, so I thank you for waiting for the next update <3
A REMINDER OF THE COUPLINGS…
You are Single | Luca is Single | Megan is Single | Tash and Harry | Ella and Johnny | Danni and Ronan | Tiana and Liam | Jess and Mitch
Catie and William are single bombshells.
{BEACH DATE – Y/N AND WILLIAM}
It was the kind of day you’d dream about in winter with a large blue sky above you, no clouds, warm breeze, the waves rolling in like they had nowhere else to be except greeting you.
The jeep pulled to a stop at the top of a rocky path that curved down toward a tucked-away patch of sand. Below, a perfect little picnic had been set up under a swaying canopy of white linen. There were pillows, a low table with a basket, a chilled bottle of rosé, and two glasses catching the light.
You laughed as you climbed out of the jeep, shielding your eyes. “Think this may be one of the prettiest dates I’ve ever been on.”
William grinned, turning to look over at you. “Right? Really going out with this one.”
You followed him down the path barefoot, your sandals in hand. The sand was already hot, soft beneath your feet. The whole scene felt easy, like something you could fall into if you weren’t careful—you were always careful now, you supposed.
He held out a hand gallantly as you stepped onto the picnic blanket. “M’lady.”
You rolled your eyes but took it anyway, settling onto the pillows with a small smile, maybe even a little pity of a laugh leaving your lips. “So, this is what getting chosen feels like.”
“’Couse someone would pick you,” he said, settling opposite you and uncorking the wine with a steady pop trailing after. “Now we just pretend the cameras aren’t here and talk like we’re on our second date and already secretly obsessed with each other.”
“Great,” you said, accepting the glass he handed you as you tuck a bit of hair that’s flying in your face from the breeze. “Love me a bit of delusion.”
He laughed, leaning back on one elbow. “Alright, then. Let’s start easy—what are you actually looking for in here?”
You took in a breath, licking over your lips as you took a small sip from your glass, “Big questions, Willy.”
“We’re in paradise surrounded by these snacks,” He gestured, “We can handle it, I think.”
You thought for a second, sipping your wine. “I think I’m looking for someone who feels… peaceful. Not boring—just calm. Like I don’t have to audition every time I open my mouth.”
William nodded, serious for a moment. “Someone you can exhale around, then.”
“Exactly.” You tell him, pursing your lips as you move to get more comfortable.
He smiled at that, his nose scrunching a bit under his sunglasses. “Well said.”
“What about you?” you asked, curiosity ringing off of your tone.
He shrugged, reaching for a piece of fruit from the platter between you. “Someone I can be stupid with, have a laugh with,” He pauses, poking his tongue in his cheek, “But also someone I’d actually miss if they were gone. I don’t think I’ve had that in a while.”
You watched him for a beat, thoughtful, you nod in acknowledgement. “So, you’re open to finding something real here?”
He looked at you like the question didn’t scare him. “Yeah. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Might as well try, right?”
You nodded slowly, trying to not think about what may have been going on at the villa without you. “Yeah. Same.”
He popped a grape into his mouth and grinned. “Okay, now that we’ve gotten all deep and meaningful—tell me the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.”
“Oh no,” you groaned, already laughing as you covered your mouth. “Absolutely not.”
“Come on,” he teased; his tone was light and flirty and had your stomach in butterflies that you just couldn’t understand. “You owe me for that heartfelt moment.”
You shook your head, biting back a grin as you pushed your sunglasses up on your face. “Fine. But if I tell you, you gotta’ tell me yours. And yours better be worse.”
“No promises.”
{IN A CONFESSIONAL – Y/N}
The camera cuts to you later that day, sitting in the beachside confessional hut, wind-tangled hair and pink cheeks from too much sun and smiling.
“William is honestly… such a breath of fresh air. He’s easy to talk to, so funny, and just gets it. Like, we’re on the same page—he’s open, but not pushy, and I feel like I can actually relax around him. It’s weird—like the whole villa faded for a second, and it was just us. It was really nice.”
You pause, cheeks warming again as you remembered it so fondly.
“I wasn’t expecting to like him this much. But now… I don’t know. I’m kind of hoping he wants to get to know me more.”
You glance to the side, then back at the camera with a small, knowing smile.
“I definitely wouldn’t be mad if he pulled me for a few chats.”
{NARRATOR}
“While Y/N’s off having her romantic picnic fantasy with William and drinking rosé by the sea… back at the villa, someone’s having a slightly less relaxing afternoon.”
Harry sits on the edge of the pool, legs dangling off the side and into the water, sunglasses in his hand, running his thumb over the frame like it’ll help him think but he just can’t help the annoying feeling that sits on his chest.
He huffs out, like it’ll somehow help him and make him feel better.
Ella settles next to him with a sigh, water bottle in her hand as she adjusts the straps of her bikini before she looks over at Harry. “You alright?”
“No,” Harry admits, eyes still on the horizon. “I fucked it.”
Tiana joins them, behind Ella, kneeling to tie her sandal before looking up. “Don’t we all.”
“Always is.”
Ella crosses her arms as she moves to sit next to Harry. “Then what are you doing with Tash still? You should just focus on Y/N if you’re going to sit here and pout.”
Harry exhales like he’s been holding it in all day, but he’s really just having a bit of moment where he knows that’s losing what he really wants. “I panicked. I didn’t think Y/N would want me after all the games, after how I acted. I tried to… I don’t know, distract myself, I guess.”
“She’s not a distraction kind of girl,” Tiana says gently, scrunching her nose.
“I know,” Harry says quickly, thinking. “And I didn’t mean it like that. I just—she doesn’t trust me. Not anymore. And I don’t blame her.”
Ella rests her hand on his shoulder. “Then fix it. Don’t mope around the villa staring at her like a kicked puppy, ‘t’s not a good look. Be honest.”
“She’s on a date with William right now.”
Tiana gives him a look, shaking her head. “Exactly. You don’t have time to sit around hoping the universe sorts it for you.”
Harry nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want to tell her I messed up and that I still care. But if I say that and she doesn’t feel the same…”
Ella cuts in, firm: “Then you take it, because she deserves to also make a choice that could potentially benefit her. But at least she’ll know you meant it. Then, you’ll have to have a conversation with Tash about it all too.”
{LATER – THE RETURN TO THE VILLA}
The four of you – Luca, Catie, you and William—find yourselves walking back through the garden gate, laughter from the ride still buzzing in your chest. Luca’s arm is around Catie’s shoulders, and William opens the gate for you with a boyish, “After you.”
Everything looks the same around but feels different.
And then you see him. Harry. Sitting on the daybed near the firepit, head tilted back, fingers twisting a bracelet you recognize as one of Ella’s many that she carried around and made for everyone. When he hears the gate creak, his gaze snaps toward the entrance.
He clocks you instantly, his eyes and attention focus on the fact that the four of you had returned. His posture shifts, jaw tight, like the sight of you next to William scraped something raw.
You ignore it—for now, because it’s much easier than processing that you see an immediate person focusing on you. William gives you a light nudge as you pause near the pool. “Thanks for today.”
You smile back at him. “It was… really nice, thank you. Relaxing, surely.”
He doesn’t kiss you—just smiles, squeezes your hand, and walks toward the kitchen with Luca, going to talk to all the other boys. You feel lighter, seeing Ella and Tiana in your vision like they want to get to you. But it’s Harry walking toward you that grabs your attention almost before you can take another breath.
You have barely made it back in one piece before you watch him take his opportunity.
“Can I—can I pull you for a chat?”
His curls are messier than usual, like he’s been running his hands through them all day. He’s not smirking, there’s no teasing. Just him standing there with a hopefulness that starts to ooze from him, an itching like he can’t stand not being around. Like he can’t stand that he doesn’t know what happened on the date.
“How was your date?” He asks after a moment, walking next to you. You don’t want to give any details that would feel disrespectful to William, so you shrug and clear your throat.
“I—I mean, it was good. We went to the beach, had a little picnic,” You raise your brows at him, noticing that he’s staring at you with a fixation that makes you squirm under his gaze, “A Manchester boy, you know. Cheeky, a bit of a laugh.”
Harry’s lips quiver into a small smile, “You like ‘em like that, huh?”
You push your sunglasses up your nose with a small smirk, “Guess that’s what the universe is trying to tell me.” You nod, unsure why your heart’s already sprinting at the way that he’s not saying everything he wants to.
He leads you around the corner of the garden to the small bench by the lemon trees—away from everyone, but not hidden, especially from the kitchen where many people are gathered. He doesn’t sit right away. You can see that he lets you pick where you want to sit before he just stands there, shifting on his feet.
He finally looks at you. Really looks at you.
“I know I’ve been acting weird,” he starts. “And I know I don’t really deserve your time right now, but I need to say something before it gets worse.”
Your arms cross over your chest, not out of anger—just to keep your heart from spilling.
“Okay.”
He swallows hard. “You don’t trust me anymore. And that’s my fault. I—” He huffs a breath. “I picked the safe option. I thought if I went for someone easier, it wouldn’t hurt as much if it didn’t work out. But I haven’t stopped thinking about our connection. Not for a second.”
You blink, heart hammering in your chest as you shake your head. It’s almost too much—you’re trying to process going on the date, then seeing Harry immediately when you enter back.
“Harry—”
“No, let me finish, please.” He goes to sit, voice quieter now. “I didn’t know how to handle how real it felt with you. I still don’t. But today, seeing you come back from that date… smiling with someone else…”
You tilt your head, giving him a quiet headshake as you feel incredulous, “Jealousy isn’t the same as having a connection.”
“I know that,” he says quickly, shaking his head to remind you that’s not what he meant. “It’s not just that. It’s—when I’m not with you, I’m still looking for you, and I just—I know you have other options to explore now, but I just don’t want you to take this off the table, for now. I never wanted it off the table in the first place.”
You stay silent, mostly because you don’t know what to say to that.
He sighs again, a little breathless almost like he’s fighting to just sit there with you. “I’m not asking you to forgive me or fall back into anything right away. I just needed you to know that I never stopped choosing you. Even when I looked like I did.”
You study him as if the more you read, the more you’ll learn about him. He looks… wrecked, hopeful. Boyish in a way that makes something soft ache in your chest.
“You broke my trust, Harry,” you whisper, pulling your lips into your mouth as you shake your head, “I—I just need to think for a bit about it, you know. Don’t really know where this is coming from.”
“I’ll just have to earn it,” he says immediately. “Day by day. I’ll prove it, if you let me.”
You hesitate, then nod once. You aren’t giving everything—but giving him a chance, it’s the least you can do.
He smiles, barely, like it hurts to leave under these conditions.
“Uh, can I – I’d just like a minute, it’s that’s okay.” You swallow, heat rising in your chest as you lay against the day bed and pick your hair off your neck, twisting it into a knot.
There are a few moments where Harry stares at you, but then nods, respecting it. “Sure.”
There’s a finality with that before he lingers a moment, almost like he wants you to change your mind. But, instead, he moves to start the walk back toward the kitchen—slowly, glancing back only once.
You watch the sun sink lower in the sky. And for the first time in days, your chest doesn’t feel so heavy.
{IN A CONFESSIONAL – Y/N}
The camera cuts to you, sitting in the private confessional hut, knees tucked up on the seat, your arms loosely wrapped around them. Your hair’s still slightly wind-mussed from the breeze earlier, and there’s a flushed glow on your cheeks—not from sunburn, but from too many thoughts colliding all at once.
You let out a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.
“I don’t really know what just happened.”
You pause, looking off to the side, chewing the inside of your cheek for a beat.
“I mean, I do. Harry said all the right things. He said things I thought I wanted to hear. And if he’d said them the day he came back from Casa—maybe I would’ve run to him. Maybe I would’ve believed it straight away.”
Your eyes flick back to the camera, shaking your head.
“But now? It’s hard. He broke my trust. And trust isn’t just… something you hand back like a forgotten hoodie. It’s something you have to rebuild piece by piece. I’m not sure he understands that yet, especially because he was so quick to move on with Tash.”
You shift slightly, pulling your ponytail tighter.
“And then there’s William.”
Your face softens a little, and you feel your tone shift.
“I wasn’t expecting that date to feel like that. He made it easy—he made me laugh. He asked real questions but didn’t press too hard, and for the first time since I got here, I didn’t feel like I had to brace for something underneath the flirting. It was just… really nice.”
A quiet smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.
“I want to keep seeing where that could go. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I do know I’m not closing the door on someone who’s already showing up for me.”
You pause again, shoulders rising as you take a slow breath.
“Harry says he wants to earn my trust back—day by day. Fine. But I’m not waiting around this time. If he wants to prove it, he’s going to have to do that with more than just words.”
You glance away again, nodding to yourself once.
“I’m open. But I’m not naïve.”
{IN THE VILLA – EVENING}
The sun had slipped behind the hills hours ago, but the air still clung warm to your skin. The villa prepared for the evening cocktail hour; the girls sprayed their perfume; their mascara flicked flawlessly through their lashes before everyone started to come down to the main garden.
Harry and Luca entered together, Mitch following behind him.
You sat on the daybeds with Ella and Tiana, dressed in one of your favorite evening fits—butter yellow satin tied at the shoulders, heels already kicked off. Candles glowed in low glass holders across the garden, and soft music played from the outdoor speaker, but none of it matched the storm sitting in your chest.
You curled your legs beneath you, fingers absently picking at the hem of your skirt that laid against your thighs.
“I meant to tell him I was done…” your voice was quiet, slightly frayed as you try and keep the conversation contained to you three. “I really did.”
Ella nudged your knee with hers. “But he got to you. That’s allowed—I mean, you guys had a connection day one and have been inseparable.”
Tiana, perched beside her with a glass of Prosecco, added without missing a beat, “Doesn’t mean he gets you. Not unless he proves he’s worth it.”
You nodded, pressing your lips together. The words stuck with you—sharp and true.
Across the villa, the kitchen lights cast a soft yellow glow. William stood there with Luca, both nursing water bottles like they were trying to drown whatever feelings they weren’t saying out loud. William’s eyes were on you, and you could feel the guilt that had started to form in your chest.
“She’s not mine,” he said, voice low, quiet enough to keep between them. “Not really. But I’d still choose her—I’m definitely looking to move with that connection, but I feel that she’s still reserved.”
Luca leaned against the counter, tossing the cap of his bottle back and forth between his hands. “Then, you better mean it. Harry screwed it up—I think you have a chance if you really move in.”
William didn’t answer. Just nodded once, jaw tightening.
“You know the status of him and Tash?” William asks quietly, before he looks around.
Luca takes in a breath before he looks at the way that Tash moves through the garden with the white against her bronzed skin, hair down past her shoulders.
“Haven’t talked with him—I know he was keeping his options open, which is why he brought her back. But I don’t know if he’s made a choice yet, but I think that may fuck him over, ya’know what I mean?”
Back in the garden, Harry sat alone on the edge of the firepit, staring into the flames like they might offer answers if he continued to stare at it blankly. He hadn’t spoken to you since earlier—since that half-confession, since the moment he asked for a chance, and you didn’t give him a clean no. He hadn’t followed up, and hadn’t tried to chase it.
But now, as Tash passed by with a drink in hand and a silky dress that caught the breeze just right, his eyes met hers as he gave her a solemn smile.
“Oi,” he called out casually, smirking at her as she was looking as if she was going to pass him by, “Company?”
Tash glanced back, raising an eyebrow, then smiled. She knew what she was doing, and getting his attention was what she had wanted. “Always.”
His eyes followed the way that she walked from one of the side sofas and sank beside him, suddenly relaxed—too relaxed. For a moment, they just sat there, both staring out at the firepit as if they weren’t trying to be noticed.
Then Tash broke the silence, lifting her drink. “So, cheers to second chances, huh?”
Harry let out a low chuckle as he turned to look at her—that was his first mistake. The way that her eyes caught him was enough for him to force himself to look away. “Think I’m on my third at this point.”
“Third this week,” she teased him with a bite of her lip. “Maybe with me, maybe with others. You’re so naughty I lose count.”
He laughed again—shoulders actually shaking this time, head falling back with the kind of grin that used to make girls lean in closer. It was all so easy for him—too easy. And the wrong kind of loud.
“I should be banned from emotional chats,” he told her softly. “I always sound like I’m trying to win an Oscar.”
Tash smirked, taking a sip of her prosecco as she leaned closer to him. “You do get a bit dramatic. Not gonna lie.”
“Me?” he blinked back at her with a dramatic spin, “I’m chill.”
“You’re chaos,” she replied smoothly, clinking her glass against his. “But entertaining.”
He grinned, dimples on display as he rolled his eyes playfully. “Entertaining’s all I’ve got going for me right now.”
Tash tilted her head, eyes narrow with something sly. “Hm, don’t know about that—think you could probably be more than just entertaining.”
That line hung in the air for a second longer than necessary. Then—his hand moved with a barely there flick of a movement. A subtle brush of fingers along her knee, like he was grounding himself, or performing. Or both.
Tash didn’t flinch. Just glanced down and then back up at him with a slow, practiced smile.
It didn’t go unnoticed—it certainly didn’t go unnoticed.
Ella scoffed beside you on the daybed as you all stared at the conversation by the firepit. “He’s joking, right?”
You didn’t answer, but your expression must’ve said enough. Tiana just stared at the scene across the garden; lips pressed into a hard line.
Harry hadn’t looked your way in a while, not since the chat earlier. Not really since you’d told him you needed time, that you didn’t know where all of this was suddenly coming from; that he’d broken your trust, and you needed a moment.
Now he sat on the edge of the sofa beside Tash, all easy laughter and relaxed body language, like he hadn’t poured his heart out to you in the garden. It was like he wasn’t pacing himself through damage control with two girls on either side of the story.
You watched him out of the corner of your eye from the daybeds, trying not to care. But the way his hand casually brushed Tash’s knee was hard to ignore.
Ella let out a slow exhale beside you. “This boy… watch him, watch him.”
Tiana didn’t say anything, but her stare could’ve sliced glass. Then came movement—someone else moving to the firepit, almost like there was a bounty on who could pull Harry the most times.
Megan had been hovering all night, but now she started to cross the lawn with the confidence of someone who’d been waiting for an opening. A drink in hand, gloss perfect, eyes locked on the firepit. Ella saw it happening before, gasping slightly at watching the interaction.
“Oh no.”
She moved from where she’d been sitting with the girls near the kitchen, crossing the lawn slowly, her hips swaying with the kind of confidence that made the entire villa track her progress. Her hair caught the glow of the garden lights, her drink still in hand as she maneuvered her way, with her heels.
You felt it before you saw it—the shift.
Tiana turned toward you with wide eyes. “Wait. No way.”
Megan reached the sofas where Harry and Tash sat, leaned forward slightly, and rested her hand on the back of the seat behind Harry.
“Can I pull you for a chat?” she asked, voice smooth, low, like it was already a secret. Harry blinked, almost like he couldn’t believe it as he turned his head to see Megan standing there. But he gave her a smile, a polite gesture as he turned to look at Tash really quick, before seeing her polite face, too.
“Yeah—yeah, sure.”
He stood, glass in hand, straightening his shirt, glancing between Tash and Megan like he wasn’t sure what expression to land on. In the end, he followed Megan to where she was leading, letting her lead him toward the terrace with the easy charm of someone who didn’t realize how obvious it all looked.
The two of them disappeared up the steps, her hand grazing his arm as they turned the corner.
Ella sat back on the cushions with a dramatic sigh. “So much for earning trust.”
You didn’t say anything. You just watched the boy who said he still wanted you get pulled away by the girl who had kissed him in a game days ago—and who clearly hadn’t stopped thinking about it.
But, at the same time, you sat with the idea that he made claims that he was still fighting for you—this wasn’t all his doing. He could fall into their traps; it was still a game at the end of the day. It was still a place to find love, and Harry was still charming. That’s what worried you.
Megan was single and trying her hand at being chosen, finding her own connections. It was just the way of going about it that you couldn’t see past.
{IN THE VILLA – TERRACE}
The terrace was quieter than the rest of the villa, which is supposedly why Megan would have led Harry up there—high enough to catch the breeze, tucked enough to feel hidden. Fairy lights strung overhead flickered warm and low, casting soft gold across the little cushioned bench tucked in the corner.
Megan led the way, walking like she already knew Harry would follow. When she turned and sat, she crossed her legs slowly, placing her drink on the low table beside her. Harry followed a few paces behind, his jaw tight, one hand rubbing the back of his neck like he was already bracing for whatever this was.
“Bit of fresher air up here, yeah?” Megan said lightly, patting the space beside her. “Maybe a bit clearer.”
Harry gave a short laugh and sat, leaving just enough space between them to be polite—but not cold. “Yeah. Didn’t realize I needed it ‘til now maybe.”
Megan smiled, leaning back on the cushions behind her back, her dress riding up ever so slightly on her thigh. “You’ve had a busy day. And a busier night, I see.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, half-smirking. “That obvious, is it?”
“Babe, the whole villa can feel it,” she said, laughing—she tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re the man of the hour seems like.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Not sure that’s a good thing.”
Megan tilted her head, her voice dipping a little lower. “Depends on what you do with all that attention.”
There was a pause—quiet, heavy. Megan broke it, casual but calculated as she reached to grab her drink, taking a small sip. “I’m just wondering where your head’s at.”
Harry exhaled, eyebrows knitting together as he recalled the Truth or Dare game. “Yeah,” he said, watching him carefully. “We had that moment the other day, didn’t we? During the game. That kiss.”
“It was a good kiss, to be fair,” Megan replied, her tone matter-of-fact, but there was a flicker of challenge behind her eyes as she gave a soft giggle. “Wasn’t nothing, was it?”
Harry paused, shifting in his seat. “Look, I’m not gonna lie, Meg—it was a good kiss. Surprised me, actually—I mean, more surprised that you chose me.”
Megan’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “See?”
“But…” he added, rubbing his palm over his knees, “my head’s a bit messy.”
“With Y/N,” Megan said softly.
Harry nodded once. “And Tash, kind of. But mostly Y/N. It’s just… not straightforward, and I think I’m starting to realize that I… do have a stronger connection with her at the moment.”
Megan didn’t press him for an explanation; it wasn’t needed. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her voice turning lighter. “I’m not trying to mess up whatever you’ve got going on. Just thought if you were open to getting to know people… I’d throw my name in, and I know you two aren’t exclusive, so.”
He gave her a look—something between appreciation and regret. “I rate that. I do. You’re sound, Megan. Gorgeous, obviously. Just—”
“You’re not there,” she finished for him, shrugging. “Fair enough.”
Harry ran a hand through his hair as he blinked a few times, trying to put together what he wants to say that wouldn’t hurt her feelings, but that wouldn’t be used against him later with all the honesty that he held. “I don’t want to lead anyone on. I’ve already done enough of that.”
They sat in silence for a moment. The wind picked up slightly, fluttering the hem of Megan’s dress.
“Well,” she said, standing and brushing her hands down her thighs to adjust her dress, “least I know where I stand now.”
Harry stood too, smiling softly as he stood next to her “Respect for being honest and putting yourself out there.”
Megan glanced back at him before standing up, brushing her dress down. “Maybe next time, try being honest a little earlier.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Harry stood there for a beat longer, staring out over the villa—the garden lights below had a sparkle to them that made him roll his eyes at the possible happiness and overarching optimism, the people he was trying not to lose already slipping further away.
From the daybeds, the view of the terrace steps was unobstructed. It was one of those architectural choices that made it nearly impossible to do anything in private—and tonight, that felt intentional as the names on everyone’s breath were starting to make their way down the steps.
You were still sitting with Ella and Tiana, leaning back against the bench with your neck slightly out to try and catch a glimpse, trying to keep your face neutral all at the same time. But your chest had been tight for the last ten minutes.
Ella stopped mid-sentence when she noticed there was movement, Tiana nudged you.
“Oh, here we go,” Ella murmured to you as the three of you stared at the two individuals coming down from the terrace.
You looked up just in time to see them—Harry and Megan—walking side by side down the stairs from the terrace. Their heads were bowed slightly, not talking, but not exactly keeping distance either. Megan’s arms were folded across her chest; her lips curved into the faintest smile. Harry’s hands were jammed in his pockets.
They didn’t look guilty of any wrongdoings; they didn’t look triumphant either. They seemed quiet, neither of them talking or having a conversation which made your eyes knit with a bit of confusion on why their chatted in the first place.
Your eyes shifted along the rest of the garden; the villa was watching.
Tash glanced over from her place at the edge of the pool, her eyes narrowing the second she clocked them. William, standing near the outdoor bar in the kitchen space, turned just slightly in their direction, then looked quickly away.
Even Luca raised an eyebrow from where he was lounging with Catie. Nobody said a word, but the tension was thick enough to cut.
You watched Harry’s eyes flick instinctively toward you. He looked… unreadable, at most. Like he hadn’t made up his mind about how he wanted to play this next part. You didn’t look away, you didn’t smile. You didn’t even flinch at the way that he leaned in to say something to Megan under his breath—just a quick nod, and then she peeled off toward the girls by the kitchen like it was nothing.
Your heart raced when you watched Harry turn and walked directly toward you. Ella shifted next to you, visibly bristling.
“Oh, no way,” she muttered, loud enough for him to hear.
Tiana stayed silent, but she didn’t make room for him. Harry stopped at the edge of the daybed, hands still in his pockets.
“Can we chat?” he asked, his voice softer than you expected.
You stared at him, Ella scoffed. You glanced at her—she didn’t even try to hide her glare. Harry’s jaw tightened slightly, like he was biting back a reaction at that. You exhaled slowly and stood, brushing your hands down the side of your dress.
“Yeah, sure.”
Ella didn’t move as you stepped past. Tiana gave Harry a single, cutting look before turning her head.
“Don’t think I deserve to be fucking written off,” Harry bit at their reactions; his reaction caught them off guard for a moment before you took in a breath; he stood with a sour expression that was ultimately laced in a bit of hurt, “It’s fucking Love Island for Christ sake, I’m not a fucking villain here.”
“No, but you’re still a prick,” Tiana said quickly, her reaction and tone matching his. “You knew how Y/N felt, and you still walk around with that smug smirk.”
You started to walk away from the conversation to not get involved in either part of it; in your surprise, he didn’t respond to Tiana, you felt him on her tracks. You walked ahead of him toward the quieter side of the garden, not waiting to see if he followed. But you knew he would, and behind you, the villa was still watching.
You led him to the part of the garden, where the lanterns dimmed and the sounds of the villa softened into distant murmurs. There was a bench—half in shadow, half in glow under a bit of dim glow. You took a seat, crossing your legs as you took in a deep breath and prepared yourself for what he could say.
Harry hesitated before stepping closer but kept a small distance between you. He could feel the wall you’d built since the last time you spoke—and it wasn’t subtle.
“Before you say anything,” he started, voice low because he didn’t want the entire villa to hear their conversation, “I just want to be honest. About what that was.”
You turned your head, giving him a glance but not giving in. “Go on, then.”
He ran a hand through his curls, exhaling. “Megan pulled me because she wanted to see where my head was at. And I told her—straight up—that it’s messy,” He paused for a moment, poking his tongue in his cheek, “And that I’m not interested in her like that—I just don’t see us forming a connection now, and that I’m focused on someone else.”
You looked at him fully now, eyebrows raised. “Right. And you needed to tell her that on the terrace? Alone?”
“She took me up there.” Harry didn’t flinch responding, looking at you—keeping eye contact the whole time. “She kissed me during the game, remember? I think she’s been waiting for a moment since then. I just… didn’t want to be rude. I didn’t want it to turn into something bigger than it was.”
You let out a short breath—half laugh, half disbelief as you looked down. “It’s already bigger than it was, Harry. Everything is because every time someone sees you laughing with Tash, or disappearing with Megan, or looking at me like I’m the one confusing you—it’s already a whole thing.”
He looked down for a moment, he picked at his thumb nail to focus in on something. “I get it. I do. I just… I didn’t think saying yes to that chat would matter that much—"
You shook your head, lips tight as you felt yourself interrupt his thoughts. “It’s not about the chat. It’s about what it looks like, what it feels like. You’re saying you want to earn my trust, but you’re everywhere with everyone, Harry. I don’t want to be one of three girls orbiting around whatever version of you shows up that day.”
His eyes flashed with something—it looks like hurt mixed with a guilt that almost made his put a permanent sadness on his face.
“I’m not trying to play games,” his voice has an earnest nature to it, like he just couldn’t keep this up anymore. “I didn’t plan for any of this. You know that, right?”
You gave a small nod, but your arms stayed crossed as you tried your best to hear him out. “I know. But you’re still in it, whether you meant to be or not,” you swallow as you shake your head, “And I’m not going to fight anyone for you, Harry. I won’t do that—I’m not wired like that, that’s not why I’m here.”
There was silence between you. It was a silence that didn’t warrant either of you to speak; you took in a breath; he let one out. Then, Harry nodded slowly.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he said finally, shrugging like he didn’t have anything else to give. “And I’m sorry I made it feel like that. Truly—the only regret I have this far is making you feel like that.”
You let your arms drop slightly, your posture softening but your eyes still guarded. “You’re saying a lot of the right things lately, but your timing sucks.”
He gave a faint smile; you weren’t sure if there were tears in his eyes or if it may have just been the glowing lights hitting them differently, but you instantly looked away because it hurt to see him distraught.
“Yeah. That’s fair.” He responded, nodding again.
There was another short pause before you took in a breath, you looked at him properly now. “What do you want?”
Harry didn’t answer right away. He looked at you like he was still trying to figure it out himself. Eventually, he said, “I want something real with you. But only if it’s not hurting you to try.”
You nodded once, not a finality in it, but more of an eeriness that you couldn’t pinpoint. “Okay.”
It wasn’t a yes or a no—it was an okay. That word itself became a boundary; it was a space for him to prove it or walk away. Harry didn’t push any further on it, to try and get an answer out of you. He just sat there, shoulders a little heavier, watching you like he knew he’d already used up his last second chance.
Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees as his eyes diverted up to you. “You still thinking about William?”
You didn’t answer right away because there wasn’t a reason to give any details to him; you wanted to be honest, wanted to tell him that you and William had a great date. You found that he had been very respectful, had a lot of character that made you feel wanted and seen.
You wanted to tell Harry that because you wanted him to feel the jealousy.
But then—
Ping, ping.
A sharp, echoing chime ripped through the quiet from across the garden. You both snapped at the familiar sound towards the garden, heads lifting to see that Mitch held the phone up in his hands. Voices rose from the pool area. The rest of the villa had started to gather.
Harry stood first, brows furrowed. “Fucking hell.”
You followed, legs slightly stiff as you walked side-by-side toward the group, the ease of your chat instantly gone. Like it had been placed in a glass case and sealed.
Mitch already had the phone in hand. You arrived just as he cleared his throat to read aloud, the others circling in with widened eyes and held breath.
“Islanders. Tonight, there will be a recoupling. The boys will choose which girl they want to couple up with. The girl not chosen will be dumped from the island—immediately. Please make your ways to the firepit.”
You stood frozen in place, eyes flicking toward Harry, whose body was already rigid beside you. His jaw locked tight, his eyes on you like there wasn’t anyone else in the world—you felt the heat of his stare, the need in his body language as he stood practically as close to you as possible without physical touch.
Across the circle, William turned slowly, his stare landing on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He didn’t speak—but the message was there, clear as day.
Tash sat a few feet away, her spine straightening sharply as she took in the information. Her lips parted like she was about to say something—but no sound came. She just looked from Harry to you and then quickly down, composing herself with a sharp exhale.
And beside you, Ella reached for your arm, grounding you from your feeling of floating. You turned slightly, meeting her wide, serious eyes as you both started to make your ways over to the firepit.
{IN A CONFESSIONAL – HARRY}
He’s sitting forward in the seat, fingers laced together tightly as he thinks for a moment before speaking. There’s an unwritten tension that stays on his face longer than a single moment because he’s completely unsure of what he wants to say.
“If I’m honest, I thought I’d already ruined it, and maybe I have. But if there’s even half a chance, she feels the same… I have to take it.”
He exhales slowly, nodding to himself like he’s trying to believe it.
“I know who I want to be choosing, and I hope it’s the right decision for me.”
{IN THE VILLA – AT THE FIREPIT}
You stand with your hands on the front of your dress that hugs your thighs; the butter yellow is complimentary to your poolside warm skin in a way that invites wandering eyes. The girls stood side by side in a line that felt more like a firing squad than a ceremony with their heads held high, hopes sitting on their shoulders and lifted like shields.
Everyone is pretending they aren’t holding their breath, waiting for their final demise. You stood next to Tash so close your arms could brush if you just leaned a bit to the left, but the distance between you felt like miles. That was the issue—you never wished her any ill-will, you wanted her to find love, too.
You stared forward, lips parted just slightly, trying to look calm, composed, untouched by it all as the villa stood around you like it was going to fall at any moment. But your chest rose a little too fast, and your eyes flicked to Harry before you could stop them.
Johnny had chosen Ella; Liam had chosen Tiana; Luca had chosen Catie. They had made their small speeches, little affectionate tidbits that made each of the girls feel special and wanted for the moment.
Harry was sitting on the bench with the boys, elbows on knees, gaze fixed low as he tried to keep his thoughts unread and composed. That was, until the text tone chimed again; Luca picked up the phone, read the message aloud with a sharp edge to his voice.
“Harry, please stand up.”
Everything else fell away when you realized that your fate was now in his palms. Harry stood slowly almost like he was learning how to, like the air had gone heavy around him. His jaw flexed, his eyes finally lifting—first to the girls next to you, then directly towards your eyes to almost make contact but that would have hurt more than it was worth.
He stood at his spot in front of the firepit, there was a small sweep of a breeze through his curls. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t trying to be charming—it had finally caught up to his emotions to a point now. He couldn’t charm his way around it now.
Tash stood tall beside you, chin tilted upward like she already knew how this was going to go, but her arms sat behind her back, and you wondered what had been going on behind her eyes. You wondered if she really knew, or if she thought she could overcome this.
From being a girl’s girl, you wished that it didn’t have to be this way—in all honesty, there was nothing to hate about any of the girls standing there with you. You were all there for the same reasons, but the connections were getting crossed, messages were getting mixed.
Instead, you reached for her hand softly; not knowing if she would reciprocate the small gesture. Your fingers moved to hold onto hers, letting them settle against hers, and she pulled onto you softly. She took your hand and held it without another look.
When your eyes lifted up, you saw Harry as he stood just in front of the firepit. The flames flicked at the air, like they were dancing. His hands were clenched together in front of him—thumb dragging a nervous line across the ridge of his knuckles.
He took a slow breath in as his fingers fidgeted in front of him when he moved to flex them.
“I’d like to couple up with this girl,” he began with a shaky voice that made his eyes shut just at the idea that he had to choose, “because…”
He looked down for a moment, but when he looked up again, his gaze landed squarely on you, and you wondered if that was what was written in the card or the apology you never received. Either way, your lips parted at the green eyes that laid on you and you already forgave him for something that he hadn’t done yet—regardless. Regardless of if he chose someone else because he truly felt they had a deeper connection.
It’s okay, your eyes pleaded, You’re forgiven.
“…because she sees every side of me—the good, the reckless, the parts I try to hide. And instead of turning away when I make irrational decisions… she makes me want to be someone worth choosing, on her end too.”
Your lips parted as you let a sharp breath in. No one moved from their seats as they looked between Harry and you. A single heartbeat passed, then another. You could feel Tash go still next to you with severe uncertainty—rigid, unreadable.
Harry hadn’t said your name. And still, everything in you already knew this was about to change everything. The night hung in the air, heavy with what was coming next.
The fire crackled softly beside Harry, throwing a warm orange light across his face, but he looked pale beneath it. Not afraid—just ready and braced for whatever came next.
“She challenges me, calls me out when I’m being an absolute nightmare. Makes me feel like I don’t have to pretend even when I’ve given her every reason not to trust me—she still looks at me like there’s something good left. And I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to deserve someone so badly than this girl.”
Your heart stopped because you aren’t sure how to react; the silence in the villa was complete. Then, without any further anxiety, you watch him let out a heavy deep breath that looked like it had been holding inside of him for ages.
“Y/N.”
It was your name. It was simply your name with a sureness, it was said like it meant everything.
Gasps echoed instantly with a few shocked murmurs rippled through the group, a whispered “No way…” from somewhere near the boys’ bench. Someone dropped their hand to their mouth. Even Luca looked wide-eyed. You felt the sting of a thousand eyes land on you at once.
Your feet stayed glued to the gravel for half a second too long. The world spun a little, and when you moved, it was like pushing through water. Tash didn’t look at you.
She didn’t look at anyone, instead opting to just stare ahead, expression fixed with a stoicism that you respected. It immediately felt like the entire scene was playing on a screen far away and she wasn’t bothered by any of it. Her arms remained held behind her back as she swayed on her feet for a moment, her jaw locked tight.
You stepped forward towards Harry as he watched every move you made like he couldn’t believe you were actually coming toward him—almost like he had forgotten he had chosen you. When you reached him, he didn’t touch you at first—just let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking over your face.
You stood in front of him, spine straight. Still unsure if you were angry or overwhelmed or something else entirely. He leaned in, quiet, just for you.
“Thank you,” he murmured with a disbelief as he went to wrap his arms around you. You let yourself fall into his touch, almost like you hadn’t let your breath out yet. You didn’t respond, you didn’t have to.
Shutting your eyes, you took in the smell of the suntan lotion mixed with his cologne that almost overwhelmed you right then and there. When you let go of him, you turned to stand next to him, facing outwards as you both went to take a seat on the bench.
Ella shot you a look from across the firepit—wide-eyed, questioning, ready for details the second she got you alone. Tiana’s lips were parted in surprise, like she couldn’t understand what had happened. William, still seated on the bench, blinked slowly like he hadn’t decided whether to be disappointed or impressed.
And then there was Tash—Tash didn’t even blink. Now, you sat beside Harry, your heart still racing, the fire between you and the rest of the villa burning hot.
In a second, you feel the phone next to you chime with the ringtone. You reach down to pick it up to read the message across the screen:
“William, please stand up.”
There was a pause after you said his name; your eyes glancing over to where he sat next to Luca. Then, William stood.
His movement was measured, shoulders rolled back, jaw tight. There wasn’t an angriness about him—but there was an unreadable reaction in that calm, quietly serious way of his. He didn’t look at you, but you could feel it anyway—that faint hum of what he’d almost said. What he almost did say if Harry hadn’t gotten to you first.
“I want to couple up with this girl,” he said finally, his voice low, steady, with something just a little heavy behind it, “because I think she deserves another shot.”
There was a shift then, a subtle one. Even all of the other girls on the bench started to stand straighter.
William didn’t pause for any type of drama. He didn’t look around the villa searching for effect. His words were quiet like he wasn’t trying to sell a love story—just speak something kind into the space between two people.
“She’s been through it in here. And I think sometimes when you get bruised like that, it’s easy to forget who you were before it all started, but she hasn’t. She’s still holding her head up,” He held his hands in front of him, “She’s still cool, still honest. I think we haven’t explored all of our own connection yet, and I’m looking forward to diving a bit deeper.”
You felt Harry shift beside you again, and this time, you knew it wasn’t for your benefit. William’s gaze finally rose—steady and clear directly at her.
“So, the girl I’d like to couple up with… is Tash.”
You turned your head slightly to glance at her. Tash didn’t react immediately—there wasn’t any widened eyes or dramatic exhale like she was saved. She just blinked once, as if letting the words settle inside her, and then stepped forward towards William.
She stopped in front of William, who gave her a small, private smile. There was nothing smug or performative, or unrealistic about it. It was just… kind.
She returned it—just a flicker of a smile in the corner of her mouth—and then took her seat beside him. Just two people aligned for the first time that night. The firepit seemed quieter after that, like everyone had become exhausted just in the past ten minutes of this conversation.
No one said anything, but the mood shifted, ever so slightly. The chaos had dimmed with a soft hush settling over the space. Tiana looked across the firepit at you with raised brows and a tiny shake of her head. Ella leaned forward just slightly, mouthing something you didn’t quite catch.
William’s voice still echoed faintly in your mind: “She deserves another shot.”
You weren’t sure who he’d meant that for—Tash, or maybe you too. But either way, you were grateful for the way he said it.
Tash and William now sat together on the bench, not quite touching with his arm around the back of the seat, but aligned in something that felt stable—newly formed. The rest of the villa seemed to collectively exhale; there were no dramatic gasps, no applause. There was just silence and the soft crackle of the firepit, as if the air had decided everyone needed a moment to recover.
You felt the weight of eyes on you again—Tiana giving you a look that said, This is far from over, and Ella mouthing something with a tight-lipped expression, probably Are you okay? But you couldn’t catch it.
Your heart was still drumming from everything that came before—Harry’s voice choosing your name, William’s eyes not flinching when he didn’t get to. Tash’s composure as she accepted being a couple with William. It was all still settling like silt in water.
Ping, ping.
That sound again. Sharp, and final. Everyone’s heads turned toward the bench where the phone sat. Tiana picked it up without hesitation, her brows drawing together as she read aloud:
“Megan. As the only girl not chosen in tonight’s recoupling… you have been dumped from the island. Please pack your bags and say your goodbyes.”
There it was: the final cut. Megan didn’t move at first as she stood alone. The whole villa held still, as if even the firepit had dimmed its glow in respect. She just smoothed the front of her dress, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and gave a single nod.
“Guess that’s me, then,” she said quietly, with a wry half-smile. “It’s been real—I do love all of you, and I really loved being here the past few weeks with everyone. We’ve made some great memories, and I do wish you all the best.”
A few people moved quicker than others—Catie came over to hug her, Ella followed, offering soft words. Even Luca stood to say something respectful. You stayed seated for a moment, unsure what your role was anymore. You and Harry stood after a few moments; you gave her a soft hug, Harry following suit.
“Wish you the best, Meg,” He told her softly, before pulling away and rubbing her back.
She didn’t say anything to him; you could tell that there was something that hadn’t been resolved. He looked like he had something to do with the fact that she was going home, which made you feel guilty because she deserved loved just like everyone had.
Megan turned and began walking toward the dressing rooms to collect her items, her heels clicking softly on the stone as the girls started to follow. Not a strut, not a storm-off—she knew that it was her time, and the connections timing just wasn’t there. The moment didn’t end with fanfare; dumps from the villa were always bittersweet. It was just a strange, silent pause—like the villa was exhaling in unison.
Tash tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked at William, who was looking down at his hands. Harry glanced toward you—but didn’t move. You blinked once, let your breath go slowly, and stared into the fire. The night wasn’t over yet, but something inside it had caused enough stirring for you to feel the uneasiness to settle.
AFTER THE RECOUPLING...
You and Harry | Catie and Luca | Tash and William | Ella and Johnny | Danni and Ronan | Tiana and Liam | Jess and Mitch
NEXT TIME ON LOVE ISLAND…
{NARRATOR}
“The sun is shining, the villa’s vibing… but today, it’s not just bikinis and banter and the girls chasing after Harry. Oh no. The Islanders are about to serve face—and not in the fun way.”
Harry’s phone rings, reading out the text loudly: “Islanders! Today, you’ll be playing Who Said It? Each round, you’ll hear a quote said by someone in the villa. Your job is to guess who said it, and try not to ruin your friendships in the process. #PokerFace”
The Islanders start walking into the challenge space that held color signs, large billboards with quotes, and a podium for a lucky contestant to guess.
Mitch stepped up to the podium, card in hand, grinning like he didn’t already know he was about to light a match.
“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat. “This one says…”
He paused—just enough to let the suspense build.
“He’s telling three different girls what they want to hear. And somehow, they’re all still buying it. Who said it?”
The words hit like a slap across everyone; a slow ripple of stunned silence washed through the lineup. You didn’t move as your eyes fixed on the quote like it might change if you stared hard enough. Your stomach tightened with recognition.
Harry’s expression hardened, almost like he hadn’t a clue who could have said that. His arms were crossed, but his jaw had clenched tight as he tried to keep his tongue pressed. He didn’t blink and didn’t play it off like a joke. The silence around him said enough.
Across the group, Tiana leaned into Ella, her voice barely audible but a bit of a laugh on her tongue: “Who said that?”
Ella didn’t respond, but her expression did. On the far end of the line, Tash sat perfectly still, her smile tight and strained, like she was daring someone to look her in the eye and say it outright. Her arms were relaxed, but her knuckles were white where she held the edge of the podium.
Then, Harry let out a low, clipped laugh as he turned his head to look at everyone else who was sitting around on the bench. He spoke up to challenge the area, voice rising just enough to carry.
“Okay, who said it?” he asked, gesturing out to the group, palms open; no one answered, not to his surprise. “We know who it’s about.”
There was a break of silence, then. He scoffed, rolling his eyes before he licked over his lips.
“I’m serious,” he added, sharper now. “Because if you’ve got something to say, say it to my fucking face, huh?”
Ronan shrugged his shoulders, “Mate, if you were honest—”
He turned slowly, eyes scanning each face. His voice cracked slightly on the next line. “Is that how you all see me? Just some dickhead running game on three girls at once?”
Voices start to raise as Luca cut in, “I mean, you weren’t leading the girls on to think anything, so it’s fucked that someone said it like that. Obviously, you’re testing connection, and that’s not wrong.”
Ella chimed in, “Taking the girls up the hideaway, sharing a bed with her in Casa—”
“It’s not your fucking place to say how I test my connections, Ella!” Harry exclaimed leaning out to look at her down the line on the bench. “I’m not fucking playing anyone—the deceit and lies that are being made because you’re fucking bitter about something is weird—my fucking character isn’t up for grabs.”
Ella bit back, “I’m not bitter about anything, I just think your behavior is fucking garbage—you’re making a mug of Y/N when she’s been loyal to your connection.”
Tiana rolled her eyes, “You want to have cake and eat it too, Harry—get your fucking ten minutes of screen time, won’t you.”
“That was a bit out of pocket,” You say quietly, shaking your head, “He’s not—that’s not what’s happening, and you guys are coming on strong.”
Taking in a breath, Tash shrugged her shoulders as she looked down the line at the girls with an annoyed eye, “He’s not playing anyone—this is a game, don’t know why you girls care so much about situation you’re not even a part of, so fuck off with it, will you?”
You could see it then—just the flicker of it. It was an immense level of hurt, masked in frustration as Harry held it together for another moment; he turned his hat around on his head in an annoyed huff. The way he squared his shoulders but couldn’t quite keep his mouth from trembling at the edge.
He was at a breaking point, and you could feel the heat.
warnings: this is filthy and I’m not sorry. Fingering (f), pure fucking smut, aaron definitely talks you through it and is here to please.
He’d put you in a trance one too many times before.
Just… watching the way he moved about. His hands distracted you from the corner of your eyes. Carefully turning and falling upon the pages of his file that laid in his lap above the sheets.
God. You couldn’t focus.
The words on the page before you were nothing but a blur as the veins took focus and the fantasy before unraveled in your mind.
It didn’t take much when a man like Aaron was so casually attractive. Glasses sitting on his nose, hair dried and loose on his head, a white tee worn relaxed around his chest.
And God… those hands. His fingers, the thumbs. What you would do in that moment under the cool lighting of the bedroom, in the heat of the comforter, and the plush of the pillow to have him trace the edges of your face with them. Paint a path along the lines brought by time and catch on the smooth curl of your lips, drawing a wave before wetting one, or two, so gently with the moisture of your mouth.
“Hey,” his voice broke your trance. “You alright?”
No. No, you weren’t fucking alright. Never in the time since you laid eyes on Aaron Hotchner have you been “alright”. He consumed you. He burned the bones of your body and sent the most inappropriate thoughts straight to your brain at a moments notice.
No. You weren’t fine. You were utterly entranced by him and for some celestial reason, you were lucky enough that Aaron felt the same about you. He just… contained it differently.
“Yeah,” you nodded and turned back to your book. “Fine.”
He hummed but continued on with his file. Marking notes in margins or looking down at a photograph for too long, Aaron always brought work home no matter the occasion. His job forced it but he made time. To sit up in bed and enjoy your company even in the silence, it was better than him not being there at all.
Yet your traveling thoughts had already convinced you it wasn’t enough that evening. You needed more. You needed him. And it was so hard to concentrate on the words you’d already forgotten about.
Who were these people? You thought. I’m four hundred pages in and I couldn’t tell anyone who the hell these characters were.
Because you weren’t alright. You were boiling. Adjusting your back against the headboard, your shifting unearthed the comforter and nudged his files enough for him to notice.
“You sure?”
“Mhm,” you responded.
But Aaron wasn’t stupid—you’d been sitting on that page, page four-hundred-and-sixty-two, for fifteen minutes.
The average person spent a range of one to two minutes per page in a typical novel. If he weighed the subject matter as fiction, he knew you could read equivalent to one but if it were for academics or your career, it would lean toward two. This was the former, a fiction. Pure fantasy that he knew you enjoyed on the regular even if something was amiss as he accepted your response and let you sit with it instead.
And maybe it was a bit cruel of him to not beckon to the unspoken call, but he could feel your eyes on him.
He needed to hear you say it.
Oh, fuck, you did really want to say it. His hands. Hands. They were there, on his body, like most people had, and they just gripped your heart so suddenly and never shook it away.
Your fingers flitted around the edges of the book as a shallow, barely there exhale escaped your body. You knew he heard it. He didn’t say anything.
So, he flipped to another page and this time, it went upwards instead of to the side and his right hand held the paper up, giving you a better view of the callousness they’d grown into over the years. So worn and tough, they could be what you needed at any time.
A protector, a comfort, a help, or a guide.
You wished so badly to feel them upon your skin. Feel him cupping every piece of you or filling you completely as his breath fanned your face and his small, barely there smile encouraged you to relish in his touch.
“What’s the chapter about?” His voice mumbled from beside you.
You broke the stupor again. Eyes flicking down to the pages abruptly to search for an answer. Everything made sense but no sense at all. Who was who, what was what, you had no recollection of the last five hundred words. It caused you to slip the bookmark in and close the cover.
“I think I’m just too tired, I’m not sure.”
He grunted a non-reply. Smug. He knew. He had to of known. How could he not feel the need radiating from you? He couldn’t see the nervous gulp you swallowed.
“I’m going to go to bed. You don’t need to stop.” Moving to place your book on the bedside table, you waved a hand in his general direction and he caught it with his own.
Your head turned swiftly, eying your hand in his as he let his larger one overtake it. Aaron pulled the back of yours to his lips and placed a warm, soft kiss on it. Once, then twice. He didn’t pull it back but side-eyed you while you watched him.
“You know you can ask me anything, right?” His breath was hot on your hand. His lips grazed your smooth skin, feeling the pull of his mouth upwards.
“Yeah,” you nodded. “I know.”
He kissed it again. “And if there was a problem, you’d tell me… yeah?”
“Of course I would.” You furrowed your brows at his suggestion. “Wha—“
“Then tell me what you want from me.”
Your breath caught in your throat. A small, gasp of boldness on his behalf that sent the synapses firing every which way. His free hand removed his glasses from his face and set the case file soaring to the floor in a grand “plop” against the wood. Two lights on, his hand in yours, Aaron looked into your eyes and asked again.
“What do you want from me, sweetheart?”
The wiring short circuited. A part of you was baffled at the attentiveness of it. His words were always carefully chosen and spoken in a manner so firm and decisive and you could barely form words. But you glanced down at his hand in yours and he caught you.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
“I’m… distracted. I’m just…”
“Use your words.” He squeezed your hand as if to encourage you but it only made your ridiculous spiraling worse.
“Y-you distract me, that’s all it’s. You’re very distracting. All of you.”
“Well you’ve got my attention so I’m glad to have yours,” he teased. His lips found your hand again before he held them to his chest. If you were of power, you could hear his heart beating for you so loudly.
“I don’t know if you realize how much of my attention you have, Aaron.”
His head rested against the backboard and he smiled.
“Why the hands?” He asked and your eyes wanted to break away from his stare.
“Are you profiling me in bed, Mr. Hotchner?” You deflected instead. “I thought you said you’d never do that to me.”
“There isn’t an ounce of profiling when you make it so obvious. You sat on that page for longer than it takes you to drink a cup of coffee and I caught you, twice, but you didn’t even notice.”
Your face was on fire and for what? He loved you, you loved him, and you were far from a puritan when it came to what he’d seen and done to you in that very bed.
Maybe it was the shameless way he felt emboldened then. Perhaps it was the rapidness of your want setting in that made your heart skip more than one beat.
“Then… yes,” you settled, “your hands distract me.”
Aaron nodded. One hand still intertwined with yours, he ran the other over your outstretched arm and back. Back and forth, back and forth too sooth the embarrassment he couldn’t fathom you truly felt about it.
“Do you want me to do something with my hands?”
“Aaron,” you sighed and looked away sheepishly.
“What?” He laughed faintly. “It’s just a question. Baby, don’t be embarrassed.”
“Oh God,” you nearly wailed instead and wiggled your hand away from him, back to you, switched off the light and in an instant, laid down onto your side away from him.
“Goodnight. I love you.” You finished.
He let out a breathless scoff and shuffled down into a lying position too. The light on his bedside table, however, remained on. As if protruding like spotlights, you could sense his eyes on your back. He said your name smoothly.
“Come on,” he nudged. “You can’t ignore me now.”
“I think I can.”
“What happened to goodnight?”
“It’s starting now,” you reset. “Goodnight.”
“I’m not tired and I don’t think you are either. Come on, turn around.”
You huffed, but not in anger. More in an, “I’m so pathetic in my emotions that it feels so awkward to vocalize what I want” way. It was a product of womanhood—the layered shame of saying or acting upon what you want. How it’s lewd or improper to be vocal in bed, or to be vocal about how you want your partner to please you.
Aaron had never made you feel ashamed for wanting things.
He set his boundaries, you set yours, and together you found a balance that kept you both happy and satisfied but there were still times that the old feeling of inept muteness riddled you.
You turned over onto your back anyway.
He was already on his side and waiting for you. The hair on his head gradually fell in the direction of the mattress as he quickly scanned over your face beneath the shadow of what he could see.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop profiling me?”
“I will once you start telling me what’s going on.”
Your eyes bounced around every bit of him that was exposed. His face, his neck, his shoulders, his arms, the hand you could see, his torso. Then you glanced around him and shook your head against the pillow.
“It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s nothing!”
“Distraction is one thing but you’re on another planet.”
Turning again to look away from him, you stared at the ceiling as you settled into the bed on your back. He shuffled closer and you closed your eyes tightly as the feel of him hovering in your space overtook your senses.
“Sweetheart,” Aaron’s voice carried a length of warmth within words.
“It’s embarrassing,” you moaned dramatically, your fingers covering your eyes and Aaron fought a smile at your distress. He pried them off your face and cupped your cheek gently with one of his hands.
The way he looked at you… how could you ever be embarrassed to say what you want? He knows how you love him, and he you. There is nothing you could say that would make him turn away or cast you aside. This was it. It’s the world he crafted and drew space for you within it beside him at the center.
You kissed his palm softly.
“I am here to bend at your will,” he sounded so poetic. Who knew Aaron had it in him? “And if you need me for something that you want, take it. Take it from me and let me provide.”
“Fine,” you huffed and forced the nerves to the back burner. “You know what I want?”
“What do you want?” He asked once more.
“I want you to touch me.” Aaron moved closer, head hovering above yours. “Make me feel something, Aaron, and I don’t want to think about anything else but you.”
He leaned in, nose bumping yours. “Yes ma’am.”
Aaron’s lips met yours slowly. A barely there touch of his lips to yours as he felt the waters around him. His hand cupped your face, while the other rested with a tight grip at the bottom of where your breast met your ribs. He gripped the fabric of your shirt as he titled your head to better angle you to him.
His mouth met yours again but this time ferociously. Determined to make you feel something more than just a peppering of love through his passing, but a permanent sting of his presence. You breathed through him; aching to his touch and melding to his body in urgency at his kiss. You returned it as ardently. Lips molding together like a puzzle.
You placed your hand atop his on your cheek. Tracing the raised veins and light pattering of hair that rested at the base along his wrist. He was so firm and adroit.
And you took delight in it. Shuddering to the point of your chest emitting a splutter, Aaron took your hand and guided it up the bed above your head. You opened up for him. His tongue slipping into your mouth with ease at your malleable lure. Both hands grabbed at you tightly, feeling bits of you from palm to chest.
The coarse hand on your chest wandered with knowledge beknownst to only him. A granted privilege of the passage of time and the trust you’ve given him. To explore and caress in curated touches that leveled you to the ground—Aaron being the one to raise you to the peak again.
He tracked his hand along your torso to feel you breathe. You’re here. You’re wanting him. It took in the fabric of your clothes and bunched them into a fist as the sensation of its removal to feel the skin of your stomach. It fell into the underside, hidden by the clothes and traveled back up to your breasts that pebbled with anticipation.
Over your breast, his thumb soared over your nipple tenderly as his lips separated from yours. His hot breaths colliding with yours while a pleased look washed over his face. Aaron did it again, palming rougher at the flesh and took note of the way your shoulder rolled as you careened into him, legs knocking into his and hand straining against the one that held you to the mattress.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” He rumbled.
He let go of your hand. Designating their own path to the back of his head, you ran them along his arms, over his biceps and cradled his head into your hands. Your fingers carded through his short hair, fanning away the strays that laid loose on his forehead. He was so close, so warm in his caging of your body that all you could think of was him.
Him. Aaron. And nothing but him.
Your teeth caught on your lip as you smiled up at him softly. I love you, I love you, I love you.
“Kiss me, Aaron.”
You didn’t need to tell him twice. He leaned down once more and knew that his lips were sending you to euphoria. The fluttering of your chest seemed to burst. Your hands weaved into his shallow hair to feel every bit of him as he devoured you. A bolt of electricity shot through you; Aphrodite’s fountain exploding in rejoicing elation.
His lips were soft. Hungry, but careful with every tilt and turn of his head as the pressure of him above and holding you was pushing you into the mattress. Aaron’s tongue long breeched your lips and the teeth that protect his most valued actions. And when he retreats, he’s rewarded with a pull of his bottom lip between your teeth, letting him linger in your space for a moment longer before separating again.
You didn’t need to tell him twice. He leaned down once more and knew that his lips were sending you to euphoria. The fluttering of your chest seemed to burst. Your hands weaved into his shallow hair to feel every bit of him as he devoured you. A bolt of electricity shot through you; Aphrodite’s fountain exploding in rejoicing elation.
His lips were soft. Hungry, but careful with every tilt and turn of his head as the pressure of him above and holding you was pushing you into the mattress. Aaron’s tongue long breeched your lips and the teeth that protect his most valued actions. And when he retreats, he’s rewarded with a pull of his bottom lip between your teeth, letting him linger in your space for a moment longer before separating again.
Aaron loved the feel of your body beneath his fingertips. The plush of your hips and sides and legs. Everything intoxicated him with an irresistible urge to have you any way, every way, until the end of time. His hand worked along your stomach, traveling low to the crux of where your leg perched under the covers.
“Are you gonna keep fondling me like a teenager or do something about it?” You broke the air with a content, yet pushing, sigh.
“You told me to touch you, then to kiss you.” Aaron’s nose traced the line of your jaw as you extended you neck with the recline of your head. “I need more than just a visual offering.”
He laid a whisper of a kiss on the column of your neck.
“You’ve gotta tell me.”
But you couldn’t find the right words because every time you thought them, they sounded… so…
“What if I just showed you myself?”
His eyes met yours curiously. “Yourself?”
You nodded, taking the hand on your stomach and bringing his fingertips to your lips. “I can lead you there. You just have to trust me that it’s what I want.”
As you spoke, the tips of his fingers caught on your bottom lip and pulled down lightly before it sprung back with a new sheen of saliva daubing it.
“Whatever you want.” And he meant it.
You guided his middle finger into your mouth without breaking eye contact. His pupils blown wide, you swirled your tongue around his digit before releasing it back out slowly. Then, you took his ring finger and did the same. Wetting two of his long, thick fingers to prime what was already going to be a welcome encounter.
You slipped his ring finger out of your mouth and directed his hand below the sheets. A man with lesser control would have forced them away, ripping them off the bed to watch his ministrations. Aaron didn’t. He watched your face. The pure, determined stare you kept with him as he breached your sleep shorts and the glaringly lack of panties that his fingertips brushed. You led him straight to you. Barely a gasp left your mouth at his feather touch gliding along the already slicked skin and feeling the most vulnerable parts. But he knew them as well as he knew himself. The gentle caress of skin, the glide of those two fingers casting the shape of your folds sent synapses firing greater than before.
You sucked in a shallowed inhale.
Aaron teased you. Rubbing those two damp fingers along the edges of your cunt at the slight twitch of your body. He saw the shaking breaths, the incline of your hips into his hand. With a growing pressure of four fingers, he dragged them slowly, in a elliptic motion once, twice, and a third for good measure. They gathered the growing wetness—realizing quickly there was no need for the lube in the bedside drawer—and used it to glide his thick fingers around a now-aching clit.
One of your hands folded tightly over the sheets and grasped it hard in your palm while the other latched onto his outstretched arm beside you. It was half holding him up, straining the muscles of his shoulders as he worked two fronts.
“Fuck,” your voice wavered at a wave of pleasure taking over.
“You want me to talk you through it?” He murmured.
“Yes please.”
His fingers slid down and back up. He watched you carefully, waging what he wanted to say and what he knew you wanted to hear. The two fingers that you had taken into your mouth worked worked low to open you up—a feathered touch at your entrance as his thumb stayed above, putting a consistent pressure on your clit.
“Jesus,” his voice was barely a whisper. It was a hymn only you could hear and meant only for you. “You’re so wet.”
You hummed two different octaves as he pushed his two fingers into your slick pussy. First knuckle deep, Aaron was tight even now. He pulled back and circled where he had just been to spread the wetness along your lips. He guided them in again, deeper than before.
“I know you think about this,” Aaron said. His thumb picked up in pace as his two fingers curled into the most plush spot.
Your back arched toward him. Legs threatening to close in, Aaron clicked his tongue and shook his head. Eyes baring every selfless emotion across his soul while he nearly cooed.
“No, no, no,” he repeated. “Gotta leave those open for me.”
“I know,” you groaned, nails digging into his forearm. You withered at his determined pace. Shoulders tensing and releasing when they hit just right.
“You think about my hands all the time,” Aaron continued on. “Staring at them when I grab my coffee, when I read in bed… you imagine them at work and in the way I hold my gun. You think about when they’d gather your hair as you suck my cock.”
“Well,” you could barely form a coherent sentence as the hormones went straight to your brain, “maybe stop making them look so fucking hot.”
“I’m just existing, baby… that’s all your mind’s doing.”
“Not when—oh,” you careened. He flattened his fingers and drove them deeper. Your toes curled at the feeling of his cock straining in his boxers against your leg.
“Shh,” he encouraged. “Let’s focus on you, hm? You’re doing so well.”
He continued to pulse his fingers in and out, in and out, and all you could think about is how lost you were in him. Utterly captivated by a man who kept himself so controlled and formal until the door was closed and the tie loosened.
“I think about you too,” he said. “How pretty your eyes are, and when you smile at me so tired but don’t care because you just want to sit with me. I think about how lucky I am.”
And your heart swelled just as much as the blood pumping and spiraling elsewhere.
“That you’re too good for me but let me do these things to you. You’re so beautiful like this.”
The hand that was clutching onto his forearm moved quickly to the edge of his tee on his bicep and tugged him down. Aaron could feel how close you were getting.
He could see it in your eyes. The clouded over enamored vision that peered back at his appreciative ones.
“I think about how you feel tight around my fingers,” he spoke on your lips. “God, you’re so tight.”
You whined. Aaron picked up his speed.
“Come on, sweetheart.” He rested his forehead against yours as you wrapped a loose arm around his shoulder. Aaron’s body pressed into yours sideways and his erection’s bulge begged for you to take more than just his fingers. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
“Aaron.” Desperate, you squeezed his shoulder.
“You’re holding out on me,” he profiled. “I can feel how badly you want to come, baby. I want to feel it too.”
You nodded and he left a single kiss at the edge of your mouth as he drove his fingers to the end of their own road. A blinding, body-stilling peak hit you like a ton of bricks. Cascading from the place where he remained, a firework exploded into a million colors and sent your the muscles in your body into overdrive. An instant overstimulation; Aaron rode the wave of your orgasm with you.
Face etched in a brilliant awe of what your body could give him without feeling the need of his own release to know it had been a job well done. His fingers brought you down. Slowly stroking out until you were empty of him and all that was left was his thumb on your clit.
Your finish on his fingers found home in the cotton of your pajama bottoms as Aaron’s hand re-emerged and pulled everything back into place.
You closed your eyes at him putting you back together. In minutes, he’d go get a washcloth from the bathroom and grab a new pair of bottoms for you to be comfortable in. Aaron would let you sit with yourself and take from him what comfort you needed to slow the rate of your heart. He’d ignore your incessant asking about going down on him in return because in truth, he may have felt it beneficial but he didn’t need it.
He wanted to please you. He wanted to give you something that you could imagine when he wasn’t there to provide.
So, he’d lay back down and shuffle under the covers before leaning over to turn off the light. His excitement would settle and then he’d turn over to hold you closely with an image of you content and happy replaying in his mind for safe keeping.
This was a version of you he loved. He loved them all, but when you could be honest with him and tell him what you wanted, even passively, Aaron knew that you trusted him—and my, was it all worth it.
a/n: i'm also needy b/c i'm a fanfic writer so... penny for your thoughts? or your likes? or your reblogs?
so serpentine is like confirmed? we are getting another part?
Yes! Sorry to leave you guys hanging lol, but I am currently working on it as we speak. Hopefully within the next couple weeks? But I don’t know, I don't want to put a specific timeline on it until I'm done/almost done bc I hateeeee disappointing you guys.
whats been going on in life that caused you stop writing? (You don't have to answer if you don't want to, just curious but if it makes you uncomfortable thats okay!!!)
honestly? lots of drama in my personal life, I had to move out of my mom's house because of the issues I was having while I was taking classes and I had to bounce around for a little bit because of it. thankfully I am back in school, and had great friends you helped me while I was getting back on my feet!
Honestly before I answer some more things that are in my inbox, everyone go follow @jawllines if you aren't because they are 100000000% the reason I'm on tumblr and are the only reason I finished the first fic I posted (vamprry). I blew tf out of Olivia's inbox, which is kind of embracing now that I think about it but seriously if I hadn't read their work on wattpad, I wouldn't have wanted to read more of their stuff on tumblr and wouldn't of made an acc.
Sorry for the weird dedication post but I truthfully I really enjoy their work and I love the open arms they gave me a couple years ago when I first started posting my stuff on here. Also sub to their patreon, I read it all the time lol.
..... does that mean we get another part to Serpentine?
Yes! I've been slowly adding parts to it since I wrote the first part and life has just gotten in the way unfortunately, but I am trying to get it done and give you guys another part.
But I just want everyone to know that I'm going through my own writing and fixing the mistakes ( and drafts that need to be finished), and I cannot stop being like "aww, wait thats so cute" while there are like 4 spelling errors and a grammar mistake in the next line. Like girl- WHAT'RE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
“ Y’know I never got to tell you how much I like your bunny slippers this morning.” She jumps and the voice, she looks to see who it is, Harry. He sat down directly in front of her while she was paying attention.| Or Liam’s human sister Y/N is like is the most protected person in San Francisco and Harry can’t get her out of his head
word count: >11k
I used the same vampire dynamics seen in 'The Vampire Diaries' so if you're going to get mad don't even bother reading it.
Also, as of 2.6.25 I have edited and changed a lot of stuff because honestly- it was so bad. So if you have read this prior to the changes, give it another read.
tw: blood, stabbing, death, sex dream, harry lowkey being a stalker, insufferable fluff with liam, not too graphic but there is a detailed death scene, nightmares, drinking, stalking, vampires and the supernatural.
{join tag lists} {masterlist}
Is it 2 in the morning? Yes. Is it November in San Francisco? Also yes, but is it wrong for Y/N to want Thai food from the 24-hour restaurant a block from her house? She would think not. Y/N had been studying for a final in one of her design classes for a total of 6 hours at the 1 am mark and needed a break. She had spent the last 45 minutes debating whether or not she would go and the last 15 getting ready. She left her hair down and put on a dandelion yellow hoodie to pair with some dark grey biker shorts.
When she got inside she could smell the food she had been craving and knew that- unfortunately -Jason was going to be the one to sell it to her. Y/N had spoken to him on the phone when she ordered and that was the only part she was dreading. Jason had worked there on graveyard shifts for the last 8 months and always knew how to make her uncomfortable.
Things didn’t get awkward until he had seen her in a group of her friends after she went out to celebrate one of their engagements. He had tried to take her home and when he didn’t stop after she said no the bartender threw him out. Before that, he was just this fresh out of high school cutie, with his artificial cherry-red hair and soft jawline. A guy who would act playfully with her and always gave her extra chicken with her food.
“ Y/N, good to see you.” Jason had been the first one to talk, usually, it was just her that was up this late but there was a small group of people sitting in the corner enjoying the silence.
“ Hi Jason, I had the order of-“ he cut her off with a frustrated tone.
“ The Basil Box, yeah I know. I was the one who answered the phone.” He’s tapping buttons on the iPad that the place used for the cash register, Y/N feels like he’s pressing them too hard because the whole stand that it’s on is moving.
“ Right! Sorry! I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” Y/N immediately tries to end the conversation so he doesn’t make it any more awkward for everyone else in the whole in-the-wall restaurant.
“ You walked all the way here dressed like that? Don’t you live a block or 2 away? Aren’t you scared someone is going to think you're a prostitute? Y’know and try to pick you up in their car?” Jason doesn’t know how to shut his mouth apparently because now the group in the corner aren’t talking at all. They are all looking at the altercation happening at the cash register.
“ First of all, where I live is really none of your concern," Y/N tries to catch her breath and calm down, but it doesn't seem to work. "Second: mind your own business and third: can I just pay for my food and go?” Y/N snaps at him- it’s rightfully deserved- and she can tell by the way his nostrils flare that this isn’t going to end with her enjoying her meal with and watching Teen Wolf with her cat.
“ Nope sorry, we stopped selling the Basil Box a week ago and the chef is on his break.” He states while throwing her bag- at least Y/N assumes it’s her bag- of food into the trash can. “ I also have the right to refuse you because you are threatening me. Please leave the establishment before I call the police.” I stare at him, mouth wide open.
Did he really just do that?
Y/N was really hungry.
Is she just supposed to leave?
“ LIAM!” Y/N shout to get the cook's attention.
“ Yeah? Oh hey Y/N should have realized you were coming by tonight, what’s up?” Liam greets Y/N while walking out from the kitchen, his prince-like hair now pulled back behind his head. Liam just so happens to not only live in Y/N ’s building but sat next to her in a bar- the same night she had to put Jason in his place- and the two hit it off instantly, platonically, of course, calls Y/N his little sister, even invited her to celebrate Christmas with his friends when he realized she didn’t speak to her parents anymore.
“ Can you make me a Basil Box, level 3 spice, and extra tofu?” He nods and walks up to the counter to see what the real problem is.
“ I sure can but I know I already made of those tonight so let’s see, Jason? Where is Miss Y/N ’s Basil Box?” Liam, being born and raised in England, still had a British accent, not as thick as when she first met him but it's there. Jason is death glaring at her the whole time Y/N and Liam are speaking and she knows that Jason is about to either lose his job or get switched with Delilah e- a short woman who has beautiful tight curls and clear melanin-rich skin - who used to work these shifts before she got switched with Jason.
“ If you look to your left you’ll find it.” Jason barley moved his mouth when he spoke, grinding his teeth like they were indestructible.
“ Where? I don’t see it.” Liam’s voice is very monotone while he looks on the counter to the left of him, Jason still unmoving while staring at Y/N.
“ He means the trash.” Y/N answers for him.
“ The trash?” Liam asks amused and sarcastic.
“ The trash.” Jason echos forcefully.
“ Good news for you Y/N, you now have a free meal! Bad news for you Jason, because you're paying for the new one I have to make and the one you threw away.”
“ No, I am not!” Jason states through gritted teeth.
“ Yes you are, it's coming out of your paycheck.” Liam tells him while walking back to the kitchen, being the manger does have its perks.
After her food is done Liam walks out. “ Here you are, I added a couple extra lemon slices, and a tea to go,” Liam puts the Y/N meal into a plastic bag and hands it to her. “ Have a safe walk home and text me when you get there, okay? Love you!” He calls out as she reaches the door.dd
“ Love you too Li!” Y/N grabs her phone and walks home to enjoy her food with Blueberry- her black Manx cat- but not before she bumps into someone.
“ Watch it.” The dark figure practically growls at her.
“ I’m so sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.” She starts to spew out apologies, “ Are you hurt-“ Y/N gets cut off by the figure pulling her into a thin alleyway between the two buildings they had crashed at, her bag of food in one hand and the other on her mouth.
Y/N could hear someone running towards the two.
“ You will not say a word,” he tells Y/N, staring her in the eyes, “ shhh.”
“ What?” She says in a whisper, his brows furrow but he doesn’t think twice before putting his hand over her mouth again. The footsteps stop a few feet from the alleyway and were coming from the same direction the Thai place was.
“ Leave me with my dinner, he is nothing to you.” The figure says barely above a whisper. She could see now that the figure was a man- a quite pretty one for that matter- had long dark hair, and a magnificent jawline. “ Haven’t seen a girl Jason, if I do I’ll let you know.” Y/N hears a couple of footsteps, then nothing at all.
“ Why- How did you know it was Jason? Why did he follow me? How did you hear him? Who are you?” She word vomits out questions faster than Blurberry eats her treats. He guides her out of the alleyway and hands Y/N her food.
“ Can I see your drink?” She hands it to the stranger, he opens it, smells it before closing the paper cup of hot tea again. “ Do you know Liam by chance?” Y/N nods.
“ Liam lives a floor above me, he gave me a free tea because Jason threw my food away.” He gives a half-laugh at her answer.
“ Sneaky bastard. You must be Y/N, no?” Y/N nods again. “ When’s the last time you had Liam’s tea?”
“ Two days ago, he got me one right before my morning lecture, why?” He shakes his head a little and smirks looking at her.
“ Let me walk you home, yeah? I don’t trust that Jason doesn’t try to come back for you.” She nods, still shaken up.
“ How do you and Liam know each other?” Y/N tried to make small talk.
“ Met years ago, been like family.” He gives a short and sweet answer hoping to avoid any more questions.
“ Oh okay.”
By the time they reach her door her feet hurt and she is overly hungry.
“ I’d invite you in but I’m hungry and you're a stranger,” Y/N states matter-of-factly.
“ Makes sense, I’d keep that mentality if I were you, don’t invite anyone in. Especially strangers.” She thinks he’s crazy for a second but then thinks back to “what if I’m the crazy sleep-deprived one?” and drops the thought altogether.
“ Well, good night stranger who walked me home.”
“ Goodnight Y/N .” And with that, the front door is shut and he is gone.
It had been a week since the odd encounter with Jason and the Stranger, and when Y/N asked Liam about it he didn’t give her any answers but enough of a sense of comfort that she moved on.
Y/N ’s friends had been begging her to come out for a drink with them, and tonight she finally gave in. Meredith - her friend- told Y/N to be ready by 9, so when she honked her horn at 9:10 Y/N could run down and jump in her smart car.
Y/N has made fun of her before for having the smallest car ever, but it was truly the “best little engine that could” she has ever been in. Despite the lime green color she had been stuck with, it was cheap on gas and gave the two the perfect excuse to not give anyone rides.
Meredith was the one person Y/N took from her shitty small town in Missouri, she is and will always be her ride or die. She’s the one who helped Y/N take Blueberry when she left her parents- Y/N got her as a present on her 16th birthday and had to sneak her out because “we paid for her, she's our cat.”- she helped Y/N get an apartment at 18 with no credit or a steady job. She was her person.
“ I’m going to get a round of shots and then you want,” Meredith slowly fades out her voice as she tries to guess what drink Y/N will be having. “ Don’t tell me.”
“ But it’s just so much easier if I tell you.” Y/N gives her a slight pout hoping she’ll just let Y/N tell her.
“ Espresso Martini?” Y/N nods and Meredith jumps up and down excitedly. “ And if they don’t have that, which they will, they always do, I’ll just get you what I’m having.” Y/N nods again as Meredith scurries off to the drinks while Y/N picks somewhere to sit. When Meredith comes back to the table with the drinks the two of them slam the vodka shots like it was nothing.
“ God, I think we are alcoholics.” She pouts playfully at her realization. Tonight her bleached blonde hair is curled in big rounds and her almond eyes are accentuated with bold black lines of eyeliner and sparkling gold eyeshadow. “ Oh my fuck, did I tell you about what Brad said to me?”
“ Cute Brad or racist Brad?” Y/N starts to sip from her drink.
“ Racist Brad. He came over to me and just started going on and on about how he would never date “someone like me” like 'what Brad? Smart? Beautiful?' So I asked him what he meant and you want to know what he said?”
“Oh no.” Y/N ’s eyebrows furrow in disgust.
“ Yeah right! Asian! He said Asian! As if I don’t have to deal with that kind of shit all the time Brad thinks it's good small talk. Asked if I was going back to China to celebrate with my family for the holidays, first of all, I’m not Chinese, I’m Japanese, and second I’m Asian American dumbass. ”
“ We can report him to the dean, can’t we?”
“ Already did, I doubt the rich old white2 guy who makes money off of the basketball team is going to punish a starter.” She sits for a minute. “ How did Greta’s turn out?” She means the flower shop Y/N just drew up renovation plans for a final, she had a meeting with the shop owner Greta- a short old Italian woman who Y/N just adored -for a proposal to see if she was interested.
“ Passed the final and I start tomorrow.”
Y/N continued to sip her martini, Meredith does the same with her margarita. Meredith periodically leaves to go dance with someone who asked her- she's gorgeous so it doesn’t surprise Y/N -until Y/N ’s martini is done so she offers to go get the next round.
Y/N walks up to the bar and someone bumps into her.
Jason.
Just as quickly as she realised who it was, she was attempting to walk way. Jason reaches out and grabs her arm at the elbow and pulls her back.
“ But sweetheart you had such confidence talking back to me while I was at work, why are you running now?” His breath reeks of cheap booze and she knows at that moment if someone doesn’t help, she's fucked.
“ Sir can you please let go of me, you're intoxicated, I can call you a cab.” Y/N uses a loud speaking voice so that way everyone can hear her and know that she needs help. He leans in close to her and looks her dead in the eyes, and takes a deep breath.
“ You're going to lean in and kiss me, I am going to walk away and you are going to meet me around the back.” He says it with such confidence it makes Y/N wonder how fucked up he really is. He lets go of her arm and leans back like he's waiting for something to happen.
Y/N takes her chance and swings her arm back and lets it rip back onto his cheek. He stumbles back a couple of steps at the shock of it all.
“ Are you fucking delusional? I said no Jason, leave me alone or I’ll get a restraining order.” Y/N huffs out in frustration and looks at the bar. “ Strange guy who walked me home? I didn’t realize you worked here.” He has a deadly smirk on his face and tears his eyes from Jason who is looking at her in horror.
“ Why hello there,” he gives Y/N a toothy grin and whistles loudly, and steps on something to make himself taller. “ He’s out of here!” He shouts to the security, a round of cheers erupts around her. “ What can I get you Y/N ?”
Tonight he is put back in a bun on the back of his head. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and Y/N can see tattoos going up and down his arms that she didn’t see before, whether it was because it was so dark or because he was wearing something to block his arms, she doesn't remember.
“ Well I was drinking a martini but I want something warmer, what cheap sipping whiskey do you recommend?” His lips purse at her question and he tilts his head slightly, eyebrow raised.
“ How about I give you one of my favorites on the house and if you like it, I’ll let you take a whole bottle home?”
“ You're not trying to drug me, are you?” Y/N tilts her head slightly in the same direction and the same eyebrow raised as if to mock him. He dramatically puts his hands over his heart and hits his chest dramatically, letting out a gasp.
“ You really think that low of me?” He starts pouring her a drink as Y/N giggles. “ I think Liam would kill me if he ever found out something happened to you, and I was involved.” Y/N takes a sip and lets it sit on her tongue for a couple of seconds before moving it around in her mouth then swallowing.
The burning sensation tingles her tongue, feeling the burn of the alcohol burn the parts of her cheeks it touches. It's a nice whiskey, better than the Jack Daniels she was used to. It tasted sweet and earthy, but had a little kick of something familiar that she couldn't quiet place.
“ Wow okay, that’s some good shit, must be expensive. The taste reminds me of something, it's like I know what it is but I can't place it.” He pulls a bottle and writes her name on it.
“ It’s from a small little town in Canada, made by this old French guy and is fermented with verbena, not as expensive as you think though.”
“ Can I also get another margarita? It’s for my friend,” He makes it for her and she runs it back to Meredith before running back to the bar. “ Did you say “verbena”?” He nods. “ Oh, Liam got me hooked on that shit. Gave me my own little plant, which turned into 2, then to 4 and now I have 8 different kinds growing in my apartment.” His eyes got huge, “… is that a weird thing to say? I’m sorry Liam first started giving me tea packets for my cramps and now I put it in everything.”
“ I think I’m going to like you.” His smirk showed just part of the top row of his teeth, and Y/N decided right then she was going to remember that smile for the rest of her life.
“ Well, can you like me while I know your name?”
“ It’s Harry.”
Y/N ends up stumbling into her apartment, Liam had to come to pick her up because Meredith left with a girl she met at the bar and she didn’t feel safe in an Uber after Jason.
“ Why don’t you ever tell me about your hot friends,” Y/N whined while leaning on him. “ Didn’t tell me about Jason, but he’s a douche now. But Harry," she let out a sigh sounded like she let all the air in her lungs out. "Could sit and listen to him talk for years. He’s hot too.”
“ You met Harry? When did you meet him?” Liam's voice is soft, but even a very intoxicated Y/N can sense the worry in his voice as he unlocks her front door. Y/N had an arm around his shoulders and he had an arm around her waist like he was trying to keep her on her feet.
“ The other night when you had to remake my food, accidentally ran into him and he-“ she cut herself off with a hiccup. “ Well I don’t know what he did exactly but he did push us in between the buildings and hid me, said something about Jason then walked me home.” She hiccups again and lets out a soft stream of separated giggles.
“ What’s so funny Bug?” Liam sets Y/N on her bed and starts to remove her shoes.
“ Was thinking about him naked but I can’t stop thinking about his face when I told him about that stuff I drink for my cramps, told him about how it was a godsent-“ Y/N continues to hiccup while trying to keep herself up on the mattress while Liam grabs a big t-shirt- probably his -from her dresser drawer. “ Thought I was crazy for sure.” she dragged out the end of the word for fun.
“ Did he come inside after he walked you home?” Y/N shakes her head. He throws the shirt over her bra, pulls it down past her chest, then he reaches back to unclip it and help get it off.
“ Such a gentleman Li,” he lets out a soft laugh, as she reaches up and brushes his stubbly beard. Liam picks her up and she instictivly wraps her legs around him as he carries her to the bathroom and sets her on the counter to get her to start brushing her teeth, he walks away to go make her a cup of tea before bed.
When he walks back in, to check if Y/N had finished brushing her teeth- she had -and he starts using her cotton rounds and her micellar water to take off her makeup.
“ Said I shouldn't invite anyone into my apartment.”
“ Who said that Bug?” Liam blows on the tea to make sure it’s cooled down enough to not burn her tongue. “ Drink.” He gives it to her before doing her skincare.
“ Your friend Harry the Hottie, wasn’t a big deal but it was weird.” Y/N huff a shrug. “ Did you meet him in England?”
“ No, I met him in Italy actually. Why?” He quirks his brow before kissing her forehead and taking the now empty mug out of her hand. Of course Y/N knows the story of Liam leaving home and backpacking around Europe while all his friends went to university, she figures it must of been from his travels that he and Harry crossed paths.
“ He’s British too, hot British.” He sets the mug on the counter in the bathroom before picking her up to carry her back to her bed.
“ You're such a koala bear, might have to start calling you that,” Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist and arms squeezing his neck harder this time, as if she was trying to prove a point.
After she's all prepped and tucked into bed Liam leaves her and locks her front door and leaves a note on her fridge.
Harry hadn’t been able to get Y/N off of his mind- maybe it was the portrait Liam was painting of her for Christmas sitting in the back room of his bar, maybe it was Liam altogether -so imagine his surprise when he walked into Gretas to ask if she could help him- again -with his plants at his bar- they kept dying and Harry hadn't a clue of why- only to see the most vampire protected human in San Francisco, sitting on the floor, bulky headphone over her ears blocking out on of her vital senses. He stopped and stared for a second but when Greta herself came out to talk to Y/N and saw Harry went over to talk to him. “ Are they dead again?” Harry nods his head slowly shifting his attention to the short woman in front of him.
“ I don’t know what I’m doing wrong Greta.” She shakes her head and starts up a conversation with him about what might be happening. Even though he was actively participating in the conversation with her he couldn’t help but let his mind drift to why Y/N was also in the shop. When the conversation about the plants ends he starts one about Y/N.
“ So what is Y/N doing here?” He asks and Greta turns to look at her before answering Harry.
“ She is doing the shop's redesign, offered to do it for free but I know that money is tight with her so I hired her.” Greta smiles. “ Reminds me of a younger version of my eldest daughter, makes this place seem less empty, yeah?” Harry can’t help but agree with her. “ If you really can’t get your plants to stay alive, ask her, sounds like you know her so it shouldn’t be hard. She's good with stuff like that.”
“ I think I will, don’t tell her I was here though, I don’t want her to know yet.” Greta nods and with that, he leaves, once again with Y/N on his mind.
Greta knows the secret of the vampire society that lives in San Francisco, she had helped a few rogue baby vampires find their way. Harry ran Greta back in the 80's when she had first opened the shop. Back then Greta used to make fun of Harry for all of his life problems, " I came to America when I was 16 and married a man I had never seen in person in 1950. I gave birth to 8 children, my husband died, my kids grew up and write me every once and awhile, but other than that and you, I am completely alone. Somehow I think you'll survive the punk kids protesting war outside your apartment." They had met right before she left Italy, she had told him all about Walter and all about the love letters they had exchanged over the course of 2 years after her father had told her family about the kid he had met while in New York on business. Harry was just passing through, checking on Liam after yet another "backpacking trip to find himself".
Greta was there when Liam finally made his way to San Francisco, after years of not having a permanent place. Once, while drinking in Harry's bar on New Year's Eve in 1999, she told Harry that if he had asked her to stay in Italy that day- she would have.
" A handsome stranger like you? If you had asked me right there I might have stayed. I probably wouldn't have married Walter. Thank god you didn't, I wouldn't have my grandbabies if you had."
She had been interested in the whole vampire thing when they had reunited, Harry still looked as gorgeous as ever while she had greys and achy bones. She never wanted to be a vampire, she figured it was best to let nature run its course. Harry had gifted her a vile of his blood in case she changed her mind, but she used it for the healing properties to help with the arthritis in her hands.
Harry knew Y/N would be safe with Greta, and Greta knew all about how Y/N was off limits to the vampires in San Francisco.
It had been 2 weeks since the last altercation with Jason. It was 1 am and Y/N had just woken up from a nightmare and couldn't find Blueberry. She had looked in all of her favorite hiding spots, in the bathtub, the closet, the space between the couch and the wall, but she was no where to be found. Y/N had resorted to calling Liam, twice, to see if he had her and he didn’t answer either time. So in a pair of gray sweats and a spaghetti strap cami, she hurried to the elevator to see if he was awake.
“ Liam, I’m sorry if you're sleeping but I need your help,” Y/N says loud enough for him to be able to hear her through the door but not loud enough to wake everyone else up around them. Knocking on the door until it is opened, she expects to see Liam but it was Harry.
Harry was wearing loose blue jeans and a tight white t-shirt. The shirt was sheer at best, giving a almost perfect view of his tattoos. Y/N had seen peaks of them in the couple times she ran into Harry but this was a new sight. Her eyes wondered across the ink on his arms, up to the topless mermaid, to the ship that was partially uncovered. She looked at the birds on his chest, down to the butterfly on his abdomen down to the greenery at the bottom of his abs.
Something about seeing him in such a casual way in a her friends apartment had her feeling hot. She could feel the blood rushing to her head, even her neck felt like it was on fire. Taking a minute to collect herself, she had to actively work to remember why she was there to begin with.
“ I-I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you guys, but have you seen Blueberry?” Harry steps back from the door and calls Liam over to it. If he had noticed her checking him out, he hadn't said anything about it.
“ Y/N !” Liam says with wide eyes and immediately walks out and shuts the door. “ What are you doing Bug? It’s 1 am, told me you were going to sleep early tonight.” Her eyes begin to well up and she gets hysterical. " Are you sick? You feel hot." His words laced with concern as he looking over the crying girl in front of him.
Y/N shook her head no before reponding, “ I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bother you- didn’t know you had guests.” He pulls Y/N into a big bear hug.
“ Take a breath with me quick, okay?” He guides her through the breath. “ Okay, what's the matter?”
“ I had a nightmare again and I can’t find Blueberry, I was hoping she was with you.” She sniffles and he rubs her back, “ I really didn’t know that you had people over, I’m sorry.”
“ Shh, none of that, it's just Harry. Not people, just Harry. You know him, nothing to get embarced about. Blueberry's in my bedroom, wanna come inside for a second?” Y/N nods her head but follows it with,
“ Yeah, but you have friends over, I'm sorry for bothering you.” She lets go and begins to walk away before he grabs her arm and pulls her back to him.
“ Come on, it's just Harry. I'll make you some tea and you can just stay here.”
“ Okay.”
He brings her inside and she doesn't remove her head from his chest.
“ You okay Y/N ?” Y/N hears Harry ask and she just shakes her head no.
“ She had a nightmare, she's going to sleep here tonight.” Liam informs him.
“ Oh, okay,” Harry says, she can't see what he's doing but she hears things shuffling around. Y/N steps on Liam’s feet so he can walk her to the bedroom without moving her head and as she hears the bedroom door open she also hears muffled screams.
“ What’s that?” Y/N goes to pick her head up but Liam pushes it back into his chest.
“ The T.V. don’t worry about it.”
“ Shut up before I pull your tongue out, Y/N is trying to sleep,” Harry tells Jason. Jason is currently restrained to a chair and has a cloth in his mouth. Harry turns on the T.V. and “ It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia'' comes on. He turns it up so Y/N can hear the T.V. instead of screams. Liam also turns on the T.V. in his bedroom for Y/N to watch while she cuddled Blueberry. “ You're lucky I didn’t kill you when you were waiting for her to open her door tonight.”
Liam- who is very carefully making verbena and chamomile tea for the sleepy girl in the bedroom, watching to make sure it doesn't touch his skin -jumped into the conversation. “ You're lucky she was too fucked up to realize you were waiting by her friend's car when she tried to leave the bar.”
“ Seriously mate, what the fuck is wrong with you.” Harry has a dropper bottle of verbena concentrate and is dropping little drops onto Jason's bare skin, leaving a burn whatever it touches. “ You died. I gave you a second chance, and you throw it all away by going after Liam’s human family?”
“ Told you he has a death wish,” Liam walks over and puts the cup of tea into the bedroom, “ Be careful it's still hot,” Liam says to Y/N, but no one else dares make a sound. Liam walks out and shuts the door. “ In a town run by vampires, you really thought you could go after the one person we said not to and live?”
“ God you're a fucking idiot, did you know that?” Harry drops some more concentrate on him to get a reaction.
“ So now that we have my Bug sleeping in my bedroom we are going to let you go with a final warning, leave her alone-” Harry cuts off Liam.
“ -or I’ll remove your head from your body.” Liam pats Harry on the shoulder.
“ Can you clean this up, I gotta go lay with her and make sure that she's okay?” Harry nods
When Y/N wakes up the window is open and so is the bedroom door. She can feel the breeze of the morning air passing her like a silent whisper. “ Li?” No response. She can hear someone in the kitchen so she gets up and walks out of the bedroom, “ Liam, are you still here?” When she walks into the kitchen, instead of seeing Liam, Y/N sees Harry, wearing gym shorts, and nothing else.
“ Good Morning, how did you sleep?” He turns around and smiles at her.
“ Good?" She looks around the small apartment, " where's Liam?”
“ He had somewhere to go.” He smirks at her, sauntering toward her like a cat on on a windowseal. “ Liam told me you thought I was cute… what were your exact words? Harry the Hottie?”
“ W-what?”
“ God, do you know how sexy I think you are? Could eat you up in a quick second, or… could go at it for hours…” It sounds so suggestive, Y/N can’t help but feel a tingle work its way down her spine. Harry reaches up and placing a hand on her cheek, tracing her jaw with his pinky.
“ I- uh… Harry, what are you doing?” He’s running a hand down her side, tracing the curve of her breast, to her waist, when he gets to her hips he reaches his other hand to grab at her hips while he lowers to his knees.
“ Would you like that? For me to eat you for hours?” He kisses her stomach where her cami had risen up, “ bet I could do it right, get you off at least twice in 5 maybe 10 minutes. Would you want me to?”
“ H- Harry I-,” Y/N gets cut off.
“ Y/N .” She hears a voice, it sounds like Liam but she doesn't know where it’s coming from. She flips her head around, looking again for her friend. “ Bug wake up.”
Y/N opens her eyes to see Liam standing over her, “ Are you okay?” Y/N blinks the sleep out of her eyes, bringing her hands up to wipe them.
“ Yeah, what time is it?” Y/N ’s voice is still filled with sleep.
“ It's only 8, came to wake you because I didn’t know what time your lecture started and I heard you huffing, puffing, got concerned.”
“ My lecture is at 10, thanks for waking me, I should probably go get dressed so I can make it there on time.” Liam has this wide grin on his face. “ What's got you all smiley?”
“ What were you dreaming about?” Y/N furrows her eyebrows at him, feeling flustered all over again.
“ Nothing? Why?” She stands up and wraps the comforter around her body.
“ Didn’t sound like nothing. Actually, it sounded like moaning.”
“ Leave me alone Liam.” She walks over to the connected bathroom and grabs her toothbrush- a purple one that Liam had bought especially for her -and starts brushing her teeth.
“ So it doesn’t have anything to do with- I don't know, a long-haired friend of mine. Perhaps the one you called 'Hot British' the other night, the one you talked about wanting to bone before you fell asleep on said night.”
“ Ew Liam doesn’t say stuff like that, it’s gross.” Y/N gave him a disgusted look.
“ I meant Harry, y’know because you were calling his name.” Y/N ’s face drops in shock.
“ Leave me alone.” He laughs at her as she walks back into the bedroom, “ I’m hungry, smells good, what are you making?” She walks towards the kitchen only to see Harry standing over the stovetop on the island. Y/N didn’t end up stopping, when she saw him, she just continued until she was walking out the door. “ This is my blanket now, get a new one.” Y/N yells to Liam and she can just hear the both of them laughing.
Harry watched as Y/N runs out of the door Liam’s comforter is wrapped tightly around her body. He couldn’t help but laugh quietly to himself. “ Your little human is having dirty dreams about me, Liam.”
Liam’s laughs get louder as he enters the kitchen to walk to the front door and close it. “ Her reaction to getting caught is what's funny, not the fact that my sister is having sex dreams about you.” Liam says with a scary amount of authority.
“ Wonder if I made her cum,” Harry only had a short amount of time to laugh before he was on the ground, with Liam on top of him.
“ It’s not funny Harry.” Liam flashes his eyes at him, the veins raising to the surface and bulging out before going back into the skin.
“ Fine fine, not another word about it.” Harry laughs out, with this Liam climbs his way off of Harry. “ I have to go see Elizabeth, I’ll talk to you later though, yeah?” Harry is walking out the door before Liam can ask any questions about it.
Was Harry going to see Elizabeth? Yes. Was he going to make sure that Y/N got to her lecture first? Also yes. Harry waits across the street from the apartment building, standing in front of glass doors that lead to a Planet Fitness and as soon as he sees Y/N walk at the front doors, it's game time.
He sees Y/N start to walk, “holy shit she’s going to walk?” Harry can’t help but think to himself. He's a good 25 feet behind her, she makes a left turn and the chase is on.
Right
Cross the road
Left
Right
Right
Cross the road
At this point they have been walking for at least a mile and a half, one last left turn and he officially followed her all the way to campus, that sounds so much creepier than he entends, Now that she is safe, he decides he can go to Elizabeth, in order to do that he had to cross the bridge to Oakland.
Elizabeth is a woman who he had the “pleasure” of meeting over a century ago, she’s beautiful, sure. But Harry has never seen anything more shallow than this singular woman, and he's been around since 1789. She has long black hair and beautiful porcelain skin- some would even say transparent- that held piercing electric blue eyes and thin lips that she usually painted a dark scarlet color. When Harry had met Elizabeth in the 1812 she had been the woman on a move, an icon for people around her. Women needed to be like her and men needed to be with her, she had gotten used to shadowing her veins to a dark blue, keeping out of the sun- even on cold days -to keep her skin pale. The first time she saw Harry she had no clue who he was, and could care less if she was honest. She had been getting invited to party after party with different rich families throughout England. So when Harry had danced with mostly everybody but her, she questioned him.
Harry had made a name for himself back in then, the rich heir to a compound on the outskirts of London and it had appalled her that she was not good enough for him. So he let her in on his little secret and she had been drinking his blood like a supplement until the lead in her makeup killed her, then she ran off with Harry to Italy, where he met Liam. Harry soon after ditched her in Rome and fled to America, traveled all over until she found him here, 5 years ago in San Francisco.
Once Harry had passed the bridge and made it to the oldest house on the street he pushed open the doors, “ Elizabeth?” He yelled.
“ I’m in the tea room darling.” Elizabeth always had a thick American accent, being born in New York back in 1795 and living there till she was 12 in 1807 when she moved with her father after he mother had passed. “ Well I see this was not a pleasure visit, you're barely dressed.”
“ Just because I have good fashion taste doesn’t mean I don’t like to be comfortable with Elizabeth.” Harry had not thought anything wrong with his choice of clothing today- the gym shorts he was wearing this morning and a hoodie- he had really only really come to visit her because he had to.
“ I am always dressed for the occasion of seeing you.” Elizabeth batted her eyes and took a sip of the cold blood sitting in her teacup as if it were earl grey. Elizabeth is wearing a black- the material looks like velvet -cocktail dress, hair up in a sleek bun. Being born in a different century did not mean she didn't keep up with modern fashion. Although she did have a thing for Marilyn Monroe before the Playboy cover, so she did tend to live in the clothes she thinks Marilyn would approve of.
“ Cut the crap Elizabeth. I told you to stop stealing from my stash months ago and you know what?” She hums out as if to ask “what is there to know?” “ I’m all out of B+, O- and AB+. Crazy seeing as my dear friend Liam, you remember Liam right?” She just rolls her eyes.
“ Of course, how could I forget the man you ran away with?”
“ Well his painting of his human sister is gone, the one that he was going to give to her for Christmas.” Harry sits in the white- now a cream color from age - with embroidered floral patterns chair across from her. Arms crossed over his chest accusingly.
“ Well, I guess he shouldn’t have miss placed it.” Elizabeth pouts like a baby getting up and walking away, leaving her teacup in the saucer next to her chair. “ I don’t know why you're here Harold, I don’t have what you are looking for.” With that she walks into the living room, leaving Harry to follow her and stand next to the grand staircase.
“ Really? you wouldn’t know anything about Y/N’s portrait? You’d know her face if you had seen it I guess. She’s just beautiful, could probably start and end wars over her if I’m honest.” Harry understands that if he can’t get answers by asking, he needs to force it out of her.
“ Oh really now.” Harry could hear the building's anger in Elizabeth’s tone.
“ You truly have nothing on that woman. From the time I have spent with her alone,” Harry forces an emphasis on the word, “ she is just so kind, compassionate, warm, not to mention her natural beauty is what really makes her and 11 in a sea of 6’s.”
“ SHE LOOKED LIKE A NYMPH TO ME!” Elizabeth’s eyes immediately widened with her confession. “ You did that on purpose! That’s not fair, you can’t win by cheating, you know the rules!” Now it’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes.
“ There is no game Elizabeth, give me the portrait, I made you young and beautiful because you asked. You don’t get to throw a fit when you're no longer interesting to me because you're too obsessed with yourself.” Elizabeth is running over to him with superhuman speed and breaks a piece of the railing off to stake him, Harry though being the older and much faster one grabs the arm with the make-shift stake, disarms her, and pulls her arms behind her back against his chest. Holding the stake to her heart he speaks very calmly. “ Elizabeth, I gave eternal beauty, I gave you a second chance at life. Do not make me take it from you. You are going to tell me where the portrait is and for every second you hesitate, I will push your weapon of choice a little further into your chest. Do you understand me?”
“ Yes sir.” She answers quickly, guess all it took was herself being on the line. “ It’s up the stairs in the locked door to the left.” Harry begins his way up the staircase, Elizabeth still against him. When they get to the door, he kicks it in.
“ There is her beautiful face.” Harry speaks softly in her ear. “ Thank you, darling,” and with that, he snaps her neck. “ Much easier to do this when I don’t have to worry about you staking me in the back." Now that he has everything he needs, he leaves with no hesitation.
Y/N decided to go for a run after her lecture and was starving afterward so she headed to Thai The Way- the restaurant Liam worked at -it was really the only restaurant she liked. On the run from her lecture, she felt as if someone had been watching her, she figured it was just from the lack of sleep induced paranoia but the closer she got to the restaurant the less anxiety she felt. So around 4:00 pm, Y/N headed down to the restaurant, deciding she would eat in the restaurant today, knowing Liam was already at work. When she walked in Delilah and was standing at the register. “ Y/N it’s so good to see you!” She walks out from behind the counter to come to hug her.
“ Gee am I glad it’s you and not Jason.” Y/N gave her a great big squeeze genuinely excited to see her favorite hostess.
“ Yeah, he got fired yesterday, something about his customer service.” She shrugged her shoulders like she didn’t have a clue. Stuffing her face into Y/N’s neck she took a big whiff. “ You smell really good today.” Y/N’s cheeks flush.
“ Just got done working out and decided I wanted food.” She picks her head out of Y/N’s neck, her face had veins bulging out, and her eyes had gone red. “ Are you okay? You look kind of sick.” Delilah e just turned around and started breathing heavily. She walked back behind the counter and when she looked at Y/N again she was fine.
“ Lemme guess, Basil Box?” Y/N nods her head at her question.
“ Level 3 please.” She nodded at Y/N’s response.
“ You're number 5, when your food is ready I’ll bring it to you.” Y/N gives her a “thank you”, takes her number, and sits in a seat close to the window that looks out on the street. She still felt like she was being watched for some reason, but looking out on to the city street she didn't see anyone she knew or anyone looking at her. So again she decided she was just overly tired. Y/N loved people watching anyway so she decided to keep her focus on the busy street, seeing the different people walk by.
“ Y’know I never got to tell you how much I like your bunny slippers this morning.” She jumps and the voice, she looks to see who it is, Harry. He sat down directly in front of her while she wasn't paying attention.
“ Thanks, my friend Meredith got them for me for Christmas.” Y/N looks back out the window.
“ So do you happen to like gardening?” Y/N looks at him with a weird look on her face. “ You told me about the mini garden in your apartment.” She has an ‘oh’ look before answering.
“ Yeah, I've been thinking about applying at the flower shop on 7th street actually.” He smiles.
“ Well, why don’t you come help with the plants at the bar?”
“ Are you a manger or something?” He hesitated for a second before answering.
“ Yeah, my boss needs someone to help with the remodel and I could put a good word in if you’d like a job for gardening.” Y/N can feel her eyes light up.
“ I’m studying design at SFSU! Maybe I can go in and apply for interior design.” She pulls out her phone, “ here let me give you my number so you can give it to them.” The two of them exchange numbers. “ I did this place a couple of months back.” He looks around admiring all of the 50’s diner aesthetics she had created. “ Also did the flower shop on 7th, the woman who owns that, her name is Greta, she's so sweet.” He nods.
“ So I’ll have them get some pictures of the ideas they’ve had and I’ll get back to you?” She nods. “ Okay, it's a date.” He gets up and walks out of the restaurant.
It's a date?
Harry had sent her what his boss wanted within a couple of hours, it was a very dark academy meets nightclub. So over a few days, she made mood board after mood board on Pinterest so she had all of her ideas in one spot.
Harry: Hi Y/N, I’m supposed to see if you could meet with me so you can see the layout and make some sort of draft to be okayed, would tomorrow work?
With every text he sent Y/N got a little more excited for the next.
Y/N: I am free tmr so that would be ok, will I be meeting the owner? I already have plenty of ideas from when I was there last.
Harry: Unfortunately no, they went to Cancun and left me in charge and I am supposed to email the draft when it is done. They told me to tell you not to rush through.
Y/N: Ok, what time should I show up?
Harry: Shall we say 10 am? We can take a look at the plants to see what's wrong with them too.
Y/N: Ok 10 AM tmr got it. Goodnight Harry!
Harry: Goodnight Bunny
So at 10 am when Y/N shows up at the bar and Harry is standing behind the counter in a wife-beater, pour himself a glass of a dark liquid. She says the first thing that comes to her mind, “ Harry this isn’t going to work if we are both drunk y’know.” His million-dollar smile shows up and she sets her plans down along with her bag. “ I got you a coffee, Liam said you were allergic to verbena so I didn’t put any in yours, hope that's okay.”
“ Perfectly okay Bunny, my throat swells shut and I can’t breathe so it’s probably best I don’t use verbena.” She nods and opens her spreadsheet on a table that didn’t have any chairs on it. “ I thought the whole point of you showing up today was so that way you could get the blueprints to work off of, what's this?”
“ Well, fun fact, if you tell the construction company the owners hired that you are working on the project and you're pretty, they’ll just send them right over.” Y/N gives him a nervous laugh hoping he won’t be upset at her for some reason.
“ Brilliant! I guess I can just take a look right now then can’t I?”
[blueprints]
After Harry takes a picture of the plans and sends them to his boss, he gets the okay and she leaves the plans with him so he can give them to the construction crew.
“ Hey, what else do you have planned today?” Harry asks her, trying to sound nonchalant.
“ Probably go to the gym, head home and make dinner and end it by cuddling with Blueberry, why?”
“ What if I make you dinner?” Harry now leaning against the door frame looking outside to Y/N.
“ Well yeah we could do that, I guess… wait like at my apartment?” Y/N looks as if she's going through all the stages of grief at once.
“ No. it would be at my house, I can text you the address. See you at 8?”
“ You don’t have to work?” Y/N checks the clock on her phone, it now says 11:12 am.
“ No, I took the day shift today, I work from noon to 6. So 8?”
“ Okay,” she lets out a sigh of contentment, “ I’ll see you at 8.” And with that, she's off to go tell Blueberry.
Y/N likes to work out a couple of times a week, and with a Planet Fitness accross the street from where she lives its not hard to stop from time to time to run the the treadmill. She mostly does it because it gives her a chance to think, to clear her head of the days stress and day dream while listening to whatever comes on shuffle. to herself as she is walking out of the doors of the gym across the street from her apartment building. Walking out of the glass doors in her gym attire, people stop and stare at the sweat ball of a person outside of the gym doors. Y/N would be lying if she said it didn’t make her uncomfortable, but only because it happened so often. She’d be sweating and it felt like everyone within a 10-mile radius could smell her BO and decided to silently judge her, little did she know that it wasn’t the BO wasn’t the reason strangers were staring, but vampires were smelling but the blood vessels through the open sweat glands. Y/N looks both ways before making a break for it across the street. She goes to open the door with her keys but as she's looking for them she remembers she left them by the sink in her kitchen. “ Fuck,” Y/N drags out the word in frustration. She clicks Liam’s buzzer hoping he's home “ Liam are you home?”
“ Hello?” She can hear the crackly sound of his voice through the buzzer.
“ I left my keys in my apartment, can you let me up?”
“ Well well, Miss Bug forgot her keys.” She can audibly hear the smile on his face, the same one he usually has when he's teasing her.
“ Liam, please? I have dinner plans at 8 and I have to shower.” Y/N can feel goosebumps from the San Francisco breeze blowing past her, but all she cal think about is how people could still be staring at her.
“ I don’t know, what do you think, Harry?” Now it really feels like an ice bath when Liam mentions that Harry is in his apartment, what are the chances that her plans are a floor above her? The uneasy feeling is growing more strong but Y/N just chalks it up to paranoia.
“ Harrys at yours?”
“ Yeah, why?”
“ Just wondering can you please just let-'' You get cut off by a hand covering your mouth. You scream for help in muffled cries.
“ Y/N?”
“ You gave me a second chance and you can take it back right?” She can recognize the voice.
Jason.
“ Jason, what the fuck are you doing?” Now it's Harry's voice coming through the speaker. “ Leave her be.”
“ No right Harry? I’m dead. I died. So what's the point?” Jason tucks his head into Y/N’s neck so he was face to face with her artery. “ I’ve waited so long for you Y/N, you have to know clue.”
Suddenly it feels like she is moving at the speed of sound. Y/N closes her eyes tight so she doesn’t get sick, it feels like they had only been going for 5 minutes before they stopped in front of a big Victorian-style house she had never seen before. Jason moves her through the door and into a big room with muted emerald green walls.
A woman is sitting there waiting for them to arrive, and Y/N couldn't help but wonder how a women could be so beautiful. The woman was wearing a tight black and white floral dress with a halter-top neck line and that ended just above her knees. She had pared black gloves that from Y/N view looked like had black lace on top. With a pair of black stilettos and a tight curly bun on top of her head, Y/N thinks it's almost like the women stepped out of a 50's film. “ You must be Y/N, your portrait looks nothing like you. I bet Harry hasn’t even seen you in person.” The woman scoffed in disbelief, and gets up and it looks like she just appeared in front of her but Y/N knows that this isn't possible, people can do that. “ Answer me!” This grown woman is throwing a fit in front of her and all she can think about it is how does she know Harry. “ Are you Y/N or not?” She just nods her head. “ Wasn’t so hard now was it?” Y/N shakes her head this time. The woman gets in her face and stares her directly in the eyes, “ you will give me your phone.”
Without hesitation Y/N pulls it out and hands it to her, scared of what might happen if she doesn’t. The woman asks for the password so she gives it to her, “ 0-8-2-9.” Just as Y/N is about to ask what is happening, Harry walks into the room. “ Harry!” She just about shouts to get his attention.
“ Shut up, skank!” The woman yells at Y/N. “ Why hello Harold, what a good surprise it is to see you.”
“ Elizabeth, call off your attack dog.” Harry’s voice is monotone.
“ I made him a promise actually, where is Liam?” Elizabeth grabs a cheese-spreading knife from her side table before sitting down in her chair.
“ Outside.” Elizabeth laughs.
“ Oh, right he hasn’t been invited in! Y/N, have you invited Liam into your home?” Elizabeth seems to be having fun with all of this. “ I bet you have, I looked and your name is on Liam's lease so you probably had to invite Harry in'' Jason cuts her off.
“ I remember when you invited me into Liams.” Y/N is just looking around confused.
“ Harry, what are they talking about? I want to go home.” She manages to get out with any stutters even though she is visibly shaking.
“ She doesn’t know?” Elizabeth laughs, “ oh honey, so young, so ignorant, so useless. We’re vampires, darling!” All the air in Y/N’s lungs seems to disappear.
Y/N feels like the world just collapsed around her, is this a joke? Vampires aren't real, they don't exist. Dracula was just a story people told their children so they would sneak off into the dark. She's just supposed to believe this whole time that the people she had grown to love and care about were vampires?
“ Y/N listen to me, I will tell you everything, just breathe for now, okay?” She just nods mindlessly still trying to process the information she was just given. Even so, she trusts Harry the most in the room, considering one of them has sexually harassed her and the other had had her kidnapped, Harry was the best bet.
“ Well this is the end of my part,” Elizabeth stands up and hands Y/N’s phone to Harry. “ Go ahead, Jason.”
With the okay Jason tucks his head into her neck and bites down- hard -Y/N can feel the skin break and she lets out a scream. Shortly after her scream, Jason lets out his own. “ Vervain!” He manages to get out while choking. As soon as Jason fell to the ground, the cheese spreader Elizabeth had picked up was thrown and stabbed into Y/N’s abdomen.
“ Harry?” Y/N asks with tears in her eyes from the pain, and Harry could her the concern and confusion in the way she said is name before falling to the ground in agony.
Harry looks at Elizabeth and with no hesitation, “ Goodbye Elizabeth,” he runs and pulls her heart out of her chest. Fingers digging into the skin and he could feel the solidness of her sternum against his fingers as he pulls her heart from her body. “ See you in hell.” Harry then appears in front of a very loopy Y/N- blood loss - and he pulls the knife out, slowly so it doesn't hurt as much.
“ MOTHERFUCKER!” Y/N yells from the top of her lungs, Harry chuckles- never hearing the girl who looked acted like the embodiment of a 'Care Bear' use such foul langue- before biting his arm and putting it to her mouth. “ I’m not going to drink your fucking blood that's disgusting.”
“ It will heal you, I promise." Still she hesitated. " Do you trust me?" Harry was grasping for straws at this point, trying to get Y/N to drink it to heal herself, " hurry please before Jason gets up.” So she follows his orders after noticing the threat of impending doom was still in the room with them, and Harry pulls her to his chest, petting her hair back, “ That's it Pet, you're okay.” Harry kisses her on the top of her head. Before pulling his arm away from her and picking her up cradling her like a baby. Carrying her outside to Liam.
“ It’s okay Bug, sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up." Liam's voice might as well of been a lullaby, because that's all it took for Y/N to let herself relax and drift off hoping that when she woke, this would all just be another nightmare.
When she opens her eyes again she is sitting in Liam’s bedroom, Blueberry cuddled up next to her. “ You're awake!” Harry is sitting on the end of the bed. “Scared the crap out of me," Harry breaths, wiping his eyes from exhaustion, "I’m so sorry Y/N.” Y/N thinks for only a moment, before sitting up. Taking another moment to lift her shirt to look at the stab wound that should be there, but isn't.
“ You need to tell me what's going on, right now.” Y/N has made up her mind in the 3 seconds she's been awake and she needs to know what's going on.
“ Harry and I are vampires. I met Harry in Italy a couple of years after I was turned in 1822. We don’t feed on humans, and if we do it's consensual, but we mainly drink blood bags.” Y/N spends almost no time at all on the fact that her only family is dead, deciding she can spiral about that later. Right now she moves on looking at Liam who is standing in the doorway.
“ Why did you become so close with me? Were you planning on turning me?” Liam shakes his head.
“ I needed someone-” Liam rephrases. “ I needed a human to sign the lease so no vampire could get in without being invited in because vampires can walk into human-owned buildings.” She nods. “ After I found out about your parents, you reminded me of myself right before I turned and I had this need to be there for you.” She nods.
“ How do you go out during the day?” Harry laughs.
“ I know a witch that makes up daylight rings, give them to people I know I can trust-” Harry gets cut off by Liam.
“ -like Delilah, she has a daylight ring.” Liam walks and sits next to Y/N on his bed. Witches are real? Her eyes blow wide in shock, Delilah is a vampire? “ Every vampire in this town knows who you are, and knows to protect you at all costs.”
“ That's how you get around so flawlessly at night, they’re all watching you. And if anyone steps out of line-” Liam cuts Harry off as Harry leans back so his head is lying on Y/N’s blanket-covered spread thighs.
“-it's an immediate stake to the heart. We gave them a second chance or showed them how to be a vampire, so if they disobey us, game over.”
" You've killed people to protect me?" This is a lot of information for her. but for some reason she's inclined to trust the men sitting next to her on the bed.
" Of course I would Bug, and it's not really killing them. I'm just taking away the second chance I've given them." Liam answered.
" So kill people to give them a second chance, then you take away they're second chance?" This is sounding more and more confusing the more they try to explain it.
" No, we only turn people who are going to die. It's apart of this unspoken rule book I made up back in the 80s, 'no turning for fun, only for need or upon request'." Harry takes the chance to answer rather than Liam.
" Harry's been here for a couple more decades than I have. I only decided that I wanted to stay here after this New Year's Eve party he threw at the bar in 1999." Liam smiles as he remembers how the night ended with him, Harry, and Greta all sipping the last of their cocktails at 2am talking about what type of resolutions they were going to make.
“ Oh and verbena is just another word for vervain, Liam thought if he told you it was vervain and you told somebody, you’d be a target.” Harry grabs her hand and puts it in his hair as he is talking.
“ Okay, but what does verbena even do?” Y/N asks, carding her fingers through Harry’s hair, touching him like shes not sure if hes real at first before settling into the position of petting a vampire.
“ It is like a poison to vampires.” Liam answers.
“ Haven’t found a single person who knows why just that it is though.” Harry continues the thought.
“ Are you hungry? Got some food Delilah dropped off from the Thai shop when she heard what happened.” Y/N nods her head yes and Liam leaves the room to go get it. Harry sits up so he is facing her.
“ Listen I understand if you don't want to go on our little date anymore, y’know me being a vam-” Harry is cut off by Y/N pushing their lips together. Impulsive? Yes, but all of Y/N's impulsive decitions have lead her to some of the best outcomes.
Meeting Meredith? Y/N impulsively decided they were going to be friends when she was 8. Moving to San Francisco? Y/N had been saving up to go to New York, but when Meredith told her about where she was going to school in the fall, Y/N bought a ticket. Liam was because she was looking for an apartment when the dorms were too full and impulsive took a stranger's (Liam's) advice and applied at the complex they now live in. So, yes it was impulsive but she was kind of on a role with it so why stop now?
“ You just saved my life, have a whole town of people watching after me, and think the fact that now I know means I don’t like you anymore?” Y/N is genuinely confused when she asks. Harry just nods his head yes. “ God you're stupid,” she pushes their lips together for a second time. Harry smiles into the kiss.
“ You think me saving your life was cool, wait until you see my house.” He snickers with a big toothy grin.
I changed a lot too, so if you haven’t read it before: congrats you get the best version the first time :D, if you haven’t read read it before: give it another read and the stuff that probably made you mad is fixed/changed :D . Lemme know what y’all think!
taglist: @harrystyle-ish @tobesolonely @elenagilbert01 @harrysanchortattoo @pilgrim-harry @hannahnikohl I am updating my taglist so if you want to join or we’re on the last one please add/re-add yourself
summary: spencer and hotch need your help settling a debate about how arousal works, you're happy to oblige.
pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader x aaron hotchner
warnings: 18+ MDNI, i mean a lot, smut, fingering, oral female receiving, threesome, voyeurism i guess
wc: 4k
"Do you want to help us settle something?"
You did a double take. It wasn't even just the words--though, admittedly, those were strange enough--but the way he said them, so relaxed that it almost didn't made you think it wasn’t Hotch saying them. Despite the glaring evidence of him standing in front of you with a moving mouth that proved otherwise.
You tilted your head, brows knitting as you tried to make sense of it, eyes darting to Spencer for some kind of clue. Instead, you found the same look in his eyes--like hunters sizing up prey.
They didn't say anything else for a second, the silence feeling almost orchestrated to make you uncomfortable, like they wanted you to connect dots that weren't there. But how could you when you had no idea what he was asking?
Not even twenty minutes ago, you’d been at your desk, minding your own business and thinking your bag was the only thing keeping you company. Then Hotch showed up out of nowhere, practically scaring you out of your skin as he leaned over and asked you to meet him in your office.
Now, here you were, shoe scuffing nervously against the threadbare carpet as your eyes darted between their inscrutable expressions. Your throat tightened, the lump lodged there refusing to budge no matter how hard you swallowed. You'd assumed you were in trouble when Hotch first asked to see you--an easy conclusion to jump to. But this? Whatever this was somehow seemed worse.
"A debate?"
"That is what I said, is it not?"
You blinked, unsure of how to read that tone. Condescending, yes definitely, but there was something strange about it, something you couldn't quite place.
Your fingers absently tugged a loose thread on your dress shirt, pulling harder as you cleared your throat, your voice coming out way smaller than intended.
"I'm... just confused, I guess. What's the debate?"
"Maybe it's better if we show you," Spencer said, his voice soft as his smile curled just enough to unsettle you.
You hesitated. It was late, the office empty except for the three of you. Alone, trapped between the two people you spent far too much time secretly thinking about. Rationally, you told yourself this was just some silly argument, probably something Morgan stirred up. But the buzzing in your veins, the pins and needles spreading through your body, said otherwise.
Before you could respond, Hotch lifted his hand, gesturing toward the chair in front of them with a simple flick of his fingers that had you moving almost on instinct. As you sank into the chair, you realized you’d been holding your breath the whole time.
They both stood in front of you, the back of their thighs propped against the edge of the desk. You were now looking up at them, flickering from one to the other at the speed of light, trying to take in every detail. They hadn’t changed since earlier—same outfits, same familiar faces—but the end of the day had left them looking just a little undone. A loose tie here, a mussed-up strand of hair there. It was the kind of messy perfection that made your knees weak.
"You guys are scaring me," you said, letting out a nervous laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes.
You weren’t really scared—of course not. Trusting them was part of the job, part of the bond you’d built over time. No, you were concerned. They just, well, seemed different.
Hotch’s lips twitched—a fleeting movement that might’ve been considered a smirk if you’d looked closer. "Don't be scared. We just need your perspective on something."
"My perspective?"
"Yes," Spencer said, his tone matter-of-fact as he stepped closer, positioning himself just behind your chair. "I was explaining to Hotch that sexual arousal is inherently scientific. It’s a complex interplay of neural pathways, hormonal responses, and genetic predispositions."
Your eyes went wide, your lips parting in an attempt to respond, but no sound came. You closed your mouth, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t.
"Is this for a case?"
They ignored your question.
"And I was explaining to Reid, arousal can't be contained to a scientific notion like he would prefer," Hotch said. "It's about instinct, trust and connection between two people. You can’t experience it fully with someone you don’t trust."
Spencer jumped in before the thought could settle. "That’s an oversimplification. There are countless studies proving that arousal can occur from sensory stimuli alone. It’s chemical--a surge of dopamine, norepinephrine, and oxytocin--a cocktail specifically designed to elicit a reaction, trust aside."
"So that’s your take, huh?" Hotch said, crossing his arms. "All chemicals and no human connection? How poetic."
Spencer's ears tinged pink, but he didn't back down. "It’s not poetry; it’s fact. Science observes what’s already there--it doesn’t need embellishment."
Spencer stepped behind you. His hands moving to rest on your shoulders, causing every hair on your body to stand up at attention.
"Relax," he said, but there was a smile in his voice that immediately made you tense. "Funny thing about the human body—it always reacts before you even realize what’s happening."
As if to demonstrate, his lips brushed the curve of your shoulder. You sucked in a sharp breath, the warmth of his mouth spreading through you in a way you couldn't ignore. His voice was lower now, more intimate. "See? It’s your body doing exactly what it was designed to do."
Your heart hammered in your ribs, so loud and fast you wondered if they could hear it too. Another nervous laugh bubbled in your chest, but you swallowed it down, desperate to maintain even a shred of control. This was wrong, wasn't it? This wasn’t what you would consider in the realms of normal. Your thoughts tripped over themselves in their rush to sort reason from desire.
"Spencer," you started, voice shaky.
Whatever protest you’d meant to say was lost when Hotch stepped closer. His eyes, cold and calculating, bore into you as if stripping away all pretense. The darkness you found in his eyes managed to pin you in place, and with a sharp nudge of his shoe, he parted your feet.
The ground beneath you felt less solid, less yours.
Heat pooled in your stomach. "Hotch..."
"You trust me, don't you?" he asked in a low murmur, his voice smooth as silk and just as binding. He leaned in closer, the heat of his body bleeding into yours. "This isn't about science alone. Something natural. Instinct."
His thumb traced along your jaw, coaxing your face upward as though he were sculpting you from marble. Behind you, Spencer’s lips found their mark—the tender hollow just below your ear—and pressed a kiss there that sent a tingling ache down your body, locking you in place. Any reservations melted, slipping away like water through your fingers.
"So, I'll ask again, since we didn't get a clear answer the first time..." He leaned closer. "Do you want to help us settle this debate?"
"Are you asking me to pick a side? I don't know if I'm qualified for that..." You asked, tilting your head slightly as you tried to inject some levity into the situation, though your voice faltered halfway through. You could feel your ears burning. "I mean I would probably have to do more research."
Spencer’s laugh was soft, almost amused.
“We can help with that," he murmured, dropping another kiss along the side of your neck before pulling back, his hands sliding down to rest on your shoulders.
His fingers pressed gently at first, testing, before he began to knead the tight muscles.
You resented how easily your body responded, how quickly your muscles gave up their resistance under his large palms.
"You're tense," Spencer remarked, his thumbs pressing into a tight knot near the base of your neck. His tone was coldly clinical, as though he were diagnosing a patient. "You working her too hard, Hotch?"
"I don't think that's it," Hotch said with a smirk, his gaze bouncing between Spencer and you. "Maybe she's just tense because you overthink everything, Reid. She needs someone to help her relax."
His lips were on yours before you could think of a response, the kiss starting sweet, almost teasing, like he was testing your reaction. The taste of coffee clung to him—dark and bitter, but impossibly addictive, like something you hadn’t known you craved until now. The kiss deepened gradually, becoming slow and sloppy, his tongue poking and prodding and melting onto your own.
Hotch's hands skimmed your thighs, the pads of his fingers grazing the fabric of your skirt before slipping underneath. He moved slowly, excruciatingly so, like he was savoring every second.
Simultaneously, Spencer's hands made their way upward from your shoulders, their path igniting every nerve along the way until his fingers found their way into your hair. He twirled a strand between his fingers, his lips curling into a smirk you didn't need to see to feel, like he was testing the limits of how far you'd let him go.
"You're even more responsive than I imagined," Spencer murmured and your skin flushed even hotter. "It’s incredible—someone with a mind like yours, undone so easily. Just a few touches, and you’re completely at our mercy."
Hotch chuckled as he pulled away, the sound low and rough, brushing against you like a physical sensation. "I told you, Reid. It's not just science. You can't predict this."
You wanted to respond, to fight against the unraveling they seemed so sure of. But the words stuck, catching in your throat and crumbling into nothing. Instead, a soft, almost involuntary whimper slipped out, betraying you in a way you couldn’t take back as Hotch's hand moved higher, brushing so close to your clit that your entire body tensed. The air in the room felt cooler now, almost biting against your flushed skin, every sensation magnified and impossible to ignore.
"Tell me you want this."
The words weren't a question, but more a challenge, a demand, and the look in Hotch's eyes left no doubt about how much he needed to hear it. Behind you, Spencer's grip tightened.
"Come on, sweetheart," Spencer murmured as his free hand traced the line of your neck, his fingers barely brushing your skin. "We'll give you what you want, we just need to hear you say it."
The desperation simmering beneath your skin boiled over, spilling out in a single, breathless word.
"Please." Your voice cracked, and Spencer’s smirk widened, but you swallowed and pushed past the heat rising in your chest. "Please."
Hotch's smirk doubled in size. "Please what?"
"Please. I want this."
The admission was out before you could reel it back, naked exposed, entirely too honest. Everything between the three of you seemed to snap like a rubber band stretched too taut.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Hotch asked softly, voice laced with approval, as if the words themselves were a reward. His touch was dizzying, igniting a fire beneath your skin that spread like wildfire. "Good girl."
His hand shifted before you could think, his fingers finally grazing the heat between your legs. The pressure coursed through you like a live wire, body jerking in response as a broken gasp escaped your lips. Your head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut.
"Look at you," Hotch said. The corners of his mouth lifted as his fingers pressed a little firmer, circling over the damp fabric that clung to you. "I've barely even started."
Your breath hitched audibly, hips jerking forward without permission, body moving on its own accord to press closer to his hand. Embarrassment heated your face, but the ache building inside you drowned out any thought of stopping.
The motion wasn't lost of them.
"Would you look at that?" Spencer said. He tugged gently on your hair, tilting your head back so your eyes met his. "Completely pliant. You're making this way too easy for us."
Hotch hummed low in agreement, the sound reverberating like a growl as his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, stayed locked on you. His thumb shifted, pressing over your clit through the damp fabric.
"She's not even trying to hide how much she wants it."
"Tell me how it feels," he demanded, eyes still on yours, his voice laced with something that made your cheeks burn. "I need to hear it."
"It's so---so good, I--" you stammered, but before you could finish, a moan escaped, cutting off your sentence and leaving you breathless. His thumb pressed a little harder, moving under the fabric and circling over the most sensitive spot. Your head fell back, a plea slipping free before you could stop it. "Please."
"Full sentences, sweetheart."
Your lips parted, trembling with the effort to comply, but no sound came--voice stolen by the relentless flood of sensation that was driving your every movement.
And them, abruptly, Hotch's fingers stilled. His hand remained pressed against you, unmoving, and the loss of friction tore a helpless sound from your lips. Your hips shifted on their own, searching for what you'd lost, and his smirk deepened.
"Tell me," he said again, voice much sharper now, cutting through the fog that had managed to wrap itself around your thoughts. "Tell me what you need."
"More," you begged. Begged. How embarrassing you must've looked. "Please, I need more. Don't stop."
"She's begging for it now." Spencer chuckled as if reading your mind, breath brushing the back of your neck. "I told you, Hotch--arousal is purely physiological. She can’t help herself. It’s just a chain reaction of stimuli."
"Maybe. But it's not just science, Reid. Look at her." Hotch asked, his voice carrying a dark edge as he finally, finally pressed a finger inside of you. Your body tightened immediately, the stretch stealing the breath from your lungs. "But this? This isn’t something you can reduce to biology. This is her body needing more than it’s ever allowed itself to admit."
Hotch's finger worked with devastating precision, curling just right, again and again against that agonizingly tender spot that ripped gasps from your throat like confessions. Your body writhed beneath him, but even as your hips wiggled, you couldn't pull your gaze from his. His eyes held you there, in complete control, smirk deepening as he read you like an open book. Every flicker of thought you tried to hide, every small reaction, he caught it all—and he made sure you knew it.
You couldn't decide which was affecting you more--the maddeningly slow pressure of his touch or the way they were speaking. They spoke like they already owned you, like there was no reason to resist, no point in fighting. And, gods, you didn’t think they were wrong. No matter how hard you tried to hold on, they had you right where they wanted you.
"There it is," Hotch murmured. "You feel that, don't you? You're doing so well, angel. Taking me so perfectly."
"Hotch." His name fell from your lips like a prayer.
You didn't even know why you'd said it--what you were hoping to gain--but everything in you burned with the knowledge that you couldn't hold on much longer.
"She's struggling to keep up," Spencer said softly, lips brushing against shell of your ear. "Look at her, Hotch. She's shaking. Her breathing's uneven. Her body's begging for release, but she hasn't figured out to ask for it yet."
A whimper slipped out, frustration bubbling in your chest as your hips rocked against Hotch's hand. They were talking about you like you weren't even there, like you were a case study. You should have felt humiliated, objectified even, but instead, you felt stripped bare in the most exquisite way.
"She doesn't need to ask," Hotch said with a small, knowing smile.
Your body curved further into him, thighs trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher, cresting like a wave about to crash over you. The tension in your core was unbearable, a heat winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.
"I-- I can't--" You stammered, your voice breathy and uneven as your head fell back against Spencer’s chest. Your hands gripped the armrests, fingers digging into the wood, desperate for some sense of control even as it slipped further and further away.
"Yes, you can," Hotch interrupted, free hand moving to your waist. "Let go. Give it to me."
Spencer's lips brushed against your neck again. "He's right. You're doing so well. Stop fighting it."
The words washed over you like warm water, pulling you under. The pressure building in your cunt was overwhelming, a feeling that refused to let up no matter how tightly you held on.
And then it happened, your mouth caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob, the feeling swallowed you whole. Your back arched sharply off the chair, muscles locking tight, pulling you apart piece by piece. The world around you seemed to disappear. It was blinding, white-hot and all-consuming.
You couldn't catch your breath.
"Aaron--"
The name came out of your mouth like trying out a word in a language you didn't quite know. It tasted strange on your tongue, too personal, too intimate, but it was all you could manage as the aftershocks rippled through you, thighs clenching around his body, writhing as he drew out every last ounce of your orgasm.
Hotch movements slowed, thankfully, his eyes giving way to something almost tender as he watched you slump back into the chair, completely spent. Behind you, Spencer's hands slid down to your shoulders as you head lolled against his chest.
"You exceeded expectations," Hotch said, thumb brushing over your hip. "I couldn’t have asked for more, angel."
Your heart fluttered at the sound of his praise, and despite yourself, an exhausted little smile broke free, curving your lips.
Hotch straightened, his hands leaving your hips as they moved to sit in the chair behind his desk. His eyes never leaving yours, though.
"I don't know if she can handle what you're thinking, Reid," Hotch said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He looked like he already knew the answer but wanted Spencer to prove it. "She's sensitive right now."
Your breath stuttered at his words as your eyes darted to Spencer. He was now crouching beside your chair. His hands slid to your knees, searing through the delicate material of your skirt.
"She can handle everything I’m thinking."
You nodded, the movement almost mechanical, though you weren't even sure what you were agreeing to. But the way he was looking at you, like you were something precious, something to be studied, adored, made it impossible to contradict him.
"See?" Spencer said. He glanced back at Hotch, as though daring him to object, before his focus returned to you. "She can do this. Can't you, sweetheart?"
"I..."
The single syllable hung in the air as you tried to catch your breath. Your body still buzzed, every nerve was alive, raw, and the idea of more felt impossible--too much to beat. You thought about saying no--about giving yourself a break--but the moment Spencer's hands slipped from your knees to your calves, those thoughts scattered.
"I think so," you whispered.
"Good," Spencer said, his fingers curling back around your knees as he gently parted them. "We'll take it slow. I'll take care of you. You'll like this, promise."
His movements were slow as he shifted from crouching to kneeling in front of you. His fingers skimmed over your thighs, exploring each inch as if committing them to memory.
"Arousal," Spencer began, his voice was sound enough but you could hear the excitement beneath it, "is a fascinating process. It's not just about the physical stimulation, though that certainly plays a role. It's about the anticipation, the mind's ability to create pleasure before the body even experiences it."
His lips ghosted over your knee, so soft it was barely there. You bit down on your lip, hands curling tighter around the armrests of the chair as his lips moved higher. Each kiss was open, his mouth painting a trail along your skin.
"Now this isn't ideal," Spencer murmured, his lips trailing across your inner thigh, nearly disappearing under your skirt as he spoke. "Hotch has already done most of the work for me. Your body's already responding, your brain's flooded with neurochemicals, making you far more sensitive to touch."
He glanced up at you. "Not that I mind, of course. If anything, it'll just make my observations more interesting."
Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, your head sinking back into the chair as his voice and touch overwhelmed you in equal measure.
"You know," Spencer continued, lips hovering near the now soaked fabric, "this level of sensitivity creates what’s known as a positive feedback loop. Each touch builds on the last, increasing your body’s response exponentially."
"Spencer," you breathed, voice barely audible.
His fingers hooked the edge of your underwear and drew the fabric aside, letting the cool air kiss your heated skin. The flush crept up from your neck to your ears as his eyes roamed over you, unflinching, analytical, like he was studying a work of art.
"Beautiful."
Spencer didn't bother with warnings, fastening his hands around your ass and pulling you to the end of the chair.
He leaned in, his tongue flattened against your most sensitive core. The sudden contact sent a jolt of pleasure through your system. Instinctively, your body tried to retreat from the sudden overstimulation, but his hands tightened around you, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.
Your eyes blinked open, hazy and unfocused, but they landed on Hotch's. His lips curved into a knowing smirk, one that said, I knew you'd fall apart like this. His expression radiated smug satisfaction, as though every sound and tremor wracking your body belonged entirely to him.
Hotch's hand moved slowly to his belt, the click of the buckle snapping you back to awareness, if only for a moment. The sound demanded your attention, but Spencer's tongue refused to let you focus on anything else, moans falling from your lips left and right. Each flick of his tongue was devastating, the sensation teetering between too much and absolutely perfect.
Your sounds spilled freely now, uncontrolled and unrelenting, and Hotch's smirk deepened. His fingers worked deftly to free himself from the confines of his slacks.
"Do you know how breathtaking you look right now?" Hotch muttered. "Do you feel it? The way he’s taking you apart piece by piece?"
Your eyes darted to him, mouth falling open as you caught the way his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in time with the pace Spencer was setting.
"Gods you taste amazing. It's like your body was made for this," Spencer said, voice muffled against you as his tongue continued its relentless assault.
"A work of art," Hotch agreed with a grunt. "And she's ours right now."
The possessiveness in his tone made you move your hips against Spencer's face. You couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything but the fire building inside you again—this time even quicker than the last.
"Too much," you gasped, though your body betrayed you, hips tilting toward Spencer's mouth. "I... I don't know if I can--"
"Yes, you can," Hotch said firmly, and you felt a bit of deja vu, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach tighten. "You're going to give us one more. You can do that, can't you, sweetheart?"
Spencer's name was spilling from your lips in a wrecked cry as that same feeling took over. The pressure, the heat, the overwhelming tenderness of his tongue never slowed as you rode the crest of pleasure. Every muscle in your body tensing before inevitably releasing, leaving you completely dumb and trembling in the chair. Your chest heaved, trying desperately to pull air into lungs that felt too weak to function.
As your climax wracked through you in wave after devastating wave, Hotch’s head tipped back slightly, his jaw tightening as he reached his own peak. Your name slipped from his lips, his hand stilling as he spilled into his own palm.
Spencer's hand kept their place, steadying your thighs as his lips softened their ministrations before finally pulling back.
You slumped back into the chair, utterly spent, limbs heavy and trembling like you'd been wrung out and left to dry. Your head lolled to the side, eyes half-lidded.
"Look at her," Spencer murmured. "She’s completely blissed out. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it."
Hotch let out a chuckle, now somehow beside you, resting one hand on the armrest of your chair and brushing a thumb along the line of your jaw. "How are you feeling, sweetheart? Still with us?"
You blinked. Then blinked again, the haze in your mind refusing to clear as the corners of your lips pulled upward into a soft, lazy smile. "I-I'm good."
Your voice was hoarse, weak, and you weren't even sure if it was audible, but the satisfied sound that followed seem to get the point across.
Spencer smiled at that, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin as he kept the position between your thighs. "Do you even know where you are right now?"
You let out a small, breathless laugh. "Here... I'm here."
"Are you sure about that?" His thumb drew itself across your bottom lip, his touch soft enough to make your already heated skin feel like it might burn. "Because I'm not so convinced."
"Let her catch her breath, Hotch," Spencer said, though the grin on his face betrayed any real concern. He leaned forward, brushing the hair back from your face. "I think we've properly ruined her."
Your cheeks heated at the words, the grin on your face only growing wider as the warmth in your chest bloomed bright. You couldn't summon the energy to argue with them--not that you wanted to.
"Do you need anything?" Spencer asked, his voice dropping to something quieter. "Water? A blanket?"
"I..." you started, blinking slowly as you tried to bring your thoughts into order. It felt like trying to gather smoke in your hands. "No, I think I'm okay..."
Hotch hummed, his hand moving from your jaw to your shoulder. "You’re more than okay. You were perfect. You took everything we gave you and gave us even more in return. Didn’t she, Reid?"
"Absolutely," Spencer agreed, his lips twitching into a knowing smile. "Better than either of us could’ve imagined."
The praise made your stomach flip, another breathless laugh slipping from you as you shook your head weakly. "Stop it."
"Stop what?" Spencer asked, feigning innocence as his hands continued their soothing paths along your skin. "Telling the truth? We can’t help it. You earned every word."
Hotch chuckled at that, straightening up slightly as he rested against the desk, his gaze never leaving you.
"So," he said, the faintest edge of amusement creeping into his tone. "What’s the verdict? Do you agree with Reid’s theory or mine?"
Your head was still swimming, and even though the words were right there, they felt like they were just out of reach. "I..."
Both men watched you intently.
"I think..." you started, your voice cracking slightly before you cleared your throat. "I think I might need to do more research."
Spencer grinned at that, leaning in closer, his hand brushing against your cheek as he spoke. "I had a feeling you’d say that."
Hotch's stances widened. "Well, sweetheart, whenever you’re ready to continue your research, you know exactly where to find us."
meandom!Spencer/Hotch x fem!reader; Threesome, creampie, dumbification, degradation, brat taming, abuse of power, edging, dubcon
Your involvement in a heinous crime was questioned by the two FBI agents who were eager to do anything to get you to talk.
Words: 6802
a/n: This one is dedicated to my nasty, touch-starved btches who secretly wants to be manhandled by two older men. Enjoy this pure filth🫶
YOU WERE FAR FROM BEING A GOOD PERSON. From the surface, you seemed like a normal, typical woman, just one of the countless faces within the crowd. But when the doors shut behind you, you find yourself involved in endeavors you should never have pursued in the first place.
You knew too much. You were acutely aware of how many crimes happening in your vicinity. The number of deaths resulting from these heinous acts should be enough to terrify you, but it didn't, because unbeknownst to your peers, you were one of the reasons why they happened.
Although you never played the role of the perpetrator, you were the person these criminals came to for information. You were good with technology, you could hack into any secure system in the blink of an eye. It was almost as if you were a deity of the dark web, a mastermind whose mere presence served as a godsend to those carrying out these crimes.
It was easy money; you gave what they wanted, received what they paid you, and most importantly, you made sure to never look back. You always wiped everything out after each job was done, but somehow, after working on so many deals, your luck finally struck out.
Somebody hacked into your system—no, somebody good hacked into your system. This person knew what they were doing. They managed to hack through your firewall and retrieve a few of your data while also discovering your identity.
You honestly wanted to praise whoever was on the other side because you had never encountered someone who could match, if not surpass, your own skill. But it wasn't until you heard the loud banging on your front door, followed by people in uniformed vests rushing in and pointing their guns at you, that you finally realized who had breached your system.
It was the FBI.
So that was how you found yourself sitting inside an interrogation room hours later with two agents across from you. A very tall, intimidating man stood at the corner, his arms crossed as he watched you silently. Dr. Spencer Reid was how he introduced himself, and the way he emphasized the title in front of his name, you were certain he was the type of person who took extreme pride in his intelligence.
He seemed a little too cocky.
Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, on the other hand, was hard to decipher. The older man appeared somewhat guarded as if his job had forced him to put on a facade devoid of genuine emotions. Maybe it did. He was, after all, a federal agent. Both of them were. These men were probably taught to master the art of maintaining an inscrutable poker face.
Nevertheless, they were both intimidating, and you wondered to yourself, was good cop bad cop not a thing anymore? Because as far as this was going, none of them seemed inclined to make things easy for you.
The man in front of you cleared his throat, his voice was a well-practiced blend of authority and curiosity. "You've been quite elusive, haven't you, Miss Y/L/N?"
You leaned back, studying him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers tracing the edges of the table with a cool, almost casual detachment. "Elusiveness is a matter of perspective, Agent Hotchner. I prefer to think of it as adaptability."
"Adaptability?" He leaned in closer, his sharp gaze never wavering. "You've made quite a name for yourself. You've infiltrated government agencies, stolen classified data, and even orchestrated financial heists... Impressive, I must say."
A faint smile danced upon your lips, revealing just a glimmer of amusement. "I simply explore the hidden avenues of the World Wide Web. It's not about the thrill; it's about the knowledge."
His eyes narrowed. "But your actions have consequences. You've caused quite a chaos, don't you think?"
"Consequences are a part of every action, whether in the digital realm or the physical world. As for chaos..." You met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Well, sometimes chaos is necessary for evolution."
He leaned back, his expression unyielding. "Evolution or anarchy?"
"As I said, everything is a matter of perspective, even anarchy," you replied, your voice smooth as silk. "In the grand scheme of things, I'm just a catalyst. Society's flaws were there long before I came along."
The man in the corner took a step forward. His eyes bore into you with resolve as if he had grown weary of the ongoing debate. "You've had your say," he interjected with a steely tone. "You know why you're here. Our victim's files were found on your computer, we need to know who requested them."
You met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and amusement, unfazed by his direct approach. "Doctor Reid," you said, your voice laced with a hint of mock surprise. "Always chasing ghosts in the machine, aren't you?"
His expression remained composed, his intellect undeniably sharp. "We're not here to discuss my pursuits. We're here to talk about the life you've disrupted."
"Disrupted? I'd say I've merely revealed the cracks in the system. Your victim, as you call them, was a casualty of a much larger game."
"Games have rules, Miss Y/L/N. You seem to operate outside of them."
"Rules are made to be broken, Spencer," you retorted, your tone cutting like a blade through the air. "I can call you that, right? I hate having to speak with such formalities."
"It's Doctor Reid," he corrected. "Tell us who you're working for."
His unwavering determination was met with a subtle, knowing smile from you. You leaned forward, your eyes locking onto his with a hint of intrigue.
"I don't know, Spencer," you began, your tone slightly softer, as if you were letting him in on a secret, "The digital world is a labyrinth of information. Files come and go, they disappear and reappear... It's like trying to catch a shadow in the dark. It's useless."
He addressed you with a cold stare. "You're playing a dangerous game here."
You raised an eyebrow, your voice honeyed with allure. "Oh, I'm well aware of the game we're playing. But don't mistake my refusal to cooperate for arrogance. It's just that some secrets are meant to stay hidden."
The room seemed to contract, the air thick with unresolved tension. Aaron cleared his throat and your eyes fell back on him. "Miss Y/L/N, give us a name and we can make things easier for you. But if you don't cooperate..." His eyes traveled down along your body, the goosebumps rose on your skin in response to the heat of his gaze. "I'm afraid we have to resort to extreme measures."
A brief pause hung in the room. There was something in the way he was staring at you. He was looking at you with a profound determination that seemed very different from the way he assessed you before. Under the weight of his scrutiny, you felt your body growing hot. Your breath hitched, and a flush of warmth crept up your neck and tingled in your cheeks.
You regarded him for a moment before you finally spoke, your voice calm but tinged with a hint of defiance.
"If you think you can break me, Aaron, you're gravely mistaken. But if you're interested in the name..." you leaned back, crossing your arms. "I guess you'll have to earn it."
The tension in the room escalated as your words hung in the air. His jaw clenched, and when you thought you had won the upper hand over this battle of wits, he surprised you by waving his hand in the air, and Spencer came forward.
It was as if they had planned this. The way Aaron instructed his partner to move seemed rehearsed and calculated. Spencer walked over to you and before you could register what was happening, he grabbed onto your arm and wrenched you out of your chair with a force you didn't know he possessed.
Your voice carried a mix of anger and frustration as you protested, "What the hell are you doing?"
You suddenly felt him run his hands along your arms. "Checking for weapons."
The scoff you gave him was loud. "Oh, now you're treating me like a criminal?"
"It's a mere precaution."
And then you felt it, the way his touch lingered on your body. It was far from any normal search. His hands felt warm on your skin, even over the material of your shirt, as he continued to pat down your arms. There was a certain roughness in his movements as he slid his arms around your backside and you couldn't mistake the way he gripped your ass more than he should probably have.
"This is ridiculous," you muttered under your breath. "You won't find anything."
"I'll be the judge of that." He slightly shoved your shoulders. "Put your hands on the table."
You reluctantly did as you were told, silently gritting your teeth. His hands moved with purpose, and as much as you wanted to stop this questionable act, your body was reacting in a way that had you questioning yourself instead.
Why was your heart beating so fast as he stood behind you? Why was it getting so hard to breathe when his hands slipped around your waist? And why did it seem you were anticipating more when his palms slightly hovered over your breasts?
"Is this really necessary?" You asked quietly, trying to act as if his rough hands on you weren't affecting you. "This feels more like an attempt for intimidation."
You could practically hear the smugness in his voice as he asked, "Are you intimidated, Miss Y/L/N?"
You liked to think that you weren't, but honestly, you didn't know anymore. You had tried your best to put on a mask to avoid appearing weak, but as he started to squeeze your breasts in the palm of his hands, it finally dawned on you what was happening—You were finally caught, there was a high chance of you ending up in jail, and now a federal agent was touching you inappropriately, groping you in a crude form of patting you down.
And to your dismay, you actually liked it.
But you had too much of a pride, that was why you found yourself lying through your teeth. "No."
Spencer hummed a reply as if he didn't believe you. He squeezed your breasts through your shirt again, palming at them as he slightly felt your nipples stiffen through the material, and he couldn't resist rolling them as his touch continued lower. Your breath hitched as he mapped out your curves, one of his hands delving between your thighs before he stopped right at the center of your heat.
You let out a gasp.
"I-Is this even legal?"
Your mind went blurry as you felt his fingers touching you through the thin fabric of your pants. "Are you questioning how the law enforcement works?"
You couldn't answer him. Not because you didn't want to, but because you weren't able to form any coherent words as he continued to palm your sex, his fingers continuing to rub you. You were suddenly so focused on the way he was touching you, your head hanging low as you felt the sensation throughout your body, that you didn't even hear Aaron calling out your name.
It wasn't until Spencer retrieved his hand from between your thighs, and yanked your hair from behind, that you were forced to meet Aaron's gaze. "He called you," Spencer mocked, tightening his grip.
Aaron leaned forward, assessing the way you were arching your back with both of your hands planted on the table. "You have two options. One, we can play nicely, you give us a name and we'll go easy on you." His voice dropped lower as he continued, "Or two, you keep with this attitude and we might have to coax the answer out of you."
You locked eyes with him, a silent challenge burning in your gaze. Despite being in this vulnerable position, there was an undeniable strength in your stare, a refusal to surrender to their intimidation. Aaron met your gaze with a profound understanding.
"The hard way it is then." You saw him lean back in his chair as he crossed his arms, the subtle movement actuating his broad chest. "You know what to do, Reid."
There was nothing remotely gentle about the way Spencer handled you after those words. He shoved you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you gasped, your body pressed against the cool surface of the table. Somehow between your struggles, he managed to slide his hands around your waist, unbuttoning your pants before pushing them down your legs.
The air hit your bare skin, and even when you felt the cool breeze, your body was seething with fire, burning through your veins. The warmth spread along your cheeks as you realized you were wearing your skimpiest underwear, a flimsy material of dark lace that barely covered your sex. He gripped your ass with the palm of his hands, fingertips digging into the plush skin as he spread you apart.
"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" You felt him shift behind you and you imagined him kneeling right in front of your heat. The moment his knuckles brushed along your wet patch, your hips bucked involuntarily. "She's wet, Hotch, I think she's getting a little too excited."
"I'm not surprised," the older man said. "She does seem like a slut."
Your head snapped at him. "I am not a slut."
"Oh, you are a slut." He leaned forward and reached out his hand, holding your chin in a vice grip, forcing you to look at him. "And we'll prove you how much of a whore you actually are."
Right on queue, a surprised gasp left your lips when Spencer's large palm burned your skin, giving your ass a harsh slap. The sound echoed in the room and he repeated the motion, watching in satisfaction the way your ass rippled for him. You fell into a false sense of security as he began to soothe his hand against your burning skin before pulling back to give another loud smack, and your mouth fell apart in pleasure.
"Not a fucking slut?" Aaron taunted, his thumb brushing on your lower lip. "That's the most farfetched lie you told us ever since you walked through that door."
You glared at him, but your defiance slowly shattered when you felt Spencer pulling down your panties over the curve of your ass, slipping them down your legs. The evidence of your arousal stuck onto the fabric and you felt your cheeks going warm in embarrassment. Spencer sucked in a gasp as he took in the sight of your lower half completely naked for him.
"Barely even touched you and you're soaking wet," he murmured, letting his thumb brush over your pussy, gauging your reaction. Your nose scrunched as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side, yet you could still feel his touch everywhere.
Each downstroke he made gave a light pull against your clit without giving any direct contact, and each time his fingers came back up, he slowly spread your folds open for him, briefly allowing your slickness to come in contact with the cold breeze of air.
Your mind became hazy, and just when you thought your body couldn't react more to his touch, he slipped a finger between your folds, feeling your slick against the dainty flesh. The motion caused your hips to buck erratically and your hands immediately reached up to grip onto the edge of the table.
He slipped deep inside you as your arousal coated him, circling your tight entrance as he felt the way your walls fluttered around the tip of his finger. He let out a low grunt as he felt how tight you were around him, curling at the knuckle while he began to drag his calloused pad against the soft spot inside you, making your body shake just from the mere contact.
The subtle reaction didn't go unnoticed by Aaron and he watched as your eyes glazed over. He couldn't stop himself from smirking, his features revealing a hint of amusement.
"You're enjoying this too much. I'm starting to think you're keeping your silence for the sake of this." You moved your head away from his grasp, only for him to grip your jaw harder. "Don't fucking move. Keep your eyes on me while he fucks your tight little pussy."
You never thought you'd be hearing such crude words from him, not with his stoic demeanor and polished facade, nor did you expect your body to react the way it did when those words filled your ears. You couldn't help it, your body betrayed your mind as your cunt continued to throb between your thighs. You could feel the desire building inside you, threatening to burst as you felt your body shake, and Spencer was well aware of this as he felt your walls clenching around his finger.
The laugh coming through his lips rang in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. "She liked that."
Aaron raised his eyebrows at you. "You like it when I talk like this?" He taunted. "You like it when I tell you how much of a slut you are taking his fingers so deep inside you?"
Your eyelids dropped lower at his words, and right at that moment, a lewd squelch filled the room as Spencer slowly slipped another finger into your dripping cunt, stretching you out as he began to thrust them inside you at a steady pace. Your body quivered as your breath quickened, and you found yourself grinding against his touch, desperately trying to get him to press the same spot inside you.
"Look at you fucking yourself on my fingers," Spencer cooed, his free hand smacking your bare ass again, and you found yourself arching your back. "You really are filthy."
Aaron laughed. "Acting like you didn't want it a second ago." He gripped your jaw tighter, forcing a gasp out of you at the subtle pain. He took advantage of your opened mouth by slipping his thumb inside. "Suck on my finger, Sweetheart."
You didn't know which one surprised you the most, his sudden term of endearment, or the order he gave you. You hesitated, because the moment you willingly sucked on his finger, you knew you would lose. The moment you followed through to his demand, he would have the upper hand and you would simply be the pawn in this game.
Aaron, as you realized, wasn't a patient man. His other hand reached for your hair and then, with a sharp and sudden yank, he tore at your hair. "Don't make me use more force than I already am."
Your roots tingled, your scalp throbbing, and a few tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, and leveled your gaze at him.
He pulled your hair again. "Suck."
The pain was so much for you that you found yourself wavering. You swirled your tongue around his thumb before closing your lips and sucking with an approving hum. A husky moan was pulled from deep within him, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth on him, and, especially, the sight of you. "That's it," he praised you. "Suck on it as if you're sucking my cock."
Your walls clenched again. A sound of pleasure erupted from Spencer as he felt your cunt sucking in his fingers, and without warning, he pumped them into you with so much force you couldn't stop yourself from moaning this time. He laughed, as did Aaron, and your body shook as you felt that familiar sensation tightening along your body.
The room around you seemed to blur and melt away at the pleasure coursing in your veins. It started in the pit of your stomach, a warm, liquid sensation that spread like a slow-burning fire, radiating outwards in waves. Your hushed moan was muffled by Aaron's thumb in your mouth, but the sound of your pathetic whining didn't go unnoticed by both men.
You were so fucking close you could feel every nerve in your body on high alert. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and your body quivered with the intensity of the sensation. Your eyes fell shut as the lewd sound of your arousal filled the room, and just when you were about to let go, Spencer suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, wrenching away that peak of pleasure you were desperately chasing.
Your eyes shot open, dilated pupils now wide with shock and confusion. Aaron met your gaze with amusement, a sadistic smile dancing on his lips as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop. "Stupid girl, thinking we'd actually let you cum."
The abrupt contrast between the heights of your pleasure and the stark void that followed was jarring. But before you could comprehend your disappointment, you heard a shuffle behind you followed by footsteps circling you. Spencer finally came back into your line of vision and with no one standing behind you, you tried to push yourself from the table, only to be shoved back down by Aaron.
"Fucking stay where you are," he commanded, his sharp voice piercing right through you. Your eyes were fixed on him, gaze unwavering as he slowly rose from his seat. And then suddenly he was the one behind you, and now Spencer stood right in front of you, looking down at you with amusement.
"You know," he started, his fingers trailing the side of your face. You moved your head away from his touch, but unlike Aaron, he didn't force you to look at him. He merely chuckled as he continued, "You wouldn't be in this position if you had given us the name."
Hearing this, you finally glanced up at him. The self-confidence he carried was starting to annoy you and you couldn't stop yourself from spitting venom, especially when he had ripped away the pleasure thrumming in your body. "I told you to fucking earn it."
The remaining air was knocked from your lungs when the palm of his hand collided with your cheek, your head jolting to the right from the force of the impact. Bright white stars danced behind your closed eyelids, and for a second you thought that you were dizzy from the shock. But then you felt it, the pressure that had been building in your core giving way, a wave of pleasure washing over you.
"Dirty girl," he taunted. "Here I was trying to shut you up and you actually liked that? You like being slapped around?"
You remained quiet, looking away from him.
"And don't worry, you will tell us by the end of this." You faintly hear the sound of metal ringing in your ears. Your eyes fell back on him and your heart sank when his hands moved down to his belt, unbuckling it as he let it hang around his hips.
His fingers moved to unbutton his pants before tugging down the fly. The sight of his hard cock tenting beneath his briefs had your cunt clenching in anticipation, as much as you hated to admit it. Then his thumbs dipped into the hem of his boxers, tugging the fabric down, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He was bigger than you'd expected. He was thick and solid, veins danced along his length and the droplet of wetness on his tip was too mesmerizing you couldn't look away.
He wrapped a fist around his length, hissing in relief as he made his way towards you. "Now let's put that filthy mouth of yours to good use." He pressed the head of his cock against your lips, half-lidded eyes gazing down at you as he leaned forward. "Open."
The musky scent of him overwhelmed you as you breathed in and you involuntarily opened your mouth wide to accommodate his girth. The flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock as he gave soft, shallow thrusts inside your warm mouth. His fingers held onto your face as he watched his length disappear inside you.
"God, look at you—" Spencer rasped, his voice sounding strained. "Good fucking girl."
Each roll of his hips has more of his thick cock slipping inside your mouth. His palm moved to the back of your head, holding you steady as he forced his length further down your throat, watching as your cheeks darkened and your eyes watered. Your hands moved up to push at his thighs as you struggled against his grip, the desire to breathe overwhelming as you tried to push him away.
You suddenly felt lightheaded from the lack of oxygen and you began to cough and splutter around him, your throat constricting as the sensation flowed directly through his cock. The sensation made him groan out in pleasure as he finally eased his grip on your head and leaned back, allowing you to breathe as you continued to splutter, drool dripping down your chin as you gulped for much-needed air.
Your head felt delirious. You were too focused on catching your breath when you unexpectedly felt something thick pushing into your cunt in one swift motion, knocking you over as you let out a scream.
"Hotch," Spencer laughed, tightening his grip on your hair while he positioned his cock back onto your lips again. "You shocked her."
Aaron merely grunted a reply as he held onto your hips and started to thrust his cock into you. His thickness sent a ripple of pain between your legs. He was definitely bigger than anyone you'd been with before, your breath coming out in soft, shallow pants as he drove more of himself inside your tightness. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip as a dull ache filled your body, trying to ignore the pain as he continued to stretch your tight heat.
There were no words after that, the room was hazy with desire as the heat built within the small space. The two men focused their attention on your body as you took them at the same time. It was filthy, depraved, and something you'd never done before. You never thought you would be in this position, nor did you think you'd actually enjoy being used like this.
Because you did, you really fucking did. Your entire body felt hot, a scorching fire flowing through your veins as you embraced the sensation, an indescribable pleasure taking over as Aaron's cock curved towards that delicious spot inside you with precision.
Your body was pressed against the table, sweaty and exhausted. It was torture, the way he was slamming his cock inside of you at the pace that left you breathless, it hurt and burned with pleasure at the same time. Each thrust had you hanging on the edge of release, unable to think straight as your mouth continued to mindlessly babble around Spencer's cock.
Every so often he'd hold the back of your head securely so you couldn't move away as he continued to bury himself in your throat. A pleased sound escaped his lips as you started to choke around his girth. It felt like you were starting to drown yourself as he shoved into you ruthlessly. Your lungs cried out for air as you began to feel woozy from the lack of oxygen, desperately trying to breathe through your nose.
"Fuck," he hissed, finally easing his hips back to give you relief. You spluttered as you gasped for air, a mixture of his arousal and your spit dribbled down your chin. "So fucking messy."
You tried to calm your breathing, but it didn't take long for your brain to turn into mush again because Aaron snapped his hips, pulling a moan from your lips as he started a harsh pace. Fingertips dug into your hips as he buried more of himself inside your tightness, your inner walls pulsing around him.
His thrusts were hard and you were certain you'd have marks on your skin from the way he was rutting against you, a dull ache panging inside your lower half. Your mouth fell open in a constant moan as you tried to hold your body up against the table. A throb coursed through you as you tried to hold onto the edge, your breath coming out in harsh pants. You were so desperate for your release, your body so close to coming undone.
"Fuck, Sweetheart, are you going to cum?"
You mumbled out a garbled reply as he continued thrusting into you relentlessly, your fingertips digging into the table as you felt his cock dragging against your inner walls. Aaron grunted at the sensation of you clenching around him. His eyes drifted down to where your bodies were connected and watched the way his cock slid in and out of your tight cunt.
He was on the edge of his release, you could tell by the way he thrust into you desperately. You prepared yourself for your own pleasure, your hips moving involuntarily, meeting his erratic movement, as you seek more friction from him. You whimpered, feeling his fingertips dig into your skin almost painfully and you felt the familiar sensation traveling along your body. Fuck. Fuck yes. You were finally going to—
A drawn-out whine left your lips when he pulled his cock out from your tight heat. The sudden emptiness had your body shaking violently. It wasn't until you felt a streak of wetness spluttering on your back that you realized he had reached his own high without letting you reach your own.
"Shit," he gasped, slapping your ass as he watched his own liquid seeping down the curve of your back. "That was incredible."
You groaned. Fucking selfish man.
"What was that?"
It then dawned on you that you actually mumbled those words out loud. You shook your head and he groaned at your lack of words. "That didn't sound like nothing."
And suddenly, as if you weighed nothing, he grabbed onto your body and turned you over, pushing you onto your back. You were too weak to even fight him as he shoved your pants off your feet before spreading your legs apart. You watched as he leaned down and a long string of clear liquid fell from his lips toward your cunt, letting it trickle down between your folds.
"Knew you were a slut," he hissed, before straightening himself and tucking his cock back in his pants. Your eyes drifted toward him. He was big, just as big as you felt him inside you. But it wasn't his sheer size that surprised you, it was Spencer standing by your feet that had your heart peaking up its pace. Aaron smirked as he stepped back and Spencer quickly took his place between your legs.
"Look at you still holding back," Aaron taunted, genuine curiosity lacing in his voice as he paced around the room. "You're worn out. You're filthy. Aren't you tired of playing this game?"
You looked over at him tiredly. Amidst the pulsing waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, you fought to maintain your focus. "Y- You haven't done anything m-much to earn—"
His laughter sent a chill through the room. "Oh, Sweetheart, you think you're winning, but you're not." He then locked his gaze on you. "Trust me, we already have you in the palm of our hands."
You tried retorting back but the once-sharp edges of your concentration began to blur when you felt Spencer's throbbing cock right between your pussy. Each pulse of pleasure sent tremors through your resolve as he eased his hips back to drag the thick, swollen head through your outer lips. His eyes focused on the way you spread for him as though inviting him inside.
"You're already fucked out," Spencer murmured, dragging the tip of his cock through your wetness, feeling it catch against your tight entrance. "Yet look at you swallowing me."
He let the underside of his cock split your folds open, resting it between them snugly as he let out a low groan at the heat radiating from your core. The sinful noise that left your lips had his cock throbbing painfully, the thick veins protruding from his length. He angled your body against him, pushing more of his thick girth inside your trembling body, feeling the way you squeezed around him as he stretched you out.
Spencer pressed his fingers into the curve of your hips as his gaze flickered between your face and his cock splitting you apart. You gasped, your breaths growing more erratic as he managed to push all of his length inside you. He ran his hand over your abdomen as he tried to feel his cock inside you, pressing against your pelvis as he pulsed at the sensation.
"Fuck, baby," he growled, "Taking me so well."
And then he slowly dragged his cock away from you, keeping just the tip in your entrance before plunging back inside in a harsh, jarring movement, jolting you in surprise. You arched your back and tipped your head back in pleasure, just to find Aaron towering above you, looking down at you with an eerie smile.
His fingers trailed down your shoulder blades before they hovered at the buttons on your shirt, slowly unbuttoning them. "I think it's time that you give us a name."
Your body writhed in response to the waves of sensation as you tried to ground yourself. But it was hard to keep thinking straight when he grabbed onto the underlayer of your bra and lifted it over your chest. The way your perky breasts spilled out from beneath the fabric made both men hum in satisfaction.
Calloused palms grabbed onto your breasts and your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the sensation. His thumb brushed against your soft nipple, watching as it began to rise to a stiff peak as he mimicked the action on your other breast, all the while as Spencer began thrusting into your cunt at a painfully slow pace.
"Come on, Sweetheart, don't you want to cum on his cock?"
"Fuck," Spencer grunted, feeling you clench around him. "Keep talking to her."
Aaron chuckled as he continued playing with your breasts. "It's torture, isn't it?" He closed his index finger and thumb around your nipples, pinching ever so gently. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes as arousal flushed through you. "Give us a name and we'll give you what you want."
And then you felt Spencer rocking his hips at a steady rhythm, burying himself deeper and deeper before he slowly began increasing his speed. Your body jerked wildly each time he pushed deep into you. Noticing this, his thumb moved to your clit as he pressed messy circles against the sensitive nub, twisting it beneath his calloused pad. It felt too good, so good that you could no longer hold back from moaning out loud.
Your cries of pleasure snapped him into action and his hands moved down to your ass, holding you up to him as he started pounding harder into you. Your head fell back, chest heaving up and down, and that was when you felt Aaron closing his lips around one of your nipples. You writhed, your body thrashing underneath both men. Your senses reeling, the warmth of multiple hands on your skin sent jolts of electricity down your spine, igniting a wildfire of pleasure within you.
Aaron pulled away from you and your eyes flickered open at the loss, only to be met with Spencer hovering above you. Your eyes swept over him, and you looked down where you were joined, watching how his hips moved in constant thrusts. He was enjoying this, you could tell by the way his fingers burned your skin and the occasional grunt escaping his lips.
At the sound of his voice, you looked up at his face, glistening with a sheen of sweat while his messy hair tousling over it. The moment your gazes met each other, something inside you snapped. The muscles in your core began to coil, tightening and constricting around him right as your climax slowly pushed through the fog inside your head. Spencer felt it too, and he suddenly slowed his pace, throwing you a cunning smile.
You felt your resistance starting to crumble. The intensity of your pleasure grew almost unbearable, and you could no longer deny it. Your eyes welled with tears at the overwhelming sensation, and the thought of having your orgasm ripped again from you seemed like another torture you didn't want to endure.
You were going to regret this. You definitely would. But you couldn't dwell on the consequences of your actions when desperation coursed through you like a fever, an all-consuming hunger that you couldn't deny. Your body ached for release and craved it with an intensity that was maddening.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, and then your eyes, wide and filled with desperation, pleaded with him silently as you found yourself finally giving in, muttering a name you had tried to keep to yourself. A name involved in the crime these men had been pestering you for. A name that had Aaron smirking devilishly as he leaned over to you, brushing his knuckles on your cheek in a caress that was so foreign.
"Good girl," he mumbled, his voice lacing with satisfaction at the way you finally crumbled. He was right, you were already in the palms of their hands, it was simply a matter of time until you caved in. "Good fucking girl."
Once you surrendered, you couldn't stop the whine falling through your lips. Your desperate moan rang deeply in the room, snapping something primal inside Spencer, and he trusted his hips into you roughly. A gasp escaped your lips, legs falling open wider as he split you wider than you already were.
Your mind went absolutely numb with pleasure as he kept rutting up inside you, your body becoming nothing more than a mess, overtaken by a wave of sweat and erotic bliss. You felt yourself trembling, your breathing becoming more ragged as his thrusts became sloppier.
“Fucking hell,” he grunted, noticing the way your mouth fell open as pleasure engulfed you. "That's it, baby, let me fuck you dumb."
You cried out, babbling incoherent sentences as he thrust harder, grabbing your hips and tilting into you slightly, making him go even deeper as he moved with you.
"Go on, cum on my cock," he growled breathlessly through his rapid pounding. "Let me feel you."
“Fuck—” You cried out for him, your overstimulated body shaking beneath him. Wave after wave of pleasure came rushing through your body, erupting in the most intense way. He watched the way you convulsed beneath him in your release, watching the way a white, sticky liquid circled his cock every time his skin brushed your inner walls. His thumb was unrelenting against your clit and you tried to angle your body away from his touch, the pleasure too intense as your lower half throbbed around him.
You continued to clench around him between your bliss, your legs trembling from the position as he arched his back, focusing the power of his thrusts straight into your tightness. A shiver burst through you at the sensation. And with one final thrust, his whole body tensed. He pushed forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, spreading his warmth in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips.
You were breathing hard, trying to regain your composure, and a moan left your lips when he finally pulled out. Cringing at the fluid slowly leaking out of you, you tried to close your legs only to be stopped as he gripped the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart to expose your body. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release.
“Look at the mess you made." Piercing eyes watched you as white liquid trickled down your ass. A feeble mewl left your lips as his thick fingers moved down to catch it, deliberately pressing against your folds as you wriggled in his grasp. A laugh left his lips as he dragged the string of wetness along your sex, pushing it back inside you.
"I think I ruined her."
Aaron's laughter filled the room, and just as you were about to push yourself off the table, you felt him grasping both of your hands, pushing them above your head. Your eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what are you doing?"
Then you felt it, the cool metal wrapped around your wrist, sinking into the flesh of your skin as you tried to move from his grip. An unexpected panic surged within you. "Sweetheart, we know you're involved in more than one crime." The soft click of the metal lock was loud in your ears. "You need to give us more names."
Your body, still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, now felt more exposed than ever. You looked up to find both men staring down at you, and at very moment, you realized, as you felt the handcuffs digging into your wrist, that you were going to be here for a very long time.
Summary: “Harry and Y/N have always had a great professional relationship, all based on one rule; a line they drew the first time they met. But when one day that line accidentally blurs, Harry finds that he doesn’t want it to go back to the way it was…”
Wc: 13k
Tropes: Boss!rry x Secretary!Y/N
Warnings: A LOT of back and forth (this is what Katy Perry wrote hot and cold about), arguing, curse words, smut, dirty talk, degradation, light ch0king, dom/sub dynamics, edging, b0ndage, and recording while… yk🤗
A/N: I’m terribly sorry to have been testing your patience so much the second half of this year, here is a long one shot to say I’m sorry🥲 and I appreciate all of you and I hope you are happy and healthy and will get everything you want in the new year xx💘💘
General Masterlist
Harry's relationship with his secretary is completely normal.
At least, he’s always thought it is.
Sure, it may have seemed more friendly than the usual boss/secretary relationship, but that was only because Y/N was special. She was one of the kind. Smart, stealthy, and sneaky if need be. She did everything he asked for, sometimes before he even realized he should ask her, and was always ready to do more.
Of course, she was attractive as well. Shit, attractive may have even been an understatement. Y/N was drop dead gorgeous and Harry was entirely aware of it. Her ambition made her even sexier, and it's one of the reasons he hired her in the first place.
When Y/N walked through his office door that first time three years ago, he couldn't believe his eyes.
He remembers it like it was yesterday, those wide eyes staring back at him as she froze a couple feet away from him. She was quick to regain herself, though—he had to give her that. But she was nervous as she sat down, even though her movements were calm and the tone of her voice stern. He saw the slightest shake of those hands of her.
Because that job interview hadn't been the first time Harry and Y/N came across each other. It was actually a Halloween party at some high end secretive club in New York one month prior. A night that ended with them hooking up in one of the private lounges.
Even back then, when he never thought he'd see her again, he knew that he would never forget that night, nor the way her face scrunched up as she clenched around him, or the sounds that she made as he drove into her.
He could see that she remembered it as well as she sat across from him that day, but Y/N had quickly made it clear that she was serious about pursuing a career in the film industry. She said she could prove what a great secretary she could be for him, as long as they could put that Halloween night behind them and pretend it never happened. She wouldn't make him regret it, she had told him. He took the chance.
And she had been absolutely right.
Three years had passed and Harry was still thankful to himself for hiring Y/N. She was the best around; fiercely loyal as well. Y/N had been offered jobs by other companies, but she turned down every last one of them. Harry liked to think their relationship played a bit of a part in that as well.
They had become friends—if that's what you could call it—over the years. They had a playful dynamic filled with flirty jokes and random phone calls and favors that blurred that line they had drawn so carefully during Y/N's job interview.
No matter what, Y/N would be the first Harry would call, every time. Whether it was bad business news or a drunken phone call, her number was most likely to be at the top of his last calls. And she always answered, even though she didn't have to. It was a special bond, and while they always danced on it—especially Harry—they never crossed that one line.
Not that Harry needed to. As a matter of a fact, he had quite the adventurous love life. With plenty of people on speed dial and a charming smile that could make anyone's panties drop, Harry wasn't short on romantic escapades. The one thing they all had in common, though, was that it'd never last longer than a few days, and they were rarely ever repeated.
The same couldn't be said for Y/N. In fact, Harry had never seen her with anyone outside of her work, and he never heard her mentioning anything about it...
He didn't know why, but somehow, that thought popped up into his head last Friday as they sat in his office with a drink, celebrating the outstanding reviews that critics had given the newest produced film that was set to premiere next week. Before Harry knew it, he was asking about it.
"Why are you rubbing your temples?" He questioned, watching Y/N massage the side of her head with her eyes closed. He was leaned back in his seat, whiskey in hand as he observed the woman across from him.
"Tension headache." She groaned in response. Despite her grumpiness, Harry couldn't help but grin. What could he say? She was cute when she was grumpy.
"We are literally celebrating, Y/N. What could you possibly be so tense about right now?" He teased, and felt his stomach swirl as a smile painted her lips. She might have rolled her eyes, but she still thought he was funny.
"Oh you have no idea." She mumbled, grabbing her glass and leaning back into her chair. She took a big gulp, her face pulling at the strong taste of the liquor. Harry chuckled.
"You should relax more. Maybe get a hot date to take care of some of that stress for you." He suggested jokingly. Y/N scoffed at the insinuation.
Shaking her head, she said: "I get taken care of just fine, thank you very much."
The equally teasing tone in which she responded caught Harry seriously off guard. Her slight grin pressed down on his chest, and despite having started this joking banter himself, he suddenly didn't find the topic very funny anymore.
"When?"
Y/N locked eyes with her boss. “What?”
"You're here 24/7, when do you even have time to hook up with someone?"
"You know there's this thing called weekends." She joked, but the amusement faded when Harry's mouth didn't even quirk upwards in the slightest bit. It fell quiet for a second or two, and just when Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, someone knocked on the office door.
"Come in."
Harry had said, and soon enough Robin, one of the managers walked in, telling them everyone was going to the pub down the street to celebrate, and if they wanted to come along.
Harry didn't even have the chance to reject the offer—he'd rather spend his nights with his secretary—before Y/N agreed to go along. Feeling obligated, Harry reluctantly gave in as well.
He ended up going home quite early that night, not even properly saying goodbye to Y/N like he normally would before leaving, and he couldn't get the image of her wrapped around another man out of his head the entire ride home. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the fact that it shouldn't, and more importantly, couldn't bother him, which made it even less bearable.
Whichever reason there may have been for it, he decided to drown out his thoughts by inviting one of his old hook-ups to his house. But even as he drove himself into her as she kept screaming his name, he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. When she had reached her climax and he began to chase his own high—Harry was caught off guard by Y/N's face flashing through his mind, and extremely embarrassed when those images triggered his orgasm.
The next week is awkward, to say the least. It started out Monday, when Harry could barely look Y/N in the eye. She had received the sudden cold shoulder pretty well, but Harry still felt horrible about it. His attitude got less stiff throughout the week, but it was still bad.
By the time Thursday rolls around again, Harry still hasn't had the chance to get that weird feeling out of his system. So when he approaches his office and spots Y/N behind her desk smiling at him, a wave of guilt washes over him.
He curses himself as he sinks into his desk chair, absentmindedly turning on his laptop. What is he doing? Y/N is his assistant. He shouldn't let his protectiveness of her get the best of him. He does not want to lose her in any way.
Harry flinches when there is a knock on his door. He looks up, finding Y/N standing in his doorway. Immediately, he signals for her to come in. She seems a bit nervous as she nears him, and considering she's never been nervous around him, his heart sinks at the idea that the cold shoulder he's been giving her the other night might have affected her way more than he thought.
He just doesn't know how to behave instead.
"You have a meeting in conference room C in five minutes. It's the banker's son who's been proposing his script for the past year. I know your schedule is tight, especially with the premiere coming up, but I thought you might as well get it over with." She says, putting a stack of papers on the table that Harry can only assume is the script. He nods, quirking up the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you, smart thinking." The praise falls from his lips in a casual manner, and he doesn't miss the way she physically relaxes at the positive reinforcement. She nods at him, and turns back to the door. Right before she is about to leave the office, she turns around again. Harry leans back in his seat, waiting to hear what she'll say.
"I'm sorry if I overstepped last week." She says, and Harry frowns at the apology.
"What?"
"I clearly said something that ticked you off." She explains,her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know we joke around, but I was afraid that maybe I'd accidentally crossed a line—“
"Y/N, stop it." Harry interrupts her, getting up from his seat. Her lips are locked within a second, and she stares at her boss with wide eyes. His stomach twists at the sight of it. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"But— if I said something inappropriate then I want to apologize for it." She says, straightening her posture again, biting her bottom lip so he won't see it quiver. As if he doesn't know the way her body works. As if he hasn't known for three years.
Putting his hands inside his pockets, Harry walks around his desk and stands in front of her. A little closer than he needs to, and yet not as close he would like.
"Let me ask you this: How many times have you declined booty calls for me?" He asks, tilting his head a bit. A slight smile appears on Y/N's face, and she pretends to think it over.
"Twenty-seven." Her smile crinkles her eyes, making them even more glassy. Harry quite literally feels his hand itch to touch her face, but he keeps it sternly in his pocket. "I kept track so I could count all the reasons you definitely won't get into heaven."
At that, he lets out a snort. Y/N can't help but chuckle too, and slowly but surely the weirdness dissolves from the room. When the laughter has died down, she speaks up again.
"So... we're good?"
"We're good." Harry smiles at his secretary, and his chest heats up when he spots the faint blush that appears on her cheeks. Jesus Christ, did she become even more beautiful than she was yesterday or was he just too stupid to notice earlier? Probably the latter.
"Well in that case you need to leave because your meeting is like, right now." She reminds him, and he hums in agreement as he gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Y/N.
"Already gone, love." He winks at her, walking out the door with a lot more confidence in his relationship with Y/N. Maybe everything can go back to normal again. Maybe he was just exaggerating when he couldn't get her out of his head this weekend. Perhaps it was just a glitch, a temporary error in his brain that had come and gone in a flash.
That must've been it, he tells himself as he makes his way to conference room C. He takes a deep breath, musters a polite smile, and opens the door to the room. Harry already knows this guy is going to be wasting his time, but he made a promise to hear him out, so he will.
The guy sitting at the table is the stereotypical spoiled rich son. When John Longwell—a long-time business partner of Harry's— asked him to revise his son's script as a favor, Harry told him he'd do it if he ever found the time. He always hoped John's son would lose interest and forget about the script by the time Harry could find a free space in his agenda, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.
And although the arc of the story had sounded absolutely horrendous— something about zombies fueled by a brainwashing radio song, which didn't even make sense to Harry because zombies don't have brains—he couldn't back out anymore. So he needs to get it over with, starting now.
Harry loudly shuts the door.
The guy—whose name he can't really remember at the moment—flinches and turns around, a big grin on his face as he gets up from his seat.
"Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to see you." The man says, extending his hand, which Harry, in turn, takes. He only gives a slight nod before heading over to the other side of the table and sitting down.
"So, where's your script?" Harry asks, eyeing the empty table. The guy looks flustered, opening his mouth to say something, but the opening of the door interrupts that. Harry leans back in his seat when he spots his secretary walk through it, not even eyeing the other guy as she struts over to him and lays the printed out script on the glass table.
"Sorry, you forgot this. It was still on your desk." She says, finally turning to the man to throw him an innocent smile. His sheepish grin satisfies her enough to turn back to her boss and focus all her attention on him. "I also forgot to ask you— do you want to move up lunch today?"
The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up. Over the last three years, the concept of 'moving up lunch' has become a code for 'should I get you out of this early?'. Y/N came up with it a long time ago, and it has stuck ever since.
"Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Y/N." He says, and the way a smirk slowly creeps onto her face makes the hairs on his body rise.
"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styles." She gives one final nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Harry would lie if he said he didn't let his eyes fall onto the way her hips moved as she strolled away.
Unfortunately the fun doesn't last long, and with the slam of the door Harry is reminded that he still has to sit through this meeting a little longer. He looks down at the script.
"A Thousand Zombies
By Jason Longwell."
Right, Jason, that was his name.
"Jesus Christ, if that were my secretary I'd have her bent over my desk all day. How do you get any work done?" Jason breathed out, grinning like a stupid fucking schoolboy. Harry quite literally felt the storm cloud that came floating right above his head the second he heard that incompetent loser say those words. His hands balled up into fists at the suggestive comment, knuckles getting whiter by the second.
"Get out." Harry growls. John raises his eyebrows, looking around him as if Harry couldn't have possibly been addressing it to him.
"W— what?" He stumbles.
"I don't do business with insolent idiots. Get out." Harry repeats, getting up from his seat and buttoning his suit jacket. John follows his movements, anger starting to cloud on his face.
"What the fuck did you just call me?" He exclaims in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. At least, Harry assumes that's what he's trying to do.
"I called you an idiot. Now, get the hell out of my face before I boot your sorry ass right to the front door." With one brow raised, he waits as John tries to muster a response until he eventually gives up and storms out of the room. Harry throws the script into the trash as he walks out of the conference room half a minute later. Y/N is immediately by his side.
"That was quick, I didn't even have time to think of an emergency." She jokes as they walk back to Harry's office together. He raises a brow.
"Yes you did. What was it this time? Food poisoning?" He guesses, holding the door to his office open once they've reached it. Y/N grins as she walks past him and takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"Actually, your car was going to get stolen in about five minutes." She responds, the blush of her cheeks revealing the slight embarrassment of having to voice this excuse out loud. Harry's eyes widen as he walks over to his desk, feeling his assistant watching his every move. He quite likes the feeling.
"No way." He laughs. "You just get more creative by the day."
"What can I say, I'm good at crisis management." She shrugs, crossing her legs and getting into a more comfortable position on the chair. Harry tries his best to not let his eyes float to her legs.
"That you are." He murmurs, the huskier sound of his voice giving a different ambiance to the conversation. As Harry feels the mood switch, he curses himself. Why did he have to ruin it?
Y/N clears her throat. "Anyway— why'd the meeting end early?"
"It ended early because Jason Longwell is a sleazy douchebag." He responds shortly, straightening in his seat in an attempt to gain control of the situation again. He can't let himself slip like this again, and she can't know the real reason he kicked out Jason. But there is no denying the sheer rage that boils his blood when that comment flashes through his memory. He hates that the asshole thought he could just speak about Y/N like that.
"Ooh, what did he say when you kicked him out?" Y/N asks eagerly, still in a playful mood. "You did kick him out right?"
"I don't have time to get into this right now. I need to sign those contracts that were sent in yesterday before I go home." Harry says sternly, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he speaks, but he still sees the slump in her shoulders at his sudden shift in attitude.
"Right, of course." She immediately returns to the responsible secretary she always is, getting up from her seat. He hears her exit the room, heels clacking against the wooden floor. As soon as the door has shut, Harry throws his head back in frustration.
So much for going back to normal.
Playing into the teasing will only rope him further into that forbidden fantasy, and he clearly won't be able to stop himself from resisting her if he does. But he's the one who started all the playfulness, massively screwing himself over he realizes now. If he shifts his behavior, she's always going to think he's mad at her because of something. But he's going to have to, because Harry can't go back to normal anymore.
Deciding he needs to clear his head, Harry grabs his coat and heads for the elevators without so much as a word. He pretends not to notice the way people's eyes widen when he walks by, suddenly on their best behavior, and although it used to give him an ego boost back when he started, nowadays he just prefers it if people aren't scared of him.
It turns out to be a particularly nice outside for a winter day in London. Not to get it twisted— it's still freakishly cold. It's just that the sun has replaced the endless rain of this entire month. Harry suppresses a chuckle at the irony of the sun finally being out at the very first moment where he's felt so shitty in a long time.
He doesn't know how long he's outside, so he knows it's not fair to be frustrated when he comes back and Y/N isn't at her desk, but he can't help the slight distress that washes over him at the empty seat.
"It's just a date—"
"Your second date!"
Harry creased brows don't do much to hide his feelings when he turns around to see his secretary with a co-worker. The shy smile on her face—accompanied with that blush on her cheeks she always gets when she's secretly giddy about something—disappears at the sight of her boss looking at her like she just killed a puppy.
"Ha— Mr. Styles." She is quick to catch her almost error. Her wide eyes bore into his, filled with confusion and worry. But Harry's frown doesn't give away much, aside. From the fact that he is obviously annoyed.
"I was looking for you." He states stoically, not even acknowledging the employee that is standing next to her. The woman takes the hint and gives Y/N and Harry a small nod before walking away. As soon as she does, Harry turns around and walks towards his own office. He can hear her footsteps following him inside, and with the inconsistent clacking against the floor he can tell she's having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Still, he doesn't slow his pace.
"I need the papers for the donations printed out and on my desk. And I'll need you to move the meeting with the director of the romance movie to Tuesday evening."
"Yes, of course." The breathy response falls from Y/N's lips the second he finishes his sentence, and by the time he enters his office, she is long gone to do exactly what he asked. Harry shuts the door a little louder than intending to, accidentally shaking the framed artwork on the wall.
Y/N isn't very talkative for the rest of the day, that usual spark of hers seemingly having dimmed. Harry's chest is heavy, knowing his cold attitude was the catalyst for that, but he keeps it up nonetheless. He can't help himself from falling back into it every time he sees her face.
A date. She's going on a date. A second one at that. He can't believe it. Is this who she referred to when she said she gets taken care of? His stomach churns at the possibility.
He tries not to, but Harry still gets warped into the spiral of overthinking about 'date' Y/N has tonight. So much, in fact, that he almost doesn't notice the time flying by until Y/N knocks on his door at 6PM. Harry spots the coat that hangs over her desk chair, and he realizes the work day is over.
"Everything is done for the day and ready for next week. I also sent the papers about the donations with a courier who owed me a favor, so the documents are signed on both parts and the donations will be officially registered by Monday." She explains, hands behind her back. Her new shy behavior—while quite endearing—is excruciating to see. She had always been comfortable around Harry, until now. Until he had to ruin it for the both of them.
"Thank you." Harry gives her a firm nod.
"No problem." She responds a bit awkwardly. "So... I'm going to clock out for the day."
Y/N has already turned around by them time Harry's voice croaks out a 'no'. She whips her head towards her boss, head tilted as she awaited whatever it was that he was going to say.
"I need those contracts for that romance movie." He says before he can even comprehend his words.
"But you won't be negotiating that deal for another two weeks." Y/N retorts, her tone more stern than usual. He can tell she's tired.
"I don't care. I want them on my desk tonight." He holds his head high, despite knowing damn well what he's doing.
He's stalling. Long enough for... he doesn't know actually. For her to cancel her date? It sounds ridiculous now that he really thinks about it.
"Harry, I have an appointment tonight—"
"I said I don't care. I pay you to do as I ask. This is not something you can argue me on." He grumbles. With how Y/N's jaw is clenched, he can't say the same for her attitude. Without another word, she leaves the office.
Harry's worry begins to grow every minute that passes with Y/N out of sight. But when she returns with a stack of papers in her hand after a bit—seven minutes to be exact—that worry evolves into surprise. Walking over to his desk, she plops the papers on them a bit carelessly before speaking up.
"I had them made on Monday because I like to be a few steps ahead." She elaborates. "Now, if that's all, I'm going home."
Y/N doesn't even say goodbye when she grabs her coat and walks to the elevators. Harry sighs to himself, not knowing how the hell he should handle this. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes he really can't do this anymore. He needs to talk to her, if only just to clear the air.
And so, he gets up from his seat and hurries after his assistant.
He catches her just as she walks into an empty elevator, and he joins just before the doors close. Her knitted brows make it clear that she is not in the mood to talk to him.
"I'm sorry... about the documents." Harry confesses, but she doesn't face him. It stays quiet between them for a bit, until the biting sentence falls from Y/N's lips.
"You said we were good."
His heart cracks at her wobbly voice. He can't believe he made her feel this way. If any other person would've brought her to tears, he would've beaten the shit out of them. He reaches for her arm.
"W— we are." He lies. It's the biggest lie he's ever told her, and she knows it, because she immediately turns around.
"No we're not! I said I was sorry if I did something wrong, and you told me it was okay, and now all of a sudden you're being so... cold. I don't understand—" her eyes become glassy. "I don't understand what I did wrong."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Harry opens his mouth, ready to spout out his apologies, when Y/N's phone starts to ring. It takes them out of their little trance, and Y/N fumbles around her jacket for a bit until she's finally found her phone. He can't see who's calling her, but it can't be an expected call if he has to judge by the expression on her face.
"Marco, why are you—" her eyes widen at whatever the voice on the other side of the line is telling her, and Harry subconsciously finds himself leaning in a bit in the hope to find out what's wrong.
"What?" Y/N breathes. Her voice is small, and it sounds defeated, tired. The elevator dings, signaling they're downstairs, but Y/N doesn't move, so Harry doesn't either. She seems to notice and lets out a huff before storming out of the confined space and pacing around the lobby.
"You said we had a green light! That was months ago, Marco! Did you even—" She growls, clutching at her phone so hard Harry is afraid she's going to break it. "You know what, never mind. Give me his number."
The Marco guy seems to say something that he really shouldn't have said, because with the way Y/N's face twists Harry swears he can see steam coming out of her ears
"I don't care that they're not answering, I'll make them answer. Give me their numbers and then go find them." She orders before ending the call. And although the thought really shouldn't be crossing his mind right now, Harry can't help but notice how attractive Y/N is when she's mad. He shakes off the thought, telling himself that's the last thing he should be paying attention to right now.
Y/N paces around one more time, cursing under her breath, before striding past Harry and pushing the elevator buttons like a maniac.
"What's going on?"
Y/N shakes her head. "N— nothing. Just a little hiccup that could've easily been prevented. I won't be long."
Harry raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't dare to meet his eye. She's lying through her teeth.
"Y/N—"
"Harry, really, it's nothing. I'm taking care of it." She tries to convince him, but he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling. "I'm sorry I was unprofessional. You're my boss. It's my job to take your orders, not question them."
Wait, no.
That aching feeling fills his stomach. His entire body, for that matter. He doesn't want her to be a silent and compliant assistant. That's not why he hired her. He needs someone to push back, to joke around with. Shit— what has he done?
Harry finds himself speechless as she enters the elevator and pushes the button of the seventh floor; the office. His brain isn't fast enough to think of what to say before the doors shut and the elevator ascends.
His feet stay glued to the ground as he ponders, his mind reeling like a rollercoaster. Frustration fills his body to his every finger tip. Everything has gone wrong, and he has no idea how to make it better.
At least ten minutes must've gone by by the time that a concierge taps Harry on the shoulder to ask him if he's okay. Still a bit wary, he nods before excusing himself and leaving the building.
Everything is going wrong.
Leaning over the desk with her face buried between her arms, Y/N is unable to hold back the tears that glide over her cheeks.
First, her boss gets mad at her, and she has no idea why. Then, just when they seemed to be okay again, he changed his attitude up again. And what does she do instead of letting it go? She starts a fight. And now Marco drops a disastrous bomb in her lap that could entirely ruin the movie premiere on Sunday. And if that wasn't enough—and she really thinks it was—this sudden crisis caused her to cancel her date of tonight.
It wasn't anything special, really. Y/N had met Jamie a few weeks ago, and they went out last week. He was a nice guy, handsome too, and she thought he was perfect for a short lived affair. Besides, her vibrator just couldn't live up to her fantasies. She was human, she needed to get off every now and then too. It was like Y/N had this itch in need of scratching, one she hadn't been able to reach in what felt like years.
But that wasn't going to happen now. In fact, she was risking being fired if she didn't solve this problem as soon as possible.
Damn! She really thought she had kept it all together, despite the extreme business this year. She thought she'd done a good job.
But that was a lie, because if she had done a good job, Marco wouldn't have ever gotten into the position where an artist on the soundtrack could manipulate the contract they signed. Y/N had told Marco to make it airtight, already having been suspicious of the artists' integrity from the moment they became part of the soundtrack. She assumed that they would try something.
'Chain' was an up and coming band known for their indie sound, but Y/N would just describe them as two pricks. Not only had they been subtly demeaning to her when Harry met with them, barely acknowledging her existence, they were arrogant as well. They came in expecting a lot more money than Harry and the rest of the company were willing to give them. It was absurd that they expected such a big number, but their cocky attitude didn't fade throughout the meeting.
It was truly a favor to the director, why Harry worked so hard to compromise with Chain. The director had been so passionate about the movie, and he had really wanted the song. If one thing was important to Harry, it's that there went passion onto the projects he produced and invested in. So, he decided to help, and eventually managed to struck a deal with the singers. It was still way above the pay grade they should've got—in Y/N's opinion—but they agreed.
Having seen first hand how greedy those two were, she had told Marco—the guy who handled all the legal documents—to make that contract airtight. She demanded to look it over, but because of her busy schedule, she let Marco have another lawyer look at it before sending the contract.
And now, because of a lazy mistake Chain's lawyer found, they are demanding more money or they'll waive their rights to the music. Something which would be absolutely detrimental because the entire climax of the movie, the cinematography and timing are all tuned to the song.
If she doesn't find a way to solve this problem, this entire premiere could fall apart, and it would all be her fault. She gave the green light to Harry, who gave it to the director. It's all her fault.
She should've fucking read that contract herself, then this would've never happened.
Between Harry being mad at her, the fact that she was in her luteal phase, and this sudden disaster, the tears began streaming down her face, and the soft crying only turned into full on sobs the more she tries to calm herself down.
She allows herself the mental breakdown, but when she begins to regain control of her breath again after a few minutes, Y/N decides that it's enough. She has a job to get done, and no one was going to swoop in and save her.
So, she starts making call after call, ringing everyone in the immediate vicinity of the two arrogant bastards. It's crucial she reaches them before the night is over. Only forty minutes have passed by the time she is on the seventh person, but it feels like an eternity nonetheless.
She flinches when, while trying to reach Chain's tour manager, the elevator door dings and a shadow nears. Her tense shoulders sink a little bit at the sight of Harry, glad it's not some creep. Her brows crease as she watches him walk towards her. He's carrying a couple of bags with... is that food? It sure smells like it.
When the call goes to voicemail—for the third time—Y/N puts down the phone and gets up from her seat, hurrying over to her boss and stopping him before he could reach her desk.
"What are you doing here?!" She asks, blocking his way. He lifts the bags, a subtle, apologetic smile on his face.
"I brought food—" He looks up at her, and his eyes darken as soon as he takes in her face. "Have you been crying?"
Y/N raises her hands to her face, quickly glancing at the ground while she wipes her cheeks before meeting his eyes again. Harry puts the bags down, and it feels like her heart skips a beat or two when his thumbs stroke the skin under both her eyes. He leaves his hand around her face, cupping her jaw while he stares at her with such a piercing pain in his eyes that it makes Y/N's eyes water altogether again.
"What's wrong?" His voice is soft, and the feel of his big, warm hands holding her is comforting her in a way she hasn't experienced in a quite some time. Y/N only focused on his chest, afraid that the welled up water in her eyes will spill out again the second she looks at her boss. She told herself the crying was over, so why wasn't she able to control herself?
A few seconds pass, and silence runs between the thick air that makes it nearly impossible to breathe normally. Then, Y/N feels the slight pressure of Harry's hands, inching her head upwards. Automatically, her gaze flicks to that of her boss, and when she sees the worry on his face, a tear escapes her eye. His thumb catches it before it has the chance to roll down all the way down her cheek.
"I messed up." She only says, closing her eyes in shame. Harry says nothing, only letting out a sigh as he continues to caress her cheek.
Suddenly, the phone rings. Y/N reluctantly backs away from Harry's touch, and runs over to her desk to pick up the phone.
"Hello?" She says, her voice laced with such desperation that she internally cringes at it.
"Y/N? It's Marco. I found them, they're at a studio just outside the city."
She hums, grabbing a pen. "Give me the address."
"No, I'm going. This is my mess, Y/N, I'm not going to let you clean it up." Marco croaks from the other side of the line, and Y/N feels his voice tug at her heartstrings.
"Marco, listen to me. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should've read the damn thing and notice the mistake." She replies, leaning over her desk to grab her coat.
"Y/N, I'll take care of it, okay? I found a fault in their loophole, they're stuck. Let me handle this. You just go home and enjoy what's left of your evening I ruined—" Marco tells her. "Wait, didn't you have a date tonight? Oh my god, did I ruin your date?"
"I did... but it's alright. It probably wouldn't have worked out with him anyway." Y/N chuckled awkwardly and glanced towards Harry, who looked weirdly annoyed at what she said.
"I'm so sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Marco shares the desperate plea.
"You can make it up to me by giving me the address of the studio." Y/N tells him cheekily.
"Y/N..." he warns.
"What? I promise I'm going home. It's just so I know where you are." She lies. Y/N is a good liar, except in front of Harry. Having a tendency to get nervous, she always betrays herself. She's lucky that this is a phone call, otherwise Marco would've known she wasn't planning on going home at all.
Hesitantly, he gives her the address, which she immediately writes down on her hand.
"Okay, thank you Marco. Good luck." She says, hanging up the phone with a lot more confidence than ten minutes ago. She can feel Harry staring her down as she puts on her coat, clearly waiting for an explanation for this whiplash-like behavior.
"I really have to go."
Harry shrugs. "I'll give you a ride. You can explain everything to me on the way to your house."
Y/N shakes her head, walking towards her boss. "No, really, you don't have to."
"Yes I do." Harry argues.
"You really don't."
"Do you have a problem with me bringing you home, Y/N?" He asks as if he's dumb, as if he doesn't know she's secretly trying to go to that studio.
"No!" She is quick to protest.
"Or does it have anything to do with the address of that mysterious studio you've written on your hand?" He teases, and Y/N clenches her jaw in frustration.
"I just— I need to make sure it's handled." She sputters. Harry shrugs.
"From what I heard it's being handled just fine." He points out. "You've got to learn to let things go sometimes, Y/N."
She shakes her head, looking the floor. "I can't. Not with this."
Harry lowers his head, trying to get on the same eye-level as her and searching for her eyes. "Why not?"
"I told you; I messed up." Her voice quivers as she tells Harry the truth. "There was a mistake in the contract with Chain. Somehow they found a loophole, and now they want more money or they'll waive the rights to their song."
"What?!" Harry growls, exactly like Y/N anticipated he'd react. God, he's going to fire her any moment.
"It's my fault. It was a reference mistake I could've easily spotted if I had taken the time to revise it." She admits, feeling extremely shameful of her lazy actions.
"What are you talking about? This is the legal team's fault, they should've seen that damned mistake! It's not in your job description to revise a contract, it's not your responsibility. It's not your fault, Y/N." He explains. She sucks in a breath, his words hitting her harder than she expected. Heart aching, the one sentence rings in her head.
It's not your fault.
That couldn't be true, could it? She was responsible for this deal, and for Harry. She should've seen this coming, even though she couldn't have possibly known. Did she not always pride herself in having this sixth sense, in being ahead of everyone else? What was she without that? What was she if not the best at the one thing that made her special, that set her apart from the crowd. What was she worth without that invincibility?
"You revise every contract, don't you?"
Her eyes flick towards her boss. She doesn't say anything, but the answer is hidden in her pupils. And it seems Harry can read them like an open book. "How long have you been doing that?"
"Two years." Y/N stammers, her arms crossed as if it will keep her body from revealing whatever her mouth won't. Harry just lets out a breathy chuckle before pulling her into his arms, taking her into a sweet embrace. With his chin leaning on her head, Y/N takes the opportunity to bury her face in his chest, trying not to bask too much in the heavenly scent of his cologne.
"Remind me to give you a raise." He jokes in a soft whisper, earning a sniff of laughter from Y/N.
For a while it seems like everything that tore her down, including what went down between her and Harry, didn't exist anymore. There was just him and her, their embrace and a distant ticking clock, the only indicator of time passing. Yet it felt like the world stopped, or slowed down at least, being in Harry's arms like that. And suddenly, that itch that she hadn't been able to scratch in so long, it felt like it was soothed by a stroking hand instead, and in a way it fulfilled her. It just so happened to be a way she did not expect.
The initial shock at the realization—this puzzle piece that suddenly clicked—made Y/N back away. She clears her throat, fiddling with her hands.
"They're supposed to be at this studio right outside the city. It's only twenty minutes away by car. I just need to be sure." She announces. Harry grabs the bags of food he put down before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding the both of them back to the elevator.
"We'll take my car." He states, and although Y/N can tell by his tone that Harry expects there to be no talking back, but she just can't help herself.
"Harry, I told you I can take a cab." She suggests as they wait for the elevator door to open. Harry doesn't respond as he guides them both into the small space and pushes the button for the ground floor. When the door closes, he turns to her, looking down at her with such an intimidating stare that Y/N feels like she's shrinking.
"And I told you: we're taking my car." He says sternly, his low voice twisting her stomach in an interesting way. When Y/N goes to open her mouth again, Harry lays his finger on her lips. He hums in disapproval, shaking his head.
"I was being clear, right?" He asks rhetorically. His gaze sweeps over her mouth before settling on her eyes again. Not daring to speak another word, let alone breathe, Y/N only nods in response.
"Good." Harry responds, a cocky smirk framing his face as he strolls out of the elevator, leaving Y/N breathless and in a slight trance. Blinking a few times, she comes back to her sense and hurries after her boss.
Richard has always been a master at reading people, and this time is no exception. The second he began driving, he raised the partition, leaving Harry and Y/N with some privacy.
Harry really has a knack for hiring the right people.
The first few minutes of the car ride are silent, and Harry spends it observing Y/N as she picked at her nail beds, frantically looking at of the window as if it would make the car move faster. She has so much tension inside that little body of hers; she is clearly in need of a distraction.
"I think I'm jealous."
Y/N's head whips to him, brows raised at the sudden confession. Her body turns with her, knees now in Harry's direction as she leans back into the seat, getting comfortable as she lays close attention.
"Of me?" She asks, utterly confused. She seems very lost, not really connecting the dots. Harry doesn't blame her; that confession was quite out of the blue.
"Of whoever gets to take care of you."
Pure silence. Harry swears he could hear a pin drop. Y/N stares at him like a deer in headlights, probably having no idea what to say or do or think. She gulps.
"What?" Her voice is so soft that he almost doesn't hear her, but since all his focus is on her, he doesn't miss it. Letting out a breath, he leans forward, placing a hand on her thigh. His face inches closer and closer until their mouths are mere inches away from each other. Checking for her reaction with every small movement, he can't help but notice how she doesn't stray away from him. In fact, she leans in, causing their lips to brush against each other.
"The idea of another man touching you, having you, it makes my fucking blood boil." He says, voice hoarse. Her eyes frantically search every last inch of his face, looking for something she seemingly can't find. Perhaps she's attempting to find the usual playfulness that always accompanies any conversation that blurs that line between them. In that case, she could keep looking forever and ever, because he is dead serious. Fuck how it used to be and fuck whatever's right or wrong.
And most of all, fuck that line, because he's crossing it.
Harry closes the small gap between them, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to work up his throat at the sole feeling of her lips against his. What a fucking idiot he was for ever agreeing to forget about that Halloween night. Not that he ever truly did forget about it. Besides her obvious competencies, hiring Y/N was a way of keeping her where he seemed to like her best from the moment they met; close to him.
With that thought in mind, he wraps his hand around her face and pulls her closer. She complies, clicking her seatbelt free to move further towards Harry when he slips his tongue inside.
Their mouths move against each other like it's both the first time and the hundredth time they've done this. So familiar and yet it's like nothing he ever felt before. A sensation so different from three years ago, one so heavy and laced with a detail his brain can't quite seem to grasp. Deep down, he knows what it is, he just can't quite lay his finger on it.
But his body can, and it does, and so does Y/N's, because her grinding against him is exactly what he needs. His hand sneaks around her neck, lips curling into a smile at the familiarity of the curves of her neck and the identical moan that falls from her lips just as it did three years ago.
Harry groans when the car suddenly stops and Y/N falls forward a little bit, the friction against his trousers being a bit too much to bear at the moment. Slowly, the partition lowers, and without so much looking at them through the mirror, Richard speaks up.
"We've arrived."
Wrong. Harry clearly hasn't.
Before Harry can catch his breath, Y/N can get off his lap, and either one can even answer, the partition rises again. Immediately, Y/N throws her face into Harry's neck.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She wheezes out in pure, utter shame. Harry shakes his head, a faint grin on his face. He would have been laughing his ass off if he wasn't so painfully hard right now. Instead, he only pats Y/N's back, telling her it's fine. She groans and opens the car door.
"No it's not! God, I will never be able to look him in the eye again!" She says, punching the bridge of her nose. Harry shuts the door and grabs Y/N's waist, pulling her towards him. She stumbles into his chest. He lifts her face with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him.
"You're going to have to, because I don't want to fire him." He jokes, and Y/N bites her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide. Not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction that he made her laugh, she looks to the side, but her face expression falls quickly.
"This is not my apartment." She notes, looking at the huge building next to her. "This is yours."
Harry nods.
"I can't be at your apartment, I have to—" Y/N stops herself before she can say more. But Harry already knew what she was going to say. Playfully, he raises a brow.
"You have to... what?"
"To... I have to—"
"Sneak out to that studio?" He finishes her sentence, and her eyes widen. She tries to regain herself but her cheeks are flushed and there is nothing she can do anymore. He's got her. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."
With that, he places a hand on her lower back and guides her towards his building. She stumbles a bit, but eventually catches onto the pace. But her body language is apprehensive, looking back at the road where Richard is standing. Or well, was standing. Harry ordered him to drive away as soon as they got out of the car.
Still, she turns around in a quick motion, trying to get to a cab. Harry's arm catches her, however, and he pulls her back against his chest. Along with his other hand, he turns her around, catching sight of her big eyes boring into his.
"Don't try me." He speaks slowly, dipping his head down until he finds himself inches away from Y/N. "You know what happens if you try me."
His voice is lower than before, having flipped a switch now that her mouth has been on his. He got a taste for the first time in years, he wasn't going to let her get away now. Y/N's breath hitches, eyes flicking down to his mouth.
Knowing he's got her right where he wants her, Harry pulls back and strolls toward the entrance of his apartment building. Soon enough, he hears those heels behind him and he smirks.
It's silent when they step in the elevator, and for the first few seconds, as Harry leans agains't the wall and observes his secretary, it stays that way. She eyes him a couple of times, her ears getting redder.
"What?" She breathes out, looking down at her body like there must be something wrong if he's looking at her for so long. He simply shrugs.
"Nothing. Just admiring you."
At that, Y/N vigorously shakes her head and crosses her arms. A soft scoff leaves her mouth, one she didn't think Harry would hear, but he did. He takes a few steps towards Y/N, inching her against the wall.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He asks sincerely, searching for her eyes. When she finally looks up at him, the nervous smile on her face fades a bit.
Harry doesn't like that look on her face. Needing to fix it, he leans forward and plants his lips on hers again, grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before her arms are wrapped around his neck and their bodies are impossibly close to each other again.
Tongues delving deeper into each other's mouth, Harry feels himself floating on some sort of feeling. Despite not being able to define it, he is absolutely positive that he doesn't ever want it to stop. And since kissing Y/N causes this specific feeling, the only feasible option is to never stop kissing her. It's the best plan he's had in ages.
It doesn't take long before the situation gets heated, much like it did before, and Harry's hands trail to Y/N's hips to pull her against him. Desperate for any sort of relief, Harry's hips automatically start to move, and Y/N immediately responds. His body feels like it's on fire, and he tries not to let out any sounds as his strained cock rubs against his tight pants.
Harry takes his lips off Y/N's mouth, peppering kisses to her jaw instead. Slowly, he works his way towards her ear, where he stops to whisper in her ear.
"I'm going to remind you how fucking beautiful you are." The hot breath that left his mouth had her shuddering against him, a slight whine escaping her lips. As he leaves sloppy kisses on Y/N's neck, Harry's free hand slowly travels under her shirt, finding her bra.
She gasps softly when his hand starts to massage her breast, the sensitivity of both spots leaving her hot and bothered under Harry. Fuck, she is so fucking stunning, how did she not see it herself?
Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the door opened. Taking a step back, Harry only winks at Y/N before he turns around and strolls out as if it's a casual Friday. As if he doesn't have his secretary, whom he left high and dry, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.
"Would you like something to drink?" He asks when they enter his home, Harry immediately going into the kitchen.
"Absinthe." Y/N breathes out, leaning over the kitchen island. Harry peeks inside his fridge.
"I only have white wine."
Y/N shrugs. "I'm sure it'll have the same effect if I just keep drinking."
Harry chuckles, grabbing the bottle of wine and placing it on the counter. He walks to a cabinet and takes two wine glasses out of it. Placing one in front of Y/N and the other in front of himself, he opens the bottle and starts pouring, not stopping until the glasses are halfway full. Y/N laughs at the ridiculously full wine glass that he pushes her way, but takes it gladly. He doesn't miss the way her breasts nearly spill out of her top as she leans forward a bit further than intended to in order to grab the glass.
"To the unexpected." She says it like it's a dare. Amused, Harry decides to entertain it, and nods his head.
"To the unexpected."
They raise the glasses before both taking a long sip. Y/N rests her arms on the table, giving a perfect view of her tits right in Harry's frame. She smirks when his eyes accidentally fall on it, and Harry's stomach swirls with excitement. She's trying to play.
"Crazy, how fast life can change, isn't it?" She asks rhetorically, and Harry just hums, waiting patiently for her to reveal what she's trying to do. "I mean, I got up today thinking I'd end the day in another man's bed."
There it is.
She's always been smart, and she knows how to push Harry's buttons. Though his fingers grip the kitchen counter tightly, so much that his knuckles turn white, Harry keeps the corners of his mouth lifted.
"And now you're here." He says, head tilting just a bit. She hums in agreement, taking another sip from her wine.
"Yeah, but just crazy to think that I went into the day thinking I'd hook up with someone else." She tells it so innocently, as if she's mostly talking to herself. Harry's jaw clenches as he stalks around the kitchen island and nears Y/N.
"But you're not, though." Harry notes, falling right into the trap. He knows what she's trying to do but he just can't help himself. He doesn't like the idea of her being with another man. He waits for her answer, hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
"I know, but I could have—"
Before the sentence has entirely left Y/N's mouth, Harry's hand flies to her neck. The amused look on Y/N's face tells him enough, but he doesn't care.
"You're not. You're in my bed tonight, and any night after that as far as I'm concerned, so I don't want to hear another fucking word about it."
Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she stares up at him. "You really are jealous."
The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, "And you've gotten feisty over the years."
Y/N bites her bottom lip, humming in agreement to his observation. Harry lets out a soft chuckle, tightening the grip on her neck. Y/N gasps in surprise.
"But do you still like to be put in your place?" He asks, inching his face close to hers. The answer is written in her eyes, and yet Y/N doesn't respond. When it's clear that she won't anytime soon, Harry's free hand sneaks around the waist of her pants. She shivers at the touch.
"Well? Do you?" He repeats himself, and slowly but surely, Y/N nods her head. Harry lets out a disapproving noise. "That's not a proper answer."
Closing her eyes, Y/N lets out a deep breath. "Yes, I like to be put in my place."
"That's what I thought." Harry laughs, taking his hands off of her entirely. She frowns, but her eyes widen when he barks out a demand. "Take off your clothes."
He watches carefully as she follows his orders, and she clearly takes her time stripping down to her underwear. When she has, she looks to him for some sign of approval, but Harry just raises his brows. His hands are sunk into his pockets as Y/N lets out a little breath and takes off her bra and panties.
His eyes trail down her body, his cock hurting at the sight of her. God, she's beautiful. He feels like an absolute idiot for not having fought for her earlier, but he reminds himself that he can't change the past and that she is here now, stark naked in his kitchen. A grin spread across his face.
"Do you remember how you addressed me all those years ago?" He asks. It takes a few seconds before Y/N answers, but she gives him a firm nod.
"I called you sir."
Harry nods. "Rules haven't changed. Now, get on the counter."
Her eyes flick to the marble countertop, shock flashing through her eyes. "But Har—"
His right brow lifts ever so slightly. Catching the hint, Y/N stops herself before she can finish the sentence and hoists herself on to the cold countertop. It must not be very pleasant to lay your naked body on that freezing surface, but it was an uncomfortable temporary obstacle. The results would be great, and in about thirty seconds, she'd forget all about that cold touch against her skin.
Harry pulls out one of the bar stools and sat directly in front of Y/N. Spreading her legs apart, he catches sight of that perfect pussy he has been waiting three years to taste again. Like a starved man sat in front of a feast, the urge to dive right in is almost too strong to bear. But before he has her writhing under him, he wants to make her shiver.
"Can't believe it took us so long to get here." Harry hums, tracing his fingers up her thigh, carefully observing the way Y/N tries to control her breathing. Her fists are balled up into curls, attempting to send her concentration to anything else than Harry. He tries not to let his smugness show too much, but he has to say he likes seeing her struggle a bit. A bit of payback for trying to toy with him just now.
"You've always been stubborn." Y/N jokes, a gasp strangling out of her when Harry's fingers ghost over her clit. He chuckles, the tone of his voice so low that it could almost be considered evil.
"If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to forget about that Halloween night." He notes. Y/N hums.
"I also made the condition to act professionally, but we didn't do that either." Her eyes gaze into his, catching the fond smile with which he stares at her. A faint blush erupts on her cheeks.
"You drew the line." Harry retorted, and Y/N scoffed.
"You crossed it about a hundred times." She argues in response. He only hums, that cocky smirk on his face.
"I did, and consider this hundredth and first time to be the last, because I'm not getting behind that line again."
Y/N has never been so turned on her in her entire life. Harry’s words are the epitome of determination, and the way his fingers slip inside her so easily the second he finishes his sentence only solidifies that notion. The gasp that leaves her mouth is cut short and evolves into a low moan as Harry’s lips latch onto her clit.
Sensitive would be an understatement for her current state. She is aching, and the way Harry is ravishing her almost hurt. But any pain dwells in comparison to her desire she was overcome with at the situation she currently finds herself in. She is on Harry's kitchen counter, legs spread wide open and letting him do all the things that slipped into her dreams over the past three years.
Harry sucks in all the ways that made her squirm, moving his fingers with such ease that made it seem like he has fingered her a thousand times already. As if he knows her like the back of his hand, as if he knows all her secrets, even ones she doesn't know herself.
Y/N's hand buries itself in Harry's hair when he begins to kitten lick her clit, and she feels that inevitable climax inching closer and closer. She wonders how she had been able to keep herself composed for so long, because the high that creeps up on her feels like it was long overdue.
Unfortunately, the sensation comes to a grinding halt when Harry backs away from Y/N. Her head shoots up, and finds him leaning over her body, wearing boyish half-smile that is now glimmering with her juices.
Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other one under her legs, he picks her up bridal style. She holds onto his shoulders, burying her face into his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. When she begins unbuttoning his shirt, he throws her on his bed. She lets out a soft yelp, bouncing onto the bed.
"So greedy..." Harry tuts in disapproval, but Y/N doesn't quite care. She wants him, bad, and now that she's had a preview of what's to come she doesn't want to wait any longer. She needs him and she needs that orgasm.
She pulls him closer by his pants and starts to unbuckle his belt. "You're taking too long."
Y/N is about halfway done when Harry's firm hand wraps around her neck and pulls her closer to his face. Inching down, he growls: "You'll take what I give you."
"Then give me something." She spits back, and Harry's eyes turn five shades darker at her invitation to a challenge. He slowly leans back, Y/N watching his every movement in anticipation.
"On your stomach."
Y/N stomach swirls at the command, and she obeys as quick as she can. It stays silent for a little bit, and she awaits his further actions eagerly.
"Hands behind your back."
Again, she does what he says. Y/N doesn't dare to turn her head as she hears Harry walking around his room. When she feels a silky material around her wrists, she knows enough. He's tying her up.
Knowing better than to do otherwise, Y/N keeps her mouth shuts as Harry makes an impenetrable knot with his tie. She moves her wrists, assessing how tight it really is, and gets interrupted by a punishing slap on her ass. The sting remains for a couple of seconds, and she is sure there is now a red print the size of Harry's hand on her right cheek.
"Ass up." He barks out his final order, no doubt smirking as she changes her position, slightly struggling now that her arms are of no use.
Y/N bites her lip in anticipation when Harry's hand grabs onto her hips, steadying himself behind her. She slightly flinches forward when the tip of his cock teases her entrance, and attempts to speed up the process by leaning backwards a bit. She's rewarded with another slap on her ass.
But then Harry finally sinks in, and that dreadful itch that plagued Y/N for such a long time is finally scratched, over and over again as he begins to pound into her with long, slow strokes.
"Fucking hell..." Harry murmurs, his cock suctioning into Y/N's tight, clenching pussy. He is so big, and it bruises her in all the right ways.
"Oh baby... thaaat's it." He groans when Y/N begins to bounce back on his cock, aiming to get it even deeper inside of her. She is ruthless in her movements, groaning at the overwhelming sensations. When Harry gropes her ass— and his nails bite into her skin—she loses control.
Burying her face into the mattress, Y/N screams as she reaches her peak. The sound of Harry's moans at her pussy convulsing around his cock only strengthens her orgasm. Her mind goes entirely blank as the shattering release ripples through her like an earthquake. The only thing she can think of is Harry's name, and it's the only thing she cries out as the dizzying explosion settles all over her body.
"You really are desperate, aren't you?" Harry sneers as he pulls his cock out of Y/N, letting go of her hips. She nearly falls over, her tied up hands making it difficult to catch herself. This orgasm was so intense, she could feel the three years of pent up tension as it washed over her. Her cheeks are burning red and her teary eyes makes her vision somewhat blurry.
Y/N is thrown off when Harry suddenly turns her around and she finds herself lying on her back. The way he towers over her would have been intimidating had it not been extremely hot.
"Came on my cock so fast..." he mumbles cockily, corner of his mouth pulled up like the arrogant bastard he is. "Such a slut for it."
Y/N wants to give him some snappy comeback, but her brain is still fried from the orgasm and she's always liked to be degraded in bed, so she decides to only glare at Harry while he speaks. He catches it, and his grin only widens.
"You know it's true, baby." He tells her, bringing your legs over each of his shoulders. That deviant smirk is the last thing Y/N sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head at the feeling of Harry's cock stretching her out again.
He leans forward, almost folding her in two, and reaches deeper. He stays there for a few seconds—as if he is catching his breath—then slowly backs out of her before slamming right back in. Y/N lets out a screech that, if it hadn't been for the desperation laced in its tone, would've sounded like someone was trying to murder her.
Trying to keep her own moans at a minimum, Y/N closes her eyes and listens to the harsh slaps of Harry's skin against hers, and the groans that escape his mouth with each thrust. The strength behind each movement makes her clench around Harry, who in turn hisses her name as if it were a curse word. It only causes her to clench more.
"Fuck, such a pretty little whore." Harry praises as he drives into her. Y/N can only whine, her tits bouncing uncontrollably at the impact of his motions. She must look fucking helpless. Opening her eyes, she catches the way Harry looks at her; like she's a dream. Like she's his dream.
"My pretty little whore." He growls, leaning back and holding one of her legs with his arm while the other reaches for her breasts.
"Yes..." Y/N breathes as he begins squeezing her breasts, getting lost in the sensations of him. Somehow it feels like Harry is everywhere. As if he has latched onto a part of her soul and she feels him coming to claim that every time his cock sinks into her.
"Such a tight fucking fit." He groans, taking her nipple between his fingers. "You should see how perfectly your pussy sucks in every inch of my cock..."
Y/N bites her lip as Harry talks, trying not too get too overwhelmed by the filthy things he's telling her as he plunges in and out of her. Her eyes catch the flex of his muscles that occur with every thrust, and she wonders how she got a man so perfect to fuck her stupid like this.
"Should record it... make a little video for just the two of us. What do you think?"
Oh my god.
"Don't you want to see how perfect we fit together?" He taunts, thrusting his hips harsher than before, hitting a spot that had been untouched for quite a while now. Y/N's face scrunches up.
"F—fuck! Yes, yes..." She responds when Harry stills inside of her to await an answer. He chuckles at the apparent hurry in her voice and reaches for—what Y/N assumes to be—his phone, on the bed. His motions are slow and soft, determined to keep Y/N satisfied at least a bit while he logs into his phone and searches for the camera app. She notices the start of his recording by the sudden change of pace and force of his movements.
His camera is pointed right at her pussy as he begins thrusting deep inside of her, and Y/N screams out Harry's name. The concentration on his face as he captures how she takes him proves too much to bear, and she shuts her eyes tightly, head flopping to the side.
She can hear his ragged breathing over all the other sounds that their bodies are making. The small grunts he makes in an effort not to moan too loudly is all she can focus on, and the tension in her belly grows exponentially with each vibrations of his voice that reaches her ears.
Harry slows his pace, putting more emphasis on the impact of his moves. It allows him to bring his free hand down to touch Y/N's clit. Her legs begin to shake the second he does.
"Are you gonna come again for me? I'm so close, baby. I can tell you are too." The softness in the delivery of his words have Y/N's ovaries rattle. She can only nod, a whine that was an attempt at a 'yes' falling from her rosy lips. Harry grins, his eyes flicking from his phone to her face. Everything feels so hazy, much like a daydream.
"Please don't stop." She squeals in such a high pitch that surprises even herself. Y/N had no idea she could go that high. Harry's bringing out an entirely new side of her.
"I'll never stop, baby." Harry rasps, pressing down on her clit in such a way that Y/N becomes cross-eyed for a second. Her nails grip into the bedsheets, the second release rippling through her like a hurricane. She never quite understood the word bliss, until now. This must be it; this feeling of... pure ecstasy.
Like a blank canvas splattered on with all the bright colors that exist in the world; fresh and exciting and psychedelic in a way. Impossible to define yet such a specific feeling. Y/N let all of it tingle from her head down to her toes, wanting to remember it forever.
The continuous pounding Y/N through her orgasm comes to a grinding halt when Harry reaches his own, pulling out just in time for his sperm to coat her puffy clit and swollen tits. His camera is focused on her frame, recording every spurt that paints her. She's the canvas, he's the colors, Y/N realizes. Harry is her definition of bliss.
The words shared between the two are scarce as Harry unties Y/N's hands, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom to clean her up. But the smiles on their faces says enough, both knowing what they feel is rare, and beautiful. Y/N assesses Harry's face, concluding that the soft edges of it makes him look like a proper angel.
When he's dressed her in one of his shirts, he takes her back to the bedroom, where he pulls her against his frame. Y/N wraps one leg around his torso, hugging him from the side with her head buried into his neck. The way his chest rises and lowers fills her with pure ease, and she leaves a few soft kisses in his neck as a silent thank you. Harry only hums in satisfaction, his arm only tightening around you, as if he's afraid you might let go.
"I'm never gonna let you go now." You tell him before you can even fully comprehend your words. Your heart starts racing, afraid that might've been too soon to say.
"Promise?"
Your racing heart is now melting as you turn your head and see Harry holding up his pinky. You are quick to interlock it with your own.
