baby honey

If he were anything like Dean, he would've approached you already and figured out your deal.

Why did you smile politely when partygoers pushed past you?

He watched as a dude fully grabbed your hip. Your body jolted at his touch, and he could read your lips as the word sorry left them.

Sorry.

To the guy who'd touched you.

Your eyes lit up when a tall redheaded girl in an impossibly short black dress approached you. She stood in stark contrast to your mom jeans and light pink tube top.

Your friend, Garrett assumed.

She leaned down to whisper something into your ear. Your face fell for only a moment before you nodded.

He was almost sure your response was:

"Okay, that's fine."

He understood your disappointment moments later when Dean made his appearance, shirtless and drunk off his ass. He swept up your redheaded friend and started carrying her toward the back hallway.

Garrett had no excuse for not approaching you now.

If you were waiting for your friend to finish hooking up with Dean, you'd be waiting a long while.

Garrett took a swig from the one beer he was allowing himself on a night before a game.

Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea.

He recognized the guy immediately. Tall. Lanky. One of Beau's fraternity brothers. A senior on the swim team.

Mark.

Or Mateo.

Probably not Michael.

Whatever his name was, he wanted to fuck you.

Curious, Garrett decided to keep his distance. He watched from across the room as he approached the speaker blasting '80s rock music. He grabbed Logan's phone from the table and changed the song, all while keeping one eye on you.

It was almost offensive how forward the guy was being.

He had a hand on your shoulder, and he was standing so close that you were forced to tilt your head back to look at him.

"Yeah... we talked upstairs. Remember?"

You politely shook your head.

"I don't think it was me."

Your voice was sweet.

Garrett could tell that much.

Wanting to hear more of the conversation, he lowered the volume of the music.

"I know I'm so fucking drunk right now, but we ran into each other outside the bathroom. I remember. You're so hot I know I'd remember you. You don't want to kiss me again?"

He grabbed your hand.

"Uhm, no, thank you. B-but... I really don't... uhm—"

The guy started pulling.

And your feet followed.

Your eyes were panicked, but your body moved anyway.

Jesus Christ.

He wasn't getting the hint.

It didn't help that you still had that polite smile on your face.

Fuck.

Were you seriously so polite that you were going to let this idiot drag you away even though you'd clearly never met him before?

Absolutely fucking not.

Garrett's feet moved before his brain really registered what he was doing.

He shoved himself between you and Swim Team Whatever-His-Name-Was and forced your hands apart.

He wasn't trying to embarrass the guy.

He shoved his shoulder just hard enough to make him stumble.

"She said no."

"What the fuck?"

Bold and clearly running on liquid courage, the guy took a step toward Garrett.

The standoff lasted all of three seconds.

Then recognition dawned.

Because Garrett Graham was standing in front of him.

"Are you dumb?" Garrett asked. "Can't you tell she doesn't want to talk to you?"

The guy gritted his teeth.

"I was just..." He looked at you. Then back at Garrett. "She's all yours, man."

And just like that, he stumbled away in search of another vulnerable girl.

Your eyes looked just as panicked when Garrett turned back toward you.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cause a scene."

Garrett savored the chance to finally look at you up close.

Your makeup was soft. A light dusting of blush colored your cheeks. Your lips were glossy and glittered faintly under the kitchen lights.

Your hair was pulled back with a floral headband.

Worst of all, you smelled like lavender and vanilla.

Garrett stepped closer.

Shielding you from the crowd.

Blocking you in until your back met the kitchen counter.

He wasn't sure how subtle it was when he leaned closer just to breathe you in.

"I know it's your party..." you whispered.

Your voice trailed off.

You stared up at him as if he were a wolf and you were prey.

Honestly?

The comparison wasn't far off.

If Garrett had to compare you to an animal, it would be a baby deer.

Wide-eyed, nervous and completely unaware of how vulnerable you were.

"You're..."

"Garrett," he finished for you. "What's your name?"

"Y/N."

The answer came out almost too quickly.

Too trusting.

Y/N.

It bounced around inside his head while his imagination immediately started building a picture of who you were.

A picture he already suspected he'd be thinking about later tonight.

"You're not really sorry, right?" he asked. "Because that asshole was the one trying to trick you into hooking up with him."

"I don't think he was..."

Garrett stared.

You genuinely seemed to be considering it.

As if you'd only just realized the guy had been hitting on you.

"I think he was just confused."

All Garrett really knew about you was your name.

But he'd already decided you were perfect.

Seriously lacking in street smarts.

But perfect nonetheless.

His jaw ticked.

He regretted not putting the guy through the floor.

"I think he's lucky I'm a nice guy."

You completely missed the meaning behind that statement.

He could tell because you immediately replied:

"Your house is really nice too. Thank you for having me. I mean, you didn't really invite me. Dean invited my roommate, but—"

You stopped yourself.

Realizing you were rambling.

"I mean, it's a good party."

Garrett grinned.

"Thank you. Your roommate is the redhead?"

You nodded.

"She just disappeared with Dean."

"Is she your ride?"

Garrett planted a hand on either side of you.

Close enough to feel your breathing change.

Close enough to know he was overwhelming your senses.

"Yeah. I was just gonna wait for her to... you know. Get done."

"You might be waiting a while."

Your mouth parted.

Then closed.

Had that possibility genuinely not occurred to you?

"Well, that's okay." Your smile was small. "If it gets too late, I can call someone. There's this guy in my Instructional Tech class who said he'd give me a ride if I ever needed one."

Garrett's brows immediately knitted together.

"A random guy in your class?"

"He's not random. We have class together."

"Have you ever hung out with him outside of class?"

"Well, no. But he's nice. And I can't really afford an Uber all the way back to my apartment."

Another guy who wanted to fuck you.

And you had absolutely no idea.

Garrett was beginning to notice a pattern.

He was already starting to hate the idea of letting you leave this house and return to your own devices.

"Your friend kinda sucks for bringing you here and then abandoning you."

The words came out before he could stop them.

Instantly, he regretted it.

Your face fell.

"I-I wanted to come."

"You like parties?"

"I like parties."

You practically struggled to force the words out.

A terrible lie.

Your discomfort was written all over your face.

"And she's a good friend."

"Hmm."

Garrett pushed away from the counter, finally giving you room to breathe.

"There's a good chance they're going to fuck all night, Y/N. If you want to crash here, there's a spare bedroom. If not, I can drive you home. I've only had one beer."

"You don't have to do that, Garrett. It's so out of the way. I'll find a ride."

Say my name again.

Please.

"You're adorable, you know that?"

You smiled immediately.

Embarrassed.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Never," Garrett replied sincerely. "Let me drive you home."

Because an adorable little bunny like you wasn't getting into a car with some random loser from class.

"I..."

You pressed your lips together under the weight of his stare.

Had you ever told anyone no before?

"I should check in with my friend first—"

Garrett's hand found the small of your back.

"Sure."

He guided you toward the hallway.

"If my predictions are correct, they're probably in the laundry room."

Not a single word of protest left your mouth.

The irony of the situation dawned on him. He didn’t want someone else to take advantage of you, and yet he was practically doing the same, but Garrett was nothing like the guys who only wanted to fuck you. He actually had substance that backed up his bravado. Everyone at Briar knew that, and Garrett was watching as you came to the same revelation. Hockey captain. Six-foot-whatever. He was someone not to be fucked with. Maybe that’s why your body relaxed under his touch, and you let him lead you to the end of the downstairs hallway. 

Garrett would bet a million dollars that his best friend Dean was fucking your red-headed friend with the door wide open. He pushed you ahead of him, his other hand finding the other side of your hip, holding you as you peeked into the doorway. As if you’d seen a ghost, Garrett watches as your hands slap against your own eyes. 

Garrett couldn’t hold back the deep rumbling in his throat as he laughed. He took his own peek and found your red-headed friend bent over the running dryer as Dean pounded into her from behind. You turned around quickly, practically pressing your face into his chest, “Oh my goodness. Why did they leave the door open?”

“As you can see, your friend is occupied. Are you ready to go now, princess?” Garrett grabbed you by your chin, forcing your frightened eyes to look up at his. 

You nodded, long eyelashes batting up at him. He takes another mental picture for later. He imagined his cock down your throat, that same look of fear and wonder in your eyes. He clears his throat, pushing the lewd thought out of his mind, “Then let’s get you home.” 

Your apartment building might as well have been condemned.

It was a rude thought born from privilege, but Garrett couldn't suppress the uneasy feeling creeping up the back of his neck.

Of course you lived on the worst side of town.

During the twenty-minute drive, he'd learned how you'd ended up at Briar and, subsequently, at the hockey house.

You'd transferred in January and had been forced to find housing at the last minute.

That's how you'd met Paige, the redheaded puck bunny.

Apparently, she was renting out her couch and charging you half the rent.

“It pulls out.”

“What?”

“The couch.” You glanced over at him. “I'm not just sleeping on her couch. It pulls out and turns into a bed.”

Garrett shot you an incredulous look, taking his eyes off the road for a second.

“Where do you keep all your shit?”

“We turned the coat closet into my personal closet.” You smiled proudly. “It's actually more convenient than you'd think. And I don't have that much stuff anyway.”

You paused before adding softly,

“The important thing is that I'm here. You have no idea how long I've wanted to go to school here.”

Your eyes were bright and hopeful, standing in sharp contrast to the darkness outside the Jeep.

“And you're an education major?”

“Yeah.” You answered quickly, pleased that he'd remembered. “Elementary education.”

“That's cool.”

Garrett pulled into a parking space in front of your building and shifted the Jeep into park. The engine died and silence crept inside the vehicle. 

He tucked his keys into the pocket of his sweatpants before leaning across the center console and unclipping your seatbelt.

His face ended up a little closer to yours than necessary.

“I'll walk you up.”

“You don't have to, really.” You offered him a small smile. “This is already too much.”

Too much.

The phrase irritated him more than it should have.

Was basic kindness really that foreign to you?

“I'm a gentleman, princess. Of course I have to.”

You laughed softly.

“Paige talks all the time about how hockey players are the exact opposite of gentlemen.”

Your roommate is an idiot, princess.

“Then let me prove her wrong.”

The words came out low and certain.

Garrett realized, as he climbed out of the Jeep and rounded the front of the vehicle to open your door, that he'd never meant anything more.

“Oh, I get it now. This is the same girl from the party.”

Garrett watched as Dean dug into the huge pile of food on his plate. The dining hall was bustling at lunchtime, and the conversation his friends were having was almost loud enough to cloud his thoughts of you.

Almost.

Until Dean brought up Garrett's new favorite subject.

You.

“Maybe you can invite her friend over again tomorrow since Tuck has people coming over?”

“Who’s her friend?” Dean asked, and Garrett stared back at him, forcing his gaze to remain steady to prevent his eyes from rolling.

“The redhead? Kinda moans like a goat?”

Dean’s lips pulled into a mischievous smile.

“Ah, I see. Freaky Paige. She said her roommate was, like, a super religious virgin and then something else about her growing up in a cult. Which kinda tracks. She just stood there alone smiling at everyone the whole night.”

“What the fuck? Y/N did not. And Paige is full of shit.”

Dean chuckled.

“It doesn’t matter. Paige said that was the last time we were hooking up because she’s getting back with her boyfriend.”

Your roommate really sucks, Bunny.

“Here’s your opportunity, G,” Logan spoke up, abandoning whatever conversation he'd been having with Tucker. He jerked his head toward one of the double doors.

You walked through alone, your hair thrown up in a high ponytail and a pink backpack slung over your shoulder. Although you weren’t smiling, you looked happy, and Garrett could only assume you’d just gotten out of class.

You headed toward the salad bar.

Garrett stood immediately.

He patted Logan on the back in gratitude before making his way over to you.

Your eyes widened in surprise before quickly brightening with unmistakable joy.

You were happy to see him.

“Hey,” he said, even though there was so much more on his mind.

You almost forgot you were filling your tray.

“Hi. How are you?”

“Good.”

Amazing, actually. More like it, now that you’re here.

“What about you?”

“I’m really good. I love Mondays. No afternoon classes.”

“So you’re free the rest of the day?”

Your lips parted in surprise.

You glanced down nervously as you added more toppings to your salad. Garrett followed alongside you.

“Well, yeah. I was gonna do some homework and then... start a new book.”

Jesus.

He even found the idea of you reading alone in your apartment adorable.

“I, uh, wanted to get your number. Totally forgot to ask when I dropped you off the other night.”

“My number?”

“For chauffeuring reasons, of course. Don’t want you getting stranded and having to call Instructional Tech Guy.”

That made you giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

You reached the end of the salad bar and started toward the register.

Garrett grabbed the tray from your hands.

“Let me get this.”

“I-I have dining dollars, Garrett. You don’t have to—”

“Save ’em.”

He’d do any small thing he could to take care of you.

At least until he figured out how to have all of you.

Garrett could practically feel his friends’ stares as he carried your tray away and abandoned them completely.

They knew this was more than him trying to score.

Girls threw themselves at Garrett.

In all his years at Briar, he’d never had to chase one.

“Let me see your phone.”

Garrett was already reaching for it before it was halfway out of your pocket.

Your lock screen was a collage of pink aesthetic photos and an orange cat.

“You have a cat?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s Mouse. I’ve had him since middle school, but it didn’t feel right bringing him here. Taking him away from his home.”

“He’s cute,” Garrett commented as he held the phone in front of your face and unlocked it. “Hey, are you religious?”

You blinked up at him.

Up.

Because Garrett was sitting beside you and was still massive even while seated.

“No. Uhm, not really. Wh-why do you ask?”

Stupid, freaky Paige.

“I was, uh, just wondering where you’re from.”

Garrett quickly learned you were from a small town in upstate New York.

From what he gathered, your home life was far from cultish. Nothing toxic.

You just seemed sheltered.

An only child.

He took the opportunity to enter his number into your phone and send himself a text.

“I’m serious about calling me if you need a ride somewhere.”

“You make it seem like Briar is a scary place. Everyone I’ve met is very nice. Including you.”

“I’m flattered, princess. And I agree that most people are nice. But this place has freaks and weirdos, and I’d prefer it if you weren’t anywhere near them.”

He was entitled.

What did it matter what he wanted for you?

He didn’t own you.

He’d met you two nights ago.

And yet you didn’t argue.

Almost as if you already trusted him.

“I’m working to save up enough money for a car, so hopefully I won’t have to bother you or Paige.”

“Where do you work?”

The question came out a little too quickly.

Garrett reminded himself he might scare you off if he didn’t pace himself.

And you did look a little nervous.

But you were an open book.

“I always work game days at the campus bookstore, so I’ve never gone to a game. And then I nanny during the week.”

“Well, if you’re free tonight, let me take you out.”

“Take me out?”

“To dinner.”

“Oh.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and beautiful.

“Why?”

“Why dinner?”

“A dinner date?”

“Yeah.”

“As friends?”

“The opposite, actually.”

Your lips parted, then closed again.

Garrett watched as you intentionally took a deep breath.

In through your nose.

Out through your mouth.

“I’m really trying to keep up here, Garrett.”

Too much.

Too fast.

He was pretty sure that’s what you wanted to say.

You just didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Hey. Relax, okay?”

His tone softened immediately.

The deep quality of his voice remained, but there was something undeniably gentle underneath it.

“It’s not a big deal. Just dinner. If you want, you could come over to my place and we could order something. Watch a movie.”

Another deep breath.

“Uhm... and then what?”

And then he’d probably kiss you. And touch you as much as he could before you became a bundle of nerves. So you weren’t completely innocent. Part of you, deep down, knew what dinner and a movie often lead to. 

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I like you, Y/N.”

“I like you too. I mean, I think you’re nice and...”

“And...?” Garrett prompted.

“Handsome.”

You winced as soon as the word left your mouth.

Not because you didn’t mean it.

Because you were worried it was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m sorry. If I’m being honest, I haven’t really been on a date since high school. And I’m a little confused that, out of all the boys at Briar, you—”

Garrett immediately shook his head.

“Are you questioning my taste?”

“Of course not!” you whisper-shouted.

“You’re pretty. You’re sweet. And I haven’t met anyone like you.”

His gaze settled on yours.

“I’d like to keep seeing you. So, I’m gonna drop you off at your apartment. You can read your book and do your homework. Then I’ll come back tonight and pick you up for our date.”

“Are you sure?”

Garrett gave you a look that was just stern enough to make you squirm.

“Okay, okay. That sounds... good.”

You waited until his expression softened before taking another breath.

“Now finish your lunch, baby.”

You nodded quickly and picked up your fork, finally beginning to eat.

dividers by @/strangergraphics

pls reblog with your thoughts to be added to my off campus taglist :)

Sometimes Frank thinks he should put you on a leash.

Get one of those toddler backpack rigs with the little animal character on it and clip you in. Maybe that would preserve what remains of his peace.

Morifying for you, humiliating for him, definitely probably a terrible look in public, but at least you’d stay within a five-foot radius and he could stop living in this permanent state of low-grade vigilance you seem to provoke as casually as breathing. 

And he loves you. Deeply. Completely.

That’s the problem. Love, with you, is surveillance. It is anticipatory. It is watching for the exact point at which your glittering, social, I’m-fine performance starts to come apart at the seams while you insist it isn’t happening.

You just never seem to know when to stop. 

And tonight you are all over the pool patio with a mojito slicking one hand cold and damp, dribbling little sacrificial offerings of rum and mint over the stone, while the other hand keeps straying to the bikini strap at your hip. 

Restless. Fidgety. Smiling at everyone. Talking too loudly. 

A little drunk, a little sleepy, and, as ever, too stubborn to concede either.

The moment you glance his way, Frank tilts his chin and crooks two fingers in a come here.

A gesture that should not, by any reasonable standard, contain so much possession in it, and yet your expression changes all at once, brightening with buzzed delight as you cross toward him.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite person to be bossed around by,” you say when you reach him, voice dipped in honey. You stop beside his lounger, smiling down at him. It’s such a pretty smile. “Did you miss me terribly?”

“I usually do.” 

There’s no point in pretending otherwise.

That gets you. 

“Yeah?” You tip forward a little, closing the distance with shameless interest. “Can I get a kiss, then?”

Frank’s mouth twitches. “You can get whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He lifts a hand to your jaw and draws you down, sealing his mouth over yours in a kiss that has to be brief by sheer circumstance, though not so brief he misses the cool, fizzy ghost of lime on your lips. 

Sugary and faintly effervescent, the taste of it lingering for one extra second after he pulls back, temptation rendered in citrus. 

Frank has never been especially talented at self-control where you are concerned.

It’s why he’s not a fan of PDA. Public affection is never only that. It is a beginning. A permission slip.

One kiss and suddenly he is keenly aware of all the ones he is not having, all the ways he would rather be kissing you if the two of you were alone.

So he stops there, because he has to, and leaves your hand at your jaw instead, thumb brushing once over your cheek.

“What do you say we go find you something to eat?”

You make a face immediately, lower lip pushing out in a sulky little pout. “‘M not hungry.”

“That’s fascinating, because you look like you’re about two minutes from falling asleep standing up.”

“You make everything sound so dire.”

Frank snorts. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Then, in a flawless little proof-of-concept, you sway backward with all the structural integrity of a wilting palm tree. 

Frank moves before the thought fully forms, hands shooting out to catch the back of your thigh, fingers splaying over the soft curve just beneath your ass as he drags your forward. One quick tug and there you are, neatly slotted between his legs. 

Your hands land on his shoulders and you giggle, as if nearly toppling over into a concussion is somehow charming rather than precisely the kind of thing that keeps shaving years off his life.

He squeezes once, firm and corrective. 

“Okay, well, what do you say you keep me company for a while?”

He could tell you to sit down. You might even listen, eventually, but not without first delivering a brief theatrical monologue on authoritarianism and oppression and how cruel it is to stifle your sparkle.

So. Better not make it about obedience. Frank has learned this the hard way, or at least the repetitive way.

There are only so many reliable methods of keeping you where he can see you, and most of them depend on reframing the situation until it no longer sounds like containment.

You resent being managed. You respond beautifully to being needed. Especially by him. 

“Mm, okay,” you murmur at once, whatever resistance you had dissolving on contact. 

Before Frank can offer any further guidance, you’re already hauling yourself into his lap with spectacularly poor mechanics, all grabby hands and misfiring limbs, nudging him backward against the lounger.

And after a moment of awkward shifting and a fair amount of readjusting, you finally settle into him in a drowsy little heap, half draped across his lap and half tucked into his side. 

Frank extracts the mojito from your hand just before the remainder can go down the front of his shirt, though not before a bright cold splash hits his chest anyway.

He puts the glass aside and looks back at you.

Brushes your hair off your face. Once, twice, again, until there you are properly visible beneath it.

You blink up at him, visibly straining to keep your eyes open, lashes heavy with the effort. “You know what Parker told me earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“That you’re not supposed to compliment the moon here.”

Frank’s fingers drift through your hair again. “And why’s that?”

“Apparently,” you say, lowering your voice, “it’s bad luck. Like if you say it’s pretty, then something in your life gets ruined out of jealousy.”

Your finger wanders over his shirt, drawing something looping into the cotton, your nail a shiny petal-pink that matches the sparkle dusted over your eyes. 

He asks, “Should I be concerned you’ve already told it how pretty it is?” 

A tiny crease appears between your brows. 

“Maybe a little.” Your nail catches on his shift before drifting on again. “But it kind of makes sense, doesn’t it? Because Selene is the moon, and Helios is the sun, and they’re siblings, I think, so maybe he gets weird about it… because if everyone keeps talking about how beautiful the moon is, and nobody’s complimenting the sun, that could create resentment. Familial resentment. Which is, like, one of the oldest forces in mythology.”

Frank opens his mouth, halfway to saying that while the ancient Greeks certainly contained enough familial instability to support the theory, he strongly suspects Parker is still just screwing with you, and then he looks down. 

You are asleep. 

He huffs a laugh through his nose, quiet enough not to disturb you, and shifts his hand higher along your back, settling you more securely against him. 

This, too, is part of loving you, he thinks. The rare and fragile privilege of being where you land when the night catches up to you.

Around you, the patio goes on glowing. Voices blur. Glass clinks somewhere in the distance. Water shifts blue-black under the moonlight. 

He leans his head back against the lounger and lets himself look out at it for a second. It is a pretty moon.

If Selene is listening, she can be flattered. He’ll take the risk.

this fic was part of my 2 year celebration: maria's summer in santorini 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ to learn more, click here!

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Y/N never thought life after university would be like this. When she first pursued her bachelors in business degree, she had dreamt of a future where right after graduation, she’d be offered all these hot-shot jobs and she’d go on to become a big, powerful business woman. Some might think this dream of hers was far-fetched and unrealistic, but when you graduate from a highly prestigious university, first class with honours, well, it’s at least a little bit fair to have such expectations.

She worked her ass off when she was still in school— nailing every exam and assignment, doing summer internships and for a moment she thought about applying for a masters degree, but that was quickly shot down when Y/N checked in on her accruing student debt. She might pursue it some time down the road, but for now, her main goal was to get out of this shit-hole of a cafe where she worked and get her ass to a big firm, just like she was promised by all the career counsellors at university.

She was applying consistently to a million different firms, and at this point, she’d be happy if she could even be a receptionist at one of them. She had exhausted all of her connections made in university in hopes of anyone linking her to a decent job, but she turned up with no luck as of yet.

She had been working at Bluebird cafe all throughout her degree and she was working there even now, seven months post graduating. Disappointment welled deep in her guts every time she saw herself in that same old uniform and cap, greeting the same customers and making do with the same lousy cheque.

It was another dreadful morning at said cafe when Y/N was preparing a humongous order for at least twenty six people. She assumed it was for an office or corporation, judging by the jittery young man who placed the order at the counter. He read carefully off a piece of paper every single order and made Y/N recite it back to him to ensure the drinks were perfect. He ended up handing the paper to Y/N so she could once again make sure everything was according to the requests, and it was on the paper Y/N recognised the prestigious navy logo stamped on the top right.

Grapejuice Inc.

One of the biggest textile corporations in the world, run by the famous Styles’ family. Y/N could only dream of a job there. It was suddenly understandable why the young man was nervous before her. The drinks must probably be for a big, senior meeting or something. 

Y/N took her time perfecting them, writing the details of each order on the cups to make it easier for the man to allocate them. She slowly placed them in six separate paper cartons, stacking them on top of each other carefully. The man sighed graciously and took the bag from her hand ever so slowly before walking out of the cafe. She sighed, wiping her hands on her black apron. Behind her, Niall enthused out loud, “how much d’ya think they pay the poor boy to get ‘em their morning drinks?”

Y/N turned to face him, watching him rinse out the alternate milk blender, “probably thousands. It’s a huge company.” Niall hummed, “maybe. But usually such prissies have a hard time paying their employees well.”

Y/N was distracted by an order that pinged on their little UberEats tablet, and started prepping the two drinks and almond croissant. She hummed at his response. “Prissies or not, they’re one of the most influential corporations in the world.”

Niall nudged her shoulder and smirked, “don’t go around licking their asses already. They haven’t hired ya yet.”

”Ha. Let’s all make fun of my inability to find a proper job, now,” she mumbled sarcastically. She took her anger out on the oven door, slamming it shut after she put the croissant in there to warm up. Niall wiped his hands on a towel and rubbed them up and down her arms, comforting her, “hey c’mon, babe,” he said gently, noticing her frustrated frown. Seeing that man working for such an amazing corporation made her slightly jealous. It was a sour, unpleasant feeling which Y/N hated. Niall pulled her into his chest in the empty cafe, save for another employee, Mina, who wiped down the tables.

”They’re missing out on the biggest brain in the city,” he flicked her cap playfully, “the right job will come along, I know it. Don’t worry your pretty head over it.”

Y/N appreciated the comfort, leaning into him. She was grateful for his presence, and for his reassuring touch that grounded her. He pulled back and pinched her cheek playfully, “cheer up, buttercup. We’ve got lattes to make for abusive boomers!”

Y/N sighed. She only prayed that Niall's previous words had some truth to them. 

-

That night when she got home, Y/N followed her usual routine of feeding her cat Pebble and then turning the shower on, waiting for it to warm up. In the meantime she prepped for dinner and picked out her pyjamas. Once she was all showered and fed, she climbed into bed and pulled out her laptop to do her nightly job search. Numerous sites were searched, Linkedin was scowered and her CV was passed around like a blunt at a party.

She might have applied for a position at Grapejuice Inc, in her sleep-driven haze. It might have been an assistant position for one of their senior management… could have been the Secretary… or the CEO. She doesn’t remember, as she passed out in front of her computer screen, the light glowing and illuminating her peaceful features.

-

When Y/N was in high school many years ago, she met a boy named Landon. They were both in the same Art History class, and the teacher paired them up for a project where they had to analyse and present on a popular period piece. She ended up spending long hours with him during the week, and Y/N being the hormonal teenage girl she was, fell for Landon’s shaggy blonde hair and toothy grin. He was sweet and caring, taller than her and called Y/N ‘sweets’ and four months after they first met, he asked her to be his girlfriend and took her out on her first date.

Landon had taken most of her firsts. He was the only boyfriend she ever had and the only person she ever kissed, but that was it. They never did anything beyond that. The most they ever dabbled in was maybe a hand on her ass or slipping under her shirt to touch her tummy while they made out, but it was never anything more. Y/N blamed the distance for that.

After high school, both Y/N and Landon had big dreams for university. They both wanted to go to one of the big schools, but the problem was that the one Y/N wanted to go to was ten hours away from the one Landon got into. Education was something that was important to both of them, so compromising it for the sake of their relationship was out of the question. They decided to make do with the distance and promised to each other they would remain loyal despite the land that separated them.

It was hard at times, especially in university when all of Y/N’s friends were able to go out and bring whoever they wanted home, date different people and have new experiences while she sat feeling lame because she missed her boyfriend. They still made an effort to try and see each other— oftentimes during semester breaks Y/N would visit Landon and Landon would try to visit Y/N. It was those fleeting days that kept Y/N sane during the course of their relationship.

She spoke to him everyday still, texting him little updates of her day, and he’d text her his. They called every couple of days, though they were pretty short since they were out of words to say thanks to their texts. 

Y/N knew that Landon was currently working at his new job as a junior editor after he graduated with his English degree. She was happy for him, of course, but his new commitment meant she was hearing less and less from him. Although there were the daily ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ texts, these days she was seldom seeing those as well.

It was her day off today, a quiet Tuesday afternoon where Y/N decided to go to the farmers market a little ways from her apartment. She was sitting down at a small restaurant, a cold drink battling the summer heat resting in her hand, but her attention was somewhere else. Her lip was abused under her teeth as she typed up a message to Landon. She missed talking to him, and was penning all her frustrations and thoughts in a long paragraph when she was interrupted by her phone ringing.

The phone number was unfamiliar, making Y/N’s eyebrows furrow. She answered it cautiously. “Hello?”

”Good morning, am I speaking with Miss Y/N L/N?”

Confusion crept upon her. “Yes, this is her.”

”Hi, Miss L/N. This is Mitch Rowland calling from Grapejuice Inc, how are you today?”

Now that rendered Y/N speechless. Her heart dropped and her mouth fell open in surprise. The sound of a child shouting nearby shook her from her thoughts as she regained her consciousness and straightened up, “I’m well, how are you?”

”Pretty alright. Listen, we saw your application for senior assistant to the Chief Executive Officer and loved your CV. How are you placed for an interview sometime this week? Say, Thursday at nine?”

Y/N could not believe the words she was hearing through the phone. She wanted to scream and dance and hug this Mitch guy all at the same time. Her cheeks heated up and a big smile spread across her face, “yes! Thank you for calling me, of course, Thursday at nine is perfect.”

”Great! I’ll text you the address. You can come straight to the reception. Sheila will have your name and will let you through to the interview room. I look forward to meeting you.”

Y/N wished him a confident ‘me too’ and said goodbye, her heart still racing. She took a moment to bask in the reality of the situation. It felt so surreal— Y/N only ever dreamed of getting to work in such an amazing corporation, that too at such an amazing position. 

Suddenly, the sun wasn’t harsh like before and her drink was sweeter. The chatter of children nearby made her feel peaceful instead of irritated. She didn’t even find it in herself to care about Landon’s lack of communication as she excitedly dialled Niall’s phone and screamed the news into his unsuspecting ear. An unfamiliar sense of hope filled her heart. Maybe things would finally start to look up for Y/N.

-

The two days leading up to Thursday were the longest ever. Y/N was nervous and excited at the same time, jittery while she was at the cafe serving customers. Niall hyped Y/N up, mumbled a million ‘I told you so’s and tried to ease her nerves when she went on and on about what she should say at the interview.

She asked Mina to cover her Thursday morning shift and ran to the mall the night before to browse for a new blazer, wanting to dress professional but also cute. It was also a million degrees out, so she would probably only wear the blazer indoors for an hour or two, depending on how long the interview was.

She still hadn’t texted Landon about it. Maybe once the job was secured she would, but she didn’t want to get his hopes up just to shatter them if things somehow did not work out.

The morning of, Y/N was too nauseous to eat anything. She usually got that way when she was nervous or anticipating something, so her lack of appetite didn’t come as a shock. The top she wore clung to her body nicely, a light pink colour which matched the kitten heels she had on. The blazer and skirt were of the same dark grey colour, complementing each other nicely. She felt pretty with her hair done neatly and makeup light. Hopefully she made a good impression on Mitch and whoever she met.

Driving to the office was somewhat of a dream. Y/N never thought she would be in this position, especially with how things were looking the past few months. Constant disappointment almost rendered her hopeless, but she was proud of herself for sticking through it. Now, she prayed that she got the job and could finally stand on her own feet, with a job she rightfully earned. She felt giddy thinking about what it would be like if she got the job. She would hand in her notice to the cafe immediately. Then she’d call her mum and Landon. They would be so happy for her, she just knew it.

The place was gigantic— an intimidating building that loomed over her jittery body. Y/N stared up at it. It had to be at least forty storeys. She took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to walk in, a smile gracing her features. Following Mitch’s instructions, Y/N went straight up to the lavish reception and caught Sheila’s attention. Sheila, who was gorgeous; long brown hair cascading down her back, and adorned in a baby blue dress. She flashed Y/N a friendly smile. “Hi! How can I help?”

”Hi, my name’s Y/N. I’m here for an interview. Mitch called me,” Y/N said. a look of recognition came across Sheila’s face as she grinned, “of course. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Just follow me through here.” Grapejuice Inc was just as grand on the inside as it was on the outside— immaculate architecture and wide, open spaces. There were large windows on all walls allowing sunlight to filter into the space, brightening up the area. Y/N followed Sheila to the elevator, “it’s the twenty second floor, fourth door to your right,” she informed Y/N easily. 

Doing as she was told, Y/N soon found herself outside of a large room with double doors. The hallway she was standing in was mostly empty, littered with artwork on both sides. It felt like no one was even on the floor, silence flooding the area. As soon she thought about knocking on the doors, they swung open and she was met with a tall, brunette man. 

He had long hair which was tied back neatly, and he smiled warmly at Y/N, “you must be Y/N,” he said, “my name’s Mitch. We spoke on the phone a couple of days ago.”

Y/N grinned and held out her hand, “right. Nice to meet you in person.” His handshake was solid— professional and perfected as he guided her into the room. It was a large room with a long conference table in the middle. On one side a bunch of papers were scattered. That was probably where Mitch was sitting. He motioned for her to take a seat across from him. A jug of water rested on the table along with a paper and pen. Y/N bit her nails into her palm to ground herself.

“Sorry about the mess. I’ve been doing these interviews all morning,” he started sheepishly. Y/N waved him away, “that’s okay. Don’t have to apologise.” Mitch cleared his throat, “let’s get started then…”

-

The interview ran for about an hour and a half. Y/N felt like Mitch was eating away at her brain, throwing a million questions at her at such a fast rate. She tried her best to answer diligently, taking her time to really think through what he was saying to give the best possible response. Y/N knew such opportunities were hard to come by, and she wanted to make the best of it.

The job he was describing was mostly administration stuff; keeping track of the CEO, Mr. Styles’, meetings, planning his trips, scheduling, filing, invoicing, organising. All the things she had mastered at school and during her internships. Mitch wanted Y/N to meet Mr. Styles in person, but he was away for a business conference in Japan. 

“Well, all I can say right now is that I’m really glad I called you, Miss L/N,” he said, resting his hands on the table, “this has been great.”

Y/N felt her face heating and smiled gingerly, “thank you.” 

“I know we spoke about this plenty, but keep this job description,” Mitch slid a piece of paper her way across the table, “feel free to familiarise yourself with it. I’ll have a chat with the team and let you know about the outcome of this interview latest by Monday.” He got up and held the door open for her, “thanks for coming in.”

Y/N shook his hand again and bid him goodbye, giddy as she walked out of the interview room and into the elevator. The sheet of paper was clutched between her fingers and she let out a deep breath. Although the interview was tiring, she was feeling hopeful about the job. Mitch was great and helpful, answering all of her questions easily and explaining the role to her in depth. She waved goodbye to Sheila and made her way out of the building, and when she was finally in the confines of her car, she squealed to herself; everything was slowly falling into place, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

-

Friday at three PM Y/N was at the cafe, mindlessly wiping down the counter. A startled Niall walked in from the back, “Y/N your phone was ringing. T’was an unknown number but I think they left an email or something.”

Y/N turned around in confusion. She saw as Niall stared down at her illuminating screen and tried to take her phone from him, “what? Who is it?” He furrowed his eyebrows, “it’s from someone called Mitch Rowland. I think… I think you got the job.” Her eyes widened, “you’re joking. Show me.”

He passed her the phone, and there it was. An email from Mitch. She read it over and over and over. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she realised she wasn’t dreaming. Y/N was going to be working at Grapejuice Inc. They wanted her as soon as possible. 

Niall saw her dazed face and squeezed her tightly, his arms near suffocating her, “I told you! I knew you could do it, so fucking smart you are,” he kissed her hair, “I’m so happy for you, pet. They’re gonna love you.” She peeled back from his chest and looked at him with her tear-soaked face, “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” she laughed in disbelief, “this whole thing feels like a dream.”

-

If Harry didn’t know any better, he could probably be convinced that this was what heaven felt like.

The way he jabbed into the back of the pretty girl’s throat had him throwing his head back and moaning uncontrollably, and he felt like an angel was personally taking his hand and leading him to eden. His palm came down on the kitchen counter in front of him, the other hand weaving into her hair to pull her further on his cock, “oh, fuck me.” The girl beneath him, Sophie, gagged around him loudly and then popped off of him, strings of her saliva connecting her to him. She smirked up at him, twisting her hand over his length as she gave her mouth a break.

“Yeah? You like the way I suck your di—”

He didn’t bother to hear the end of her poorly executed attempt at dirty talk and groaned, shoving her back on his cock. The action took her by surprise, and a wet filthy sound came from her throat as she swallowed around him desperately. Harry whimpered a little, head falling back on his shoulders. He held her there for about twenty seconds, throbbing in her mouth and letting his hair tickle her nose. When he saw tears prickle in her eyes, he decided to let her off for a bit. He loosened his grip on her hair and opted to softly scratch his nails against her scalp as she returned to bobbing her head. 

It didn’t take much longer after that to make him come, a train of curses falling from his mouth as he held onto the counter tightly and whined, “fuck, fuck— Sophie, fu—” Hot, white ropes of his come spilled into her mouth which she took in willingly, eyes screwed shut and tongue out. He came for a while, and he came a lot; some of it dripping down the side of her mouth and on her chin. When he was finally done, his hand in her hair slipped to her jaw which he held tightly, prying her lips open.

Harry let a glob of his spit fall into her mouth, mixing in with his come on the well of her tongue. Sophie whined highly as he did, and moaned when Harry slapped her right cheek, soft enough that it didn’t seriously hurt her but hard enough that the zap went straight to her clit. He pushed her cheeks together and closed her mouth, “swallow.”

She did so obediently, before Harry backed up and let her stand to her full height. His eyes raked shamelessly over her figure, adorned in nothing but his office button up, legs bare and chin spit-slicked. Her blonde locks were a mess as she put her hands on his chest and giggled, “did you like that?”

Harry pulled her wrists off and thumbed at her cheek, “mhmm. I have to go to work,” he told her. Sophie pouted, “can’t you take one day off? You must be so tired after such a long flight…,” she ran her clean hand through his curls, “don’t go today? For me?”

He could have laughed in her face for that. If she thought she was anything more than an easy fuck for him, she was sorely mistaken. It didn’t matter that he had known her for over a year now— Harry didn’t date or commit. He hadn’t for a couple of years now. One night stands and fuck-buddies were more than enough to satiate his needs.

Sophie frowned when he stepped away from her and pulled his pyjama pants back up over his hips. He sighed, “I can’t stay, Sophie, I’ve a company to run.” She huffed and stomped her foot like a child, “but I missed you so much, H.” Her voice was nasally, suddenly annoying him to no end, especially when she tried to wrap her arms around him again. Harry dodged her and picked up his phone instead. “This was nice, Soph, but you have to go. I’ll call you a car and have Jared drop you off,” he patted her hip, “talk soon.”

He didn’t wait to hear her response and slipped upstairs to his large bedroom, shutting and locking the door in case she tried to follow him up. He really was tired and jet-lagged after the twelve hour flight. A couple of days off might do him some good, but as much as he hated to admit it, he was a workaholic who would choose a productive day at the office over a day off ninety percent of the time. He took a quick shower and got dressed, tugging on a crisp, dry-cleaned navy blue suit. His eyes flitted about his room as he sprayed on some cologne.

The sheets were awry and there were silk ties hanging off his headboard. Memories of the past night flooded his mind as he put on his cuff-links and gelled his hair. The way she felt around him, wet and soft, gushing on his cock. The way she tasted and writhed beneath him, coming over and over until Harry had to tie her down and force her to take what he gave her. Fucking her over and over again, bruise marks on her round ass, a warm mouth wrapped around his cock. It really was a lot of fun. 

After making sure he had his phone and wallet, Harry rushed down the stairs and was glad to see that Sophie had left. At least he was safe from another awkward goodbye where she would whine about her feelings for him and he would have to let her down gently. She kept saying Harry was leading her on, but he didn’t see how.

He told Sophie from the beginning that he only wanted sex and she was fine with it. The first time she alluded to any sort of feelings, Harry told her he wasn’t interested in that way. She was hurt and she cried a bit, (which was Harry’s worst nightmare because he really had no idea how to react in situations like that), but she still showed up the next time he called her. He just assumed she was over him. Harry was a huge perfectionist, and if he wanted a relationship, he would have to put a lot of time and effort into it for it to be the sort he was looking for; time that he unfortunately did not have, since he was so busy making sure Grapejuice Inc ran smoothly. 

As he left, he made sure to leave a note on his fridge for his cleaner letting her know that his sheets needed changing and the clothes on the floor needed to be dry cleaned. He put down what he wanted the chef to meal-prep for and called the elevator to go down to his car. He lived in the top floor penthouse apartment of a luxury accommodation in the middle of the city— a location which was convenient for him in more ways than one. It was close to where he worked, and he enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the city below him. The large windows in his place were his favourite since he could people-watch all he wanted (and he enjoyed the occasional fuck against it when it was dark enough).

He greeted Tomas, his driver, as he pulled the door open and let Harry into the car. They made small talk and Harry asked Tomas about his son who just started high school and his wife who was battling an illness. Tomas was Harry’s father’s driver as well, and he watched Harry grow up in front of him. He would drive Harry to daycare when he was a baby, soccer practice when he was a schoolboy, concerts when he was a teenager and now here he was, driving him to the same office he used to drive his father to. Harry felt oddly connected to Tomas, and couldn’t let him go no matter how much his age persisted.

They reached the building pretty quick and Harry thanked Tomas as he stepped out. Sheila smiled and greeted him as he walked in, and every cubicle he passed on his way to the elevator mumbled a ‘good morning, Sir.’

He made the familiar walk to his office, hand stuffed into his pocket and phone secure between his fingers. The lights were on, from what he could see from the outside, and the blurred glass made way for a figure standing right by his desk. Confusion lurked in Harry’s head as he wondered who could possibly be in his office without his permission. Without a second thought, he threw the door open and walked right in, “who are you?”

His voice was gruff and cold, a complete opposite to the sugary sight before him. Stood by his desk was a girl— a very pretty one, in fact. Big, round eyes looked at him, resembling a deer, and a plush mouth was left agape as she eyed him up and down. She was wearing a sweet ensemble; a pretty pastel blue dress that fell just past mid-thigh and had a tiny slit on it. Her hair was swept back over her neck, tamed and neat, perfect for an office atmosphere. 

He lingered his gaze on her as she straightened up from where she was bent over his desk and cleared her throat, “hi, Mr. Styles, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she extended a hand for him to shake, “I’m Y/N. Your new assistant.” The slight rise and fall of her chest gave her nerves away but her eye-contact never faltered. Her hand was warm and soft when he took it, and only then did the last-minute text from Mitch come back to him. 

By the way, you’ve got a new assistant starting this week. Be nice to her.

This was her. Of course. He gave her a firm handshake, “Harry.”

She smiled at him softly, a strand of her hair falling over her eye. Harry itched to tuck it behind her ear, maybe feel how soft her skin might be under her jaw, but he refrained. “I was just sorting out some of your files. I know you’ve been away so I—”

“What did you touch?”

He spoke sharply, eyebrows furrowed as he set his phone down on his desk and sat on his chair. “Just the documents in the filing drawers. I didn’t touch your desk, don’t worry.” Harry hummed. He watched as she stood in the middle of the room, twiddling her hands behind her back, “I… I colour coded and arranged them alphabetically. Cleaned up your schedule and added the reminders feature to your Teams as well,” she trailed off. She took his silence as her queue to continue. “I also re-recorded your voicemail for the phone and—”

“You can clean whatever you want, just don’t touch my desk. I take my coffee at nine, black, no milk and no sugar. Nine-fifteen, you’ll be in my office with my schedule. You will take orders from me and me only, and I should not have to buzz you twice if I need to see you. You’re off when I say you’re off, and don’t worry about lunch breaks, I tend to have them outside.”

He explained all this sternly, eyes sturdy and fixated on her. She let out a quiet breath and nodded, firm, “Noted. I’ll…” she glanced at the clock above his head. 8:47AM. “I’ll go and get your coffee, sir.”

With that, she smiled once again and scurried out of the room. Harry could tell she was a sweet little thing, just eager to please. Maybe it would be nice to have a pretty face in the office. His days might become less dull. He knew she was getting paid a lot for this job as his assistant, so he had a lot of expectations from her too. Hopefully she could bring a little warmth to his frigid reputation.

-

As the days passed with Y/N acting as Harry’s senior assistant, he had come to realise she executed the role much better than most of his previous assistants. The instructions he gave to her on the first day she seemed to have tattooed on her heart, and she stuck to them diligently. His coffee was at his desk everyday at nine sharp, she had a printed schedule she would read to him and then leave with him once she was done, she would organise some new cabinet of his or folder in his emails everyday and she was on top of his meetings and notes. Harry thought he might have to take Mitch out for a drink or something for managing to hire such an efficient assistant for him. 

On top of all that, she had a pretty face which Harry occasionally enjoyed to ogle at. Though he wasn’t one to mix business and pleasure, he figured a little eye-candy never hurt anyone. It was not like he would ever act upon it, no matter how badly he wanted to bend her over his desk and fuck the life out of her.

Today was one such day as she came in wearing a tiny little red dress and matching heels. It was like she walked right out of a hot office fantasy, pencil in her hair and glasses on her nose. She was wearing a blazer on top earlier, but she took it off soon after arriving at work.

When she was reading out his schedule and setting his coffee on his desk, Harry struggled to not stare shamelessly at her figure which filled out the dress just perfectly. A few minutes in, she dropped a pencil on the floor and Harry felt like a teenage boy seeing boobs for the first time as she bent to pick it up. 

Unsurprisingly, her pretty face didn’t go unnoticed by many. He realised that when they went into the monthly Senior Leadership Team meeting today, and most of the managers and team directors said hello to her tits first and then her face. It wasn’t even like the dress was provocative in any way— it was summer and a gazillion degrees out, Harry didn’t expect her to walk in wearing a wool jumper and sweats. Plus, the dress did cover most of her skin, it was just her legs that were bare, and that was only a little before her knees. Although Harry did think she was gorgeous (particularly today) he didn’t stare so blatantly and deliberately make her uncomfortable. 

Once they said their greetings to everyone, Y/N settled in next to Harry with her notebook and pen on the table before her. He could smell her since she was right beside him, warm vanilla and caramel, a sweet scent that could put him to sleep. She was really testing him today, and the worst part was that Harry didn’t think she knew she even had that effect on him and almost everyone she met.

 She asked him if he was okay when he didn’t move for a bit, to which Harry clenched his jaw and nodded tightly. Willing away his scandalous thoughts, Harry cleared his throat and pulled open the meeting notes Y/N prepared for him beforehand, “I hope you’re all having a good morning,” he looked around the room, “we’ve got a couple of important things to go over today, so make sure you’ve got your ears open. I need fresh ideas on the table…”

He listed off the BAU for the week and they went around the table to hear monthly updates from each of the department heads. Y/N penned every important detail vigorously with her lip between her teeth, but one particular discussion had her ears perking up. “I think it’s better if we stick to our suppliers in China and Bangladesh. It’s cost efficient and we’re meeting all of our KPIs,”  one of the team members spoke up. Harry watched as another retorted, “I understand that it’s cost efficient, but we have to draft our yearly financial report in two months where we have to talk about our suppliers and sustainability. Large shipments of textiles every year is anything but.”

Next to him, he could feel Y/N’s nervousness wafting off in waves as she sat up straight and cleared her throat. Her soft voice quietly followed, “I… I think we can try switching to internal suppliers instead of external,” she glanced around the room looking for reassurance and settled her eyes on Harry who nodded at her. Although it wasn’t in her exact line of work to advise on this matter, she was still a valued member of the team who brought new input to the company. She continued, “it would be good for our brand image and we won’t have to fabricate our annual report. It’ll be ethical and sustainable, and that’s what consumers are looking for nowadays. We can even market it a—”

“Who are you?” Jerry, one of the team heads, suddenly cut her off. His eyes dug daggers into hers as he raised his brows. Y/N stuttered, “Y/N…I—I’m Mr. Styles’ senior assistant. I just had a few ide—”

“Save it,” he raised his palm, dismissing her thought, “I was thin—”

Harry’s loud voice cut Jerry off, “I believe Miss L/N was saying something before you so rudely interrupted her, Jerry. I do not permit anyone but me to give orders to any of my personal staff. Next time, I suggest you learn how to respect your peers in a meeting before walking into an esteemed room such as this.”

Y/N’s chest rose and fell nervously as she watched the exchange with wide eyes. Jerry immediately dropped his shoulders and darted his eyes away from both Harry and Y/N, now looking down at his notebook, “apologies, Mr. Styles.”

“Don’t apologise to me. Apologise to her.”

Now it was Jerry’s turn to have wide eyes as he looked at Y/N, “but she’s a—”

“We don’t have a lot of time here.”

A few moments passed as Y/N twiddled with her hands and looked at Harry before looking back at Jerry who didn’t meet her eyes as he quietly mumbled, “sorry.” She smiled softly. “It’s okay.” Harry could feel the heat radiating off of her; her face had gone pink and she was squirmy under the attention of the whole meeting room. He decided to close the chapter, “good. Keep these etiquettes in mind next time you walk into another meeting. Y/N, draft your initiative and send it to Analytics. I want to see the pros and cons of switching to internal suppliers by next week. You’re all dismissed.”

-

The whole exchange at the meeting had Y/N’s heart beating like crazy as they left the conference room. “Are you okay?” Harry checked in on her as they walked to his office. “Yep.”

She didn’t want to bother Harry with her anxious thoughts and worry him more than he already was as a CEO of such a big company. Her heart was still racing, “I’m gonna go for a quick walk,” she told Harry before grabbing her phone and heading to the elevators. Hopefully a little fresh air would do her some good. As she stepped outside into the bustling city, she took a deep breath and began walking to the courtyard where there was a big water fountain. She liked sitting by it and hearing the pitter-patter of the water. Her phone pinged when she sat down. It was Landon. The notification made her heart drop just slightly. Ever since she told him about her new job, he had been very distant. There was an initial excitement, but then he asked her how much she was getting paid. That’s when things went downhill. Grapejuice Inc was a big firm, and she had an important position. Her bank account was going to fatten up a little, but his reaction just had her a little disappointed.

Plus he kept asking her all these questions about the people she worked with, and not in a cool, interesting way. It was very stalker-ish and accusatory. She didn’t like it one bit. With a sigh, she ignored the message and shut her eyes, feeling the breeze against her face and trying to forget what happened in the meeting today.

-

About a week later, Y/N finally began feeling more comfortable in her role. She was getting to know Harry’s needs better and better as the days passed, and she tried her best to exceed his expectations as much as she could. Ever since he stood up for her in the meeting, she felt like she owed him that at least. It had been a long week at the office, with Harry slipping in and out of meetings which Y/N had to join him for, so she was particularly happy today as the week ended and the weekend approached.

She set her stuff down on her desk when they walked out of the last meeting of the week, “I’m just gonna get a coffee really quick. Did you want anything?” Harry was distracted by his phone, his eyes never straying as he walked past her.

“I’m alright, thanks,” he replied. Once he was in the confines in his office, Y/N let out a deep breath. Her hands slid down her skirt as she made her way to the office kitchen on the third floor, walking in to see a handful of people heating up lunches and waiting for the coffee machine. She reached up to get a cup and was startled when she suddenly felt a presence behind her. 

A very unladylike yelp left her mouth as she turned to see the same guy she saw at Bluebird cafe a couple of weeks ago. “I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!” 

She held a hand to her chest and closed her eyes, a long breath escaping her lips, “you scared the living daylights out of me.” The man chuckled and backed up giving her space to lean back against the counter. “Sorry… though the sound you made was quite funny.” Y/N rolled her eyes and faked a dry laugh.

He grinned as he looked at her, before she saw his eyes narrowing, “wait, you’re the girl from the cafe a while ago. You made those twenty six drinks for the annual conference.” Y/N watched as realisation dawned upon him and he examined her like she was a bug under a microscope, “yeah. I remember you, mister so-nervous-I’m-shaking.”  She watched as his cheeks turned pink. He looked down, making his dark hair flop over his forehead, “yeah. It was a big meeting, but they all really liked the drinks, so thank you for that.” It was then Y/N noticed how tall he was, towering over her with his brown eyes peering down at her.

“No problem. It was kind of my job at the time so…” Y/N turned to use the coffee machine, leaving him still blushing and staring at his shoes. She followed the prompts on the machine until her desired coffee poured out of the snout. “You’re Mr. Styles’ new assistant aren’t you?” He asked from behind her. Y/N hummed and nodded. “What’s your name?”

He giggled again, “oh right. I totally forgot to introduce myself. I’m Logan, I’m an administration coordinator.” Logan held out a hand for her to shake which she took, smiling, “nice to meet you, Logan. I’m Y/N.”

“I heard about what happened in the meeting last week,” this had Y/N turning around fully to look at him, an eyebrow raised, “word travels surprisingly fast in an office like this.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what he expected her to say after making that statement. She kind of hated that the first thing he associated her job title to was the speck of drama that went down in the meeting. Her heart hurt a little— she wanted to be recognised for more than just some petty spectacle.

Next to Y/N, another girl stood by the second coffee machine. She must have been listening to their conversation because she spoke up first, “we all heard what happened. Not gonna lie, it was a little bit shocking to hear that Mr. Styles told Jerry off  for talking down to an assistant. He usually loves Jerry.”

Y/N’s lips parted, “he didn’t tell anyone off, he just… told him to somtimes let other people have the floor in meetings. It’s common manners.”

The girl smirked, “Mr. Styles doesn’t do that for just anyone. He’s very… cold.” Y/N furrowed her brows, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say to me.” The blonde only scoffed and flicked her hair over her shoulder, “oh, I think it’s very clear what I’m trying to say. One doesn’t just score a job like yours and become Mr. Styles’ favourite little pet,” she raked her eyes up and down Y/N’s body, “compensation has to be… paid, somehow.”

What she was implying had Y/N’s stomach churning. Not only did she feel utterly disgusted at such an accusation, but she was hurt beyond belief. The words were disrespectful and not true. Y/N did not work her ass off to get into Grapejuice Inc just for it to be reduced to nothing by some employee.

Just as she was going to retort back with something fiery, a deep voice beat her to it, “I hope this little party is about the new marketing strategy your team is implementing, Becca.” Y/N turned to see Harry standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. The blonde girl— Becca’s eyes widened, “Mr. Styles! Yes, I was just asking Logan ab—”

“I hate a fibber.”

Becca stammered over her words. “Sorry, Mr. Styles. I was just getting back to my desk.”

“Good,” Harry said, stopping her in her tracks, “I also hate petty gossip, especially in my office. If I hear another word of false accusations about anyone from anyone’s mouth, you’ll be hearing from HR.”

Y/N raised her brows at his comment and saw how Logan passed her a look of surprise as well. Becca mumbled a ‘sorry’ and left the kitchen soon after, scurrying past Harry. He didn’t even spare a glance her way as he looked at Y/N. “Get back to work.” 

“Yes, Mr. Styles.” She told Logan goodbye before leaving the kitchen. Her coffee was clutched tightly in her hands the whole way to her desk as she wondered what the fuck her day had been.

-

It was later on the same day as Y/N sat at her desk with her head in her hands. She had a long tiring day running around in meetings and scheduling appointments for next week. Plus, Becca’s earlier comments still weighed heavy in her mind. The words affected her more than she would like to admit. On top of all of that, Landon was still being cold over text. He gave her one-word answers after leaving her on delivered for ages. She was wracking her brain trying to figure out why he was acting this way— was it jealousy? Or did he just miss her? She hoped it was the latter.

Her head was pounding and she glanced at the clock to see it was six PM. Way past her home time. She just had so much to do. The pressure got to her head as she dug her fingers into her scalp, trying to relieve some pain. Things only got worse when she felt tears prickle her eyes and spill past her waterline. She just felt so stupid.

She felt pathetic crying at her workplace and letting her tears stain her to-do list which was littered with a bunch of little tasks. Taking a few breaths to contain herself, she didn’t even notice when Harry stepped out of his office for a breather. Her sniffling caught his attention. “Miss L/N? What are you still doing here?”

She quickly wiped her tears and straightened up, “I was just finishing a few things up,” she mumbled. She kept her head low but Harry saw right through her. The whole building was dark and quiet as everyone had gone home. The only light on her desk was from her lamp. Harry leaned against it and looked down at Y/N. “Y/N,” he called her by her first name, “what’s wrong? Are you… are you crying?”

A dry chuckle left her mouth. Her wet eyes met his and his shoulders deflated. This was his nightmare situation. He was the worst at comforting people. His hips shifted nervously. “A—are you alright?”

“Clearly no.” She shook her head and looked down into her lap, cheeks heating up. Harry didn’t want to overstep any boundaries but he also couldn’t just leave her sobbing at her desk. “Do… you wanna talk about it?”

She shot him an incredulous look. Even if she did want to talk about it, her boss was not the ideal person. Y/N tried to dismiss him without hurting his feelings. “I’m fine, really,” she sniffled and wiped one more tear. Although Harry was terrible with emotions, he wasn’t an idiot. Clearly something was bothering her to the extent that she had to cry at her desk. He sighed, deciding to ask one more time, “are you sure?”

If it was him in her shoes, he’d probably tell the other person to fuck off and mind their own business, just because he was terrible at being vulnerable. But this was Y/N— sweet Y/N who brightened up his mornings with her pretty smile. He might not know her too well, but he knew she had a good heart.

A long breath escaped her nose as she shut her eyes and held a hand on her forehead, “I just… it’s just been a lot recently.”

Harry’s eyes widen, “is it the workload? You can tell m—”

“No! No, it’s not that. Things have been shaky in my personal life and I… I can’t stop thinking about this morning with Becca a—”

“Did she say something again?” He cut her off, stern. Y/N’s head snapped up, “not after you warned her, no. But before you came she said some nasty things which obviously weren’t true and I can’t get them out of my head. It’s stupid.”

She sniffled and Harry frowned. He heard the conversation just as he was approaching the kitchen. Becca’s words were sharp enough to hurt someone, especially someone as educated and well-performing as Y/N. Harry knew what it was like when people tried to blame your success on things like sex and connections, having been from a big family. Older CEOs and managers often under-estimated him, assuming he was where he was because of his family. That just wasn’t true. He worked really hard to be where he was. It wasn’t like his father made it easy on him.

He took a step closer and hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. The touch was awkward but he wanted to offer her some form of comfort, “what she said was obviously not true,” he watched as she winced, realising he heard the conversation, “it shouldn’t matter what she says. Or what anyone says. You can’t get hung up on petty things like that if you want to go far in this line of work. People will always talk down and project their failures on you but you can’t let that get you. Unless you want to get walked all over.”

Y/N’s shoulder burned where he touched her, his palm almost electric. Physical touch was something she rarely got since Landon was so far away, and really, how clingy could she be with Niall before he got pissed? She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, “yeah,” sniffle, “yeah. You’re right.”

Harry watched as she closed her eyes and composed herself. He slowly took his hand off of her, noticing how she deflated with… disappointment?

A few moments passed and he heard her tummy grumble loudly. The sound brought a small barely-there smile to his lips as she blushed furiously, “sorry, I—”

“Why are you apologising? For having normal human functions? Have you not eaten yet?”

Y/N shook her head, twiddling with her hands. Not only was she embarrassed that she cried in front of her boss, but her stomach’s loud protests had her all red. She didn’t have time to get lunch today since she was so busy, running on coffees all day. Harry sighed, “c’mon. We’ll go get something to eat.”

Her eyes widened, “wh–what?”

Harry raised his brows, “let’s go.”

She couldn’t say anything after that as Harry left to grab his coat and phone from his office. Y/N watched as he shrugged it on, admiring his biceps bulging against the button up. The soft, dim lighting of the area wasn’t making things any easier. He cleared his throat, snapping her out of her thoughts, “I’ve called for Tomas, my driver.”

Nodding, Y/N grabbed her purse and phone. They took the lift together. There was an odd tension as they stood silently, stealing glances at each other occasionally. Y/N played with her fingers in the oddly long ride, filling the silence by humming quietly. Harry smiled to himself upon hearing her.

When they reached, he led her out and towards the car Tomas brought out front. Tomas smiled at both of them and Y/N shook his hand. His stare lingered on her puffy eyes but he didn’t say anything. “I hope you like Italian,” Harry murmured. He opened the door and let her sit first and then followed. There was a whole seat empty between them where Y/N settled her purse. She still couldn’t process what was happening as she nodded at his words.

“La Vita Vino, please, Tomas.”

“Yes, sir.”

A couple of beats of silence passed. Harry’s face was illuminated by his phone as he scrolled. In the meantime, Y/N’s lip faced the wrath of her anxiety. She decided to speak up, “you really don’t have to do this, Mr. Styles. I—I’m very grateful but I hate putting you through so much troubl—”

“It’s no trouble.”

He shut his phone and glanced at her. Just the look had her skin burning. Y/N blamed the nerves.

“Okay.”

A car honked.

“Thanks though,” Y/N said.

“You’re welcome.”

The rest of the drive was silent. Y/N saw how Tomas spared glances at the two of them, eyes lingering on the empty seat between them. She might have seen him smile, but that could be her imagination. She was feeling quite out of it, especially after that cry.

They soon arrived at a beautiful restaurant. It had soft, yellow lighting and an outdoor patio. It was oddly romantic for a CEO-personal assistant dinner, but Y/N bit her tongue. Just the fact that he bothered to take her out meant so much to her. She didn’t want to ruin the moment with anything. She said thanks to Tomas as he held the door open for her.

When they walked in, Y/N couldn’t help but look around in awe. It had a gorgeous interior with intimate seating. She watched as Harry walked up to the hostess and requested his ‘regular’ table. The hostess smiled, “of course, Mr. Styles.”

Y/N saw as Harry followed the waitress, looking back at her, “c’mon.”

She was snapped out of her daze, allowing the hostess to lead them to a small table around the back. Thankfully it wasn’t candle-lit. That would make the dinner look like something it most definitely was not. The hostess pulled out a seat for Y/N and then Harry. “Can I get you started with some wine, sir?”

Harry glanced at Y/N, “any preferences?’

“Oh, I don’t drink,” she bit her lip. His brows dipped just slightly but he didn’t say anything. “I’ll have a serving of Masseto, please.”

“Of course, sir. Perhaps water for the missus?”

Y/N’s eyes almost shot out of her skull when she heard the hostess. She stammered over her words, “Oh, we—I’m not—”

“Yes, please.”

The hostess smiled and left, promising to come back with their drinks. As she left, Y/N turned to Harry, still flustered, ‘“sorry! I don’t know why she said that.” He looked at her like she was crazy, “why are you apologising?” He repeated for the second time that night, “it’s not like you told her to say that.”

Her mouth shut at that. She relaxed into the seat, still unable to meet his eyes, “yeah… I guess you’re right.”

Harry hummed approvingly. He slid a menu towards her to have a look at. Wordlessly, she picked it up and scanned the items. They were all crazy expensive— almost a week's worth of her wages for one dish. Plus, she could barely even read some of these names. Nervously she glanced at Harry, “what do you usually get?”

“I like their Agnolotti del Plin,” he said, not looking up from the menu. She put hers down and sighed. His eyebrows furrowed as he met her eyes, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’ll get what you’re having. The agnal thing.”

“Agnolotti del Plin?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

The waitress came back to their table and asked them if they were ready to order. Y/N let Harry do the talking, afraid to mispronounce anything. She watched in awe as the Italian rolled off his tongue so easily. The waitress nodded and told them she’d be back with their dishes soon. When Harry turned back to her, his brows were still furrowed.

“Have you… ever had Agnolotti del Plin?”

“... yes,” she lied.

“Oh. Right.”

It was silent again. Their dynamic was so odd that Y/N didn’t know how to make conversation with him. What would they even talk about?

“Do you feel better?” He referred to her earlier breakdown. A breath escaped her mouth, “yes. Thank you Mr. Styles.”

“I don’t want to pry, but if there’s anything you want to talk about…” Harry said. Getting the sentence out was a feat. He was smart enough to know that talking about your feelings helped you feel better but he didn’t know what he would do once she started talking. Should he be touching her shoulder again? Rubbing her arm for comfort?

“I don’t want to bother you with my problems.”

“It’s no bother, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked. But I understand if you don’t want to talk.”

“Thanks,” she said for the millionth time that night. She wasn’t quite ready to spill her guts in front of her boss yet, no matter how vulnerable the crying made her seem. They remained quiet until the food was placed before them.

The dish was amazing— ravioli packed with smoked pigeon and covered in truffle sauce. It was when she smelled it that she realised how truly hungry she was. Once it was presented to her, she had her head down, engrossed in the food. Harry could understand completely. He himself was starving when he walked out of his office earlier. The only reason he really left was to go see if there was anything in the office fridge he could snack on.

About midway through their meal, her phone pinged. She ignored it when it went off once. But then it pinged again and again and again. Ignoring it for the sake of having good manners, Y/N turned it over and tried to continue with the meal, except it began pinging even more. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, putting her fork down and picking up her phone. It was Landon.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared down at the texts. He demanded to know where she was since she hadn’t texted him in a couple of hours. She couldn’t believe the audacity of the man; he didn’t respond to any of her texts all day and still expected her to continue texting him even after he made it clear he didn’t want to speak to her. Her irritated expression didn’t go unnoticed by Harry.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah… yeah, it’s just my boyfriend.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You have a boyfriend?” He blurted out.

Y/N met his rounded eyes. “Yes. We’re long distance.”

“Oh.”

“He’s been weird ever since I started working at Grapejuice Inc,” Y/N continued. “I don’t know. It’s just stressing me out, I guess.”

Harry hummed. It wasn’t his place to say, but he knew that if a relationship was stressing someone out, then it probably wasn’t healthy. He bit his tongue when he saw her furrowed brows. She huffed and put her phone on silent, not bothering to respond as she went back to her food. 

They finished eating soon after. Y/N insisted on splitting the bill but Harry looked at her like she had grown a second head, snatching the bill from her hands. He slid his platinum card inside and gave it to the waitress who found their exchange amusing. After she brought them the receipt, Harry called Tomas to come up front. “Where do you live?” He looked at her expectantly and held the door open for her. 

“Oh, just down nine and fifth avenue. It’s the house with the purple mailbox.”

Tomas nodded at her words and began driving. This time, Y/N had her purse in her lap. Her hand  was resting on the middle seat. Harry was looking out of the window as they sat in silence. She admired him for a little while, appreciating the cut of his jaw and his plump lips. It was almost aggravating how pretty he was. His hand, ringed and tattooed with a cross by his thumb, rested on the middle seat as well.

His eyes never wavered from where they looked outside at the passing lights. Y/N shut her eyes and rested her head back against the seat. It had been an insane day and she couldn’t wait to go home and get under her covers. She must have relaxed a little too much, though, because a few moments later she felt her pinky collide with his. Surprisingly, neither of them jumped at the feeling. His hand was warm and her heart was racing.

They grazed each other again. For a second, Y/N felt his pinky rest completely on top of hers, though he didn’t stop gazing out the window. They both jumped as Tomas suddenly sneezed, pulling their hands away. Harry cleared his throat and Y/N told Tomas ‘bless you.’ The whole interaction had her breathing erratic and lip worried.

She finally recognised her street when they turned around the familiar corner. A grateful smile graced her features. She thanked Tomas first and then turned to Harry. She was immensely thankful for his comfort and for providing her with a full belly by treating her to such a luxurious meal. “Thank you, Mr. Styles. I had a great time and I feel so much better.”

He met her smile with a small one. “It was my pleasure. Have a good night, Miss L/N.”

“Night.”

-

Y/N relayed the night's details to Niall the next morning over coffee. He gasped dramatically and went on and on about how this was Y/N’s ‘romcom’ moment and that she was the main character who had a hot CEO boss obsessed with her. Y/N only laughed at how ridiculous he was, smacking his head when he wouldn't shut up and began narrating detailed, graphic, office fantasies that he most probably saw in some cheap porno.

“It doesn’t matter, Ni. I have a boyfriend,” was what she told him, trying to brush him off. “A boyfriend who lives a million miles away and doesn’t care if you live or die.” Those words did make her frown a little bit. Maybe Landon was a little bit weird and possessive, but surely he would care if Y/N dropped dead out of nowhere. She tried to give no weight to Niall’s words. She had enough on her plate to worry about.

When she finally decided to confront Landon, he demanded she tell him where she was last night. Y/N lied and said she was having dinner with Niall, but Landon didn’t even like that response. Any friend of Y/N that was a male was automatically disliked by Landon. It was a stupid habit of his, but then Y/N put herself in his shoes and thought about how she would feel if he began hanging out with a bunch of girls. It would leave a sour taste in her mouth but would she really react like he did? So dramatic and accusatory?

She tried her best to ignore the pestering thoughts as she walked into work the following Monday. She wondered if the air between her and Harry would be any different now that he had seen her in such a vulnerable state. But then again, he was known for his cold exterior, so maybe not. She took a deep breath as she walked in with his coffee in hand at exactly nine AM. He was busy on the phone and typing something on his computer at the same time, sparing her a glance and a small nod.

Whispering a small ‘good morning’, Y/N set the coffee down on his table. It was then she realised how dark and stuffy it was in his office. He probably forgot to open up the windows again on Friday before leaving. Deciding to open them up to encourage some air circulation, she walked behind Harry’s desk. The blinds were behind his chair and Y/N tried to squeeze herself between the small gap to open them up. Harry was too preoccupied on the phone to notice her.

The space was quite narrow so she had to really get in there to get the blinds open, stretching slightly and getting on her tippy-toes. Behind her, she heard Harry put the phone down. Suddenly, she felt as she lost her footing, a yelp escaping her mouth as she prepared to collapse face-first on the floor.

Except she didn’t collapse.

A firm, warm pair of hands settled on her waist, preventing her from face-planting into the floor. She was standing in between Harry’s legs, leaning over him so his breath washed over her face. Her hands were planted on his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there and he held her waist tightly. Her breath was stolen from her lungs.

“You okay?”

For some reason, she struggled to tear her gaze away from his mouth as he spoke, mesmerised by the way his lips moved. She almost relaxed into his hold. “Y–yeah. Thanks.” Now it was Harry’s turn to stare at her mouth. He met her eyes, then her lips, then her eyes, then her lips. They were painted pink and parted, practically begging Harry to kiss them. It was like he couldn’t help it as he leaned in closer— like her lips personally called to him to be tasted.

His thumbs dug into her ribs. She made a small sound which sounded awfully close to a whimper. That was ultimately what pushed him over the edge as he threw all resolve out of the door and caved in to the taste of her mouth. He had been thinking about what she might taste like for the longest time now, the night at the restaurant not making things any easier as her mouth plumped up in constant pouts.

Now, though, Harry was in heaven. She was sweet, like mango juice as he kissed her more firmly, letting her relax in his hold. His grip on her waist was all that was holding her up now as she suckled on his bottom lip and grabbed his shoulders harder.

This was so, so wrong. It was so inappropriate for him to be making out with his assistant in his office, lost in the taste of her and the sight of her in that little floral sundress. He groaned against her when she slid her tongue into his mouth. Her movements were bolder than he expected as she bit his lip softly.

The shrill sound of his phone ringing was what made them part, a filthy sound resounding when they pulled away, and strings of spit connected their mouth. He looked into her eyes as she wiped his mouth with her thumb and finally stood up. She looked flustered and fucked out— cheeks flushed and lips spit-slicked. Her dress had ridden up but she quickly pulled it down. Harry tried desperately to will his hard-on away, eyes never leaving hers despite the sound of his phone ringing in the office.

She was a little out of breath, “you… you should probably get that.”

He nodded, snapped out of his daze. “Yes. Yep. I’ll, uh… I’ll get that.”

“Cool.” Cool?

Turning on her heel, she left his office. When the door shut behind her, Y/N slid a hand through her hair and bit her thumb. She just made out with her hot CEO boss. In his office.

Although the kiss was amazing and her heart was racing, she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. She had a whole boyfriend who trusted her to remain loyal and this was what she decided to do? Her heart sank a little in her chest, but she realised it didn’t outweigh the giddiness in her body and wetness between her thighs, all because of a little kiss. She groaned.

Y/N was fucked.

-

It was nearing lunch-time and Harry was still hung up on that fucking kiss. He felt so stupid for letting himself slip like that. How could he have made such a big mistake? Getting hot with your employees was one of the biggest no-nos of being in-charge of running a whole company. 

But he just couldn’t deny how good it felt.

How nice she tasted, how she felt under his hands. The sounds she made and her confidence as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. She was exactly how he thought she would be— addicting. He couldn’t stop thinking about her; not as he went about his day to numerous meetings, attended a morning tea and interviewed an important client.

His every thought started and ended with her ever since she cursed him with that fucking mouth. Soft, warm, wet… he could only imagine how she felt in other places. Running a hand down his face, Harry sighed heavily. This wasn’t healthy. He had to either stop thinking about her or figure out a way to deal with this situation head on. Somehow the latter seemed easier.

He thought back to a couple nights ago when she was stressed and crying right in front of him. He knew the poor girl had a lot going on in her life, and with her boyfriend being long distance, he assumed she didn’t have a lot of means to release some of her frustrations. Plus, from what she told him, her boyfriend sounded like an absolute shit-bag so Harry automatically assumed he wouldn’t be able to give Y/N the satisfaction she needed anyway.

Pacing in his office, a crazy idea popped into Harry’s head.

Since just buying her dinner made her so happy and stress-free, Harry wondered what else he could do for her to make her feel good again. He wasn’t just thinking about pleasuring her anymore. He wanted to spoil her. He wanted to make her feel special. Not only would it help with her frustrations, but it would be a good outlet for him as well. It was not like he had plans to marry and start a family soon and he had heaps of money just sitting in his bank accounts. Money that had no use apart from paying for his bills and groceries.

Money he was willing to spend and that would probably be appreciated more elsewhere.

He wanted to propose an arrangement to Y/N, like the business-man he was. He’ll spoil her to the ends of the world, till her heart’s content— till he pleases. In return he would request her time and affections. In the way he craves, like a starved man. It was crazy to think that just the touch of her lips was driving him to take such steps— he felt like a spell had been cast on him. He had to see her. He had to tell her.

Finally deciding to grow a pair, Harry threw his door open and strutted out of his office, hair messy thanks to his fingers and eyes wide. However, his stomach sank when he turned to see if Y/N was at her desk.

The good part was that she was there like he hoped, looking all pretty in her sundress and hair left down. The bad part was that there was a blonde man standing before her, handing her a bouquet of flowers and pulling her in for a kiss.

The same lips he kissed mere hours ago.

The same waist he caressed was being hugged tightly as the boy lifted her off her feet and she smiled into his mouth, blinded to the shattering of Harry’s heart as he stood there by the door, disappointment overcoming his hard features.

-

Kissing Landon was very different to kissing Harry.

Whereas Harry met Y/N gently, like she was made of glass, puckered his lips tenderly and pressed sweet little pecks against her pouty mouth, Landon was quite… harsh. His arm slithered around her waist the same time he kissed her; rough, oddly possessive and a little painful, if she was being honest. He smashed his mouth into her teeth too hard, and paired with the grip he had on her waist, Y/N almost felt like she was being punished for some horrific crime.

And well, now that she pondered over it, maybe she deserved a distasteful kiss. She wasn’t really the ideal girlfriend these past couple of days which she spent daydreaming about her hot CEO boss, wondering what his soft words and lingering touches meant. Then when he kissed her mere hours before Landon surprised her, for those couple of minutes, the fact that Y/N even had a boyfriend slipped her mind completely. All she could think about was the strong, caring man in front of her, kissing her with so much passion and his hands on her sides, which pressed into the warm skin, bunching up her dress, and maybe if the phone didn’t ring and they didn’t have to stop, he would have pulled her onto his lap and slipped his fingers beneath her dress—

She was truly a terrible person.

She was a horrible, nasty, disgusting person for cheating on her poor unsuspecting boyfriend and kissing another man behind his back. The moment she stepped outside of his office, breathless with swollen lips, guilt swarmed her belly and made her insides turn black. Like she was rotten. And she felt rotten, but that wasn’t the worst part. Something else dug into her whirlwind of a brain, rattled her bones and made her breath tremble. 

Despite the guilt that ate away at her heart, Y/N couldn’t deny that she liked it.

She liked the way he latched onto her bottom lip, and she liked the way he held her like she was going to slip away if he loosened for even a second. She liked the sounds he made and she liked the look in his eyes when she pulled away— hazy, like he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her spit-slicked lips. And perhaps she liked all of these things a little too much… perhaps they outweighed the guilt in her tummy.

God, she was just an awful human. She spent the next three hours following the kiss internally fighting herself over this dilemma, going back and forth feeling guilty and then feeling horny. Her panties were uncomfortably soaked and she had to make an embarrassing trip to the mall by the office just to grab a new pair of underwear— over a fucking kiss.

A kiss. That was literally it. They didn’t do anything further, he didn’t slide his hands between her legs, didn’t kiss down her neck— just showered her in honeyed purses of his lips and she was such a fucking mess. In her defence, she hadn’t been touched in any way in a long, long time. With Landon living ages away, Y/N often had to go months upon months without any physical affection. Even when they did get to spend time together, he didn’t let their kisses get too frisky. Didn’t let it progress to anything further, no matter how much she wanted.

She asked him about it too, but he would always go on some long spiel about how he was saving it for marriage and how amazing their first night together would be once they were husband and wife and they could finally have sex. Outwardly, she’d agree. Landon was always sort of sentimental— someone who was sensitive and wanted everything to have some deep meaning they could uncover together.

But Y/N was only just a girl. She had needs. Needs which her boyfriend was not meeting and needs for which her vibrator was just not enough anymore! That was why she was so ready to take things further with Harry. She wouldn’t have minded if he yanked her on his lap and grinded her against his bulge. She wouldn’t have minded if he touched her ass and pushed her dress up, tucked his fingers into her panties an—

This was becoming a problem. Her fucking boyfriend was standing right in front of her yet all she could think about was what Harry’s palms would feel like on her thighs. 

Her fucking boyfriend was standing right in front of her and— wait. Why was he standing right in front of her?

Her jaw dropped when he stepped out of the elevators and came into her view; tall, beaming, blonde hair pushed back and a bouquet of roses in his hands. Her jaw stayed dropped when he sauntered towards her, one arm stretched wide like he was presenting himself, “surprise!”

And then:

“Oh my god! Landon!”

She stopped lagging and forced herself to a stand, watching as he jogged towards her and engulfed her into his chest. Landon felt familiar. He was warm, sturdy, built with strong muscles and broad shoulders which she wrapped her arms around. Citrus and musk invaded her senses; a scent which usually brought her comfort. Usually reminded her of home and date nights, cuddles and walks in the park.

Now it made her sick. Nauseous. Her stomach had been churning ever since she left Harry’s office that morning and his harsh cologne was not helping. Her nose was squished into his neck and his arms were wrapped around her like cling-film, nearly smothering her. She felt like she was suffocating, and she would have, had she not put her hands on his chest and gently shoved him off of her. Then came the initial shock, “wh–what are you doing here? How did y—”

“I wanted to surprise you, sweets. I missed you and I barely heard from you. Are you not happy to see me?” 

Now, how could Y/N ever tell him she was anything but?

Tonight is no different. If Jack took a shot every time you rolled your eyes, scowled, or talked back to him, his name would be up on the patient board.

He should find it infuriating. Part of him— the most basic, primitive part— does. You give him the urge to snap his teeth and growl, make you show him some respect.

The rest of Jack finds you… interesting. Exciting. Jack loves a challenge, and you pose a very fun one. He’s determined to figure you out.

Jack tracks you down after shift change. He finds you in the empty room of the last patient you discharged. You’re hunched over your rolling computer cart, finishing up some charting.

When he walks in you look startled, then cornered, then extremely irritated.

“You know, I came in here for some peace and quiet.”

“Do you have some kind of problem with me?” Jack asks, choosing to ignore your snide greeting. You eye him for a moment, like you’re deciding whether you want to tell the truth or not. He raises a brow and waits.

“You clearly don’t trust me with the patients.” You eventually say, stony. Not true. “You’re always— hovering. Like you’re waiting for me to slip up. But I’m not gonna slip up”

Anxiety and vulnerability roll off you in waves, souring your scent. When Jack smells it he desperately aches to soften. To gather you in his arms and rumble out assurances. I know you won’t, little omega. You do such a good job. You’re so good. It takes everything in him to stifle the urge.

“I’m your attending,” he says calmly, careful to keep his voice even. “It’s kinda my job to keep an eye on you. Y’know, to attend.”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re not my attending.” You grind out the words, and maybe Jack’s reading into it, but you sound… bitter? Jealous? “You and Shen are the attendings. Supervising me isn’t your personal little pet project.”

“You want it to be?”

You look taken aback. Just for a second. Jack can’t help but revel in it– you’re not easy to shake.

“I just want you to fuck off and stop breathing down my neck so I can actually do my job!”

Jack doesn’t respond for a moment. He barely manages to stifle his surprise at the fact that an omega just, essentially, cursed him out and spat in his face. He stares down his nose at you, intentionally allowing the silence to feel thick. Studying you.

He sees you catch on. You straighten up, even puff out your chest a bit, trying to look strong and sure and unbothered.

It’s a good attempt, he’ll give you that. You’d have plenty of alphas fooled.

But Jack catches the way your head tilts back for just an instant like you’re about to bare your throat. Sees the flash of doubt in your eyes, like your instincts are begging you to just give this up already, roll over, and show him your belly. Oh. That’s new. He feels his cock swell.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck off?” He lets his voice drop an octave. You make a choked, barely-there sound that he’d like to call a whimper. Your scent shifts sweeter.

Jack steps towards you, big and slow and imposing, and is surprised again when you don’t back up. Ballsy little thing.

“You know what I think?” His voice is smooth, low, almost a purr. Dripping with alpha condescension.

Jack sees your throat bob as you swallow. You just glare up at him without a word, and he knows it's because you don’t trust your voice not to waver. He smirks.

“I’ll tell you, sweetheart.” He watches you shiver. He’s so close now that he’s almost touching you. “I think you know that I’m good at what I do. I think you respect me. Maybe even like me a little. And all this attitude you give me…” he raises a brow and leans down, letting his breath fan over your face, “Is you trying to overcompensate for the fact that what you really want is to be bent over and put in your place.”

It’s bold, Jack realizes. Might be too much. Could make you turn tail, but he doubts it. You’re braver than that.

He watches you stiffen. There’s a flash of blatant hunger in your eyes— bingo— but it’s quickly snuffed out by stubborn defiance.

“I’m not just some needy ommie who’ll give it up to any alpha with a pulse.” Your voice only wavers a little.

“Oh, I know.” Jack nods. He feels, looks, and smells painfully smug. His voice is like velvet. “But you’ll give it up to me, won’t you?”

That breaks you. You practically collapse in on yourself, all small, and breathe out an involuntary “alpha.”

“There it is.” Jack coos. The praise makes you preen, and you extend your neck, baring your throat for Jack to brush his lips against. You smell fucking delicious. “Sweet little omega. You don’t have to fight it.”

“You’re such a douchebag.” You bite out. Sure, it’s weak and shaky, but it impresses Jack regardless. He has his nose pressed against your gland and you’re still talking back.

“Ooh, you don’t quit.” He rumbles. He pulls back slightly, his big hand coming up to cup the side of your neck. His eyes rake shamelessly down your body, not even trying to hide his desire. He’s sure you can smell it on him anyway. “What’s it gonna take, baby? Do you need my cock inside you to finally start behaving yourself?”

“You tell me, Abbot.” You sneer. “What’s it gonna take, in your professional opinion?”

Jack smiles, challenging and predatory in a way that would make most omegas wither. But not you. Your lip curls up, showing off cute little canines. He can’t help but groan and grind down against your abdomen.

“Fuck, baby.” Jack growls. “So cute when you act all tough.” He grips around your hip with a big hand and backs you up against the hospital bed while the other works hastily at the waistband of your scrubs. Once he has them loosened, he shoves his hand right down the front of your panties.

The second he gets his fingers inside you, you melt. Slick practically pours onto his hand. The strong, heady scent of it is overwhelming. It makes his nostrils flare.

If the way you’re squirming around on the bed and whining incoherently tells him anything, it’s that he’s not gonna need to get his cock involved to make you behave. The realization hits him like a truck, right through to his ego.

“There you go, little omega. You like that?” He taunts.

You nod, finally eager and obedient. It’s like a victory after all the fight you’ve given him. Jack didn’t know that submission from an omega could feel quite this good. It usually comes too easy.

“Yeah. Good girl. I’ve got you, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

“D-Dr. Abbot— alpha— please.”

You sound fucking broken and Jack can’t stand it. His instincts whir— make her happy, make her feel good, fill her up.

“I’ve got you.” He repeats in the low, steady voice he reserves for omegas in distress. He pulls his fingers out of you, and it’s only so he can free his cock from his scrubs, but you whine anyway.

“Fuck— hurry up.”

“Shh. Easy.” Jack murmurs. His free hand reaches up, intending to stroke soothingly across your cheek— but he has to yank it away when you turn your head and nip at his fingers like a kitten. Fucking brat.

“Settle down.” He growls. The tone squeezes you tight, wrings out any fight you have left. You’re left lax on the bed below him– boneless, pliant, willing. Good, his alpha purrs. “That’s better. Just take what I give you.”

Jack slides his hard cock through your slit once, coating it in your slick, before he pushes into you.

You feel like heaven— the hottest, wettest, tightest fucking pussy he’s ever had. And the sound you make when he stretches you. That high pitched, keening moan of pleasure. Jack wants to bottle that sound.

“Good omega.” He purrs, leaning down to press hot kisses along the column of your neck. He’s possessed by the need to ensure you smell like him for days.

You arch into it, exposing your throat further, pushing your hips down on his cock.

“You feel so fucking good. You were made for this.”

You whine at that, and Jack can see your mind wrestling with the sentiment despite the way it makes your pussy gush and your instincts sing.

Jack hushes you. “It’s okay.” He holds you still by your hip and litters more wet, soothing kisses across your jaw. “There’s nothin’ wrong with it, sweet girl. Let yourself enjoy this.”

“Abbot—“ when you say it, Jack can’t stifle his choked laugh— “feels so good.”

“Call me Jack, baby, my fuckin’ dick’s inside you.” He shakes his head before he briefly connects his lips with yours. “Jesus. I woulda done this ages ago if I knew you wanted it this bad.”

His cock sponges over your g-spot and his tip kisses your cervix with every thrust. He can feel you getting close— your pussy’s clenching, you’re whimpering louder, slick is dripping down your thighs and onto the bed below. Your hands grapple desperately at his freckled sides, arms, and shoulders, nails leaving indented crescents in their wake.

“Come on, sweet omega.” Jack purrs in your ear. His hand finds your breast so he can thumb circles on your nipple as further encouragement. He fucks into you relentlessly. “I want you to cum for me. Milk my cock.”

“Jack— Alpha— fuck.” You sound broken as your orgasm washes over you. You shake below him on the table— lips parted, brows furrowed, eyes locked on his. Jack growls.

“There you go, that’s it. You’re so good.” He means it more than he’s ever meant anything. You’re so fucking good. You look good, you smell good, you feel good, you sound good. Jack’s not gonna last much longer. “You’re such a good omega.”

“Yours,” You keen— and fuck, you’re still cumming. “Your omega.”

“Mine.” Jack nods. His hips falter. “My good girl. Doing so well for your alpha.”

Jack lets his teeth ghost over your mating bond, grazing the tender, unbroken skin there.

The whimpery sound you let out sends him over the edge. His hips snap forward one more time and he spills inside you with a long, low groan. It takes everything in him to hold back and not bite you right then.

“Babygirl,” Jack grits out once he can speak, breathless. Your walls are still fluttering around his softening cock. “You’re fucking incredible.”

You don’t say anything. He lifts his head from the crook of your neck. “Hey. Look at me. You okay?”

“Jack…” you murmur. You’re looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars, and he feels like he could start glowing. Still, your scent sours with uncertainty. “Jesus, this is— we shouldn’t have—“

“Why not?”

“This is completely unprofessional—“

Jack scoffs. “Yeah, doll, we’re well past that.”

“This is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid!” Your voice is raised. “And you make it very difficult!”

You’re clearly dismayed, and Jack shouldn’t grin, but he does.

“Do I?” Jack leans down to nose against the gland on your neck again. He smells only himself there, mingling with your scent, and goddamn he could get hard again. His tongue darts out to soothe over the area, and you melt. “Do I make it hard for you to conduct yourself?” He lets a mocking lilt bleed into his tone. “Is that why you insist on being such a pain in my ass all the time?”

“Don’t be mean.” You grumble. You're trying, and failing, to maintain your contempt. The words come out far too pleading.

“Attagirl. Now you’re getting it.” Jack coos. He leans down and gives you a kiss. “If you want me to be sweet on you then all you have to do is ask.”

You scowl at him. You still smell anxious, and that won't do at all.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

The rest of the shift goes by painfully slow.

You don’t exactly avoid each other, but there’s a heavy understanding that if you both so much as make eye contact across a room, there’s no higher power that can stop you from being absurdly obvious about all the ways your relationship has just changed.

So you follow Shen and Ellis around like a puppy and he doesn’t call your name whenever he needs assistance.

If anyone else finds it weird, no one says a word, and you are grateful for it since you’re finally back on nights for the foreseeable future.

It isn’t until ten minutes before shift ends that he finally allows himself to corner you.

You’re in the dispensary, getting a cocktail together for your patient in north five when he slides in behind you.

“Give me your address,” he tells you, soft and almost shy about it.

You don’t turn to face him, concentration elsewhere. “I thought we were going back to yours.”

When he doesn’t say anything you explain. “My building’s not exactly mobility friendly.”

“I’ll manage.”

You scoff, a light chuckle escaping and you can feel him tense behind you. Be it from shame or the dawning realization that he cannot simply bullshit you, there’s tension in the air between you now.

You turn to face him. “I want you to be comfortable too.”

His gaze sharpens slightly, as if trying to figure you out, find the hidden agenda in your voice, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You stare back defiantly.

He may be…may want to become your dominant but you’re not just going to let him carry all that burden himself. You’re going to take care of him too.

“Wait for me ten minutes after shift change.”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes darken instantly, a devilish smirk curling on your own lips.

The tension turns electric.

Neither of you moves.

“Oh pretty girl, you’re gonna have to be careful what you say to me from now on.”

“I didn’t before and I sure as hell won’t start now.”

Jack suddenly becomes so overwhelmed by excitement that he’s rendered comebackless.

You giggle at the realization and it forces a smile to grace his lips.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” you tell him.

He nods, finally moving back and leaving the confined space before the two of you do something you’ll definitely be made to regret by the annoying HR gods.

“Hey, there goes trouble,” Robby teases as he walks through the main entrance into the ED. “Not sticking around for a double?”

Jack shakes his head, practically slamming the data pad against his friend’s chest.

“Woah, shit, can I put my bag away first?”

“No,” Jack grumbles. “Let’s get to it, Robinavitch.”

That causes Robby to raise his eyebrows in shock. “Alright?”

Jack is thorough and efficient. It takes him less than ten minutes to hand over. And the second he’s done, he disappears to get his things, leaving Robby with his mouth hanging open, searching for his friend cluelessly.

He finds you waiting for him patiently in the locker room. You’re chatting up Dana, thanking her again for letting you use her shoes and reassuring her that you’re never going to do it again.

He can’t help but smile to himself at the confession. But it also weighs heavy on his soul.

He understands you because he does the same thing.

He uses the job to seek the same release you do.

And the knowledge that you have both been searching for the other is both the most precious gift he could ever ask for but also the reminder of one of his biggest failings — not having found you sooner.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” you tell the charge nurse as you grab your bag and walk towards the exit. “Have a good day, doctor Abbot.”

You smile at him, tilting your head towards the parking lot exit so he’ll know where to find you. If there’s one thing he’ll give you is just how good on an actress you are, unshakable and unbreakable, and he’s tried. 

He manages a grunt and a nod before he swiftly makes his way to his locker to grab his bag.

“You hurt her and I will kill you.”

He stills at the threat. Not because he’s afraid, he’d rather die than lay a finger on a single hair on your head. But he also deeply understands what Dana means.

This isn’t just a romantic relationship. This is…everything. This is trust. This is respect. This is opening himself up completely and showing up in a way that will definitely challenge both of you.

He turns to face Dana. “Don’t worry, I’ll beat you to it.”

“Good,” she pats his back. “You kids have fun.”

He finds you leaning against his truck.

God you truly are a vision.

You’re on your phone, answering something or mindlessly scrolling through social media, he cannot care less.

You only notice him when he’s practically towering over you.

You don’t flinch, you don’t jump, you just lock your phone, look up at him and smile.

That fucking smile is going to be the death of him, of that he’s certain.

His heart begins to race and he can tell you’re in the same boat as heat tinges your cheeks and neck. He reaches out for your hand, interlacing your fingers with his and bringing them up against his cheek.

“We’re not going to play today, okay?”

You nod, completely understanding.

“We’re just gonna talk—”

“And have breakfast.”

“And have breakfast,” he chuckles.

“Good, cause I’m starving.” You push yourself off the side of the truck and brush his nose with your own.

Jack is certain he’s never known softness before in his life.

Not like this.

His breathing falters, his eyes shut instinctively, savoring the moment, committing it to memory.

And then you kiss him, soft and fleeting, but it’s enough to make his heart leap.

Jack’s hand wraps around your thigh possessively for the entirety of the drive back to his place and you can’t help the dopey smile that blooms instantly. It makes him chuckle, grip only tightening in response.

The ride is comfortably quiet, a morning show drones on through the radio but neither of you are paying any attention to it. It’s somewhere between the third and fourth stop light that your eyes close and through the rhythm of the car beneath you or the way Jack is now rubbing gentle circles against your leg, you let sleep win.

You wake up to the beautiful cadence of his voice saying your name. You blink awake, sad that the best sleep you’ve ever had has been interrupted but elated that it’s his beautiful face you get to wake up to.

The truck is parked in front of a one story house. His house. You smile softly, shifting in your seat as you unbuckle your seatbelt, well, you try to. For some reason, you’re so groggy you can’t quite press the button properly.

Jack lets out an amused huff and you immediately pout. 

“’s not funny,” you whine in that pretty voice that lets him know you’re starting to get frustrated.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he genuinely apologizes but can’t stop the amused smile that shows off his dimples. “Lemme help you.”

He does, easily, and it makes you even more whiny. You groan, loudly, and it makes him laugh this time.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed.”

It takes him a few seconds to exit the truck, rounding it to your door and opening it up as far as it goes.

“C’mere.” 

He opens his arms, half expecting you to leap into them but he should know better. You shake your head, pouting aggressively as you try to twist your body away from his. 

“Oh poor baby,” he mocks a little, testing the waters. “I thought you wanted to be my good girl but I guess I was wrong.”

It’s all feigned teasing that he knows will force you right into his embrace. And the way you turn around instantly tells him everything he needs to know. Grabby hands eagerly call him forward and he instantly steps into your open legs, strong, steady hands wrapping under your ass to lift you into him.

Your arms snake around his neck, face hiding in the crook as he wraps your legs around his waist. 

“There you go,” he kisses your temple. “Was that so hard?”

You nod against him and he chuckles, forcing a giggle out of you.

“I knew you were trouble before but this is—” he unlocks the front door. “This is gonna be fun.”

You shiver unconsciously at his words and he feels it. You’re just as excited as he is. You’re just as enthusiastic about this new shift in your dynamic. For too long you were restricted to sarcastic comments, cutting comebacks, flirty and bratty responses, but now…now you could both act on them.

You don’t know how it happens but one second you’re walking through the front door and the next you’re sitting on soft, cold linens. You begrudgingly unwrap yourself from Jack’s warm body as he sets you down on his bed, grounding hands running up and down your thighs.

“I’m gonna go get our bags,” he tells you, lips hovering yours almost sinfully. “Why don’t you take a shower while I make us breakfast?”

Your eyes sparkle at the mention of food and he can’t help but roll his eyes, a smile to match your enthusiasm.

“Thank you,” you tell him, you mean it.

“Always, kid.”

He trusts you know your way around. You’ve been to his house once before, a dumb Christmas party Dana had bullied him into hosting because his place was the most central to all of you. But that doesn’t stop him from placing a soft kiss to your lips before he tries, and fails, to get away.

Your hands fist into his shirt, the stupid black fabric clearly keeping you from what you truly want to grab at. He shivers as your knuckles barely graze his abdomen, his mouth opening up slightly, and you do to him exactly what he did to you earlier.

Your tongue enters his mouth adorably, seeking a closeness that he knows if he gives you now, you’re definitely not getting any sleep anytime soon. 

But he can’t stop himself either.

He groans into your mouth, the sound causing a rush of heat to spark through you. 

“Jackie—” you whine and his grip on your thighs tightens.

“Fuck kiddo.”

You whine again. He knows what you want because he wants it too. It takes everything in him to pull away, to not have his heart break a little at the cry that leaves your throat.

“I know, I know,” he presses your foreheads together. “We’ve got time for that later, I promise.”

At that you finally calm down. A little. You hum contently, clearly having won some secret battle he didn’t even know you were fighting. 

“Shower,” he states. “Then food,” you nod, following along. “Then sleep,” you huff and he lands a light smack to the side of your leg, causing you to jolt. “And then, if we’re feeling up for it, then we can play a little. How’s that sound?”

You nod, enthusiastically and he smiles brightly. God, this truly had to be heaven because there’s no other logical explanation for just how blessed Jack feels in that moment.

He kisses you one last time before he finally peels himself off you, quickly leaving the room before his resolve crumbles and he falls right back down to his knees in front of you.

You do as he asked, satisfactorily removing the sweaty clothes off your body and throwing them into his hamper without a second thought, something deep in your stomach telling you you’d be back soon enough.

The shower was scalding hot, perfect water pressure hard against your aching muscles. It was grounding, the water bringing you back to the present, to where you are and not the muddled waters that tiredness and comfort kept trying to drift you into. You’d already dropped once in the last twenty four hours, you’re not exactly willing to let it be two.

You wash your hair, the musky smell of his shampoo and conditioner working against you. It takes everything in you not to succumb to the warmth, the comfort, the knowledge that you’re here, in his house, in his shower, about to get in his bed.

It starts to get scary really quickly, forcing you to get out of the shower before you really want to. You wrap his towel around you and practically run out of his room, feet still a little wet. You practically slip into his arms on your way to the kitchen. Steady hands wrap themselves around you, pinning you to his chest.

“Slow down, kid, I’m right here.”

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in, swiftly burrowing yourself into his embrace. The tears burst out of you without your consent, sobs rocking through your body like a storm crashing against a cliffside.

“I’m sorry, fuck—” you try to pull back but he won’t let you. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He shushes you gently, slowly walking you both back into his room.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod against him as he sets you back down on the bed. He pulls back from you for one second, you count, and takes off his shirt in one swift movement, his pants quickly following so he won’t get in bed in his dirty scrubs, before he pulls you taunt against him, your back to his front.

His arms wrap around you tightly and he stays with you until you relax into his embrace, until your grip on his forearms softens, until your breathing evens out and you fall asleep.

He stares at you for a long time. He thinks about leaving you to take are of the million household chores he’s left unfinished but the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks, the way you huff in your sleep, the way you shift closer to him with each breath — nothing else matters anymore.

“You still wear your ring.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. But it isn’t accusatory, it doesn’t make him feel like he’s being told to take it off. It’s just an observation, an opening for him to tell you more.

You stirred awake a few minutes ago, your hands instantly interlacing with his own as you unashamedly began…exploring.

“I do,” he takes a deep breath in and it tickles your ear. “Does it bother you?”

Your nose scrunches adorably. “No, not really. You must’ve really loved each other.”

“We did.”

A beat of silence follows as you muster up the courage. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t push, and then—

“Do you think you’re open to loving someone like that again?”

Do you think you’re open to loving me?

He squeezes your hands in his. “I think I’m ready to try again.”

You smile brightly, openly, caring and understanding. He’s felt this way before, he must’ve, but there’s something so open and freeing about how you look at him, how you want nothing more than to understand him, care for him, open up to him. It’s a gift, an honor, one that he will not take lightly.

“Have you done this before?” You ask him, heart is hammering against your chest. He can feel it rattling your body, matching his own.

It takes him a second to answer. “Not like this— not like I want you.”

You can feel your entire body tingling. It takes everything in you not to grind your hips down against his crotch, the one you’ve become hyper aware is only covered by his boxers.

He can tell, definitely, because his mouth quirks up into a barely there smirk and you simply know he’s thinking of doing the exact same thing to you.

“How do you want me?” Your voice lowers down to a whisper.

“Honestly?”

You nod. He sighs, shifting as he struggles to take the leap of faith.

You squeeze his hand, turning your head to look up at him, encouraging and he sees it, the fire, the hunger, the absolute devotion in your eyes, the same one that he carries within himself. The same one he’s been holding back on out of fear of being too much.

“I want…everything, kiddo,” he sighs, the weight releasing from his chest like a torrential downpour after months of drought. “I want the honor of being your dominant but I can’t just be that, I think my heart would not be able to take it. I want you to be mine and I wanna be yours too.”

You smile brightly. “I want that too.”

He sighs dramatically in relief. “Good, cause I would’ve probably disintegrated from shame if you said anything else.”

You roll your eyes, snapping your hand from his grip in retaliation to his dramatics.

“Hey!” He complains immediately.

“The only one allowed to be dramatic from now on is me.”

His eyebrows shoot up, disbelief mastered all over his face. “Such a brat.”

“I am not! I am delightful.”

“Delightfully bratty,” he mocks.

“Shut up, you love it.”

“I do.”

You share a knowing look. Every memory, every touch, every misplaced breath you’d thought you had been reading too much into flashing in your mind, your chest, your stomach. It isn’t all in your head, he wants his, he wants you.

“How long have you been…?” You don’t exactly know how to ask it, but luckily for you, he just knows.

“You want me to sound like a creep, kiddo?”

You giggle. “I don’t think it’s creepy.”

His eyebrows rise in shock. “You’re worse than I am, aren't you?”

“I wouldn’t say worse,” you tease. “I just think I match your freak more than you think.”

Jack laughs, the vibrations heavenly in your little bubble.

In response, unsexily so, your stomach growls, and the two of you descend into an obscene fit of laughter.

“Breakfast?”

“More like lunch at this point.”

“Almost dinner, actually.”

You turn to the clock on the nightstand.

“It’s not even four, you really are geriatric.”

A hand snakes in between your things, a sharp slap snaps through the quiet room.

“Watch it, kid.”

You’ve never felt this electric. 

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll eat you for dinner.”

I love these two so freaking much

Robby wanted it to be known that he really, really, really did not want to like you. 

You, who was headstrong, stubborn and particular. You were a Presby transfer, one of their prized senior residents who just didn’t get along with their team. It was hard and impacted your ability to work and after one too many cruel schoolyard jokes, you jumped ship. You took to the teaching hospital’s ways and its momentum quite quickly. You didn’t hesitate to correct an intern or med student. You never gave a second thought to questioning an attending or fighting a call someone made that you didn’t agree with. 

You, who was also patient and kind. You took extra time with struggling interns, calling them into labs to practise sutures or to go over procedures they couldn’t seem to crack after your shift - time you knew you wouldn’t be paid for. Any mistake a student made during procedures was gently amended, be it by putting your hand on theirs to guide them or just by giving additional verbal instructions.

This was all mostly fine to Robby. Really, he told himself he could handle it for someone Presby was borderline crying over losing.

It was all fine until you walked in on him absolutely whaling on Samira Mohan.

You stood at the door, expression changing immediately. You gawked at him when he told you he was busy, and to ask Dana if you needed something.

Mohan’s case was not too complicated, all things considered. A lady came in after being hit by a car. The car wasn’t going all that quickly, so she wasn’t too badly injured. You had overseen Whitaker doing some of her sutures and knew they had it handled. No internal bleeding, great GCS level, maybe a minor concussion at most.

Nobody had accounted for her general melancholy throughout the procedure. She was lamenting about how late she’d be for work. There wasn’t much anyone could say to that, she needed treatment and she was getting it in a very busy, very understaffed ER. Mohan ran it by you afterwards and you approved the discharge.

She was back in maybe an hour later. She had jumped from a three-storey height. It was hopeful when she first arrived, but things turned complicated and she never even made it to surgery. Time of death, 6:12PM.

Robby’s brows were so furrowed they were pretty much touching. He was going on and on about missed signs and how the car accident had clearly been a suicide attempt. You stood up and argued back - how could she possibly have predicted someone would do that? Her sadness was chalked up to the adrenaline leaving her system, and why wouldn’t that have been the answer? She was just in a car accident!

You sent Samira out, and he reminded you that you had absolutely no authority to do that. You told her to go, anyway. The two of you went back and forth and back and forth until he finally relented. This wasn’t anybody’s fault. You’re doctors, not mind-readers.

After that ‘blatant disrespect’ he had suffered, he was doing everything he could to try and find fault with you. He needed something to write you up, to ride you about. He needed to even the score, and remind you he was top-dog around here.

He followed you from case-to-case, watching how you spoke to everyone and did everything. This was when he noticed something about you.

You were very, very quick to dole out praise.

Whitaker assisted you in a really clean intubation? “Good man, that’s exactly what we want.”

Javadi catching a small symptom that could have turned fatal? “Amazing catch, we’d be lost without you.”

None of it was sarcastic or felt over-the-top. It was warm and fond and real. You loved teaching them, you loved seeing them gain their confidence.

You were shy, too. Not usually, but sometimes. When you got a taste of your own medicine with a ‘good save’ or a ‘nice job’, you got so bashful. All red and quiet, for once. He filed this information away, although he really didn’t know why.

You weren’t warm to him. You were strictly professional after you caught him with Mohan. You seemed to be good friends with her. He liked Samira, he really did. She was talented and could be brilliant if she applied herself like he wanted. Maybe he pushed too hard, she seemed to perform perfectly with you.

Abbot really liked you as well. You worked a double in your first week and you - unsurprisingly - got along just as swimmingly with the ‘night crawlers’ as you did with the day shift. It was starting to piss him off at this stage.

Every time he and Abbot met up at home, you were the first topic of conversation. He ranted and raved about what you did and what you didn’t do and why it annoyed him and why he didn’t think you were gonna be a good fit in the long run.

His husband listened, of course, and empathised with him. It’s hard to work with someone you don’t seem to like at all. But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. This time, when Robby started, Abbot had to intercept.

“Mike, baby. This is becoming an obsession." When Robby opened his mouth to argue back, Abbot couldn’t help but take notice of the slight flush on his cheeks. The same flush he had had every time he brought her up recently.

At first, he had assumed that he was just getting worked up about you, but now…

“Honey, I think you might have a little crush.” Abbot said softly. Robby scoffed in response.

“Well, I’m hardly gonna leave you at this stage.” He put his palms on his eyes and pressed hard. Abbot leaned over and gently lowered them before he hurt himself.

“She’s fake as fuck, brother. You should hear how she talks to the others. It’s like a fucking kindergarten.” He groans, squeezing Abbot’s hands.

“What, all this ‘cause she won’t call you a good boy?” He joked, but he smiled when Robby blushed harder.

“Ohhhh, brother.” He laughed, scooping Robby up into his arms and squeezing him. “You got a crush, it’s okay.”

“I’m married.” Robby whispered into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know, champ. I was there.” Robby raised his head to glare at him.

“I can’t avoid her. She’s fuckin’ everywhere.” Robby moaned, sounding genuinely displeased.

“I wouldn’t want her to be anywhere else. I mean…” Abbot looked down at Robby, wiggling his eyebrows emphatically. “I wished she’d have preferred nights for a while.”

Now, Robby’s head flew up.

“You’ve thought about her?” He asked.

“Not as much as you, hon. But, yeah, I have.” Abbot squeezed him gently again.

“W- why?” Robby’s question was fair. They’d swung for a bit, yeah. But Abbot didn’t go for women. Not after his late-wife. Robby fiddled with Abbot’s blackened out band, resting underneath their matching ones.

“Well, she’s pretty. Seems like she’s a good girl, too.” Abbot said, shrugging off his concern.

“Don’t tell her that.” Robby huffed, rolling his eyes. “It fucks with her flow.”

“Does it now?” Abbot intoned. He found that very, very interesting.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a few weeks since you last ran into Jack Abott. Robby was off and Shen had covered the day. He did a hand-off and ran for the hills. Abbot is secretly glad he doesn’t prefer the days. He’s a pretty vital part of his crew. Abbot met you just as you were surveying the board for the last time.

“Anything you need to warn me about?” He asked. You laughed, this guy was a sucker for gossip.

“Nothing too interesting. Central 12’s a biter, though. Relative distance is recommended.” You supplied, lips thinning even with your smile.

“Doin’ anything for the night?”

“Nothing, just sleeping.” You responded, sighing. This little tell was the closest to complaining he’d seen you. Abbot nodded. You looked like shit.

“Eat something nice and go straight to bed.” He didn’t quite order you to do it, but it definitely wasn’t a suggestion either.

“Sir, yes, sir.” You gave him a mock salute, standing up straight.

“Good girl.” He said, patting your shoulder and walking away. He looked back after a moment to look at you and sure enough, you were short-circuiting.

Very interesting, indeed.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Like Robby had been doing for you, you very much actively tried to avoid him. Which didn’t typically work. You couldn’t seem to stop running into him.

Your frosty demeanor didn’t waver with him, but his had softened greatly with you. He had taken to sticking around for your procedures again, nodding affirmatively when you did the right thing, or offering a gentle “ah-ah” when doing something he thought wrong.

He often went to you after a tough patient, asked if you needed anything or if you wanted to talk. You tried to be open to it, you really did. But he got under your skin. You were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You had spoken to Samira about how Robby was when first started, kind and encouraging. How quickly he turned cruel and empathetic when he found a new ‘star student’. You didn’t want to be his star student, but you seemed to have had most of his attention recently. 

You knew he’d turn on you again, and when he did the others would follow. It happened at Presby, and it’ll happen here. You could feel it in your bones, you wouldn’t let them get the leg up on you like that.

The day finished up and like always, you searched the board. You wanted any reason to stick around for a bit, to chat to someone, to be useful to someone else. Robby walked over and prattled on about his weekend plans. Him and Abbot were both off, something that almost never happened.

“C’mon, you got here early. I’m not gonna let you do any overtime.” Hands on your shoulders, he gently steered you towards the exit. You hadn’t brought in anything other than your worn hoodie and your phone, both of which were in your possession, so you had no excuse to not follow.

“You got a ride?” He asked, eyeing your lack of keys.

“Car’s at the shop.” You admit sheepishly. “I’m walking today.”

Robby frowned.

“No, you’re not. I’ll give you a ride.” He shook his head, hand going to your shoulder to hold you in place before crossing the road. He used the same hand to lead you across the road. You couldn’t help but relax a little at the action. You liked just following along with whatever people wanted at the end of the day. I mean, your whole job revolved around making choices to save lives, who would want to make a decision about themselves after that?

“You really don’t have to, Dr. Robby.” You murmured.

“He’s not, I am.” A gravelly voice caused you to look up. Jack Abott stood by their car, dangling the keys until they made a jingleing noise. You clearly weren’t the only one surprised. Robby’s eyebrows shot up. He went over and kissed Abbot on the cheek.

“We actually had a question for you.” Abbot spoke, hand rubbing Robby’s back.

“If you don’t have plans tonight, would you have dinner with us?” Your brows shot up this time.

“But- you…” Your eyes shifted between Abbot and Robby several times.”

“Want you to have dinner with us? Yes.” Robby finished off what he assumed your sentence would have been.

“I- I’d hate to intrude.” Was all you could think to say, because one part of your brain immediately wanted to say ‘yes!’.

“Good thing you wouldn’t be, then.” Abbot smiled at you, winking. “Look, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. We want you to, but your word is final. We won’t be offended.”

“We can pretend this never happened. We drive you home and we don’t talk about it again.” Robby confirmed softly.

“No, I- I don’t have any plans. Dinner would be nice…” You admitted, stomach starting to grumble. Robby’s did too, causing Abbot to laugh. 

He ushered both of you in the car and drove to what you could only assume was their house. A real nice, big townhouse a little ways outside the city. It was quiet, but thoughtfully decorated. The lawn was stunning and the colour pleasing to the eye. You were invited inside to see the gorgeous interior. The kitchen was a mix of modern furniture with retro colour schemes - reds, blacks and blue used interchangeably. The house seemed to be lit according to mood, with the kitchen lights on full whack and the dining room a little dimmer.

“I actually have it all ready, just sit down anywhere.” Abbot instructed, not caring that he admitted he assumed you were going to say yes.

“Can I help?” You asked.

“Yes, by sitting down.” Robby replied, pointing to one chair in particular. Right to the head of the table.

Abbot’s voice rang out again - “Do you drink wine?” - Upon hearing your affirmative, his head popped through the doorless frame.

“White or red?”

“Red, please. Will I help set out the drinks?” You asked for the second time.

“You can stay right where you are, please.” You are told for the second time.

After what feels like an eternity (it was 5 minutes), a small bowl is placed in front of you and your wine is topped up just slightly. Robby took the seat in front of you and Abbot beside you, at the head.

All three of you ate in relative silence, before you broke it to compliment the soup. It was potato and leek, so creamy and starchy that you didn’t even feel the crunchy onion-y texture.

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” Abbot smiled at you. You tried to control your blush, ducking your head modestly.

“Isn’t she just?” Robby agreed, as you hurriedly spooned another mouthful of soup into your gob.

The first course passed quickly after that. Robby collected the bowls, pushing you down in the chair when you got up to help him. He disappeared into the kitchen.

“You don’t know when to give up, do ya?” Abbot asked, laughing slightly.

“I’m not good with being idle.” You admitted, laughing along. He stared at you for a bit.

“You can relax, you look so tense. Did you have a bad day?” He asked kindly.

“No, no. Everything went very well. I’m just… I’m just like this.” You laughed again, albeit a bit more nervously this time.

“Uh-huh, well, I want everyone who walks in here to feel better when they walk out. Is there anything I can do for you?” His gaze followed yours, ducking his head to look you in the eyes. It’s hard to ignore the husky undertone in his voice.

“Look up at me, please. It’s not good to slouch.” He gently corrected and you rushed to remedy yourself.

“Sorry, Dr. Abbot.”

“You’re okay, I just don’t want your back to get sore. And, call me Jack when we’re not working.”

“Yes, sorry Jack.”

“Good girl, you’re okay.” He doesn’t miss the way the tension leaves your shoulders. You stare at him for a moment, your eyes almost glazing over before Robby returns.

“Roast should be ready in 20.” He murmured, squeezing Abbot’s shoulder as he passed him. Him and Abbot exchanged a few looks before Robby began again.

“You’re a very smart girl.” He stated simply, you couldn’t help but whip your head over to him.

“Settle.” Abbot huffed a small laugh.

“I’m sure you can see we didn’t call you just to eat with you.” You didn’t know what to say to that. You simply hummed and nodded for him to continue.

“Jack and I have a particular… void that needs filling. And you seem to be the perfect candidate.” Robby continued, watching your face very closely. He saw your brows furrow.

“We aren’t asking you to have sex with us.” Abbot spoke very quietly, “That isn’t what we want.”

“Then what is this ‘void’?” You asked cautiously, not sure if you felt relieved or disappointed you attendings didn’t want to have sex with you.

“We’re old men, who make a lot of money and don’t have family to look after. We want someone to take care of.” Robby informed you.

“You want me to be your sugar baby?” You asked, a bit incredulously.

Simultaneously, you heard a ‘no’ and a ‘sort of…’. Abbot glared at Robby.

“Are you familiar with BDSM dynamics, honey?” You tried not to react when Abbot called you honey but judging by the way he looked at you, you failed.

“I-yes, I am.” You mutter, looking down again.

“Ah-ah, look up.” Abbot couldn’t help but remind you. Robby gawked at him, but you looked up automatically. Abbot tipped your chin encouragingly.

“Have you had any experience with it?” He asked and Robby turned his attention back to you.

“Uh, a bit, yeah.” You admitted in a whisper. God, this was so fucking embarrasing. Robby reached across the table for your hand, which had clenched around itself. He unwinded your fingers and placed his hand on top of yours, rubbing circles onto it.

“Can you tell us what you were doing?” He asked softly. Suddenly, it was hard for you to remember why you didn’t like Robby.

“I was- I was a submissive. Sometimes for sex, but usually domestically.” You murmured, feeling a bit lost in his gaze.

“Thank you for answering. You had a regular dom then?” He asked. You blinked up at him slowly.

“No, I was a part of this, like, group. You texted in and someone usually responded. I knew a few of them well but not all of them. I just… I just needed to be out of my head.” You shared, feeling a bit like a common whore. You went to look down again, but Robby clicked his tongue.

“I believe Jack asked you not to do that.”

“Sorry, Dr. Robby.”

“Michael, please.”

“Sorry Michael.” You murmur automatically.

“No apologies necessary, sweet girl. That must have been hard to tell me.” You nodded without thinking. Abbot piped up again.

“That’s exactly what we want. A submissive. You don’t have to fuck us. We want to feed you, bathe you, dress you up. We want you to listen, and do as you’re told, and to feel free.” Abbot took your other hand, thumb rubbing up and down your wrist.

“You don’t have to even try it. If you’re not interested, we eat dinner, drop you home and pretend none of this happened.” Robby promised, squeezing your hand.

“No pressure. If you want to think about it, then same thing.” Abbot assured.

“I… I do want to try. I haven’t done it in a bit, I might be a bit shit at it.” You admitted, feeling a bit exposed.

“You have been doing absolutely wonderfully.” Robby reassured you quickly.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, we’d do that for you.” Abbot added.

“Okay, I’ll try it with you. But if I don’t fall deep, don’t be upset.” You warned

“Stop getting in your own head about this, we’ll take it as we go, babe.” Robby brought your hand to his lips, kissing each finger between words. You revelled in the attention for a moment, and you knew they knew. You felt yourself settle down, the weight rolling off your shoulders.

You didn’t notice Abbot getting up beside you, so you jumped when a plate was placed in front of you. Abbot petted your hair soothingly.

“Hush, it’s only me. Here, Mike…” As he passed Robby his own. He placed his own down and quickly plucked the cutlery from your hands.

“Would you like it if I fed you, hon?” Abbot asked quietly, waiting for your response. You nodded slowly.

“Brave girl.” He noted you must have been wrecked to give in so easily.

The plan had initially been to just ask you tonight. Talk to you a bit about it, get to know you. You’d talk about expectations and fears and all of you would set a schedule. Which would still need to be made, but tonight was not the night. Abbot really hadn’t meant to start domming you before you’d even discussed it, but you were plain irresistible. It irritated him how you couldn’t see it. He could see you needed it tonight, Robby could too. You were barely hanging on.

“Do you like to try everything separately first or do you usually go straight in with your meal?” Robby asked before Abbot began.

“Separately, if it’s not too much trouble.” You disclosed, reaching to take the fork from Abbot’s hand preemptively. Abbot gently lowered it.

“Hands on your thighs or on the table, please. Thank you for telling me, I’d like to feed you.” They had a feeling you would need more than a simple instruction. You seemed to be a lot more insecure in yourself than they originally thought.

Clear instructions, easily-won praise often, and many reminders of the initial order or rules. They could remedy that, if you would let. They could only hope you would.

Abbot handfed you every bit, stopping every few to take some himself. When he was eating, Robby took the opportunity to feed you some of his own.

“You are taking this so very well.” He murmured, rubbing your cheek after a bit.

You had cleared the plate before you knew it, and Abbot smiled wide.

“Very, very good. Do you want anymore?” You shook your head lightly, muttering a small ‘no thank you’.

“Thank you for being so polite, sweet girl. You are doing so well. It’s hard to let someone take care of you, isn’t it?” Abbot asked empathetically, taking both of your hands in his own and kissing them. He turned to Robby, who was only watching.

“Mike, could you…” He asked Robby something, but you didn’t quite catch it. You watched him stand up and walk around to you.

“C’mere… That’s a good girl.” Robby spoke, bringing you into the living room. He plopped himself down on the middle of the couch and when he went to pull you into his lap, he was surprised to find you on the floor. You knelt between his legs, not needing to be told to get into position and falling into total habit for the first time tonight.

“Aren’t you a high achiever?” He crooned into your ear, petting your hair. He grabbed a pillow from the end of the couch and quietly ordered you to move for a moment. He could see the panic in your eyes and dropped the pillow. He brought his hands to your hips and looked up at you.

“I just wanted to move this underneath you so you’re not in any pain. You’re not in trouble, we’re all okay.” He assured quickly, thumbing circles onto your hip bones. You nodded and lowered yourself onto the pillow when he had it placed.

“Is that much better, honey?” He cooed at you from above.

“Mhm-hmm. Thank you, Michael.” You instinctively leaned against his left leg. He continued cooing at you until Abbot came back in. They said something to each other, but you weren’t listening. You didn’t feel like you needed to. You weren’t told to pay attention to anything.

“Feeling okay, baby?” Abbot looked down at you, gently tugging your chin upwards to meet his eyes. He was sitting on Robby’s left side. You nodded slowly, eyes glazed over. You smiled softly at him and he released his hold, letting your head fall back to where it was.

“Best girl.” He said, scratching your scalp, while Robby’s leg supported your body weight.

Robby wanted it to be known that he really, really, really did not want to like you. 

You, who was headstrong, stubborn and particular. You were a Presby transfer, one of their prized senior residents who just didn’t get along with their team. It was hard and impacted your ability to work and after one too many cruel schoolyard jokes, you jumped ship. You took to the teaching hospital’s ways and its momentum quite quickly. You didn’t hesitate to correct an intern or med student. You never gave a second thought to questioning an attending or fighting a call someone made that you didn’t agree with. 

You, who was also patient and kind. You took extra time with struggling interns, calling them into labs to practise sutures or to go over procedures they couldn’t seem to crack after your shift - time you knew you wouldn’t be paid for. Any mistake a student made during procedures was gently amended, be it by putting your hand on theirs to guide them or just by giving additional verbal instructions.

This was all mostly fine to Robby. Really, he told himself he could handle it for someone Presby was borderline crying over losing.

It was all fine until you walked in on him absolutely whaling on Samira Mohan.

You stood at the door, expression changing immediately. You gawked at him when he told you he was busy, and to ask Dana if you needed something.

Mohan’s case was not too complicated, all things considered. A lady came in after being hit by a car. The car wasn’t going all that quickly, so she wasn’t too badly injured. You had overseen Whitaker doing some of her sutures and knew they had it handled. No internal bleeding, great GCS level, maybe a minor concussion at most.

Nobody had accounted for her general melancholy throughout the procedure. She was lamenting about how late she’d be for work. There wasn’t much anyone could say to that, she needed treatment and she was getting it in a very busy, very understaffed ER. Mohan ran it by you afterwards and you approved the discharge.

She was back in maybe an hour later. She had jumped from a three-storey height. It was hopeful when she first arrived, but things turned complicated and she never even made it to surgery. Time of death, 6:12PM.

Robby’s brows were so furrowed they were pretty much touching. He was going on and on about missed signs and how the car accident had clearly been a suicide attempt. You stood up and argued back - how could she possibly have predicted someone would do that? Her sadness was chalked up to the adrenaline leaving her system, and why wouldn’t that have been the answer? She was just in a car accident!

You sent Samira out, and he reminded you that you had absolutely no authority to do that. You told her to go, anyway. The two of you went back and forth and back and forth until he finally relented. This wasn’t anybody’s fault. You’re doctors, not mind-readers.

After that ‘blatant disrespect’ he had suffered, he was doing everything he could to try and find fault with you. He needed something to write you up, to ride you about. He needed to even the score, and remind you he was top-dog around here.

He followed you from case-to-case, watching how you spoke to everyone and did everything. This was when he noticed something about you.

You were very, very quick to dole out praise.

Whitaker assisted you in a really clean intubation? “Good man, that’s exactly what we want.”

Javadi catching a small symptom that could have turned fatal? “Amazing catch, we’d be lost without you.”

None of it was sarcastic or felt over-the-top. It was warm and fond and real. You loved teaching them, you loved seeing them gain their confidence.

You were shy, too. Not usually, but sometimes. When you got a taste of your own medicine with a ‘good save’ or a ‘nice job’, you got so bashful. All red and quiet, for once. He filed this information away, although he really didn’t know why.

You weren’t warm to him. You were strictly professional after you caught him with Mohan. You seemed to be good friends with her. He liked Samira, he really did. She was talented and could be brilliant if she applied herself like he wanted. Maybe he pushed too hard, she seemed to perform perfectly with you.

Abbot really liked you as well. You worked a double in your first week and you - unsurprisingly - got along just as swimmingly with the ‘night crawlers’ as you did with the day shift. It was starting to piss him off at this stage.

Every time he and Abbot met up at home, you were the first topic of conversation. He ranted and raved about what you did and what you didn’t do and why it annoyed him and why he didn’t think you were gonna be a good fit in the long run.

His husband listened, of course, and empathised with him. It’s hard to work with someone you don’t seem to like at all. But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. This time, when Robby started, Abbot had to intercept.

“Mike, baby. This is becoming an obsession." When Robby opened his mouth to argue back, Abbot couldn’t help but take notice of the slight flush on his cheeks. The same flush he had had every time he brought her up recently.

At first, he had assumed that he was just getting worked up about you, but now…

“Honey, I think you might have a little crush.” Abbot said softly. Robby scoffed in response.

“Well, I’m hardly gonna leave you at this stage.” He put his palms on his eyes and pressed hard. Abbot leaned over and gently lowered them before he hurt himself.

“She’s fake as fuck, brother. You should hear how she talks to the others. It’s like a fucking kindergarten.” He groans, squeezing Abbot’s hands.

“What, all this ‘cause she won’t call you a good boy?” He joked, but he smiled when Robby blushed harder.

“Ohhhh, brother.” He laughed, scooping Robby up into his arms and squeezing him. “You got a crush, it’s okay.”

“I’m married.” Robby whispered into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know, champ. I was there.” Robby raised his head to glare at him.

“I can’t avoid her. She’s fuckin’ everywhere.” Robby moaned, sounding genuinely displeased.

“I wouldn’t want her to be anywhere else. I mean…” Abbot looked down at Robby, wiggling his eyebrows emphatically. “I wished she’d have preferred nights for a while.”

Now, Robby’s head flew up.

“You’ve thought about her?” He asked.

“Not as much as you, hon. But, yeah, I have.” Abbot squeezed him gently again.

“W- why?” Robby’s question was fair. They’d swung for a bit, yeah. But Abbot didn’t go for women. Not after his late-wife. Robby fiddled with Abbot’s blackened out band, resting underneath their matching ones.

“Well, she’s pretty. Seems like she’s a good girl, too.” Abbot said, shrugging off his concern.

“Don’t tell her that.” Robby huffed, rolling his eyes. “It fucks with her flow.”

“Does it now?” Abbot intoned. He found that very, very interesting.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a few weeks since you last ran into Jack Abott. Robby was off and Shen had covered the day. He did a hand-off and ran for the hills. Abbot is secretly glad he doesn’t prefer the days. He’s a pretty vital part of his crew. Abbot met you just as you were surveying the board for the last time.

“Anything you need to warn me about?” He asked. You laughed, this guy was a sucker for gossip.

“Nothing too interesting. Central 12’s a biter, though. Relative distance is recommended.” You supplied, lips thinning even with your smile.

“Doin’ anything for the night?”

“Nothing, just sleeping.” You responded, sighing. This little tell was the closest to complaining he’d seen you. Abbot nodded. You looked like shit.

“Eat something nice and go straight to bed.” He didn’t quite order you to do it, but it definitely wasn’t a suggestion either.

“Sir, yes, sir.” You gave him a mock salute, standing up straight.

“Good girl.” He said, patting your shoulder and walking away. He looked back after a moment to look at you and sure enough, you were short-circuiting.

Very interesting, indeed.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Like Robby had been doing for you, you very much actively tried to avoid him. Which didn’t typically work. You couldn’t seem to stop running into him.

Your frosty demeanor didn’t waver with him, but his had softened greatly with you. He had taken to sticking around for your procedures again, nodding affirmatively when you did the right thing, or offering a gentle “ah-ah” when doing something he thought wrong.

He often went to you after a tough patient, asked if you needed anything or if you wanted to talk. You tried to be open to it, you really did. But he got under your skin. You were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You had spoken to Samira about how Robby was when first started, kind and encouraging. How quickly he turned cruel and empathetic when he found a new ‘star student’. You didn’t want to be his star student, but you seemed to have had most of his attention recently. 

You knew he’d turn on you again, and when he did the others would follow. It happened at Presby, and it’ll happen here. You could feel it in your bones, you wouldn’t let them get the leg up on you like that.

The day finished up and like always, you searched the board. You wanted any reason to stick around for a bit, to chat to someone, to be useful to someone else. Robby walked over and prattled on about his weekend plans. Him and Abbot were both off, something that almost never happened.

“C’mon, you got here early. I’m not gonna let you do any overtime.” Hands on your shoulders, he gently steered you towards the exit. You hadn’t brought in anything other than your worn hoodie and your phone, both of which were in your possession, so you had no excuse to not follow.

“You got a ride?” He asked, eyeing your lack of keys.

“Car’s at the shop.” You admit sheepishly. “I’m walking today.”

Robby frowned.

“No, you’re not. I’ll give you a ride.” He shook his head, hand going to your shoulder to hold you in place before crossing the road. He used the same hand to lead you across the road. You couldn’t help but relax a little at the action. You liked just following along with whatever people wanted at the end of the day. I mean, your whole job revolved around making choices to save lives, who would want to make a decision about themselves after that?

“You really don’t have to, Dr. Robby.” You murmured.

“He’s not, I am.” A gravelly voice caused you to look up. Jack Abott stood by their car, dangling the keys until they made a jingleing noise. You clearly weren’t the only one surprised. Robby’s eyebrows shot up. He went over and kissed Abbot on the cheek.

“We actually had a question for you.” Abbot spoke, hand rubbing Robby’s back.

“If you don’t have plans tonight, would you have dinner with us?” Your brows shot up this time.

“But- you…” Your eyes shifted between Abbot and Robby several times.”

“Want you to have dinner with us? Yes.” Robby finished off what he assumed your sentence would have been.

“I- I’d hate to intrude.” Was all you could think to say, because one part of your brain immediately wanted to say ‘yes!’.

“Good thing you wouldn’t be, then.” Abbot smiled at you, winking. “Look, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. We want you to, but your word is final. We won’t be offended.”

“We can pretend this never happened. We drive you home and we don’t talk about it again.” Robby confirmed softly.

“No, I- I don’t have any plans. Dinner would be nice…” You admitted, stomach starting to grumble. Robby’s did too, causing Abbot to laugh. 

He ushered both of you in the car and drove to what you could only assume was their house. A real nice, big townhouse a little ways outside the city. It was quiet, but thoughtfully decorated. The lawn was stunning and the colour pleasing to the eye. You were invited inside to see the gorgeous interior. The kitchen was a mix of modern furniture with retro colour schemes - reds, blacks and blue used interchangeably. The house seemed to be lit according to mood, with the kitchen lights on full whack and the dining room a little dimmer.

“I actually have it all ready, just sit down anywhere.” Abbot instructed, not caring that he admitted he assumed you were going to say yes.

“Can I help?” You asked.

“Yes, by sitting down.” Robby replied, pointing to one chair in particular. Right to the head of the table.

Abbot’s voice rang out again - “Do you drink wine?” - Upon hearing your affirmative, his head popped through the doorless frame.

“White or red?”

“Red, please. Will I help set out the drinks?” You asked for the second time.

“You can stay right where you are, please.” You are told for the second time.

After what feels like an eternity (it was 5 minutes), a small bowl is placed in front of you and your wine is topped up just slightly. Robby took the seat in front of you and Abbot beside you, at the head.

All three of you ate in relative silence, before you broke it to compliment the soup. It was potato and leek, so creamy and starchy that you didn’t even feel the crunchy onion-y texture.

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” Abbot smiled at you. You tried to control your blush, ducking your head modestly.

“Isn’t she just?” Robby agreed, as you hurriedly spooned another mouthful of soup into your gob.

The first course passed quickly after that. Robby collected the bowls, pushing you down in the chair when you got up to help him. He disappeared into the kitchen.

“You don’t know when to give up, do ya?” Abbot asked, laughing slightly.

“I’m not good with being idle.” You admitted, laughing along. He stared at you for a bit.

“You can relax, you look so tense. Did you have a bad day?” He asked kindly.

“No, no. Everything went very well. I’m just… I’m just like this.” You laughed again, albeit a bit more nervously this time.

“Uh-huh, well, I want everyone who walks in here to feel better when they walk out. Is there anything I can do for you?” His gaze followed yours, ducking his head to look you in the eyes. It’s hard to ignore the husky undertone in his voice.

“Look up at me, please. It’s not good to slouch.” He gently corrected and you rushed to remedy yourself.

“Sorry, Dr. Abbot.”

“You’re okay, I just don’t want your back to get sore. And, call me Jack when we’re not working.”

“Yes, sorry Jack.”

“Good girl, you’re okay.” He doesn’t miss the way the tension leaves your shoulders. You stare at him for a moment, your eyes almost glazing over before Robby returns.

“Roast should be ready in 20.” He murmured, squeezing Abbot’s shoulder as he passed him. Him and Abbot exchanged a few looks before Robby began again.

“You’re a very smart girl.” He stated simply, you couldn’t help but whip your head over to him.

“Settle.” Abbot huffed a small laugh.

“I’m sure you can see we didn’t call you just to eat with you.” You didn’t know what to say to that. You simply hummed and nodded for him to continue.

“Jack and I have a particular… void that needs filling. And you seem to be the perfect candidate.” Robby continued, watching your face very closely. He saw your brows furrow.

“We aren’t asking you to have sex with us.” Abbot spoke very quietly, “That isn’t what we want.”

“Then what is this ‘void’?” You asked cautiously, not sure if you felt relieved or disappointed you attendings didn’t want to have sex with you.

“We’re old men, who make a lot of money and don’t have family to look after. We want someone to take care of.” Robby informed you.

“You want me to be your sugar baby?” You asked, a bit incredulously.

Simultaneously, you heard a ‘no’ and a ‘sort of…’. Abbot glared at Robby.

“Are you familiar with BDSM dynamics, honey?” You tried not to react when Abbot called you honey but judging by the way he looked at you, you failed.

“I-yes, I am.” You mutter, looking down again.

“Ah-ah, look up.” Abbot couldn’t help but remind you. Robby gawked at him, but you looked up automatically. Abbot tipped your chin encouragingly.

“Have you had any experience with it?” He asked and Robby turned his attention back to you.

“Uh, a bit, yeah.” You admitted in a whisper. God, this was so fucking embarrasing. Robby reached across the table for your hand, which had clenched around itself. He unwinded your fingers and placed his hand on top of yours, rubbing circles onto it.

“Can you tell us what you were doing?” He asked softly. Suddenly, it was hard for you to remember why you didn’t like Robby.

“I was- I was a submissive. Sometimes for sex, but usually domestically.” You murmured, feeling a bit lost in his gaze.

“Thank you for answering. You had a regular dom then?” He asked. You blinked up at him slowly.

“No, I was a part of this, like, group. You texted in and someone usually responded. I knew a few of them well but not all of them. I just… I just needed to be out of my head.” You shared, feeling a bit like a common whore. You went to look down again, but Robby clicked his tongue.

“I believe Jack asked you not to do that.”

“Sorry, Dr. Robby.”

“Michael, please.”

“Sorry Michael.” You murmur automatically.

“No apologies necessary, sweet girl. That must have been hard to tell me.” You nodded without thinking. Abbot piped up again.

“That’s exactly what we want. A submissive. You don’t have to fuck us. We want to feed you, bathe you, dress you up. We want you to listen, and do as you’re told, and to feel free.” Abbot took your other hand, thumb rubbing up and down your wrist.

“You don’t have to even try it. If you’re not interested, we eat dinner, drop you home and pretend none of this happened.” Robby promised, squeezing your hand.

“No pressure. If you want to think about it, then same thing.” Abbot assured.

“I… I do want to try. I haven’t done it in a bit, I might be a bit shit at it.” You admitted, feeling a bit exposed.

“You have been doing absolutely wonderfully.” Robby reassured you quickly.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, we’d do that for you.” Abbot added.

“Okay, I’ll try it with you. But if I don’t fall deep, don’t be upset.” You warned

“Stop getting in your own head about this, we’ll take it as we go, babe.” Robby brought your hand to his lips, kissing each finger between words. You revelled in the attention for a moment, and you knew they knew. You felt yourself settle down, the weight rolling off your shoulders.

You didn’t notice Abbot getting up beside you, so you jumped when a plate was placed in front of you. Abbot petted your hair soothingly.

“Hush, it’s only me. Here, Mike…” As he passed Robby his own. He placed his own down and quickly plucked the cutlery from your hands.

“Would you like it if I fed you, hon?” Abbot asked quietly, waiting for your response. You nodded slowly.

“Brave girl.” He noted you must have been wrecked to give in so easily.

The plan had initially been to just ask you tonight. Talk to you a bit about it, get to know you. You’d talk about expectations and fears and all of you would set a schedule. Which would still need to be made, but tonight was not the night. Abbot really hadn’t meant to start domming you before you’d even discussed it, but you were plain irresistible. It irritated him how you couldn’t see it. He could see you needed it tonight, Robby could too. You were barely hanging on.

“Do you like to try everything separately first or do you usually go straight in with your meal?” Robby asked before Abbot began.

“Separately, if it’s not too much trouble.” You disclosed, reaching to take the fork from Abbot’s hand preemptively. Abbot gently lowered it.

“Hands on your thighs or on the table, please. Thank you for telling me, I’d like to feed you.” They had a feeling you would need more than a simple instruction. You seemed to be a lot more insecure in yourself than they originally thought.

Clear instructions, easily-won praise often, and many reminders of the initial order or rules. They could remedy that, if you would let. They could only hope you would.

Abbot handfed you every bit, stopping every few to take some himself. When he was eating, Robby took the opportunity to feed you some of his own.

“You are taking this so very well.” He murmured, rubbing your cheek after a bit.

You had cleared the plate before you knew it, and Abbot smiled wide.

“Very, very good. Do you want anymore?” You shook your head lightly, muttering a small ‘no thank you’.

“Thank you for being so polite, sweet girl. You are doing so well. It’s hard to let someone take care of you, isn’t it?” Abbot asked empathetically, taking both of your hands in his own and kissing them. He turned to Robby, who was only watching.

“Mike, could you…” He asked Robby something, but you didn’t quite catch it. You watched him stand up and walk around to you.

“C’mere… That’s a good girl.” Robby spoke, bringing you into the living room. He plopped himself down on the middle of the couch and when he went to pull you into his lap, he was surprised to find you on the floor. You knelt between his legs, not needing to be told to get into position and falling into total habit for the first time tonight.

“Aren’t you a high achiever?” He crooned into your ear, petting your hair. He grabbed a pillow from the end of the couch and quietly ordered you to move for a moment. He could see the panic in your eyes and dropped the pillow. He brought his hands to your hips and looked up at you.

“I just wanted to move this underneath you so you’re not in any pain. You’re not in trouble, we’re all okay.” He assured quickly, thumbing circles onto your hip bones. You nodded and lowered yourself onto the pillow when he had it placed.

“Is that much better, honey?” He cooed at you from above.

“Mhm-hmm. Thank you, Michael.” You instinctively leaned against his left leg. He continued cooing at you until Abbot came back in. They said something to each other, but you weren’t listening. You didn’t feel like you needed to. You weren’t told to pay attention to anything.

“Feeling okay, baby?” Abbot looked down at you, gently tugging your chin upwards to meet his eyes. He was sitting on Robby’s left side. You nodded slowly, eyes glazed over. You smiled softly at him and he released his hold, letting your head fall back to where it was.

“Best girl.” He said, scratching your scalp, while Robby’s leg supported your body weight.