pairing: harry wells x reader
warnings: drabble, tension, sexual energy
word count: 656
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Being a speedster was no easy feat, well actually, it was a breeze. You did everything within seconds.
Harry hated it. You moved so much faster than him. Usually, he was the one far ahead and had other struggling to catch up. But how can you challenge a genius who could also read a book and understand the book at lightning speed?
The mission had started at 9:47 p.m.
A metahuman robbery downtown. Fast. Violent. Messy.
By the time Team Flash got there, CCPD was already blocked off three streets, flashing lights staining the pavement blue and red. Barry had gone after the meta immediately, Cisco close behind with some half-finished dampener tech he swore would work "this time."
You had gotten there first.
Of course you had.
Harry watched from the cortex monitors with his jaw clenched as your lightning streaked through downtown traffic. You disarmed the meta in under thirty seconds, evacuated civilians in less than ten, and somehow still had time to mouth off to Barry over comms.
"Little slow tonight, Allen." You taunted.
Cisco's laughter crackled through the speakers.
Barry groaned. "You know, one day I'm gonna stop saving you from emotional damage caused by Harry."
"I'd like to see him try." Cisco scoffed.
Harry muted the comms instantly.
Not because he was angry.
Because Cisco was right.
The problem wasn't your speed.
It was that you enjoyed challenging him with it.
You leaned against the cortex railing afterward, still buzzing with adrenaline, suit torn slightly near your shoulder from where the meta had clipped you. Barry and Cisco had left over an hour ago, Caitlin shortly after. Even the building itself seemed quieter now, STAR Labs settling into the low mechanical hum of late night.
Only you and Harry remained.
Which was somehow becoming a dangerous pattern.
"You hesitated," Harry said finally from the platform below, not looking up from the data on his monitor.
You scoffed. "I literally saved twelve people."
"You still hesitated."
"I was making sure the bridge wouldn't collapse."
"You were showing off."
That made you grin.
Harry finally looked up then, blue eyes sharp behind his glasses. "You think because you can move faster than everyone else that consequences can't catch you."
"And you think because you're the smartest person in every room you're automatically right."
"I usually am."
You sped down the stairs in a blur, stopping directly in front of him.
"God, you are insufferable."
"And yet," Harry said coolly, setting down his tablet, "you're still here."
The words hit harder than they should have.
The clock on the cortex wall read 1:13 a.m.
The rest of the building was dark except for the scattered glow of monitors around the cortex and the warm overhead lights in Harry's lab downstairs.
You should've gone home an hour ago.
Instead, you followed him into his lab while he reviewed the mission data.
Harry rolled up the sleeves of his dark button-down, muttering under his breath while pulling footage onto the screen. "Your heart rate spiked before impact."
"Oh my God," you groaned dramatically. "Are you jealous of my heartbeat now too?"
His eyes narrowed.
"You think this is funny."
"No," you said, stepping closer to him slowly. "I think you're cute when you're annoyed."
Harry's expression darkened instantly.
Wrong choice.
Or maybe exactly the right one.
He turned back toward the monitor, jaw tight. "Go home."
"No."
"(Y/N)."
"What?" you challenged, leaning against the workbench beside him. "You gonna make me?"
The silence stretched.
Thick.
Electric.
You noticed the way his fingers flexed against the edge of the table. The way his eyes flicked briefly toward your mouth before forcing themselves away again.
For weeks now, this thing between you had been building in sharp glances and late nights and arguments that sounded far too much like flirting. Harry hated losing control. You loved taking it from him.
Tonight, neither of you seemed interested in pretending anymore.
"You are unbelievably reckless," he said quietly.
"And you're staring."
His restraint snapped almost visibly.
One second there was distance between you.
The next, Harry had you against the workbench hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.
His mouth crashed into yours, rough and angry and starving all at once.
pairing: harry wells x reader
warnings: fluff, Harry admitting his feelings, comfort
word count: 1k
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For months, it had started as a joke.
A dangerous one.
Every time someone on the team caught the way you looked at Harry Wells—really looked at him—someone would make another comment under their breath.
"Careful," Cisco had snorted once when Harry brushed past you in the cortex, your eyes following him far too long. "She's got a thing for angry scientists."
You'd nearly choked on your coffee.
Even Caitlin had laughed into her tablet while Harry glared at everyone with growing irritation. "Honestly? It would explain a lot."
Harry, naturally, hated every second of it.
"You're all children," he'd snapped, already stalking back toward his lab.
But the worst part?
They weren't entirely wrong.
Because Harry Wells was unfairly attractive when he was angry. When he was focused. When he barked orders with that sharp Earth-2 accent and shoved his glasses back up his nose in frustration. Every irritated sigh, every possessive touch against the small of your back when someone stood too close, every muttered "for God's sake" aimed in your direction only made it worse.
And Harry knew it.
That was the real problem.
"You stare," he muttered one night from across his workbench, not even looking up from the device in his hands.
You blinked innocently. "Do not."
"You do." His eyes finally lifted to yours, cold and knowing. "Like you're trying to undress me with your mind."
Heat crawled up your neck immediately. "Maybe you're just delusional."
Harry scoffed softly. "Please. I'm a genius, not delusional."
You should've walked away then.
Instead, you crossed your arms and leaned against the opposite side of the workbench. "Maybe you just like the attention."
That got his attention.
His hands stilled completely.
For a long moment, the lab went quiet except for the faint hum of machinery around you. Harry stared at you with that dangerous intensity he got sometimes—the one that made your stomach tighten.
Then he spoke, low and rough.
"You have any idea," he murmured, "how difficult you make it to concentrate around you?"
Your breath caught.
Harry set the tool down carefully, far too carefully, before stepping closer.
"You hover around my lab in those tiny little skirts," he continued, voice sharp with restraint. "You look at me like you want something." Another step. "And every time someone makes one of those ridiculous comments, you blush."
"I do not blush."
"You're blushing right now."
Damn him.
You looked away first, and Harry immediately noticed.
Of course he did.
A smugness flickered briefly across his face before it vanished beneath something darker.
"You know what I think?" he said quietly.
"What?"
"I think you enjoy the idea of belonging to someone."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Harry stepped into your space fully now, one hand planting beside you on the workbench.
"And I think," he continued, voice dropping lower, "you especially enjoy the idea of belonging to me."
Your pulse throbbed violently.
Because the worst part wasn't that he was teasing you.
It was that Harry Wells had figured you out months ago. You crushed on him like a 6th grader.
The accusation hung in the air, sharp and undeniable. Harry's eyes bore into yours, searching for the crack in your composure he knew was there. The hum of the lab equipment seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of your own heartbeat hammering against your ribs.
You finally broke, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "Fine. You're right."
Harry's expression didn't change, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, perhaps? Or satisfaction.
"You're not just a joke to me, Harry," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "You never were. When Cisco and Caitlin make those comments, it's not because it's funny. It's because they see it too."
You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze fully. "I have feelings for you. Real ones. And yes, maybe I do enjoy the idea of belonging to someone—specifically, belonging to you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Harry's jaw tightened slightly. He studied your face for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken possibilities.
"You're from Earth-2," you added softly. "You're not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to matter this much."
Something shifted in Harry's eyes then—a softening you rarely saw. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing your jawline.
"I know," he said quietly. "And I know I've been... difficult. Arrogant. Insufferable, according to some."
A small smile touched your lips despite yourself.
"But I've noticed you too," Harry continued, his voice dropping to that low intensity that made your stomach flutter. "I've noticed the way you challenge me. The way you don't back down when I'm being an ass. The way you look at me when you think no one's watching."
He stepped closer, his hand moving from your jaw to cup the back of your neck. "I've wanted to ask you out for months, but I wasn't sure if it was just... this tension between us, or if there was something more."
Your breath caught in your throat.
"Have dinner with me," Harry said, his eyes searching yours. "Not here. Not as colleagues. Just us."
You nodded, unable to form words.
Harry's thumb stroked gently against your neck. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes," you finally managed to say. "That's definitely a yes."
A genuine smile transformed Harry's face, making him look years younger and somehow even more handsome. "Good. Because I've been wanting to do this for a very long time."
He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. You didn't. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and questioning at first, then deepening into something more certain, more promising. It wasn't the demanding kiss you'd imagined in your fantasies, but something better—real.
When he pulled back, Harry rested his forehead against yours. "Friday night? Seven o'clock?"
You nodded again, a wide smile spreading across your face. "Friday. Seven."
"Good," Harry murmured, his thumb still stroking the sensitive skin behind your ear. "Now, before I do something irresponsible in my lab, you should probably go. Before I forget I'm supposed to be a genius who can control himself around you."
You laughed softly, pulling back reluctantly. "I'll see you Friday, Harry."
As you walked away from his lab, you could feel his eyes on you, and for the first time, you didn't care who noticed.
pairing: harry wells x reader
warnings: smut, breeding kink
word count: 1.1 k
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For months, it had been an ongoing argument between you and Harry.
Not a serious one.
At least, that's what you both pretended.
"You absolutely have a breeding kink," Harry said flatly one evening, not even looking up from the tablet in his hands. Dinner was finished and you sat down with some ice cream and book.
You nearly dropped the spoon you were holding. "Excuse me?"
Now he looked up, completely unimpressed. "You heard me."
"Oh my God," you laughed incredulously, heat already rushing into your face. "You cannot just say things like that so casually."
Harry hummed, turning back to the kitchen table work like he hadn't just detonated a bomb in the middle of a quiet evening. "I'm simply making an observation."
"You're insane."
"No, I'm observant."
You rolled your eyes hard enough to hurt. "And what exactly makes you think that?"
That dangerous little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth immediately.
"You like being pinned down."
Your mouth opened.
Closed.
Harry continued before you could recover.
"You get that look every time I grab your hips." He set the tablet down slowly, watching your reaction far too closely. "You melt when I tell you what to do." Another step closer. "And every time I finish inside you, you act like you've achieved enlightenment."
Your entire body went hot.
"Harry—"
"And," he added smoothly, "you once asked me what our children would look like."
He was standing above you now, leaning down with both hands on either side of your head.
You body was on fire. Remembering that less than 12 hours ago, you and Harry looked just like this is bed, hands above your head while he rolled his hips into you and called you his "pretty girl."
"That was hypothetical!"
"You asked what color their eyes would be."
"Because you have pretty eyes!"
Harry actually laughed then—quiet, low, unbearably smug.
"Mm. Sure."
You shoved at his shoulder, mortified. "You're impossible."
"And yet," he murmured, catching your wrist before you could pull away, "you keep proving my point."
That became the routine after that.
Any little slip earned a comment from him.
You lingered too long watching him work?
Breeding kink.
You got flustered when he called you "good girl" under his breath?
Breeding kink.
You absentmindedly mentioned that his hands would make pretty babies?
"Jesus Christ," Harry muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. "You're never beating the allegations."
The worst part was how insufferingly smug he became about it.
Especially because he knew exactly what it did to you.
"You started this," you accused one night while sitting on the edge of his workbench.
Harry glanced up from whatever impossible device he was building. "Started what?"
"The breeding kink accusations."
"Accusations imply I'm incorrect."
You threw a balled-up paper at him.
Harry caught it easily without even looking.
"You're proving my point again," he said dryly.
"You're the one who keeps bringing it up!"
"Because your reactions are entertaining."
"You're unbelievable."
"No," Harry said, finally standing and stepping between your knees where you sat perched on the workbench. "What's unbelievable is the fact that you still blush every single time."
Your breath caught immediately when his hands settled on your thighs.
Harry noticed.
Of course he did.
That smugness faded into something darker as his thumbs stroked slowly against your skin.
"See?" he murmured. "There it is again."
Your pulse jumped.
"Harry..."
"What?" His voice dropped lower. "You gonna tell me I'm wrong?"
The look in his eyes made your stomach tighten dangerously.
Because lately the jokes didn't feel much like jokes anymore.
And judging by the way Harry was staring at you now, he'd realized that too. He was gonna prove his point somewhere, somehow.
One late night at the lab between a string of petty robberies you and Barry had spent most the night stopping.
Harry Wells had you bent over his workbench, your sweatshirt pushed up around your waist while he drove into you from behind. His precision was there—each thrust calculated, controlled—but tonight there was an edge of desperation beneath it.
"Harry," you managed, fingers scrabbling against the cool metal surface. "I want... I want you to finish inside me."
The change was instantaneous. His rhythm faltered for just a second before his movements turned rough, urgent. "What did you say?" he growled against your neck.
"I want you to come inside me," you repeated, louder this time. "Please."
Harry's restraint shattered. His thrusts became sharper, deeper, his grip bruising on your hips as he angled you to take him completely. "Fuck," he gritted out, his voice raw with need. "You shouldn't say things like that to me."
When you pushed back against him, meeting his increasingly erratic rhythm, he groaned raggedly against your shoulder.
"Don't you dare pull out," you begged, reaching back to tangle your fingers in his hair. "Please, Harry."
His hands clamped your thighs tighter, spreading you wider as his pace became punishing.
The workbench scraped against your palms with each forceful thrust, but you barely registered the discomfort over the pleasure building inside you.
"Look at you," he rasped, one hand sliding around to your stomach, pressing down as if he could already feel himself filling you. "Taking me so well. So fucking perfect."
His control was completely gone now, reduced to instinct and need. When he finally came, it was with a guttural cry that vibrated through your entire body. He stayed buried deep inside you, his weight pressing you into the workbench as he emptied himself.
Harry watched, panting heavily, as he slowly withdrew and saw his release beginning to spill out of you. "Jesus Christ," he swore softly, the sight clearly affecting him more than he'd ever admit.
Before you could move, he was pushing back into you, slow and deliberate this time. "Not done yet," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice thick with possessiveness. "Not nearly done."
Later, tangled in the sheets of his bed, Harry held you in silence. His arms were wrapped around you with an intensity that bordered on desperate, his face buried in your hair. He didn't speak, but you could feel it in every touch—obsession, possession, a need to claim that went far beyond physical desire.
"You okay?" you finally asked, turning in his arms.
He just tightened his grip, pressing a hard kiss to your temple. "You definitely have a breeding kink" he laughed loudly.
You narrowed your eyes, jokingly pushing him off you and attempting to roll away. To which he grabbed your hips protectively and pulled you right back to him.
"Where you goin'?" He asked between laughs. "I gotta give you my babies again so you can see what they look like"
"I hate you" you roll your eyes.
"No, you love me" he said before climbing on top of you and kissing you softly.
"I love you" you confirm kissing him back.
"Let me breed you some more" Harry said between kisses, his excitement already pressing against your thigh. Your face was hot, already getting excited.
pairing: harry wells x reader
warnings: smut, sex in the lab, riding
word count: 900
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The soft hum of machinery filled STAR Labs as you tiptoed through the corridors.
A late night robbery left everyone going home later than expected. You and Barry took turns as "speedster on duty". And this week was your shift.
Harry usually went home with you, tonight he stayed later, promising to be home within an hour or two of you leaving.
You went home and fell asleep on the couch, changing into sweats and Harry's shirt before you fell asleep.
You awoke again around 2:30 and realized he never did come home. You sped off to the lab.
You knew exactly where to find him—still at his workstation, muttering to himself over some piece of technology that probably made sense only to his brilliant mind.
Harry sat hunched over his desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing those muscular forearms you'd always admired. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted something on the circuit board before him.
"Still at it?" you murmured, approaching quietly.
He didn't look up, just grunted in response. "Almost got it. What're you doing back? I thought you went home"
"I did but I couldn't sleep without you" You replied and smiled to yourself, sliding behind his chair. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. "You need a break."
His body tensed instantly. "What are you—"
Your hands began to wander, one tracing patterns on his chest while the other slid lower, down toward his waistband.
"(Y/N)..." he growled your name, but there was a warning edge to his voice that only made you bolder.
When your fingers brushed against the button of his jeans, he finally reacted. With a frustrated grunt, Harry spun his chair around, dragging you into his lap in one swift motion.
"You're distracting me," he muttered, but his icy blue eyes told a different story.
His calloused hands gripped your thighs like he was claiming territory, nails biting into your skin through your jeans. The slight sting sent a jolt straight through you.
"I know," you admitted. "You like it"
"I love it" he whispered, leaning in to capture your lips.
The kiss was rough from the start—all teeth and tongue and desperation. Harry's touch was needy, his grip hard as if he didn't realize his own strength. His hands roamed up your back, tangling in your hair while the other gripped your waist tightly.
"God, what are you doing to me?" he muttered against your lips when you ground against him.
You felt his reaction immediately, hardening beneath you. A string of curses escaped his lips as his hands forced you closer, almost crushing you against his chest.
His touch was electric, fingertips calloused and warm as they slipped up under your shirt. The roughness of his hands against your skin made you shiver with anticipation.
"You started this," he reminded you, his voice husky with desire.
When you slipped your hand between your bodies, palming him through his jeans, his head fell back with a strangled groan. The sight of him—vulnerable, lost in pleasure—made your own arousal spike.
"Harry," you breathed, fumbling with his zipper.
He helped you, lifting his hips enough to push his jeans down. You wrapped your hand around him, and his eyes fluttered shut.
"Fuck," he muttered, his hips thrusting into your grip.
His control was slipping, and you loved it. The normally composed scientist was unraveling beneath you, all because of your touch.
Harry's hands were everywhere—under your shirt, unhooking your bra, cupping your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you arched into his touch with a soft cry.
"Too many clothes," he growled, pulling your shirt over your head in one swift motion.
You helped him discard your bra, then leaned back in for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, but no less intense.
His tongue explored your mouth as his hands explored your body.
"I want you," you whispered against his lips.
He didn't need to be told twice. Harry lifted you slightly, positioning himself at your entrance.
You sank down slowly, taking him in inch by inch. Both of you moaned at the sensation—full, overwhelming, perfect.
You began to move, finding a rhythm that had Harry cursing under his breath. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, claiming you with every thrust.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough.
You met his gaze, dark and intense and filled with raw desire.
His pupils were dilated, his lips parted as he watched you ride him.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your clit.
The added stimulation made you cry out, your movements becoming more frantic. Harry matched your pace, thrusting up to meet you as you came down.
The pressure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. Your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure so intense you saw stars behind your closed eyes.
Harry followed soon after, his grip on you tightening almost painfully as he found his release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he shuddered against you.
For a moment, you stayed like that—wrapped in each other's arms, the only sounds in the lab your ragged breathing and the soft hum of machinery.
"Wow," you finally managed to say.
Harry chuckled, the vibration sending another shiver through you. "Yeah."
He lifted his head, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "I should get distracted more often."
You smiled, tracing the line of his jaw. "Anytime."
All you need to know is that you are locked in one of your fabulous anti-meta-human cells with the rest of us. We can't escape.
Of course we can't. That's what I designed them for, genius.
Good command of the obvious.
THE FLASH (2014-2023) | 04x08 (Crisis on Earth-X, Pt. 3)
am I the only one who can’t stop thinking about Harry’s mischievous little grin after he scares Cisco off from vibing him the first time? That’s not an angry look, that’s an “I actually can’t wait to see what this little metahuman engineer tries next” look
UGHHH I am nervous I have never made a req before but could you do fluffy Harry Wells.....idk that is all I have
A/N: Oh don't you worry your pretty little head I've been waiting for a request like this. Enjoy your meal!
NOT Jealous
Summary: Cisco's teasing pushes Harry's jealousy to the surface after a late-night spat over data.
It’s nearly midnight at S.T.A.R. Labs, and the lights in the cortex hum a dim gold, flickering over blueprints scattered across the main table.
You and Harry have been going back and forth for hours—debating stabilizer configurations for the particle core.
The argument started logical. It turned personal somewhere between “your math is wrong” and “you’re infuriatingly smug.”
“Smug?” Harry snaps, glancing up from the schematic. “I’m confident. There’s a difference.”
“Sure,” you mutter, scribbling on your tablet, “confidence with a side of condescension.”
He sets his stylus down, voice sharp. “You know, if you actually listened instead of improvising, we might have solved this an hour ago.”
You glance up, unbothered. “And if you tried not to micromanage every molecule that moves, maybe you’d see I’m right.”
He blinks at you—slowly, like he’s recalculating. Then he exhales through his nose, “You are so—”
“—brilliant?” you interrupt with a grin.
He gives a short laugh despite himself, muttering something about “arrogance” as he turns back to his monitor.
It’s quieter for a moment. The sound of typing fills the room. The air hums between you—an unspoken rhythm you’ve fallen into over the past few weeks: argue, solve, argue again, somehow end up respecting each other more than before.
You sneak a glance at him. He looks tired. His shoulders are tense, his dark hair messy from running his hands through it too many times. The sleeves of his black shirt are rolled up, veins visible where he grips the table edge.
You shouldn’t stare. You do anyway.
A voice cuts through the silence, “Wow. The tension in here could power the Speed Force.”
You both turn. Cisco’s leaning in the doorway, tablet tucked under his arm, grin way too smug for this hour.
Harry groans. “Ramon.”
Cisco steps closer, eyes flicking from you to Harry. “You two been at this all night? Because the air’s thick with—what’s the word—unresolved something.”
You roll your eyes, but laugh, “Just working.”
“Right. Working,” Cisco says, drawing out the word, then looking towards you, “So, I was actually coming to ask if you wanted to help me recalibrate the holo-sim tomorrow. Could use someone who actually listens to my ideas.”
Harry’s head snaps up,“She’s busy.”
You blink, “I am?”
“Yes,” he says shortly, “with our stabilizer test.”
Cisco raises a brow, “I thought that was done.”
Harry glares, “It’s not.”
“Mmhm,” Cisco hums, clearly enjoying this. “Or maybe you just don’t like sharing.”
Harry’s tone drops dangerously low. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
You jump in, trying to diffuse. “Cisco, I’ll check the schedule tomorrow, okay?”
Cisco’s grin widens. “Oh, sure. Don’t let me interrupt your lab date.”
Harry’s glare could fry a satellite. “Ramon—”
Cisco just laughs, holding up his hands. “Alright, alright. Message received. You two have fun doing… science.”
He winks—winks—at you before strolling out.
You’re left staring after him, face hot, when Harry cuts in, “He’s insufferable.”
You turn to him, crossing your arms. “You could just say you were jealous, you know.”
His head jerks up, eyes flashing. “Jealous? Don’t flatter yourself.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You literally barked at him for asking a work question.”
“That wasn’t—” He stumbles for words, visibly thrown. “I wasn’t— It’s about efficiency. He distracts you.”
You grin. “Oh, so now you notice when I’m distracted.”
He looks like he wants to argue but can’t. His lips part, close again. He finally mutters, “You’re impossible.”
“Thanks,” you say sweetly, turning back to your tablet.
The next half hour is quiet—except for the occasional sigh or muttered curse from Harry’s corner.
Your energy dips. The numbers blur. You press your palm against your temple, fighting the wave of exhaustion.
Harry speaks suddenly, his voice gentle, “You should go home.”
You shake your head. “Still finishing the resonance model.”
“You’re half-asleep.”
“So are you,” you murmur.
“I handle it better.”
You snort softly. “That’s debatable.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but the words never come—because when he looks over again, your head has dipped forward, your tablet sliding from your grip onto the desk with a soft thud.
Harry freezes.
You’re out cold—cheek resting on your folded arms, hair falling into your face. Completely still except for the slow rise and fall of your shoulders.
He exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable.”
Still, he crosses the room. Gently, he lifts your tablet out of the way and sets it aside. His fingers hover, uncertain, before he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.
The smell of his cologne fills the air—faint spice and coffee grounds and something sharper, cleaner.
He hesitates again, eyes lingering on you—how your hand is curled under your chin, how the tension in your face finally looks gone.
“Stubborn girl,” he mutters softly, almost fondly.
He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear before sitting down beside you. His eyes flick to the screens, pretending he’s checking data, but he doesn’t look away from you for long.
He doesn’t notice Cisco leaning in the doorway again until the man whistles quietly.
“Ohhh, busted,” Cisco says under his breath.
Harry jerks up, startled. “Ramon, I swear to God—”
Cisco grins. “You know, for a guy who says he’s not jealous and not soft, you’re really bad at proving either.”
Harry growls low in his throat. “Get. Out.”
“Fine, fine,” Cisco says, backing up. “But she’s gonna know you like her when she wakes up wearing your jacket, man. Just saying.”
He leaves before Harry can throw something.
The silence returns, heavy but strangely peaceful.
Harry glances at you again. Your lips twitch faintly in your sleep—like you heard some of that.
He exhales, leaning back in his chair. “You drive me insane,” he says quietly. “And I can’t even bring myself to mind.”
You wake a little while later, groggy and disoriented, warmth pressing against your shoulders. You blink down at the jacket, then up at the man sitting a few feet away, typing furiously, pretending you don’t exist.
“You stayed,” you mumble, voice rough from sleep.
He doesn’t look up. “Someone had to make sure you didn’t drool on the prototype.”
You smile faintly. “Thanks… for the jacket.”
“It was that or a hypothermic corpse,” he says without missing a beat.
You chuckle softly. “You could just admit you care.”
His typing slows. He glances at you, expression unreadable. “You’re persistent”
“Mm. You like that about me.”
A pause. The faintest curve tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Go home.”
You stand, still wrapped in his jacket. “I will. But I’m keeping this. At least until tomorrow.”
He raises a brow. “You will not—”
“Too late,” you say, heading for the door.
He calls after you, “That’s a limited-edition Earth-2 leather composite—”
You grin, half-turning. “Guess you’ll have to come get it.”
For a moment, something unguarded flashes in his eyes—equal parts exasperation and fondness.
Then he mutters, “God help me,” under his breath as you disappear down the hall, your laughter echoing softly behind you.
characters: barry allen, harrison wells (eobard thawne), harry wells (earth-2), h.r. wells, ralph dibny, cisco ramon, wally west, julian albert, leonard snart, hunter zolomon (zoom), savitar (dark barry allen)
Walks into the room and freezes for a second, processing the sight of you in his hoodie.
A slow, warm smile spreads across his face—completely smitten.
“Is that… mine?” he asks, voice soft but amused, his tone carrying that boyish wonder.
He steps closer and tugs gently at the sleeve, grinning: “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”
Wraps his arms around you from behind, burying his face in your neck and murmuring: “God, I could get used to this.”
Gets a little clingy—presses kiss after kiss on your temple, cheeks, and neck because something about it feels so intimate.
Later, snaps a picture when you’re not looking (with your permission later) because he wants to remember how adorable you look.
When you give it back, he insists: “Keep it. It’s yours now.”
꒦´ཀ`꒦
Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne)
Notices instantly—his sharp eyes miss nothing—and his lips curl into a knowing smirk.
“My clothes?” he says in that low, velvety voice, stepping dangerously close.
Walks a slow circle around you, letting his gaze linger, deliberately making you squirm.
Fingers brush along the hem or collar, almost teasing, as he murmurs: “Interesting… you wear them well.”
The way he says it feels loaded with double meaning—power, possession, and intimacy all at once.
“Keep it,” he finally says, voice soft but commanding, “because now it’s yours… and everyone should know that.”
Later, he leans close to your ear with that smug whisper: “You have no idea what that does to me.”
꒦´ཀ`꒦
Harry Wells (Earth-2)
Sees you in his shirt and immediately scowls—not because he’s mad, but because he’s flustered.
“What… what are you doing?” comes out more gruff than intended.
Runs a hand through his hair, pacing for a second, then blurts: “You can’t just—steal my clothes like that.”
His voice softens when he sees your grin, and he mutters something like: “You look… good. Damn it.”
Eventually gives up pretending he’s annoyed and pulls you in for a kiss, muttering: “Fine. You win.”
For the rest of the day, he’s quieter, stealing glances at you every chance he gets—clearly loves it even if he’ll never admit it outright.
Later, when no one’s around, he hugs you from behind and whispers, almost grumpy but sincere: “Don’t do that unless you’re ready to drive me crazy.”
꒦´ཀ`꒦
H.R. Wells
Gasps audibly like it’s the most shocking thing in the world: “Oh. My. God. Is that my shirt?!”
Dramatically clutches his chest and stumbles back like he’s fainting.
“You… you look incredible! Like, out-of-this-world fantastic!” he gushes, spinning around you to admire every angle.
Immediately grabs his phone: “I need a picture. No—five pictures. Wait—let me fix your hair first!”
Wraps an arm around you and insists you both take selfies because he’s so proud to show you off.
Gets ridiculously sentimental out of nowhere: “You know… it means a lot that you’d wear my clothes. Like… wow.”
Doesn’t stop complimenting you for the entire day.
At night, while holding you, he whispers softly (for once, genuinely): “I love seeing you in something that’s mine. Makes me feel… close to you.”
꒦´ཀ`꒦
Ralph Dibny
Whistles the second he sees you, flashing that mischievous grin: “Well, hello gorgeous.”
“Is that my shirt or are you just trying to kill me?” he jokes, waggling his eyebrows.
Immediately starts teasing: “Looks way better on you. Should we just burn the rest of my wardrobe?”
Wraps an arm around you dramatically: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is peak fashion—exclusive Dibny Collection.”
Later, when it’s just you two, the jokes stop for a moment—he pulls you close and murmurs: “Seriously though… you look perfect.”
Loves it so much he starts “forgetting” shirts at your place on purpose.
Will brag to the team (in his own Ralph way): “Guess who makes my clothes look like a million bucks?”
Secretly thinks about it for days because it makes him feel connected to you.
꒦´ཀ`꒦
Cisco Ramon
The moment he sees you, he freezes mid-sentence and just… stares.
“Is that—wait—IS THAT MY HOODIE?” he blurts out, practically squeaking.
His grin is instant and huge, like a kid on Christmas: “Oh my God. Oh my God. You look… AMAZING.”
Runs up to you, tugging lightly at the sleeve with this goofy, lovesick smile.
“You’re literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Ever. In life.”
Immediately starts calling you things like “my hoodie model” or “Mrs. Ramon Couture.”
Hugs you tightly, burying his face in your neck and muttering something like: “I’m never washing that hoodie again. It’s yours now.”
Will brag about it later to the team in a nerdy way: “Did you guys know this one looks better in my clothes than I do?”
At night, he confesses quietly: “It makes me feel… safe, like you’re mine and I’m yours.”
꒦´ཀ`꒦
Wally West
Walks into the room and stops dead in his tracks—eyes going wide before breaking into the biggest grin.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold up… are you wearing my shirt?” he says, voice a mix of excitement and disbelief.
Zooms over in less than a second, circling you like: “Okay, that’s officially the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Wraps his arms around your waist from behind, nuzzling your neck: “You’re not allowed to take this off. Ever.”
Playfully tugs the hem, teasing: “Careful, you’re making it really hard for me to concentrate on anything else.”
Immediately takes a picture for himself, grinning like an idiot, then sets it as his lock screen without asking.
Jokes: “Guess I’ll have to wear your clothes now to make it fair,” and 100% follows through.
Later, when it’s just the two of you, he kisses you—slow at first, then playful—and murmurs against your lips: “God, you look so good in my stuff.”
Secretly starts leaving extra hoodies at your place on purpose, because he loves seeing you in them.
꒦´ཀ`꒦
Julian Albert
Walks in and immediately stiffens, blinking like he’s not sure what he’s seeing.
“Is that… my sweater?” he asks, voice slightly clipped but laced with something deeper.
Stares for a moment too long, then clears his throat and looks away, pretending to be unaffected—but his ears are bright red.
After a beat, mutters softly, almost to himself: “Blimey, you look… stunning.”
Steps closer, adjusting the collar gently like it’s an excuse to touch you, whispering: “It suits you.”
Gets protective without realizing it—pulling you close when anyone else walks by, as if silently claiming you.
Later, while making tea or sitting together, admits quietly: “There’s something about seeing you like that… something that feels… right.”
When you try to give it back, he shakes his head firmly: “No. Keep it. It’s yours now.”
From then on, you’ll notice him lending you more and more of his clothes—like he secretly wants you to wear them.
꒦´ཀ`꒦
Leonard Snart
Notices instantly the second you walk into the room—his ice-cold eyes flick up and down before meeting yours.
A slow, dangerous smirk spreads across his lips as he leans back casually: “Well, well, well… someone’s been playing dress-up.”
His voice drops lower when he steps closer: “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”
Fingers graze the edge of the fabric in a subtle, teasing touch as he murmurs: “You planning on giving this back… or should I assume it’s yours now?”
When you shrug and smile innocently, he chuckles darkly: “That’s what I thought.”
Pulls you close with a firm hand on your waist, murmuring in that quiet, commanding tone: “You know what that says, right? It says you’re mine.”
In private, he kisses you—slow, claiming, leaving you breathless—before whispering against your lips: “Don’t let anyone else see you like this. That’s for me.”
After that, he starts “forgetting” his coats or shirts at your place… and smirks every time you put them on.
꒦´ཀ`꒦
Hunter Zolomon
The second he sees you in his clothes, something primal flickers in his eyes.
Doesn’t say a word at first—just stares, intense and unblinking, like he’s burning the image into his mind.
Walks over slowly, every step deliberate, until he’s towering over you.
Voice is low, gravelly, almost a growl when he finally speaks: “Mine.”
Fingers curl around your wrist, pulling you closer, his other hand brushing the hem possessively.
“You wearing this… do you know what it does to me?” he murmurs against your ear, breath hot and ragged.
Doesn’t let go for a long moment, kissing your neck roughly before pressing his forehead to yours.
Keeps repeating in a husky whisper: “Mine. Always mine.”
Later, after things have calmed down, he wraps you up in his arms and mutters, softer this time: “Never take it off. Ever.”
From that day forward, he makes sure his clothes stay in your space—because to him, that’s a claim.
꒦´ཀ`꒦
Savitar (Dark Barry Allen)
When he sees you in his jacket, his entire demeanor changes—his smirk grows feral, predatory.
“You’re wearing my clothes,” he says, voice dripping with dark amusement.
Walks up slowly, circling you like prey, fingers brushing along the fabric in a deliberate tease.
“Do you even realize what that means?” His voice lowers as he leans in close, lips brushing your ear: “It means you belong to me.”
Grabs your chin gently but firmly, making you meet his glowing eyes: “Say it. Say you’re mine.”
When you do, his smile deepens into something wicked and possessive.
Kisses you hard—rough, desperate, and claiming—like he’s marking territory.
Pulls back just long enough to whisper: “You’re never taking this off. Ever.”
Later, he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder: “You look perfect like this. Like you were made to wear me.”
Starts intentionally leaving pieces of his armor or gear for you—because nothing makes him feel more powerful than seeing you in them.
pairing: harry wells x reader
warnings: angst, blood, comfort
word count: 1.4k
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You were injured severely in the middle of a mission. Knocked unconscious and losing mass amounts of blood before Barry could even get to you.
Joe and Barry made direct eye contact. An unspoken conversation between them. Joe giving a sharp nod in confirmation before Barry carefully scooped you into his arms and sped toward STAR Labs.
"She's losing a lot of blood, guys," Barry said breathlessly as he placed you onto the crash cart.
Your suit was practically soaked through. Crimson staining Barry's hands and forearms from how tightly he held pressure to your side.
"Blood type?" Cisco asked hurriedly as Caitlin ripped open medical cabinets.
"AB positive," Caitlin answered immediately after glancing at your file.
"Meaning she can take blood from—" Barry started.
"Anyone," Harry cut in sharply from across the cortex.
Everyone turned toward him at once.
He was already rolling his sleeve up before he even reached the med bay.
Barry had done the same, already stripped out of his suit and into a STAR Labs sweatshirt as Caitlin prepped transfusion equipment.
"Harry..." Cisco started carefully. "You don't share the same blood type."
"She can take blood from anyone," Harry repeated coldly as he tied the tourniquet around his arm.
"No, Harry," Caitlin corrected gently while sticking Barry with an IV needle. "She can take blood from anyone on Earth-1."
The room went silent.
Harry froze for half a second before his face twisted with pure fury.
Not at Caitlin.
At the situation.
At the universe.
At himself.
His jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. He ripped his glasses off and dragged both hands down his face harshly enough to leave his skin red.
"There has to be a workaround," he snapped immediately. "A cellular bypass, molecular reconstruction, literally anything—"
His icy blue eyes darted toward you unconscious on the table. Pale. Barely breathing. Blood still staining the sheets beneath you despite Caitlin's efforts.
For the first time in a long time, Harry Wells looked terrified.
"She stopped breathing for 11 seconds," Barry said quietly from the chair beside you.
Harry's head snapped toward him. "What?"
"On the way here." Barry swallowed hard. "Only for a few seconds but—"
Harry turned away instantly. Both hands bracing against the med table as he dropped his head.
Cisco looked away awkwardly. Caitlin pretended to focus on your IVs.
Because nobody had ever seen Harry like this before.
Not over anyone.
Hours later, you awoke to a quiet Cortex.
The overhead lights had been dimmed. The usual chaos of STAR Labs replaced with the soft hum of computers and distant electricity buzzing through the pipeline.
Everyone had gone home for the night after Caitlin confirmed your levels had stabilized. Your injuries already healing rapidly thanks to your abilities.
Harry stayed.
Of course he did.
He had removed the IV from your arm at some point and allowed you to sleep in the crash cart rather than wake you unnecessarily. Caitlin estimating your injuries would heal fully within a few more hours.
Your head pounded slightly as you slowly sat up. The heart monitor beside you beeped quietly in rhythm with your pulse.
You glanced around the empty cortex before carefully disconnecting yourself from the monitor attached to your chest. Turning the machine off before the warning beeps could get too loud.
Your sock covered feet padded quietly against the floor as you made your way toward Harry's old quarters.
The door was halfway open.
Harry sat against the headboard with his reading glasses perched low on his nose, some scientific journal open in his lap that he clearly hadn't actually been reading. A half empty cup of coffee rested forgotten on the bedside table beside him.
The sound of your footsteps immediately pulled his attention upward.
His icy blue eyes met yours instantly softening at the sight of you standing there half asleep wearing one of his t shirts over your medical bandages.
"Hey, pretty girl," he whispered immediately.
Your chest tightened.
You walked toward him without a word and climbed directly into his lap. Straddling him sleepily in the same way a tired child crawled toward comfort after a nightmare.
Harry's arms wrapped around you instantly. Tight. Possessive. Like if he let go for even a second you'd disappear again.
"Hi baby," you whispered back softly against his neck.
He smelled like coffee, expensive cologne, and static from the cortex. Familiar. Safe.
His hand slid carefully beneath your sweatshirt to rest against your lower back. Gentle enough that it almost hurt worse.
"How do you feel?" he murmured quietly.
"Tired," you admitted honestly. "Hungry too."
Harry huffed softly through his nose. Something between amusement and relief.
"Barry bought you Capri Suns and your favorite chips," he said quietly. "Wanna go get them?"
You nodded against his shoulder.
Without hesitation Harry stood up with you still wrapped around him. One arm hooked securely beneath your thighs while the other steadied your back.
"You know I can walk, right?" you mumbled sleepily.
"I'm aware."
"Hare."
"You almost died today. I'm carrying you."
You rolled your eyes slightly but melted further into him anyway.
The warm cortex lights reflected softly against the floor as he carried you toward the common area.
Harry gently sat you on the counter before grabbing the Capri Sun from the fridge and punching the straw through the pouch for you before handing it over.
You smiled weakly around the straw. "You know I can do that myself, right?"
"I'm aware," he muttered, leaning back against the counter across from you. "Humor me."
The fluorescent lights above the cortex cast soft shadows beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted. Hair messy. Sleeves rolled up unevenly. His glasses sat abandoned beside the coffee maker instead of on his face.
That's when you noticed the dried blood on his hands.
Your expression faltered.
"Harry..."
He glanced down like he'd forgotten it was there. "It's not mine."
"I know that."
Silence stretched between you.
You slowly lowered the drink. "You tried to give me your blood."
His jaw tightened immediately.
"Hare—"
"You needed blood."
"I would've died."
The words hit him harder than anything else had all night.
His face twisted slightly before he looked away from you entirely, shoulders going rigid. "Don't say that."
"But it's true."
"No." He snapped it instantly. Too fast. Too emotional for someone like him. "No, it wasn't going to happen."
You watched him carefully.
Harry Wells was many things. Brilliant. Angry. Cold when he wanted to be. But fear looked horrible on him.
Because he never showed it unless it was real.
"You were scared," you whispered.
"I was furious."
"At who?"
"Everyone." His voice sharpened. "The meta. Joe for letting you go in first. Barry for not getting to you faster. Caitlin because she wouldn't let me help. Myself because I should've been there—"
"Baby, You can't protect me from everything."
His eyes finally met yours again.
"I can try, (y/n)"
The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you.
You set the drink down beside you and held your hand out toward him silently.
Harry stared at it for a second before stepping between your knees. His large hands immediately settled on your waist like muscle memory. Like he needed the contact to breathe properly.
"I'm okay," you whispered again.
"You stopped breathing for 11 seconds."
Your breath caught.
Harry swallowed hard, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder now.
"Barry got you here in time," he continued quietly. "But for eleven seconds your heart rate dropped and you just..." He stopped speaking, jaw flexing harshly.
You reached up slowly, cupping his cheek.
He leaned into your palm instinctively.
"I'm still here."
His eyes shut.
For a moment he just stood there holding you against him, forehead dropping to your shoulder. The great Harrison Wells—genius, inventor, arrogant pain in the ass—completely unraveling in silence against you where nobody else could see.
"You know what the worst part was?" he murmured against your neck.
"What?"
"They kept telling me to stay back."
You huffed a tiny laugh through the emotion clogging your throat. "Because you were yelling at doctors."
"They were being incompetent."
"They were saving my life."
"They were moving too slowly."
You smiled softly. "There he is."
Harry finally looked up at you again, expression exhausted but softer now.
"I hate when you get hurt."
"I know."
"You terrified me."
"I know."
His hands tightened around your waist.
"You don't get to do that again."
You laughed quietly. "I'll do my best."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's the job description, baby."
He sighed heavily, but some of the tension finally cracked. His thumb brushed gently beneath the hem of the oversized STAR Labs sweatshirt you were wearing.
"You should still be resting."
"I was resting."
"You walked here."
"You carried me."
"That's different."
"Because you said so?"
"Exactly."
You rolled your eyes affectionately before taking another sip of your drink.
Harry watched you carefully the entire time. Like he still expected you to disappear if he looked away too long.
Then, quieter this time—
"I meant it, you know."
You tilted your head. "What?"
"If it worked..." He glanced down at his own arm where the discarded tourniquet marks still faintly remained. "I would've given every drop."
Your expression softened painfully.
"Honey..."
"And before you say anything," he interrupted, "yes, I'm aware that would've killed me. That wasn't the point."
The quiet hum of the cortex filled the silence again.
You reached for him immediately, pulling him back between your knees until his forehead rested against yours.
pairing: harry wells x reader
warnings: smut, angry, oral sex (m receiving)
word count: 899
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Harry slammed the tablet down onto the kitchen counter hard enough to make you jump.
"Unbelievable," he snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Every single time I leave that Earth alone for more than twenty-four hours, something explodes."
You leaned against the couch quietly, watching him pace your apartment kitchen in nothing but a black button down with the sleeves rolled messily to his elbows.
He'd been angry since he got home. Not at you — never really at you — but the irritation radiating off him was enough to make the entire apartment feel tense.
"Harry..." you said softly.
"What?"
His tone was sharp instantly, but the second he looked at you, some of the anger eased from his face.
You walked toward him slowly. "You've been pacing for like an hour."
"Because Jesse and half the engineers on Earth-2 apparently share one collective brain cell."
A laugh almost escaped you. Almost.
Harry pointed at you accusingly. "Don't encourage them."
"I wasn't gonna say anything."
"You were absolutely going to say something, (y/n), I know you."
You smiled a little before stepping closer, your hands sliding gently up his chest. Beneath your palms, you could feel how tense he still was.
Harry exhaled slowly through his nose.
"You're stressed," you murmured.
"Brilliant observation."
"Grumpy too."
"I'm always grumpy."
"That's true."
Harry rolled his eyes, but his hands automatically settled on your waist anyway.
You tilted your head slightly, studying him for a moment before your expression softened.
"You know..." you said quietly, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt, "I might know something that would help your mood."
Harry's eyes narrowed immediately.
"And what exactly are you implying?"
You stepped even closer until his back lightly hit the counter.
"Maybe," you whispered, "you should stop thinking for five minutes."
Harry looked at you for a long moment. His jaw flexed slightly beneath the dim kitchen light.
"...You are a dangerous distraction."
"Mm. But I'm your dangerous distraction."
That finally pulled the faintest smirk from him.
Harry's hand slid up your back slowly before he leaned down, his forehead resting briefly against yours.
"You have terrible timing," he muttered quietly.
"And yet," you smiled softly, "you love me anyway."
His expression softened completely then — exhaustion, irritation, and affection all mixing together in a way only you ever got to see.
"...Unfortunately."
You laughed quietly before kissing him, slow and warm, and for the first time since he'd gotten home, Harry finally stopped thinking about Earth-2 entirely.
Your fingers continued their slow work on his shirt buttons, one by one revealing the warm skin beneath.
Harry watched you, his breathing already beginning to even out as your touch worked its magic.
"Let me take care of you," you murmured against his lips before sinking to your knees.
Harry's breath hitched as you looked up at him from the floor, your hands now working on his belt buckle. His hands came to rest on the counter behind him, knuckles white as he gripped the edge.
"You don't have to—" he started, but you cut him off.
"I want to."
You freed him from his pants, your eyes never leaving his as you took him in hand.
Harry's head fell back against the cabinet with a soft thud, his entire body trembling slightly as you leaned forward.
Your tongue traced patterns along his length, teasing and exploring until he was fully hard and leaking.
Harry's responses were music to your ears—soft gasps, whispered curses, and the way his thighs tensed beneath your touch.
You took him into your mouth, starting with just the tip, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head.
Harry's fingers tangled in your hair, not pushing, just holding on as you began to work him deeper.
"God," he breathed, his hips making small, involuntary movements. "You're... incredible."
You hollowed your cheeks, creating that perfect suction as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each downward motion. Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth, stroking what you couldn't yet accommodate.
Harry's breathing became more ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you increased your pace.
You looked up at him, watching the expressions of pleasure cross his face—his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth slightly parted, a flush spreading across his chest.
You varied your technique, sometimes focusing on long, slow strokes that had him trembling, other times taking him deep and fast until he was gasping your name. Your free hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them as you continued your oral assault.
"I'm close," Harry warned, his voice strained.
Instead of pulling back, you doubled your efforts, taking him as deep as you could, your nose pressing against his pelvic bone. You swallowed around him, the sensation pushing him over the edge.
When he came, it was with your name on his lips, his body shuddering with release as you swallowed everything he gave you. You continued to gently suck and lick him through his orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until he was completely spent.
You stayed there for a moment, resting your cheek against his thigh as he recovered, his hand still stroking your hair.
"Come here," Harry said finally, his voice rough as he helped you to your feet.
He kissed you deeply, his hands framing your face as he poured all his gratitude and affection into the embrace.
"Thank you," he murmured against your lips. "I needed that."
"I know," you smiled, running your fingers through his now-disheveled hair. "That's why I'm here."
Harry pulled you flush against him, his arms wrapping around your waist. "I love you."
"I love you too," you replied, feeling the last of his tension melt away completely.
"Photoshoot?" Harry asked as you laid his suit out in front of him.
"For the wedding, now, put it on. I have cool positions planned out" you kissed him. You baby pink dress fluttering around you.
"No wedding dress?" he asked.
"Bad luck, Harry" you hum before leaving the room.
"I don't believe in that" he muttered.
Later
"Okay, so I got us-" you say as you graced two black boxes from your bag."
"Twin Glocks. Husband and Wife edition"
"Oh my fuck, (y/n)" Harry chuckled briefly.
"What?" you say with a grin.
"Twin Glocks?" harry repeated.
"Husband and wife edition" you winked. You held the unloaded gun down at your side.
Harry grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him.
"How's this for a photo?" he whispered before dipping you down and kissing you. "You gonna let play with you later?" Harry whispered in your ear as the photographer moved around you.
"I wish you'd play with me now" you said back.
"You holding that sends chills up my spine" Harry said, nipping your ear.
pairing: harry wells x reader
warnings: smut, morning sex
word count: 1.2k
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The sun was barely shining through the windows, the birds already making their noises in the tree outside your window. Probably a fox burrowed in the hole near the tree, they usually did this time of year.
You blinked a few times to see the cotton candy sky, just before sunrise. Your favorite time.
You felt the weight of Harry's protective arm holding you tightly to him, even in his sleep he refused to let you stray too far from him. You looked over to see him slightly stirring.
Deciding to stay in the warmth and safety, you pushed yourself further into Harry. You bumped up against something hard, earning a sharp but sleepy exhale from the scientist.
"You know, if you want it, you can have it," a raspy voice said from behind you.
"I was just trying to get comfy," you say bumping against his morning wood again.
"Whatever," he sighed and seemingly fell back asleep. But his hand did otherwise. It drifted down to the front of your thong, just barely ghosting your clothed clit.
His fingers traced slow circles over the fabric, making you shiver despite the warmth of the bed. You could feel his warm breath against your neck, soft and rhythmic with his sleepiness.
"Harry," you whispered, arching slightly into his touch.
"Mmm," was his only response, his fingers continuing their lazy exploration. "You feel so good."
Slowly, he pushed your thong aside, his fingers finally making direct contact with your sensitive flesh. You gasped softly as he found your clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles that had your toes curling.
"Like that?" he murmured against your shoulder, his voice thick with sleep and desire.
"God, yes," you breathed, pushing back against him. "Don't stop."
His other arm tightened around your waist, holding you steady as he continued his ministrations. One finger slipped inside you, then another, moving in a languid rhythm that matched the early morning stillness outside.
"You're so wet," he observed with a sleepy chuckle, his thumb now working your clit as his fingers pumped slowly in and out.
You could only moan in response, your body arching with each gentle thrust of his fingers. The sun was beginning to rise higher, casting a soft golden glow across the room.
"Ready for me?" he asked after a few more moments, his voice still raspy with sleep.
You nodded eagerly, shifting to give him better access. He positioned himself behind you, entering you slowly with a soft groan. The stretch was perfect, filling you completely as he began to move at a leisurely pace.
"God, you feel amazing," he breathed against your neck, his hips rocking gently against yours. His hand returned to your clit, rubbing in time with his slow thrusts.
The room was filled only with your soft sounds of pleasure and the gentle rustling of sheets. Harry's movements were unhurried, almost lazy in their pace, but each thrust sent waves of pleasure through your body.
"I could stay like this all day," he murmured, punctuating his words with a yawn that he tried to stifle against your shoulder.
You smiled, pushing back against him. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me now, Wells."
His response was a low chuckle as he picked up the pace just slightly, his fingers working more insistently at your clit. "Never," he promised, though his voice was thick with sleepiness.
Your body began to tighten, that familiar coil of pleasure winding deep in your belly. Harry's sleepy rhythm was maddeningly perfect, each slow drag of his cock against your walls sending sparks of electricity through your veins.
"Harry," you gasped, your voice breathy. "I'm close."
"Mmm, me too," he murmured against your neck, his fingers on your clit moving with slightly more purpose now. "Cum with me, (y/n)."
His thrusts became a little deeper, a little more deliberate, though still maintaining that unhurried pace that was driving you wild. You could feel him growing harder inside you, his breathing becoming more ragged against your ear.
"God, you're incredible," he breathed, his hips stuttering slightly. "So tight, so perfect."
With a final, particularly deep thrust, you felt him spill inside you with a soft groan. The sensation sent you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. His fingers never stopped their movements on your clit, prolonging your orgasm until you were trembling with oversensitivity.
For a moment, you both lay still, breathing heavily in the now brightly lit room. The sun had fully risen, casting warm golden light across your tangled limbs.
Harry shifted slightly, his softening cock still inside you as he tightened his arm around your waist. "Morning," he mumbled, pressing a sleepy kiss to your shoulder.
"Morning," you replied with a contented sigh, turning to face him slightly. "That was..."
"Perfect," he finished for you, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "But I'm not done with you yet."
Before you could respond, he was rolling you onto your stomach, his body covering yours as he settled between your legs. You could feel him growing hard again against your thigh.
"Harry," you protested half-heartedly. "Aren't you tired?"
"Never too tired for you," he chuckled, positioning himself at your entrance again. "Besides, I'm fully awake now."
He entered you slowly, this time with a different angle that had you gasping. His hands braced on either side of your head as he began to move, still maintaining that deliciously slow pace that was quickly becoming his signature.
"I love watching you like this," he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep but now laced with desire. "All spread out for me, taking me so well."
You pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with a growing urgency. "Harder," you demanded, your face buried in the pillow.
His response was a low chuckle as he obliged, his movements becoming more forceful though still maintaining that unhurried rhythm. The bed creaked softly with each thrust, the sound mixing with your increasingly loud moans.
"Like that?" he asked, his voice strained with pleasure.
"God, yes," you gasped, reaching back to grip his hip. "Don't stop."
His hand snaked beneath you, finding your clit again as he continued to thrust. The dual stimulation was almost overwhelming, your body arching with each movement.
"I'm close again," you warned, your voice trembling.
"Me too," he grunted, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Cum for me, baby. One more time."
With his words and the skilled movements of his fingers, you tumbled over the edge again, your body convulsing with pleasure. Harry followed moments later with a deep groan, collapsing against your back as he emptied himself inside you once more.
For a long moment, you both lay panting, the room now filled with bright morning light. Harry shifted slightly, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder blade, then rolling off and taking you with him. His cock still pulsing inside.
"Stay like this for a bit?" he murmured, his voice heavy with post-coital sleepiness.
"Mmm," you agreed, already feeling yourself drifting back toward sleep despite the late hour. "Just for a little while."
As your breathing evened out, you felt Harry's weight settle more heavily beside you, his body relaxing completely as sleep finally claimed him again. The last thing you remembered before drifting off was the gentle rhythm of his breathing against your back and the lingering warmth of his body pressed against yours.
