Here For The FanFics

It's the same Friday night ritual you've fallen into for years now—predictable in a way that should feel boring by now, but somehow never does. You don't remember when exactly it became your thing, but you know it started sometime after his last relationship went up in flames. Somewhere between his dry, sarcastic text—"bring snacks or don't bother showing up"—and the way he always leaves the door unlocked when he knows it's you coming over. You don't knock anymore. Haven't in ages. You just toe off your shoes by muscle memory, drop your bag on the little hook by the door he hung there for you a year ago, and slip into your usual spot on his couch like it's second nature. It is, really.

Tonight's no different. The air smells like leftover pizza and the two cheap beers you grabbed from his fridge on your way in. You're half-curled under one of his worn-out throw blankets, your legs stretched long across the couch, your bare feet pressing into his thigh like they always do. He doesn't even flinch when you do it anymore. Just rests his warm palm on your shin absentmindedly like it's the most natural thing in the world. It's reckless, really, how easy this all is. How dangerous it feels sometimes when he doesn't pull away.

The TV's playing something you've both seen a thousand times—something neither of you are really paying attention to. The real entertainment, like always, is the stupid conversation unraveling between sips of cheap beer and leftover takeout. He makes a joke about your taste in men, you roll your eyes and throw one right back at him. The back-and-forth feels sharper tonight though, like you're both playing closer to some invisible line neither of you have dared to cross. Not really.

You don't know what makes you say it. Maybe it's the second beer loosening your tongue, or maybe it's the way his laugh curls in your stomach when you throw your head back against the cushion and groan dramatically. You mock the high-pitched whine one of his exes once made you promise not to bring up again. You pitch your voice higher on purpose, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead in the most ridiculous overacting you can manage.

"Oh, Harry... oh my God... you're so—so loud—" you gasp, drawing the word out, clutching your chest like you're seconds away from fainting.

You expect him to laugh. That's how it always goes. You take the piss, he rolls his eyes, throws something back, and you both move on. But tonight... tonight he doesn't laugh.

Instead, he goes still. His palm on your shin tightens just a little—barely noticeable, really, if you weren't suddenly hyperaware of every inch of his skin touching yours.

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing, and for the first time all night, you swear the air between you crackles like something you shouldn't touch.

"You really wanna keep pushing, sweetheart?"

The words come out low. Thicker. Not playful like they should be.

And your mouth goes dry.

Because that's not the kind of thing he says to you. Not like that.

You blink, heart stuttering, trying to laugh it off, but it comes out wrong—too breathless, too tight. "What? I'm kidding. Relax."

But he doesn't.

He leans back a little, his arm curling casually along the back of the sofa like he's suddenly aware of how close you are, how easy it would be to pull you closer. His jaw flexes as he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, like he's thinking too hard about something he shouldn't say.

And then he does.

"Maybe you should find out for yourself before you start laughing."

You freeze.

So does he.

The silence that falls between you isn't the usual kind—the one you fill with easy shrugs or dumb jokes. This one feels loaded. Heavy. Like you've both been balancing on this stupid little edge for so long you didn't even realize how close you'd gotten until you both looked down.

He swallows hard, flicking his gaze to your mouth and back up again so fast you almost think you imagined it.

You could laugh. You should laugh. That's how you survive this. You let it roll off your back, you change the subject, you make another joke and pretend you didn't hear it like that.

But you did. God, you did.

And something in your stomach twists.

Your voice comes out quieter than you mean for it to. Barely above a whisper. "What if I did?"

Harry's breath catches. You feel it more than hear it—right there where his palm is still pressed to your leg, fingers curling in slow motion like he's grounding himself. His mouth opens and closes again, like he's trying to figure out if you're fucking with him, if this is just another game.

You're not sure what kind of answer you're expecting—some dumb, cocky retort, maybe, or worse, a nervous laugh to remind you this is all one big misunderstanding. But when he finally speaks, it's nothing like that.

"Then you're gonna have to come over here and show me."

It knocks the air clean out of your lungs.

Because that's not a dare. Not a joke. Not something he can walk back if you say yes.

His hand slides a little higher on your shin, thumb dragging slow and steady like he's making sure you feel it. His gaze doesn't drop this time. Doesn't waver.

"C'mon, love. What's stoppin' you?"

You've never moved so slowly in your life. Shifting your weight, setting your half-finished beer down on the coffee table like you're moving underwater. Your heart's thundering so hard you're half-convinced he can hear it. You swing one leg over his lap, knees sinking into the sofa on either side of his hips until you're straddling him, palms braced on his chest to steady yourself.

And he's just... looking at you. Like you're the fucking answer to a question he didn't know he was allowed to ask.

"Hi," you whisper, suddenly breathless, nerves crashing over you in one dizzy wave.

The corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to laugh, but he doesn't. His hands find your waist, curling slow and careful, as if he's terrified you'll shift back and realize this is a mistake.

"Hey."

It's the softest thing you've ever heard from him. No edge, no teasing, just quiet and wrecked and right there between you like you've already passed the point of no return.

His thumb drags along your waist, and you swear you feel his hands tremble just a little.

"You gonna kiss me or what?" he whispers, voice cracking on the last word like it's killing him to hold back.

There's a second—just one—where the fear kicks in. Not the bad kind, not really. It's more the holy-shit-what-are-we-doing kind, the one that flickers right behind your ribs like a warning bell that's come a little too late. Because this is Harry. Your Harry. The one who steals your fries without asking and makes you playlists when you're having a bad day. The one who's held your hair back when you've had too much to drink, who's let you crash in his bed more times than you can count without ever once making it weird. He's always been safe. Uncomplicated. Yours in every way that didn't require you to risk everything by leaning in and closing the gap.

But now? Now his breath fans across your cheek, his hands tense on your waist like he's waiting for you to change your mind, and you know there's no coming back from this if you do it. No pressing rewind. No laugh-it-off in the morning.

And still—you lean in.

You don't even really kiss him at first. It's slower than that. Softer. Like you're both testing the weight of the moment, hovering close enough that you could pull back if you had to. You feel his breath catch when your nose brushes his, feel the tiniest tremor run through him when your fingers curl tighter in the worn fabric of his t-shirt. His lashes flutter against your cheekbone when you tilt your head, nudging your mouth toward his. And just when you start to wonder if he's going to make you do all of it—if he's going to sit there and let you chase the whole thing all the way down—he meets you halfway.

It starts careful. Almost clumsy with how long you've both tiptoed around this. His lips part slow, brushing yours once, twice, barely there. You almost pull back to say something stupid like "was that okay?" but then—God—he makes that sound.

Low in his throat, wrecked and quiet and so fucking real it short-circuits every rational thought you have left.

You melt.

The second time you kiss him, it isn't careful at all. You tilt your head, fingers sliding up into his curls like they've always wanted to, pulling him closer, chasing that sound like it's oxygen. He groans again, louder this time, and you feel him sink under you like his whole body's giving out.

"Fuck," he breathes, muffled between kisses, hands flexing tighter on your waist. "Fuck, baby, you're gonna ruin me."

The word baby snaps something loose in your chest, like you've just unlocked a part of him you never knew you were allowed to touch.

Your breath stumbles out in a shaky laugh, your lips brushing his as you gasp, "You really are loud."

He freezes for half a second like he's about to pull back, but you barely give him the chance. You roll your hips over his, testing the friction, chasing the heat, and it punches another groan right out of him—louder, needier this time.

"Yeah?" he pants, teeth scraping your jaw as he pulls you closer, rougher, like he's trying to fuse you to him. "You like that? Huh? Wanna keep mocking me, baby? Gonna let you hear it all fuckin' night if you let me."

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers tightening in his hair.

And God, you should stop. You should slow down, give yourself half a second to think this through, to figure out what the hell this means. But his mouth finds that spot under your ear that makes your whole body jolt, and suddenly you don't care about what tomorrow's going to feel like.

You rock against him again, chasing the pressure, the heat curling low in your belly. He hisses, dragging his hands up under your t-shirt like he's starving to touch you.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, voice cracking like he already knows you won't. "Tell me right fuckin' now if this isn't what you want."

But you don't. You can't. Not when you're already dizzy with it. Not when you've wanted this longer than you've let yourself admit.

So instead, you lean in again, brushing your mouth against his ear until you feel him shudder under you.

"I don't want you to stop."

His breath hitches, hands curling tighter like he's barely holding himself back.

"You sure?" he rasps, nose brushing along your jaw, voice so wrecked it makes your chest ache. "Tell me you mean it. Tell me this isn't just the fuckin' beer talking, baby, 'cause I swear to God—"

You pull back just enough to look at him. Really look at him.

He looks wrecked already. Like this is costing him. Like this has been sitting on the tip of his tongue for longer than you've even dared to hope.

And you swear something inside you snaps.

"It's not," you breathe, shaking your head as you cup his jaw in your hands. "Swear it's not."

He curses under his breath, dragging his hands down to your thighs like he's grounding himself, like he's trying to keep himself from breaking.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes screwed shut like it physically hurts to keep his hands from sliding under your shorts. "Need you to tell me what you want, baby. Please."

And it's there, on the tip of your tongue.

The thing you swore you'd never risk saying.

But it's too late now, isn't it? You've already crossed the line.

So you whisper it like a secret, like it's been sitting there in your chest for years.

"I want you."

It happens fast after that. Like the air finally snaps between you and there's no holding it back. One second you're still hovering, trembling with it, your hands on his jaw like you're terrified he's going to pull away—and the next, you feel him exhale the most broken sound you've ever heard from him, his grip tightening on your thighs like he's lost the battle with himself.

"Come here," he groans, breath hitching, voice barely holding together, and before you can even blink, he's dragging you closer—sitting up straighter, chest pressed to yours, his mouth finding yours again like he's starving.

This time, it's different. Hotter. Desperate. There's no hesitation now, no teasing, no careful second-guessing. It's messy, frantic, like you've both finally stopped pretending this wasn't inevitable. His hands are everywhere—sliding up under your shirt, fingers dragging across your skin like he's trying to memorize every inch of you. You gasp into his mouth, shivering when his palms flatten against your back, pulling you flush to him, your thighs tightening around his waist instinctively like you can't stand even an inch of space between you.

You swear you feel him shudder under you, like you've knocked the breath clean out of him.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, dragging his mouth across your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck that make your whole body jolt. "Feel that? Feel what you fuckin' do to me?"

You do feel it—hard and hot between your legs, pressing up through your thin shorts—and the realization knocks every ounce of breath from your lungs. You roll your hips without thinking, grinding down with more pressure this time, and you feel him stiffen, hear the sharp curse tear from his throat.

His head falls back, curls brushing the back of the sofa, and you watch the muscles in his throat work as he swallows hard, jaw so tight you can see the effort it's taking him not to lose control right there.

"Jesus Christ, you're killin' me," he groans, one hand sliding up to fist in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. "Tell me what you want, baby. Say it. Please."

You don't even hesitate. You can't. You're already shaking with it. Already soaked in it. Your voice comes out as more of a gasp than a whisper, breathless and messy against his jaw.

"Want you to touch me. Want you so bad it hurts."

The groan he lets out sounds like it physically knocks the breath out of him.

Before you can process it, he's moving. One strong arm sweeps under your thighs, the other curls tight around your back, and you let out a squeak of surprise when he stands, lifting you off the couch like you weigh nothing.

"Harry!" you gasp, clinging to him, laughing breathlessly as he stumbles toward the hallway.

"Shut up," he breathes against your neck, mouth dragging hot along your skin, "Not lettin' you go. Not now. Not ever."

You swear you feel your heart split in two right there.

By the time your back hits his mattress, you're trembling with it—skin buzzing, breath catching, heart pounding so hard it almost hurts.

He doesn't move for a second, just hovers over you, curls falling into his eyes, his chest heaving like he's trying to memorize every inch of you before he ruins it.

"Tell me again," he rasps, voice cracking. "Please. Need to hear you say it's not just the beer talkin', baby."

You sit up on your elbows, heart swelling so painfully full it feels like it might burst, and reach for the hem of your shirt.

"It's not," you whisper as you pull it over your head and toss it somewhere over the side of the bed. You're trembling a little now, but you don't stop. You meet his eyes—wide, glassy, hungry—and you nod, slow and certain. "It's me. I swear."

His eyes drop to your bare skin, and he drags his hand through his curls like he can't fucking believe this is happening.

"Jesus," he breathes, crawling over you again on his forearms like he's scared to crush you. "You're perfect. So fuckin' perfect."

You barely recognize the sound you make when he kisses you again—somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, like your body is short-circuiting under his hands. You've kissed him before—drunken pecks on the cheek, playful lips pressed to his jaw when he made you laugh too hard—but never like this. Never with the weight of every line you've tiptoed around collapsing all at once between your bodies.

His hands are greedy now, trembling just slightly as they trail along your sides, slipping under the curve of your ribs like he's afraid to rush, like he wants to memorize every inch of skin he's never dared to touch. He dips his head, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, sucking softly at the base of your neck, and you swear your back arches off the bed all on its own.

"So fuckin' soft," he murmurs under his breath, voice low and rough and right against your skin like it's a prayer you weren't meant to hear. His hands slide higher, fingertips brushing the underside of your bra, hesitating just barely like he's giving you that last out.

You nod before he even asks.

"Please," you whisper, breath catching, "I want you to touch me."

He groans like you've wrecked him completely, leaning up just enough to tug the fabric over your head and toss it aside with your shirt. The moment your chest is bare to him, he just... stops. Stares. Like you're the first thing in his life that's ever left him speechless.

His palms come up slowly, reverently, cupping you like he's terrified you'll vanish if he blinks too long. His thumbs brush over your nipples and your whole body jerks with the heat of it, breath spilling out in something dangerously close to a moan.

"Fuck me," he whispers, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, like he's trying to keep himself from coming undone too fast. "You're... fuck, you're unreal."

You can't stop yourself—you hook your legs tighter around his waist, grinding up into him again, desperate to feel all of him. His breath stutters, hips jerking like he can't help himself.

And then he's moving again, dragging his mouth down your body—slow, lingering kisses pressed to every inch of skin he can reach. Down your ribs, over your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts.

He looks up at you from there, lips pink and swollen, curls a mess, chest still heaving.

"Can I take these off, baby?" he asks, voice so thick and wrecked it makes your stomach clench. "Wanna see all of you. Need to."

You nod so fast it almost embarrasses you, lifting your hips for him without a second thought. He drags your shorts and underwear down slow, eyes never leaving yours as he bares you completely.

The air feels electric on your skin. Too much and not enough at the same time. You feel exposed, trembling, but the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing in the world that matters—makes you feel like you could fall apart right there and he'd hold every single piece.

He sucks in a sharp breath, dragging his hand through his hair again like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"Jesus, you're beautiful," he whispers, voice cracking, like it's physically painful to hold back. "Can't believe I get to touch you."

You reach for him again, curling your fingers into his shirt, tugging at the fabric until he gets the message. He peels it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him, and when his bare chest presses to yours, skin to skin, you swear you could die from how right it feels.

"Please, Harry," you breathe, burying your face in his neck, rocking your hips up again without thinking. "Need you so bad it hurts."

He shudders, dragging his mouth back to yours, kissing you slower this time—deeper, like he's trying to pour every unspoken word into you.

"Gonna take care of you, baby," he whispers between kisses. "Promise. Gonna make you feel so good."

And you believe him. God, you believe him with every shaking breath you take.

You barely register the way your breath shudders in your throat when his mouth finds yours again. It's slower now. Deeper. Less frantic, more certain—like every kiss is meant to make you feel it. Like he knows you already do. His weight settles a little heavier on top of you, hips sinking between your thighs, skin hot and slick where his chest presses to yours.

You can feel him—all of him—hard and thick, pressing right where you need him, just separated by the thin fabric of his boxers. The pressure makes your breath catch, makes your hips tilt up instinctively like you're chasing something you're both too far gone to slow down for.

He groans into your mouth, one hand sliding down your side to grip your thigh, pulling it higher up his waist like he needs to feel closer, needs to make sure you know how badly he wants this. How badly he wants you.

"Fuck," he breathes, voice cracking as he drops his forehead to yours, hips rocking forward once—slow, steady—grinding into you just enough to make your whole body jolt. "Baby... I—"

He doesn't finish. Doesn't have to. You already feel him shaking above you, like he's holding himself together by the thinnest thread.

"Harry..." You can't even hear your own voice, breathless and wrecked, but you know he hears it by the way his grip tightens on your skin. "Need you. Please."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, wide green eyes flicking between yours like he's trying to memorize every single thing about you in this exact second.

"You sure?" he whispers, voice barely steady. "I don't—fuck—I don't wanna do this if you're not sure, baby."

You almost sob. "I've never been more sure of anything."

His face crumples like you've broken him, lips crashing onto yours again with so much force it steals every bit of air from your lungs. You feel his hand slide between you, pressing low over your stomach, slipping down until his fingers brush over the slick heat of you.

You let out a noise that sounds nothing like you—high and desperate, something you'd be embarrassed about if you weren't already too far gone to care.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, voice shaking like he's seconds from losing control. "You're so wet, baby. All for me, yeah?"

You nod frantically, clinging to him, your nails digging into his back as you roll your hips into his touch.

"All for you," you whisper back, voice cracking, "Please, Harry, just—please."

He shudders so hard you feel it in your bones, his breath spilling hot and shaky over your skin as his fingers slide through the mess between your legs, circling your clit so slow you could scream.

"Gonna take my time with you," he whispers, "Wanna feel you come on my fingers first. Wanna feel you fall apart for me."

And God, the way he says it—wrecked and hungry and like it's the only thing he's ever wanted—you don't think you've ever wanted anything more in your life.

You try to brace yourself. You know you should. But it's useless the second his fingers slip lower, dragging through your folds like he's already memorized every part of you. He's so gentle at first, so fucking careful, like he's afraid to hurt you or rush it. Like he's determined to make this the best thing you've ever felt.

Your body arches off the bed before you even realize you're moving, a broken moan catching in your throat when his fingers find that perfect spot again and again. It's slow, torturous, the way he circles your clit—light at first, just a tease, until your hips are chasing his touch, until you're gasping his name like you've forgotten how to say anything else.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, breath hot against your jaw as he keeps moving, building you higher with every slow stroke. "You're doin' so good for me. Sound so fuckin' pretty when you fall apart, you know that?"

You dig your nails into his shoulder, gripping him like he's the only thing keeping you from slipping under. You've never been this sensitive, never been this wound up, like every nerve in your body is buzzing under his touch.

You try to warn him—you really do. But the words die in your throat when he adds just a little more pressure, a little more speed, his mouth pressing hot kisses down your neck while his fingers work you open.

"C'mon, baby," he breathes, "Wanna feel you let go for me. Been dreamin' about this for fuckin' years, swear to God—"

You cry out, hips stuttering, body shaking as the pressure coils tighter and tighter until it snaps, crashing over you so hard it nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

You feel yourself clench around his fingers, feel him groan right against your ear like he feels it too, like he's just as wrecked by it as you are.

You're still gasping, still trying to catch your breath, when he pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands. His lips are pink, swollen, his hair a complete mess. But it's his eyes that leave you breathless.

Wide. Shiny. Like you've just torn him to pieces and he doesn't know how to put himself back together.

"Baby," he whispers, voice breaking like it's too much, "Need to be inside you. Please. Please tell me you want that too."

You don't even hesitate. You reach for him, curling your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down until you feel him bare and hot and thick against your thigh.

You look up at him, heart in your throat, and whisper the only thing that's been sitting on your tongue since the moment this started: "I've always wanted you."

And you swear, in that split second before he sinks into you, he breaks all over again.

You feel him hesitate just for a breath—just long enough to make sure you don't change your mind. His forehead presses to yours, his nose brushing yours softly, like he's checking again without needing to ask out loud.

You slide your hands up his back, nails scraping lightly across his skin, and whisper the only thing you know will tip him over the edge.

"Please, Harry... I need you inside me."

The groan that rips out of him sounds almost pained. His fingers curl tighter around your waist, pulling your body up to meet him, and when you feel the thick head of him nudging at your entrance, you nearly stop breathing altogether.

He moves slow. So slow it's almost unbearable—like he's savoring every inch, dragging it out just to make you feel it. You gasp, clawing at his shoulders, your body stretching around him inch by inch until you're completely full, until there's no part of you that isn't pressed to him, surrounded by him.

"Fuck—" his voice cracks, shaking like he's seconds from losing it. "So fuckin' tight... Jesus Christ, baby, you feel... you feel like heaven."

You're trembling beneath him, breath stuttering out in little gasps you can't control. You feel stretched, full, claimed in a way that makes your head spin. Your nails dig deeper into his skin, grounding yourself against the overwhelming ache and pressure that feels like it's going to swallow you whole.

"Move," you gasp, hips tilting up to meet his, "Harry, please— need you to move."*

He groans again, low and wrecked, and finally—finally—he starts to move.

Slow at first. Barely pulling back before pressing right back in, hips rocking steady, grinding deep like he's tasting you from the inside. You cry out, biting your lip to muffle the sound, but he shakes his head, catching your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

"No," he pants, voice thick and ruined, "Let me hear you. Don't fuckin' hold back, baby. Want everyone to know how good I'm makin' you feel."

You let go of the breath you've been holding, head tipping back as a moan rips from your throat, loud and broken and real. His hips snap a little harder, a little faster, and the sound of it—skin on skin, your name falling from his lips like it's the only thing he knows how to say—makes you feel like you're coming undone all over again.

He presses his mouth to your ear, breath hot and shaking as he fucks into you harder, deeper, each stroke dragging a wrecked little whimper from your lips.

"Tell me this is mine now," he growls, voice pure filth in your ear. "Tell me no one else gets to touch you like this, baby. Ever again."

You can't think, can't breathe, can barely get the words out between gasps.

"It's yours," you choke out, clinging to him like your life depends on it. "Only you, Harry. Fuck—only you."

You don't know how he manages to keep it together. You're falling apart with every slow, deep thrust—clutching at him like you'll float away if you don't anchor yourself to his body. He's everywhere. Filling you, surrounding you, breathing you in like you're the only thing keeping him alive.

His hands frame your face like he needs to feel all of you to believe this is real. His thumbs swipe at the damp skin under your eyes, like he's trying to catch the little gasps and wrecked sounds falling from your lips. His mouth finds your jaw, your throat, dragging open-mouthed kisses down your skin as he groans, low and breathless.

"You feel so fuckin' good," he pants, hips rocking harder now, the bed creaking with every deep push. "Could stay right here all fuckin' night, baby. Stuffed full of me... takin' every inch so good... fuck— look at you."*

His voice hits something deep in you—something raw and helpless—and your back arches off the bed like your body's chasing every word.

"You're killin' me," you gasp, barely able to hold yourself together. "Harry— please—* harder, I—fuck, I need—"*

You don't even finish. He growls, actually growls into your neck, like you've snapped whatever restraint he had left. He pulls back, grabs your hips, and slams back into you, so deep and rough you choke on a cry you can't hold in.

"Like that?" he rasps, voice shaking as his hips piston faster now, driving into you like he's making up for every second you both wasted pretending you didn't want this. "S'that what you fuckin' need, baby? You need me to ruin you properly, huh?"

You nod, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes—not from pain, not even from pleasure—but from the way he's looking at you like you're his entire fucking world.

"Yes," you whimper, breath catching on a sob you didn't know was there. "Please— ruin me—* all yours—* always—"

He groans again, shaking above you, forehead pressed to yours like he's trying to climb inside your skin. His breath fans hot across your mouth as he slows just a little, grinding deep again, hips rocking in filthy little circles that make your whole body lock up.

"That's it," he pants, "Let me feel you again, baby. Wanna feel you come all over my cock. Can you do that for me? Huh? Wanna hear you fall apart one more time."

You can barely nod, already so close you could taste it. You grab at his back, wrapping your legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper, faster, until you can't even think anymore.

"Harry— I—* fuck—* I'm gonna—"*

He doesn't stop. Doesn't let up. He keeps fucking you steady and deep, his hand sliding between your bodies, finding your clit again, rubbing fast messy circles that destroy you.

You come hard, stars bursting behind your eyes, your whole body locking up under him as you cry out his name loud enough to echo through the room.

You hear him groan so deep it's almost a snarl, feel him jerk, hips snapping faster now, losing his rhythm like he's chasing his own release.

"Where— fuck—* where do you want me, baby? Tell me—* fuck—"

Your head spins. Your body's still shaking, still buzzing, but you manage to drag him down, mouth at his ear, whispering the filthiest thing you've ever said in your life.

"Want you inside me... fill me up, Harry... please— want all of you."

He loses it. Full-body shuddering, hands gripping your hips so tight you'll probably bruise, burying himself deep with a wrecked cry as he comes inside you, hips rocking through every last pulse of it until he finally collapses on top of you, shaking and breathless.

Neither of you moves for a long time.

His body is heavy on top of you, but you don't care. You wrap your arms around him tighter, as if letting go might shatter whatever spell has just woven itself between your ribs. His breath fans hot and uneven across your neck, every exhale trembling like he's still coming down from it—like he doesn't quite know how to land.

You feel him shift slightly, just enough to brace his weight on his elbows again, careful not to crush you. His nose brushes yours as he pulls back to look at you, curls sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. You've never seen him like this before. Wrecked. Fragile. Wide-eyed and terrified in the best possible way.

He blinks, searching your face like he's waiting for you to wake up and realize this was a mistake.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, so quiet you almost don't hear it.

Your throat tightens. You reach up, cupping his jaw with both hands, pulling him closer until your lips brush softly over his.

"I've never been better," you breathe. "Promise."

You feel him sigh, like you've just cut every string holding him together. His forehead presses to yours again, eyes squeezing shut like he doesn't know how to say what he needs to say without falling apart.

"I—" His voice cracks. He pulls in a shaking breath. "I don't wanna ruin this. Don't wanna fuck this up."

Your heart breaks a little at how scared he sounds. Like you could somehow forget what just happened. Like you haven't already fallen so far there's no way back.

You trace your thumb along his jaw, tilting his face until he's looking at you again.

"You couldn't ruin this if you tried," you whisper. "I'm yours, Harry. I've been yours for so fucking long."

He lets out the softest sound—somewhere between a breath and a laugh—and leans in to kiss you again. This one's slower, softer. No heat, no urgency. Just yours. Just his.

You don't know how long you lie there tangled together, skin sticky, hearts pounding in sync. Long enough for the air to shift. Long enough for the weight of it all to settle over you both in the best kind of way.

When he finally rolls to his side, pulling you with him, tucking you into his chest like you belong there, you hear him murmur against your hair:

"You're not leavin' me after this, yeah?"

You smile, nose brushing his throat as you snuggle closer.

"Not a chance."

And you swear you feel him smile against your skin, arms tightening around you like he's never letting go.

Not tonight. Not ever.

***

It’s for the environment. It’s for the environment. It’s for the environment.

Every day he waited for her to get to his car he had to chant it to himself that it was worth it. “We’re not going to fight today,” he mumbled to himself as she left the apartment building. It was exactly one building next to his and so it made sense.

She looked really pretty. She always did. It was brutal on his psyche because he wanted to like her. He was desperate to like her, but she was just so... annoying. But her hair was half up in a clip, pieces spilled from it almost artfully. That was the only way he could describe her: art. Harry wasn’t sure if she wore makeup, he suspected she did but if he found out she was naturally that stunning he wouldn’t have been surprised either.

Her dress pants looked perfect on her legs, not quite painted on but close. Her bright blue button down was tucked in and complimented her complexion so well. She wore a pair of heels to complete her look which he knew she didn’t like doing so he was bracing for her complaints—she was much more of a flats person; but she felt she had to wear them to be taken seriously. She looked professional, beautiful, but approachable.

Harry took a deep breath trying to quell the frustration, anxiety, and adoration he had for her before she got in the car. We’re not going to fight today.

“Hi,” she greeted quietly.

“Hi,” he answered as she got settled. She put her coffee mug in the cup holder, her lunch bag and work bag went to the floor by her feet. Harry much preferred her weekend look, and he was sure she did too; sweatpants, a hoodie or T-shirt, sneakers or slippers was much more her style and she wore that just as beautifully as she did her professional outfit.

Jesus Christ it was going to be a long week. How was it only Monday?

“Do y’have a presentation today?” He asked as she finally settled herself into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, why?” Harry noted she was immediately distrustful and did his best to ignore it because he was trying, with everything in him, to be polite and kind. More than he usual.

“Y’look nice,” he shrugged.

“As in I don’t usually look nice?” She asked defensively. “Are you playing a trick on me? Is this a joke?”

That was short-lived. He sighed and looked at the ceiling for help like the answer to this complicated woman was going to be there, finally. “No, s’not a joke. Y’always look nice, love. But y’look extra nice today.”

“Oh,” she pouted, the pucker between her eyebrows making itself known. He was used to seeing it and he found it cute since she looked so serious and her face was just so sweet it almost didn't make sense for her to look so grumpy. But Harry knew better. “Thank you,” she murmured, surprise laced in her voice. “Sorry... I’m nervous,” she explained.

He frowned. “M’sure you’ll be fine.”

“Mm.”

They didn’t speak for several moments. Silence was a lot better for them. Less of a chance to argue with one another. “How was your weekend?” She asked. Small talk was typically safe. As long as there wasn’t a lot of details.

“Good, finished m’book,” but he didn’t offer what he read because he knew they didn’t share the same taste in book genres and she would probably wrinkle her cute little nose in distaste. “How was yours?”

“Fine, visited my friend,” but she didn’t say which one because he would just tell her how she was being used for her money and networking to get into nice restaurants. The silence continued for another few minutes. She scrolled on her phone then pulled her laptop out of her bag. There was about forty minutes until they reached their office so maybe she would go over her presentation.

Harry would have offered to listen to it, but from experience, she would argue every point of constructive criticism he had to offer—only because he had done the very same. In actuality, her presentation was probably perfect. There was no need for her to be nervous. But as she had explained many times over, she was a woman in a corporate office with a bunch of men who didn’t trust her. She had to work twice as hard to get things done her way.

The silence was interrupted by her stomach growling loud enough for Harry to hear it. He sighed and rolled his eyes like it was a major inconvenience for him. “What, Harry? What?” She grumbled.

“Why don’t y’jus’ eat before y’leave?”

“I told you, I’m nervous about my presentation today.”

“What’s your excuse for the other days?”

“Happy Monday,” she grumbled and put her head on the window. But of course, at that moment Harry stomped on the brake as he was wont to do. Meaning her head all but smacked off the glass. “Ow! For God’s sake, Harry! You don’t have to slam on the brakes!”

“I’m not,” she pulled the visor down to look in the mirror to inspect her forehead as if it was going to create a bruise instantly. “My God, you’re dramatic,” he muttered under his breath.

“You drive like a grandma,” she retorted.

“What, safely?!” He hissed through his teeth. He wanted to actually slam on the brakes. Her stomach growled again only further fueling his annoyance with her. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he pulled off the closest exit and headed for a nearby coffee shop so she could get a pastry or something for her.

“We don’t need to stop.”

“You need t’eat something. Sounds like y’trapped an animal in there.”

Her cheeks felt warm with his comparison. “That’s so fucking rude Harry.”

“I don’t care, y’need t’eat!”

“I’m not hungry. I’m nervous about my presentation.”

“S’gonna be a shitty presentation if y’stomach keeps growling over the sound of your voice.”

She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and turned to look at the window. “I’m too nervous to eat; thank you for caring in your overbearing, aggressive way, but I won’t eat anything. I’ll eat a granola bar from my desk when we get to the office,” she explained.

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head but returned to the highway after their tiny detour. “You’re sure?”

“Yup. Can’t eat in the car anyway and I don’t want to be any later than we already are.”

“Late,” his eyes were going to get stuck trying to look at the back of his brain. “You’re ridiculous.”

The spat simmered tensely in the silent air between them. They went a whole four minutes without arguing. That had to be a record, even for them.

*

The drive home was much less tense almost always. Usually, they were both too drained to speak to one another, so it made it a lot easier to tolerate the other person’s existence.

So, it was Harry’s fault that they argued again on the way home.

“How was your presentation?” He asked politely.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Jus’ fine?” He frowned. “Y’were all worked up ‘bout it this morning.”

“Yeah, because no one takes me seriously,” she snorted, but her laugh didn’t have a trace of real humor in it.

“Right, so it was just fine?”

“What are you looking for here Harry?” Her irritation was evident in her voice.

“I don’t know, a better adjective? Y’got through t’them? They hated it? Fine makes y’sound like a teen coming home from school.”

She rolled her eyes. “They’re going to table my idea for another day,” she sounded exhausted, and Harry was tired too, so in hindsight, he was willing to take the entire blame for the argument and subsequent tense ride home.

“How do y’feel ‘bout that?”

“What do you even care for, Harry? What’s with the interrogation?”

“Forget it,” he sighed. “I was jus’ making conversation. Y’didn’t even ask how my day was.”

“How was your day?” She snapped.

“Fine.”

Her hands clenched into fists in her lap, and she inhaled deeply. “Don’t talk to me,” she grumbled.

“Fine by me.”

*

She drove every other day; it was their routine. It saved wear and tear on their cars and since her car was a hybrid, they really saved on gas and were doing their part to save the environment. If either of them had a car appointment or stayed home sick, then the other one would of course drive and they would pick up the following day, right where they left off.

When she drove, however, Harry was even grumpier, somehow. Though, it seemed impossible someone could be grumpier. But she made him leave an hour earlier than necessary. Harry was already awake and ready but he very much enjoyed a gradual wake up. He liked the time in the morning to do the daily NYT crossword puzzle and to meditate or workout before going to the office.

He did not like arguing an hour earlier than normal.

“It’s for the environment,” she mumbled to herself as Harry approached. He was otherworldly handsome. He looked like he should have been a model, not a financial wizard. His hair was perfectly messy, his eyes sparkled, and his entire frame was just meant to tempt her. In a suit (which he wore every weekday), he looked fan-fucking-tastic. Everything ironed crisply, his tie perfectly straight. He was sincerely hot—there was no other way to describe him.

But his weekend look? When she saw him out and about lounging in joggers and T-shirts that clung to every muscle in his torso? That was her favorite version of him. They usually ran into each other on nice weather days when they both wanted sunshine and air. Harry jogged a lot. She would read on the bench in front of her building. Sometimes they saw one another at the grocery store. But given they spent two hours every day in an enclosed area and argued for nearly the entire time, they were not spending any more of their weekend doing the same thing, so not much more than a polite hello was said between them.

“Good morning,” he murmured as he got in and settled his bag at his feet. Harry didn’t have a presentation to prep so he was planning on sleeping and meditating this morning with his head propped against the window.

“Morning,” she answered softly.

“Sleep okay?” He asked. “The rain and wind woke me a lot.”

“Same,” she agreed. “You’re going to try and sleep then?”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “S’that okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It felt less tense today. We’re not going to argue, she thought to herself.

While Harry slept, she remained focused on the road. Her mind making a mental to do list for when she arrived at the office. She knew Harry hated getting there early, but her brain focused so much better without people constantly bothering her.

For a company that clearly had it out for a woman in finance, they sure did need her a whole lot.

She had music on low that she sang quietly along with while Harry slept. If it bothered him, he didn’t say anything today.

Even with Harry sleeping most of the way, it had to be a record that they didn’t argue all the way until they were a mere five minutes from their building. Naturally, their getting along came to an abrupt end. A truck roared in front of her, cutting her off and merging with very little space between them so it could get to the next lane and off at the next turn. It made her gasp and slam on her brakes at the same time. Instinctively, she tossed her arm out to save Harry from whiplash, her arm pressed to the front of his body. “What the fuck!?” He shouted and jolted awake.

“Sorry! Sorry! I was—” She dropped her arm quickly and her hand went back to the steering wheel quickly, hiding the shake she felt in it.

“Were y’letting someone randomly go again?”

She had a penchant for being too polite on the road—it was Harry’s least favorite thing about her driving habits. “N-no—” her palms were sweating against the wheel, her heart pounding as she gripped at it tighter. She parked and felt a wave of frustration and worry fall over her. Even some embarrassment as Harry yelled at her.

She hated being cut off by another driver. It made her so nervous. She wasn’t a car person, but hers was her baby. She didn’t want anything to happen to it and if being a little extra nice and cautious on the road would keep it safe, then she would do it.

“S’more dangerous t’be polite,” he grumbled. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorr—”

“Jus’ another reason we should get here so fucking early,” he snapped. “Forget it,” he shook his head and got out of the car and headed into the building without looking at her again. Still shaking, she pouted, took a few calming breaths and composed herself before she followed Harry’s path to their office building.

*

On the ride home she stopped for coffee and kindly purchased Harry one as well without asking—but when he heard her order it at the drive-through, he felt the argument from the morning disappearing slowly from his mind. “Thanks,” he mumbled from beside her.

“You’re welcome,” she figured less would be more in talking to him—especially after their morning.

But it didn’t help that she let two people merge in front of her as they got on the highway—almost like she was still nervous from this morning. Harry sighed heavily, like he was personally inconvenienced by her kindness to other drivers. She ignored it and continued home. Harry watched as she bit into a powdered donut she got. He rolled his eyes.

“What?” She asked through a mouthful, the sugar floated all over herself and her gearshift. He shook his head.

“S’a messy donut.”

“It’s my car,” she pouted. It was hard to take her seriously when she had powdered sugar all over her mouth. She was pretty adorable with sugar all over her cheeks, though, Harry would give her that.

“If y’want t’trade y’car in, they like it to be clean.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not getting rid of her ever.”

He just shook his head again. Some mornings she ate a breakfast sandwich and Harry watched the crumbs of her croissant rain on her outfit like confetti while she drove with one hand on the wheel. His car was pristine while hers was not. There were half empty water bottles in the back and random pieces of her “emergency” kit strewn about in the boot of her car in a way that Harry doubted would ever help if there was truly an emergency. There were blankets and reusable grocery bags all across the backseat—there was just no order. Which was so weird because she was one of the most organized people he knew.

“Y’know y’shouldn’t use plastic water bottles,” he rebuked as he caught sight of another one on the floor behind him.

She sighed. “I recycle them, Harry. Do you honestly think I don’t care about the environment when we carpool every day? Do you think that arguing with you for an hour and a half every day is because I hate the environment?”

“Forget it,” he sighed not wanting to argue. “How was your day?” He asked trying to recreate the tension free car ride that was present first thing this morning before they fought in the parking lot.

“It was okay,” she shrugged but immediately, Harry knew it was a lie. He quirked one eyebrow at her in disbelief and her unsure tone. With a bigger sigh, she relented. “I got yelled at for something that wasn’t my fault and then I didn't even get an apology when they realized it wasn’t.”

Harry frowned. “Did y’say something?”

“Did I try to hurt the male ego?" She shook her head with another eye roll. "Harry, I would never.”

He smirked and looked out the window. She was funny. Even if she was annoying. “Y’have no problem hurting my ego.”

“I hurt your ego?” She asked in surprise. He shrugged and nodded with a smirk still on his lips. That cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows pinched together and made itself known again. Harry once more was overcome by how adorable she was. He didn’t understand her question. Or why she cared. But he wished he had paid closer attention to her reaction because she suddenly looked so upset. “I didn’t know that,” her voice was soft. “I’m... I’m sorry, Harry,” and it really sounded like she was.

He blinked. “S’fine,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I know y’don’t mean it.”

“I don’t, truly.” It felt really important that Harry knew that. Maybe it was her crummy day. Coworkers continued to not trust her nor believe she was capable of doing well, which made her feel worse. God why did she continue working where she wasn’t wanted? Where she wasn’t appreciated? She was still a little shaken from her almost accident and her uncanny ability to piss Harry off. She was suddenly very forlorn over the idea that she had hurt Harry in any way. “How...how was your day?” She asked tentatively her voice catching.

“It was good,” he nodded, but he was looking at her suspiciously and the sound of anxiety coating her words. “Ordinary... Nothing t’really report... Who yelled at you, by the way?”

“No one, it’s nothing,” she shook her head quickly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Then jus’ tell me, love. S’not a big deal.”

She sighed, irritated, dejected, and tired of arguing. “Do you know Jason?”

Harry scoffed. “He’s a prick and can’t add two plus two. Don’t let him get t’you. Sorry he yelled at you.”

It was one of the nicest things Harry had ever said on her behalf. “S’not your fault,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, but he shouldn’t. M’sure y’do everything perfectly. He’s probably jealous and stupid and everything else.”

“Thank you,” her voice was still soft. Her eyes felt misty at his kindness. Harry being nice on top of her shitty day was so overwhelming—too overwhelming.

Harry noticed right away. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, m’fine,” she nodded, wiping at her cheek.

“Y’don’t look fine, love... Why don’t y’pull over? I don’t want you t’drive if you’re emotional. S’not safe.”

She sniffed. “It’s fine. I’m just being overly sensitive. Not a lot of sleep and... It just... it wasn’t a very good day,” she swiped her hand beneath her nose and wiped her below her eye again while her words got caught in her throat a few times as she spoke.

“Hey,” his voice was gentle. More gentle than it ever had been toward her. “Please, love... jus’ pull over,” he encouraged quietly, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Love, please,” he pleaded. “S’okay t’be emotional.”

“No, it’s not,” she whimpered but pulled to the shoulder of the road at the same time as she heaved on a shaky breath. Cars whizzed past them and Harry watched her closely. “I work in a sea of testosterone, and I’m never appreciated, never respected, and I can’t be emotional,” she fanned her hand in front of her eyes trying to will the tears away. “Especially in front of you.”

“Me?” He pouted, anger took the forefront of his mind, but he had never seen her like this. He felt bad because she was so upset. So, he refrained from snapping back at her.

“You’ll just use it against me or save it for a rainy day to embarrass me.”

“Is that what you really think?” He tutted, his voice devoid of emotion.

She sniffled again. “Yeah... you yelled at me this morning... I didn’t mean to jostle you like that but someone cut me off and—”

She was still upset about that? That seemed like a lifetime ago. Yeah, Harry was irritated, but he felt bad she was holding onto something so small all day. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Her day must have been really shitty if she let one of their arguments take hold of her emotions all day long.

“Hey... hey don’t cry. M’sorry—I shouldn’t have—it doesn’t matter... But y’have t’know, I would never do that, love. M’sorry if I’ve made y’feel that way,” he soothingly rubbed her arm up and down. “S’okay,” he reassured her. “M’gonna drive the rest of the way home. Jus’ slide over for me, love, yeah?” He asked and before she could protest, he was getting out of the car and going to the driver’s side. Not that she really wanted to protest.

But she would have if they were in a parking lot or on a non-highway road. She tried the door handle but Harry shook his head as he approached the driver’s door and jutted his chin to the passenger seat again. Again, she might have argued, but she didn’t want Harry subjected to the busy traffic for any longer, so she awkwardly slid over the console as Harry stayed pressed to the side of the car.

One small piece of her brain realized the most handsome man she knew wasn't letting her get out on the traffic-side. It was a protective, chivalrous moment that made her stomach do a somersault.

Once in the passenger seat, she brushed the powdered sugar that was on the driver's side just before he sat and got powder all over her pants. “Why don’t y’nap or something?” He suggested quietly and pulled into traffic again without any other fanfare.

“Alright,” she sniffed. “Thanks, sorry again.”

“No problem, love,” he mumbled and drove the rest of the way home in silence. He hoped she felt a little better by the time he parked and gently shook her awake. He didn’t say much other than he would see her tomorrow and returned her keys to her. “Have a good night, love,” he murmured as he gathered his belongings and left before they could return to their natural instinct of arguing with one another.

*

After her mini meltdown she was really hopeful that they had turned a corner in their arguing. She couldn’t remember who started the first argument so long ago. When they realized they lived near one another and worked at the same place, it only made sense to carpool. But she didn’t know they would find fault in every little thing.

Harry was constantly late. (But he wasn’t. Not really. He was on time. Which may as well have been late in her book.) It made her insane. He braked too hard—just like the other day. His choice in podcasts was too real and scary at times (she couldn’t get on the true crime train). His favorite book genre was history, which was fine, but he often made fun of the lighter romance novels she liked. There was the no eating in the car rule. And of course, there was his constant backseat driving—it was never-ending.

It's for the environment. She reminded herself.

It was another long day. Her meetings didn’t go well. Her coworkers undervalued her worth and if wasn’t for the fact that her main supervisor gave her stunning reviews and the money was so good, she would have quit ages ago.

Harry was irritated, and she wasn’t sure why. She had cleaned her car over the weekend. She even had it detailed so it was as pretty as Harry’s car. All her blankets were neatly folded, water bottles recycled, and she organized the trunk. There was a new air freshener and everything.

And yet, Harry was still annoyed. He turned the fan off. Twice. She adjusted the settings, they hadn’t even left the parking garage, and he still turned it off. “S’hot.”

“It’s not hot,” she grumbled.

“It feels like m’sweating. Gonna have a heat stroke.”

“Well, I’m cold.”

“Of course you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

It seemed Harry’s day wasn’t too good either as he was just as willing to argue and just as willing to stand his ground. While they argued they continued turning the temperature knob from one extreme to the other.

“You’re gonna break it!” She whined.

“You’re such a brat.”

Her neck snapped to face him. Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. “A brat!?” Her voice was three octaves higher than normal. It felt like the car was shaking.

“Yes, a brat who throws a fit when y’don’t get your way. All the time. Y’want t’leave an hour earlier. Y’want t’eat in the car. Roll the windows down, no now up. Y’want t’listen t’your dumb radio station that is ninety-percent ads. You’re. A. Brat.”

She did slam on her brakes at his explanation. She pulled toward the sidewalk right outside their office building. “Get. Out.”

Harry stared in disbelief. “You’re joking,” he cackled.

“I’m tired of arguing. You’re such a dick to me all the time,” she smacked her hand on the steering wheel. “I had a bad day, and you clearly had a bad day and you can’t leave well enough alone! So yeah. The environment can spare two less people carpooling. Get out of my fucking car, Harry Styles before I run us both into a telephone pole.”

“You’re so judgmental and so ridiculous—”

“Get out!” She practically shrieked.

Harry glared, yanking his stuff from where it sat at his feet. He got out of the car, slamming her door hard. He wouldn’t be surprised if it got stuck shut or if the whole frame shook as he did so. She peeled off the curb leaving Harry to fume. They never fought like that. Almost all their arguments always ended in a quiet “good night” or “have a good day.” Never did she shove him out of the car.

He was simmering with anger. He paced a few steps on the sidewalk trying to calm himself to figure out what to do. Maybe he could call her back. An Uber was going to cost a small fortune to get back home. Worth it, he supposed. God, she drained the life out of him.

He was breathing heavily. Good riddance. It was a dumb idea trying to carpool with someone that made him infuriated. Incensed with the feeling of being right, he scrolled on his app for a new ride.

Before he could submit his request for the most expensive Uber in the history of the world, all anger left his body—floated away as if it wasn’t even there in the first place.

There was a screech of tires and a sickening crunch of metal. Harry looked up just in time to see her car do a full 360 before landing upside down in the middle of the intersection. Her car teetered back and forth as it balanced on the roof. His jaw went slack as he watched the car of the pretty girl he was just arguing with crunch in the middle of the roadway. He was practically ready to strangle her himself but he never wanted—

“Oh my God,” he whispered to himself. Before he fully grasped his own movements he was sprinting into the middle of the roadway.

Without knowing what else to do, he knelt to the ground in a spray of plastic, metal, and glass, his face was almost pressed to the ground as he tried to peer into the only available space. “Baby? You with me?” He asked looking at the terrified, shaking girl. There was blood pouring from her hairline, her hands gripped the steering wheel around the deployed airbag like she was still driving.

“H-Harry?” She whispered. A switch flipped inside him. He wanted to rip the upside-down door off and yank her out. He wanted to hold her. All those annoying things she did, they didn’t bother him anymore. She was so pretty, so sweet, and so funny. The mere thought of her injured, terrified him and broke his heart. He didn't know he felt that way and he was mortified that it took this to realize it.

“M’here, love. M’here, you’re okay, just focus on me,” he was shaking as he dialed on his phone for the emergency line. “There’s been a car crash in the intersection outside of Prosperis Financial,” he said. “There’s at least one injured party.”

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I know. I know, my love. I know,” he cooed.

God how could he be so stupid? How could he get out of the car? How could he take so long to get out of the car? If they just didn’t fight, they would have been through the intersection and—

“Harry, my head hurts,” she interrupted his spiraling.

“I know, kitten, I know,” he repeated.

“A-and my leg hurts really bad,” she whispered a small break in her voice. She was shocked and in near tears.

“Don’t move your neck, baby,” he ordered.

“I’m scared,” she cried.

“I know, love, I know, m’scared too. But m’not going t'leave you for one second, baby, okay? You’re going t’be fine, everything’s going t’be fine,” he sounded pretty reassuring considering he was freaking out too.

“I didn’t—I didn't see it,” she sniffled.

“S’not your fault, kitten. S’okay. You’re okay, love. Just breathe, and keep talking, yeah?”

“I didn’t mean to yell at you...” she croaked, the anxiety in her voice broke his heart. He hated she felt she had to say it. “I don’t mean to, ever. I-I don’t know why—”

“Shh… we’re not talking ‘bout that. S’okay, my love. We’re okay,” he promised. She could argue whatever she wanted. Harry was in complete agreement. She was right. Every time. He did brake too hard. She wasn’t too nice to others on the road. She could eat in the car or have the heat on in the middle of the summer. Whatever she wanted.

“Okay... I'm sorry,” her voice sounded quiet.

“Help is coming, baby. M’not gonna leave your side, yeah? Jus’ hang on a little bit longer. I know—”

“I’m sorry I eat in your car sometimes,” she whispered her voice cracking more as she apologized for things that no longer mattered. “I’m sorry I’m a brat—”

“No, no, my love. You’re not a brat... shh...” he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her figure, clutching the wheel like she was scared to let go. His heart was aching to do something more, beating too loud in his ears. He wanted to keep her talking. Wanted to rip her out of the car and make sure she was alright. She could do whatever she wanted in his car for the rest of her life. As far as he was concerned, he would be driving her every day for the rest of time. She was never getting behind the wheel again. “S’okay, baby. Whatever makes y’happy.”

She sniffled. “Harry, I don’t feel very good,” she mumbled. “My head hurts.”

“I know it does, kitten,” his voice cracked hearing the exhaustion in her voice. “I’d trade with y’in a heartbeat,” he mumbled.

She sniveled. “I wanna get out.”

“I know, my love. M’trying. They’ll be here soon.”

“I’m scared,” her voice was soft again.

“Baby, I know,” he groaned. Where the fuck was the ambulance?!

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m glad you weren’t in the car,” she whispered. His heart shattered.

“M’not, kitten. M’not glad at all,” he shook his head.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” she warned and then her neck went limp.

“Baby?” Her hands slid from the steering wheel and her head lolled to the side. “Shit!” Harry reached through the broken glass, but the angle was too awkward, and he couldn’t see and reach at the same time. “Kitten, love,” his voice pitched an octave higher with hysteria quickly flooding him. “Baby? Open your eyes! Please,” he begged. “Kitten? Come on,” he muttered reaching blindly for her again. “Fuck,” he croaked.

“Excuse us, sir,” an EMT was finally at his side pushing Harry out of the way. He covered his mouth, sitting back on his heels as they pulled the car to its wheels once more. There was a flurry of movement as they pried through the metal and glass to get her. He choked on his breath as they removed her and he swallowed hard, his heart felt broken as they put a brace around her neck and lifted her onto a stretcher—still unconscious much to his horror. “Are you the boyfriend? Coming on the ambulance?” the paramedic asked.

“Yes,” he answered immediately and filed in behind them.

*

Harry called her mom and sister. They were on their way. He paced the waiting room with the biggest teddy bear the shop had to purchase while he waited for her surgery and tests to end. It felt endless. Harry thought he had aged ten years during the time he was there waiting.

He also got her a balloon—a heart shaped one that said get well soon. He got flowers. And chocolate too. Once he saw her pretty eyes open again and her family was present, he was going to get her a coffee and breakfast sandwich too.

His clothes were dirty from lying in the street, the knees of his slacks had the tiniest holes and rips. His cheek had a few cuts and scratches from pressing it to the ground while he spoke to her upside-down body.

“Are you the boyfriend?”

He shook the thoughts of seeing her bleeding, terrified body away from his mind at the sound of someone speaking to him.

It was hard to believe only yesterday he would have shuddered at the thought. “Yes,” he answered instantly, not caring in the slightest that he was lying for the second time in several hours about their relationship status. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine,” the doctor stated. Harry sighed with relief, dragged a hand through his hair and swallowed around the relieved tears that filled his eyes and cut off the voice in his throat. He coughed awkwardly.

“Can I see her?” He asked. “Please?”

“Yes, she’s just coming out of the anesthesia,” he explained and tilted his head toward the hallway. Harry grabbed all his presents for her and followed. “She’s a little out of it still,” he warned.

“But she’s okay?” He repeated like he didn't believe the doctor.

“Yes, she’s fine,” he knocked and opened the door.

“Oh, your boyfriend is here, miss,” an older nurse smiled at her as she fiddled with her pillows and the IV stand.

The sweet girl looked high as a kite, her eyes wide, the cut on her forehead stitched. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she frowned. That cute wrinkle between her brows appeared and Harry wanted nothing more than to smooth it away and ease the tension she felt.

“You might want to rethink that,” a woman smiled at Harry with a wink. “He’s very cute and he brought you gifts.”

“Hi, kitten, baby,” he cooed and crouched beside her bed.

“You’re my boyfriend?” She mumbled in surprise. Her eyes were so wide with the loopy medicine, and he smirked, tears filling his eyes again.

“Yes, my love,” he didn’t even feel like he was lying. To her nor to himself about their relationship. It made sense and he truly adored her so easily. He was grateful for the switch in his mind, he just wished a car accident wasn't the cause.

She smiled, self-satisfied. “I knew you liked me,” she mumbled.

He chuckled and leaned forward to press his lips against her forehead. “Y’okay, baby?” He asked.

“They gave me medicine,” she explained holding up her arm that had three or four needles sticking in it.

“Easy, kitten,” he grabbed her outstretched arm and cupped her hand in both of his with a chuckle. He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed her knuckles as the nurse pulled a chair up beside her for Harry to sit in.

“Harry," she said suddenly. Like he wasn't listening to her or paying attention to every little movement. "I broke my leg,” she pouted.

“M’sorry, kitten,” he was livid she was injured but with pain meds she was so cute and adorable that he almost chuckled at the way she sighed and frowned about her situation.

She glanced at their interconnected hands. “Have we been dating long? I didn’t know I had a boyfriend. Do I have amnesia?”

He snickered, kissed her fingers again. “No,” he shook his head. “S’quite new.”

“Oh,” she blinked and a smile grew on her face. “I like that you’re my boyfriend,” she sighed dreamily. “Isn’t he hot?” She asked the nurse who was checking her vitals again. Harry rolled his eyes, smirking and looking away from her and the nurse at her appraisal. It was good to know she felt affected by his presence as well. He liked her loopy thoughts and he hoped they would remain true when the medicine wore off. “Did you call my mom?” She asked curiously.

He nodded, cleared his throat as he focused on more important facts and not worrying about their fake relationship status. “Yes, she’s on her way with your sister. I need t’call them, actually,” he pulled his phone out.

“How did you get their number?”

“I looked them up on social media,” he mumbled keeping hold of one hand as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Harry?” Her sister’s voice asked alertly.

“Hi Thea, she’s okay. M'sitting with her now. She’s loopy from the anesthesia but she’s awake.”

“Tell her to get me coffee,” she whispered loudly. Loud enough for her sister to hear through the phone. Harry smiled.

Thea sighed with relief and snickered. “Sounds like her,” she mumbled. “Thank you, Harry. We’re about twenty minutes out.”

“Of course,” he assured her. “You’ll tell your mum?” He asked.

“Yes, I got it.”

“See you soon.”

Harry placed his phone back in his pocket and watched her loopy mind work through something on her extremely expressive face. “Are you going to kiss me?” She giggled.

Harry laughed. “Later, baby.”

“When’s later?”

“When you’re a little coherent, m’love.”

She blew a breath through her lips making them sputter. “S’not fair.”

“I know,” the smile remained on his face knowing she was okay, and she wanted him to kiss her. It was a bit wild that the switch flipped so rapidly. This was someone he argued with for over two years every day and now he wanted to kiss her, hold her, and never let her go.

“Can I take a nap?” She yawned. “I’m sleepy.”

Harry turned to the nurse. “Can she? Does she have a concussion?”

“Shockingly, no concussion,” the nurse said reading the chart. “You can nap for a bit.”

She closed her eyes instantly. “Night Harry,” she sighed. “I love you.”

He felt his cheeks warm. Ignored her sweet words regardless of how much he would like them to be true. “Night, baby,” he chuckled and pressed another kiss to her forehead as she drifted to sleep without letting go of his hand.

*

When she woke up the next time she was staring at Harry in awe.  “Thea, I’m fine,” she rolled her eyes. The anesthesia had worn off a bit and she didn’t seem to remember she said I love you nor that Harry claimed to be her boyfriend. While she was hesitant to believe that Harry was really there for her, she was glad he was. She was foggy on the details but there was no mistaking that she felt a pull toward him. Maybe it was the kindness he showed her.

“You live in a fourth-floor apartment. You’re not fine. And your car is trash.”

Harry sat quietly to the side of the room while her mom and sister doted on her. Her mom was on the phone with the insurance company taking notes and questioning a lot. “Well, what am I supposed to do? I don't have a choice, I have to figure it out,” she shrugged.

“Figure what out? You’re going to just stay in your apartment for the next six weeks? You’ll go insane. And what if there’s a fire?”

“The chances of me getting in a car wreck and have my apartment catch on fire is probably astronomically small.”

Harry chuckled from his spot, but the sisters ignored him. “You hate your job. Why don’t you just quit and move back home for a bit?

Back home? Harry thought. Not next door? That wouldn't work for Harry's already obsessed heart. “I have a spare bedroom,” Harry said in offering. “First floor apartment in m'building next t'hers,” he was speaking to Thea and not her.

She and Thea both turned to look at him. “I cannot—” She started.

“Really?” Thea interrupted. “You won’t mind? She’s going to need... a lot of help.”

“I can handle it,” he assured her. Thea knew they drove together. She was also well aware that her sister and Harry argued every day. There was no way Harry was going to survive taking care of her if they couldn’t spend more than five minutes in a car without arguing with one another. She watched Harry, bewildered by his kindness toward her. His willingness to take care of her and let her be a burden when he couldn’t stand her most days. “Are y’alright with that, love?”

It might have only been minutes between arguing and her accident, but the change of heart in herself over Harry was something to be admired. Harry was there almost before her airbag finished deploying. He kept her as calm as he could while they waited for the ambulance and promised her it would be okay. He reassured her that all their arguing didn’t mean anything and she softened. She felt herself melting for him. All the little things he did no longer bothered her. He really didn’t slam on the brakes. It was rude of her to want to eat in his car and make a mess. Perhaps it was too hot in her car and she was a little too mean about his favorite book genre.

Am I in love with Harry? She thought to herself. “If...if you’re sure... That’s an awful lot of time to spend with me,” she reminded him wondering if it was only her that was warmed by the near-death experience and she was imagining the knight-and-shining-armor-complex.

“Happy to,” he nodded and remained in his seat.

Harry was holding her hand when her sister and mom arrived, he gave her a gentle shake and called her kitten. Kitten your mum s’here. His voice was so warm and soothing. He didn’t remove his hand until she opened her eyes and his kind smile was a sweet greeting. He cupped her face and brushed his thumb against her jaw. M’gonna sit by the window while they visit, yeah?

“Do you ladies need anything?” He asked standing. “Coffee? Tea? Food?”

“All set, thank you Harry,” her mom smiled around the phone.

“I’m good too,” Thea nodded.

“Baby, all good?”

She nearly choked on her own spit hearing the pet name directed at her, in front of her family.  “Yes,” she murmured then shook her head. “Um... maybe just water?”

“Sure, love. Be right back.”

“I thought he hated you,” Thea was smiling excitedly.

“I thought he did too,” she shrugged a shoulder.

“You’re just going to live with him?”

She smirked. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?”

*

Harry carried all her stuff into his apartment and settled it in the spare room. He made sure she was safe in his apartment while he went with her sister to her place to get a suitcase of her clothes from next door. Harry was going to take her to get a new car as soon as the insurance check came through. He helped her to the couch and made sure she felt comfortable. Her foot was propped on a pillow as she stretched out on his furniture. For six weeks they were going to live together.

“Are y'in any pain? Do y’need anything?” He asked making sure she had the remote, a book, water, and blanket all within reach.

“M’fine,” she nodded.

“You sure y’don’t need anything?” He frowned.

“Harry,” she reached for his hand and held it. “Could you sit with me?”

His frown deepened. He crouched beside her, sitting on the coffee table close to her. He squeezed her hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Thank you for being there for me,” she whispered. “I was very scared.”

“Course, baby.”

Her heart skipped a beat with the sweet name again. “Do you like me?” She whispered.

“Was I unclear?” He asked, reaching for her face. His hand fit her cheek perfectly and he rubbed his thumb on her lower lip. The way his eyes softened as he looked at her was the stuff of her romance novels. His eyelids lowered and the smile on his mouth was equal parts sexy as it was innocent. “S’a little selfish of me inviting you here while you recover, don't y'think? S'a reason for it, love."

She cleared her throat, trying not to melt under his touch, his gaze. It seemed impossible. “But... we—we,” she took a deep breath trying to get the sentence in her head to form in her mouth. “Argue so much.”

“S’maybe we could try not arguing.”

“I feel like we’re incapable—”

He interrupted and normally she would have been mad, but his words made her feel hot, burning, like she wasn’t going to get relief unless he kissed her. “Jus’ gotta find a different way t’keep our mouths entertained, kitten,” he leaned forward and stopped when their lips were all but a millimeter apart. “May I?” He asked politely.

“Uh-huh, yes,” she nodded, her brain short circuiting just a hair. Her lips brushed his as she nodded, creating a spark of electricity unlike anything she had felt before. He moaned quietly at the contact. The sound was short-lived, and he tilted her chin and slid his lips over hers.

She gripped at his shirt by his shoulders, pulling him toward her. She felt herself opening to him: her mouth, her brain, her legs. She wanted him all over her and he couldn’t get close enough. It felt insane that less than twenty-four hours ago she would have strangled him for breathing too loudly beside her in the enclosed space of his car and now she wanted him breathing too loudly because of her kisses and more.

He caressed her jaw and the back of her head, tugging her hair ever so softly so she tilted her head back further. “S’nice, baby,” he sighed softly and trailed a path of kisses down her throat. “Knew we could not argue.”

She laughed and nodded. “Guess that’s what’s been missing.”

He chuckled. “Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. “Worth it,” he shrugged one shoulder and dove back in for another heated kiss, making her moan quietly into his mouth. His lips were warm, soft, firm, and perfect. It was a quick path to addiction, and she was happy to have him as her drug.

“Y’said y’loved me when y’came out of anesthesia,” he practically giggled as he pulled away.

She gasped. “I did not.”

“You did.”

“NO.” She slapped a hand over her warm, embarrassed face. “No I didn’t. You're lying.”

“You did, kitten. So sweet of you,” he winked.

She groaned and turned away from him. “I should have just gone into a coma.”

He laughed stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “It was cute. You were all loopy.”

“I am not cute. I’m an adult woman and I’m not cute.”

“You’re adorable, actually. S’probably why m’obsessed with you.”

“You only knew you were obsessed with me twenty-four hours ago.”

He shrugged. “And I can’t get enough,” he assured her with a wink. “Now, m’thinking I’ll kiss you for another long while and then I’ll make you dinner?”

Her heart fluttered. “I like you a lot better when we don’t argue," she agreed.

He chuckled. “Me too, kitten. Me too,” he mumbled but followed through on his promise to kiss her again and not argue.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @boopookie @indierockgirrl @stylesfever @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl @emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10 @tulips4harry @spinninc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269 @jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle @mypolicemanharryyy @harry2121 @inharryshelter

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

The next morning, I got to History class before Harry. The professor was already inside, so I went ahead and took my seat. I pulled out my laptop and turned it on, bringing up my notes from Friday. I was reviewing them when Harry walked in and sat down next to me.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I echoed, lifting my gaze for a split second.

"You're usually outside when I get here."

"I know, but the classroom was open, so..."

I continued reading my notes, but I could feel Harry's eyes on me. Finally, I heard him sigh and take his computer out of his backpack. Deciding that my silence was probably rude, I decided to say something.

"Did you give any more thought to our Soc. project?"

Harry blinked and said, "Um...no...I thought we were doing it on human sexuality."

"Well, I know," I conceded. "I was just wondering if..." Suddenly looking at him made me lose my train of thought. "...if you had any more ideas."

Harry bit his lip and shook his head. "All I've been able to think about is you."

My throat felt dry, and I couldn't speak. I grabbed my backpack and pulled out my water bottle, taking a large gulp. More students starting coming in, and the room got loud until the professor took his place at the podium.

I could feel Harry looking at me throughout the entire class period, and I caught glimpses of him doing so out of the corner of my eye now and then. But for the most part I kept my focus on the teacher and my computer. When the professor dismissed us, I closed my laptop and put it in my backpack.

"Hey, Tisa," I head Harry say. "I have to work tonight, but maybe we can get together tomorrow to work on the Sociology paper."

"Alright," I said. "I have another English paper to work on too, so I'll let you know."

Harry looked surprised. "Oh. Okay then."

"See you tomorrow." I gave him a tight-lipped smile as I slung my backpack over my shoulder, hoping that he didn't think I was being too blasé. I left the classroom without looking back and made my way to the snack bar for a cup of coffee. As I sat down to drink it, I realized I was just fooling myself. Of course I was being blasé. He had to see right through that. But the fact remained that we should not and could not let what happened Saturday night happen again.

"Hey, Tisa...right?" I heard a voice say. I looked up to see a pretty blond girl that I recognized from Sociology. I think her name was Leslie.

"Yes," I said. "Hi."

"I just saw your boyfriend walking out of the History building."

"My....who?"

Leslie laughed. "Harry. British guy. Isn't he your boyfriend?"

I grinned, a little embarrassed. "No, he's not."

"Oh. Could have fooled me. You're always together," remarked Leslie.

"Well," I said, "we're partners. You know, for Sociology."

"Oh yeah," Leslie sighed. "You lucky duck. I wish I would have thought to sit next to some hot guy on the first day. I sat by my friend Charice and she's driving me nuts!"

I held back a chuckle.

"Anyway, you've got it good," Leslie continued. "That boy is so cute, and with that accent...smokin'!"

This time I did laugh.

Leslie nodded. "Don't let that one get away. I'm just saying. See ya!"

Leslie turned for the snack bar and left me with a stupid grin on my face.

The next morning Professor Crawford had the class in a hilarious discussion on sex that had us all laughing. When he'd dismissed us, I felt Harry squeeze my knee under the table which made me jump.

"Do you want to come by later?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"I don't think so." I zipped up my backpack and swung it over my shoulder. "I have to get home. See you later."

"Tisa," I heard Harry call after me, but I didn't turn around. I was halfway to the parking lot when I heard him again.

"Tisa!" I stopped and let him catch up.

"What gives?" he asked, out of breath.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you being so cold to me?"

I shrugged. "I'm sorry I didn't realize I was."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Yes you do."

"Harry," I sighed. "We're not dating. I'm not your girlfriend. I never will be. You can't be flirting with me and treating me like I am."

Harry glared at me, not saying anything for a few seconds. Then he stepped closer to me and said, "You can't tell me that the other night didn't mean anything. That you don't think about it as much as I do."

"Of course I do," I choked. "That's just the trouble."

I felt one tear stream down my face, and then another.

"I gotta go," I said. I ran to my car without looking back.

For the rest of the day, I was a zombie. I couldn't concentrate on anything and almost burned dinner. I'd turned off my phone so I wouldn't be alerted of any calls or texts from Harry, or anyone else for that matter. I didn't really want to talk to anyone, not even my husband, but of course that was inevitable. We did have a fairly pleasant dinner, but by nine o'clock I told James that I had a headache and wanted to go to bed.

I tossed and turned all night, thinking about Harry. I was trying to avoid the truth: I wanted him so badly. If I closed my eyes I could feel his kiss, his touch, see his face.

The next morning, I was extremely tired from lack of sleep. James was already gone by the time I awoke, so I just decided to skip class. Out of curiosity, I turned my phone back on to see if I had any messages. There was one text from Harry: Call if you feel like talking. Of course I didn't. I got up to take a valium, then went back to bed.

A couple hours later I woke up again to the text alert sound on my phone. I groaned as I reached for it and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. It was another text from Harry: Are you ok?

I didn't reply. I rested my head back on the pillow and pulled the covers up to my neck. But not an hour later I awoke to the text sound again.

H: Please talk to me.

I sighed. He didn't deserve to be treated this way. I was being cruel. I texted him back.

T: I'm ok. I was very tired so I slept in this morning.

I waited for a text back from Harry, but instead the phone rang. I cleared my throat and answered it.

"Hi Harry."

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked.

"I was never mad at you, Harry," I conveyed. "Why would I be mad?"

"I don't know. You're avoiding me. When we're in class you won't even look at me. If you say anything, it's short."

I paused. "I'm sorry."

We were both silent for minute or two. Then Harry said, "Can I see you?"

"When?"

"Today. Right now."

"I kind of want to be alone for a while," I replied.

I heard Harry sigh deeply. "Okay. Well, I have to work tonight, so I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow."

"Harry..." I started before he could hang up.

"Yeah?"

"I really am sorry."

"Yeah. So am I." He hung up and I was left feeling worse than I did before.

This time it was Harry who didn't show up for class. I suppose I half expected it. He was probably hurt, mad and maybe a bit confused. I felt bad about the way I'd treated him, but then again, I didn't feel like I had been hostile. I just knew that we couldn't continue seeing each other outside of school, other than to work on our projects. No more late nights, and definitely no more going to his place to study. I had planned on discussing this with him if he had shown up for Sociology.

I went home feeling a sense of emptiness, like someone had punched me in the gut. Basically, I felt like I had just broken up with someone. I felt terrible. I made a pot of coffee and a sandwich, but I wasn't hungry. I tried watching some TV, reading, even started cleaning the bathroom to keep my mind occupied. I was elbow deep in tub water when I thought I heard a knock at the door. I turned off the water to listen. When I heard it again, I quickly washed my hands, drying them on the towel.

I opened the door to see Harry standing there, wearing a black and white striped shirt and black jeans. He had an intense look on his face. He was so gorgeous I had to catch my breath.

"Hi," I was finally able to say, or at least mouth.

"Hi."

I cleared my throat. "Come in."

Harry stepped inside and I closed the door behind him. Walking into the living room, he just stared at me for what felt like a long time. Then without saying a word, he took a step forward and kissed me. This wasn't a sweet kiss. This was full of determination, anger and passion. I could feel everything Harry was feeling in that kiss. One hand was in the middle of my back, the other on the back of my head, keeping me in place, daring me to try and resist. But there was no way I could resist. Before I knew it my hands were in his hair, and I was kissing him back. When he released me, I felt the urge to pull him back and never let him go.

"Before you said anything," Harry said, breathing hard, "before you told me to leave, I had to kiss you. Even if it's for the last time."

"Harry..." I started.

"I know what you're going to say," he interrupted, raising a hand. "I've spent the last couple days trying to sort this out. I was angry at first. Then I realized I was being selfish. I tried to look at it from your perspective. The truth is you have a husband."

Harry shrugged and looked down at the floor. "I was attracted to you from the first day I saw you. All this spending time together was bound to lead to something. I wish it could be more, but I'm not stupid. Sitting next to you everyday without being able to touch you isn't going to be easy. But I know it's how it has to be."

I tried to hold back the tears as Harry lifted his head and looked into my eyes. I saw his jaw clench, not from anger but probably to keep from showing his emotions. I wanted so bad to hold him. Finally, he broke into a smile.

"You can say something now."

I just shook my head as the tears began to fall.

"Oh, Tisa," Harry sighed.

He took me in his arms and held me. It felt so good. It didn't feel wrong or bad. It felt right. Perfect. I looked up at his face, his green eyes full of question. I lifted my hand and touched his lips lightly with my fingers. He tenderly kissed them and then took the tips of them into his mouth. I closed my eyes as the warm sensation sent shivers down my spine.

With my other hand I grabbed his collar and kissed him on the neck. He smelled amazing, I didn't want to stop. My lips made their way down his chest as I unbuttoned his shirt.

"Tisa," I heard Harry murmur.

"Yes?" I asked as I pulled the last button out of its hole. He grabbed my hands.

"We can't do this again."

I looked up at him. I felt like the tables had suddenly been turned. He shook his head.

"Not if the same thing's going to happen." Harry paused. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here. I just know that I want you...so bad."

"I want you too," I said.

"You do?" he asked. I nodded.

"Don't fucking ignore me tomorrow," he growled.

I half smirked. "I promise."

Harry grabbed me by the waist and kissed me hard.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" I whispered when he released me.

"Of course I want to. But I'm not going to make love to you in a bed you share with your husband."

"We don't share the same bed, Harry," I explained. "We haven't for a long time."

Harry stared at me incredulously. "Really? How long?"

I thought for a moment. "A few years at least."

"I didn't know."

I shrugged. "How could you?"

"I'm sorry," he said.

I smiled and took his hand. "Come on."

I led him to my bedroom, closing the door behind us. I realized for the first time that there was nothing in my room, other than the furniture itself which was purchased for our guest room years before, that suggested I was married. No photos, none of my husband's clothes, books or other items. Everything in this room was mine. The only item that symbolized my marriage was the ring on my finger. Quickly I removed it and dropped it in a small trinket box I kept on my dresser. Then I turned to Harry who was now sitting on the edge of my bed with that same serious look on his face he had when he'd arrived.

I raised my hand to his forehead, touching the crinkle above his nose. "Relax, sweetheart."

Suddenly his face changed, lighting up with the grin I love so much. He pulled me to him and kissed me as we leaned back onto the bed. The taste of Harry's tongue filling my mouth drove me crazy, and I let out a slight moan. We both kicked off our shoes, and I removed Harry's already opened shirt, tossing it on the floor. Then he did the same with my tank top and bra, quickly taking my nipples into his mouth. I felt myself begin to shake just as I had done Saturday night at Harry's place. But I wasn't going to allow the nerves to take over this time. I took a deep breath and grabbed a handful of Harry's luxurious curls.

Harry then stood and removed his jeans, followed by mine, all the while staring at me with his piercing green eyes as I lay back on the pillow. Then he hovered over me and began kissing me from my neck, down southward. I could feel Harry's urgency, and though I wanted him just as badly, I told him to stop.

"What is it?" he asked, his raspy voice sounding like sex.

"I want you in my mouth," I replied.

Again, Harry just stared at me. He opened his mouth like he was about to speak. But instead, he closed it, made a cross between an "mmmm" sound, a sigh, and a growl, and laid down on the bed. I grinned and sat up, taking his hard penis into my hand. As soon as I lowered my head and enveloped it with my lips, I heard Harry breathe deeply. With every stroke of my tongue and mouth, his breathing got faster and louder until he began to moan. I started to feel my own wetness as Harry grabbed at my hair and pumped his hips. I'm not sure I recall ever being so turned on. I was getting off on getting him off.

"Oh Tisa. Oh fuck!" he exclaimed.

I didn't stop until he came, which only heightened my own need. I kissed his stomach, his butterfly tattoo, and his chest. When I raised my head, Harry was gazing at me with seductive, yet satisfied eyes.

"Now it's your turn," he said as I laid back down next to him.

I grinned. "It's not gonna take much."

"No?"

I shook my head. Harry grazed his fingers across my clit which was soaking wet. I closed my eyes from the intense pleasure.

"You're right, love," he whispered, licking his lips and then his fingers. I was so turned on at this point, I think I even mouthed the words "Oh my God."

Without another word, Harry lowered his hand again, pressing his thumb against my clit and inserting two fingers. Again, I grabbed his hair, just for something to hold on to. It only took a few rotations before I screamed his name. Then I buried my face in his neck as he let out a small, sexy chuckle.

"Oh Harry," I sighed. "What are you doing to me?"

It was silent for a moment until Harry asked, "Am I supposed to answer that?"

"No," I replied. "I think we both already know the answer."

The next morning Harry was waiting for me outside Professor Jacobson's History class when I arrived.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Good morning," I smiled back.

"How are you?" he asked, no doubt worried I would be indifferent again.

"Great!" And I was. I woke up feeling great. Excited to see Harry again. I'd even put on a dress for a change.

"No regrets?" Harry asked.

"Nope," I answered, twisting my body back and forth, making my dress swing.

"Good," Harry nodded. "After you." He gestured toward the door and followed me inside.

"Damn," Harry muttered, taking his seat next to mine.

"What?" I asked.

"You look fucking hot."

I looked down at my dress. "I do?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a chuckle.

"Thank you," I beamed.

"Did you wear that for me?"

I raised my eyebrows. "What makes you think my wardrobe choices are for you?"

Harry smiled his sexy grin at me. "What 'cha got on underneath?" he whispered.

I giggled. "Underwear, you dirty boy."

He shook his head, sitting back in his chair. "We'll just have to change that, won't we?"

I felt so horny for the entire class, I couldn't even concentrate. Every time I'd look up, Harry was staring at me. I blushed so much I felt like a teenager. I kept taking drinks from my water bottle just to cool off.

When History was over, I packed up my belongings without saying a word. I didn't even look at Harry. Finally I heard him laughing.

"What?" I asked, turning around.

"You're so adorable," he said.

"Stop!" I insisted. I walked down the steps toward the door with Harry following. Once we were outside and out of earshot of anyone else, I turned to him. "If you're gonna keep this up, I'm not gonna be able to take it."

"What are you talking about? Keep what up? Take what?"

"Your staring at me throughout class. Saying sexy things to me." I said with a smirk.

"Hey, you're the one who wore the dress," Harry grinned. "I'm just admiring the view."

I bit my lower lip.

"And if you do that one more time," Harry continued, stepping closer, "you're going to make me kiss you in public."

I stared at Harry's lips, willing him to kiss me. At that point I didn't care if anyone saw. Instead he whispered, "Come home with me."

"I have another class in an hour," I whispered back. "And you have one right now, don't you?"

"I'll skip it. Come home with me. No one else is there."

I sighed. "I can't. I already skipped Wednesday. I need to catch up."

Harry cursed under his breath. Then he said, "I have an idea. Come with me."

He grabbed my hand before I could object and we ran into the parking lot toward his car.

"Harry, I told you..."

"I'll have you back in time for your class," he insisted.

I got into the passenger seat and we drove around the block to a small clearing between the park and the woods. He stopped the car and turned off the ignition. As he eased his seat back, I knew exactly what he had in mind. I immediately crawled on top of him and straddled him.

"Oh Tisa, you're so fucking sexy," Harry exclaimed.

As I kissed him, he ran his hands up my thighs and under my dress, grabbing my panties. I lifted myself up so he could pull them down and off. Then he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, hard and ready. I rode him slowly at first, then picked up speed. He bucked against me, making me lose control. We came together, calling out each other's names. It was over so quickly, but felt incredible.

"I don't think I'm ever going to get enough of you," Harry purred in my ear.

"You keep saying things like that and you just might," I dared.

Harry laughed.

"We just have one problem," I said.

"I know," Harry rolled his eyes. "You don't need to remind me."

"No, not that," I shook my head. "I mean our project. We still need to do that, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Harry ran his fingers though my hair, gazing at me with his sexy green eyes. "Do you want to come over later?"

"No, silly, we won't get any work done. Meet me at the library around seven."

"Okay," Harry sighed.

He drove me back to school for my last class of the day. But the point was moot. I couldn't concentrate on a damn thing.

A/N: Reading this again has really reminded me how far my writing has come and improved over the years. This is so obviously elementary to me now lol. And probably full of plot holes. But it's also nostalgic which is why I'm not changing anything (even when I want to). Hope you're enjoying it anyway.

“I need to speak to someone please, I’ve been mugged.”

You were panting, having run the ten minute journey to the police station from the bus stop. Someone had snatched the bulky work bag from your shoulder as you walked, then fled down a side street before you’d even had time to comprehend what had happened. Your natural instincts were to just run, and that’s exactly what you did. You ran until you stumbled through the police station doors, your heart still pounding with adrenaline.

“Styles!” the man behind the desk called out, an outstretched arm directing you to a closed door. You shuffled over, legs jelly after your spontaneous sprint. You weren’t sure whether to go through the doors or wait there, and the officer behind the desk had his back to you. But as you shifted awkwardly, the doors swung open, revealing possibly the hottest police officer you’d ever seen. He was old, older than you’d usually be interested in, but there was something about him. He was stocky and toned, grey streaks peppered through his deep brown curls. He smiled at you and extended his hand. "Officer Styles, but you can call me Harry.” Officer Harry Styles, the world’s sexiest police officer. You followed him down the corridor, into a tiny room with only a desk, a chair and a small sofa. It was cold and clinical, four grey walls lit by the same sort of lights you’d find in hospitals. It made you uneasy, but Harry’s eyes were laced with warmth as he looked over at you. "First of all, are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You whispered a quiet “yes”, your response barely audible, but Harry caught it. You felt vulnerable now, having been too close to danger and not realising it at the time. You’d lived in London for years, heard so many tales of rape and mugging but never experienced it yourself, or had it happen to someone close to you. You were lucky to only have your work bag taken and be left otherwise untouched, but you couldn’t help feeling shaken by the encounter. “I was mugged,” you told Harry.

“Did they hurt you?”

“No. Just took my bag.”

“M’sorry that happened to you,” he said. There was a slight northern twang to his voice, the kind that suggested he’d been in London long enough to start losing it, but been in the North long enough for the accent to be stubborn. “Did you get a look at them?” he asked, tapping his pen against the sheet of paper in front of him.

“No, they were already running before I turned around.”

“Where did it happen?”

“The bus stop near Florence Gardens, going towards the station.”

“What did they take? Any valuables?”

“My work laptop. And my lunchbox,” you told him, corners of your mouth turning up slightly at the thought of the thief finding your leftover pasta. “They were in my rucksack, I had my phone and keys in my pocket.”

“What does the bag look like?”

“Black, it’s leather. I can show you?”

You pulled up a picture on your phone and handed it to Harry, watching as he wrote down the details.

“Alright, give me 10 minutes to file this, okay? You’ll be okay waiting here?” He handed the phone back to you and stood up as you nodded, then strode toward the door, the glinting badge on his chest catching the light. You’d never had to deal with the police before, and always been a little bit scared of authority figures. But Harry was warm, he made you feel safe despite the circumstances that had brought you to the police station.

It wasn’t long before Harry was back, a thick puffer jacket now covering his torso and a huge tote bag slung over his shoulder. He reached out and gently placed a comforting hand on the back of your seat. “Come on, my shifts over so I’ll walk you home.” You smiled as you followed him out of the room, grateful beyond words for his company.

“Do you not have worse crimes to solve than my stolen lunchbox?” you asked him as you walked, somehow comfortable in his presence. “Not anymore,” he told you. “Been in the police for 25 years now. Did a lot of that but wanted to settle down the last few years, s’better for me like this.”

“Guess it’s nicer for your wife that you’re not out chasing murderers,” you quipped, earning a chuckle from Harry. "Yeah, m’sure she’d appreciate it if she hadn’t divorced me already," he said with a small smile. “I’m sorry,” you told him, glancing over to try to read his face. Truthfully, you were excited by the idea of him being divorced. It didn’t mean he was single, and it definitely didn’t mean he’d be into you, but it was one less hurdle in your mind. "It's alright," he said. "Sometimes things jus’ don't work out, you know?”

“Mm, I know. My flat’s just down here,” you pointed the way to Harry. He walked you all the way to the doorstep, staring up at the building. “It’s not the best area,” he told you. "Be safe, okay? If you need anything, or remember anything, don't hesitate to call," Harry told you, a touch of protectiveness in his tone as he took out his phone. He sent a text to your number so you could save his, then watched as you opened the front door. “Thank you Harry, for everything,” you smiled. “I’m only a call away,” he said, rubbing a hand on your forearm.

Jesus Christ. You collapsed against your front door as you got inside, heart racing from just a gentle touch. You’d get mugged every day if it gave you the chance to be around Harry more. The thought of seeing him again made your head pound, the fear and violation you felt earlier in the evening long forgotten.

Maybe it was a reaction to the weirdness of your evening, maybe it was a way to work through all the emotions you were feeling, but you found yourself reaching for your vibrator as you stepped out of your work clothes. Harry was all you could think about, his hands trailing down your body, his fingers pinching at your nipple, his mouth pressing hot kisses across your abdomen. You could almost feel him hovering over you, so close and yet not close at all. He would be authoritative, demanding you press the vibrator to your clit, his fingers beginning to pump inside of you as you writhed on the bed.

You were moaning into the ghost of his mouth, his nose brushing against yours as your core tightened, a rush of emotions filling you to the brim. It was too much, your toy working at your clit with the idea of Harry’s ringed fingers pounding at your pussy, your free hand gripping onto his loose curls. You were coming faster than you ever had, hips bucking as you screamed out his name.

It was borderline insane. Coming so fast and so heavily for a man you barely knew, crying out his name as if he were here, riding you through your high. You felt almost dirty as you chucked your vibrator to the side, too mentally preoccupied to even shower or eat before climbing into bed. You just wanted to dream of Harry, try to work through your delusions before you had to see him again.

—

Your thoughts of Harry came and went over the next few days. Your manager had suggested you work from home for a few days, your only route home from the office marred by your mugging. The four walls of your apartment felt too small, too closed in even before you had an imaginary Harry following you around. You’d tried to push him out of your mind, desperate to avoid a crush on a man you hardly knew. You did this all the time, it was a symptom of being chronically single. As soon as a man showed kindness towards you, you fell in love. Harbouring a crush on the police officer working on your case was bad news, and yet as you thought about him, his name flashed up on your phone.

“Hey, y/n. How are you?”

“I’m okay, you?”

“Better for hearing your voice.” You could almost hear the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Listen, do you have time to swing by? Wanted to update you on a few things.”

“I can come now?” you offered. Working from home was slow, and you’d already completed your tasks for the day. So how could you wait any longer to see Harry again?

You looked over yourself in the mirror as you put the phone down, tightening your ponytail and smoothing a hand down the front of your top.

Harry was waiting in the reception area when you arrived at the police station, a big beaming grin sitting pretty between his dimpled cheeks when he saw you. Truthfully, he could have spoken to you over the phone, but he wanted an excuse to see you again. It was silly, childlike even, the way he’d racked his brain for reasons to call or message since he’d dropped you off at home a few days ago. He felt ridiculous, far too giddy over a girl far too young for him, but he couldn’t get you off his mind.

“We think we’ve located your bag,” Harry told you as he ushered you into the same room as before. “Really?” you squeaked. “It’s not 100% yet, but we have had a few more reports of thefts in the area. We’ve tracked down an address, and we’ll be going in this week.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you grinned, throwing your arms around him before your brain could stop you. Harry chuckled, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, before freezing. You’d both suddenly remembered where you were, who you were, and yet neither of you wanted to step away.

Harry gently squeezed you before saying, "It's all part of the job,” a small smile on his lips. There was something unspoken in the air as you stepped back, your gaze meeting his. “Sorry,” you muttered. His eyes were soft as he looked at you, reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Harry told you, his lingering touch burning against your skin. You stared at each other wordlessly for a moment, tension heavy in the air, until a familiar call of Harry’s name broke the spell. You stepped further away from him, glancing down at the floor as the professional mask settled back into place on Harry’s face. “Thank you, Harry. I’ll see you later,” you smiled, turning your back on him.

—

You needed to distract yourself, arranging a last minute girls night to take your mind off of Harry. And yet, it was as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you. The man you were specifically going out to forget was standing on the doorstep of your apartment building, hand poised to buzz your intercom as you opened the door. “Harry-” you started, unable to find any other, better words.

“Come to dinner with me,” he said, gaze trailing up and down your body. You were wearing your ‘good’ jeans, the ones that sucked you in in all the right places yet showcased your curves in all the best ones. You had more makeup on than he’d seen you in before, though your freckles and beauty spots still peeked through. The oversized leather jacket slung over your shoulders obscured the top half of your body, but Harry didn’t need to see any more to know just how good you looked. “Please,” he added, holding up a single red rose.

“Dinner with you,” you repeated, a little stunned by his offer. “Dinner.. with me. Should we say it once more for good luck?” Harry laughed. “Maybe once more,” you smiled, pulling your phone from your back pocket. need to cancel, something came up x you sent quickly to your best friends. “Where are we going?” you asked Harry, eyes locking back onto him as he walked back down the path. “In first, questions later,” he told you, unlocking his car and opening the passenger side door for you.

“You’re acting very murdery for a man of the law,” you laughed, sliding onto the seat. “It was a test, and you failed. Should never get in a strange man’s car,” he joked.

The drive was mostly silent, except for the rhythm of Harry’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You were suddenly nervous, mouth dry and heart pounding as you watched the city become a blur. The sun was starting to set overhead as you drove further from home, street lamps and homes beginning to light up around you. Harry glanced over at you, brows furrowed as he tried to read the emotion etched onto your face. “You okay?” he asked, resting a strong hand on your knee.

“Shy,” you smiled weakly. It had only just hit you that you didn’t know Harry at all, couldn’t even think of anything to say to cut through the silence. You wanted the evening to go well, wanted to explore the connection you felt with him. But if you stammered and stuttered all night long, you’d have to go into hiding before a future with Harry even became a possibility.

You watched him as he drove, brows knitted in concentration as he navigated the busy streets. You hadn’t even paid attention to what he was wearing before, and as your eyes wandered over his body, your jaw went slack.

Harry wore a loose white dress shirt that although slightly oversized, seemed to fit him perfectly. He’d left the top few buttons open, allowing glimpses of his toned physique. As he moved his hands around the steering wheel, the material of the shirt shifted, revealing intricate tattoos that adorned his arms and chest. You’d seen a couple on his arms, but the amount that littered the tanned skin of his torso made your heart race. With each tiny movement, his tattoos peeked through the fabric, muscles flexing underneath the inked skin. He was handsome in a way that was new to you, rugged and yet soft.

There was something about his age that drew you to him, his years on you more a challenge than anything. He clearly knew how to act and had no problems going after what he wanted, a world away from the men you knew who were all still stuck in their fratboy mindsets.

“We’re here,” Harry said, resting a gentle hand over yours to pull you from your daydream. He’d pulled up in front of a quaint pub. The bold blue exterior was littered with bright flowers in hanging baskets and window boxes. A crowd of merry customers had spilled out onto the pavement outside, the warm glow from the pub washing over them. “This is so cute,” you told Harry, following him through the open door. “Officer Styles!” a man called out from across the bar. Harry greeted him with a firm handshake, turning his ear to the man’s mouth to hear him over the music. It wasn’t long before he turned back to you, grabbing a hold of your hand to lead you up the stairs. “I did some work for the owner,” he told you, pulling open another door. “Don’t live far from here so I come often now. Good food and good views,” he smirked, stepping out of the way to reveal the scene set up for you.

The balcony was slim, only just wide enough to fit two small tables. One was set up for dining, a bottle of red perched among ice in the middle. The other was covered in candles, wax dripping around a beautiful bouquet in the centre. It was secluded and romantic, the dream setting for your first date with what could be your dream man.

You talked and laughed for what felt like forever, voice hoarse from giggling at Harry’s jokes. The sharing plates he’d ordered sat cold and forgotten in front of you both, almost empty glasses stained pink from the wine.

A hint of a smirk played on Harry's lips as his eyes trailed over yours. “Quickfire round, since I have a feeling you won’t let me kiss you until we know each other better. Family?”

“My brother’s younger, he’s in uni. Parents live by the coast,” you told him, heat rising through your core at the very idea of kissing him.

“My mum lives up north, got an older sister too. Hobbies?”

“I like painting. Don’t do it as much anymore but..” you let your voice trail off.

“But you’re going to paint me?” Harry grinned, turning his back to you and peering seductively over his shoulder. “Draw me like one of your French girls,” he drawled, a mocking glint in his eyes.

“Nuh uh. Got to answer or you’ll never get that kiss.”

“I don’t have hobbies. I like working out and like puzzles,” Harry shrugged.

“Typical old man hobby,” you laughed. Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Well, maybe I am an old soul trapped in a sexy young body," he replied with a playful grin. "Can't complain about that, right?"

You nodded, still amused by his choice of hobbies. "You’re right, I can’t.”

As your conversation continued, you and Harry discovered more and more about each other. Your dreams, fears, and your favourite childhood memories. You laughed and shared stories, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

“M’not ready to let you go yet,” Harry smiled, looking out over the river. It was almost totally dark now, the last rays of evening sunshine nearly vanished behind the horizon. You smiled back at Harry. “"I'm not ready to go either," you admitted, rolling your bottom lip into your mouth as you looked over him, taking in the beauty of the scene. He was the definition of a silver fox. You’d noticed heads turning as you left the pub, young (and older) women captivated by just a glance of Harry. Being the girl on his arm felt good, even if it was just for the evening.

“Let’s walk,” Harry told you, his fingers intertwining with yours. You strolled down the riverside hand in hand, chatting mindlessly. Harry shared stories of his childhood, his years working for a local bakery before he moved to London and joined the Met.

You felt so much comfort and warmth as you listened to Harry. His stories painted vivid pictures in your mind, a glimpse into his past giving you some understanding of the person he was. As the two of you continued walking, the sound of the flowing river created a soothing backdrop to your conversation. The setting sun was casting a golden glow over your surroundings, and you couldn't help but feel a growing connection with Harry. It was as if time stood still, and the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

You found yourself opening up to Harry, sharing your own stories. He listened attentively, his eyes filled with genuine interest and understanding. It was refreshing to be with someone who truly cared about getting to know you on a deeper level.

As the evening progressed, the conversation shifted towards more lighthearted topics. Laughter filled the air as Harry recounted some of the funnier people he’d encountered during his career. His animated gestures and contagious laughter made it impossible for you not to join in. There was a boyish charm behind his manly facade, and the more time you spent with Harry, the more you realized how effortlessly he made you feel at ease. There was a natural chemistry between you, a connection that went beyond words. It was a feeling of familiarity, as if you had known each other for years.

As darkness began to envelop you, Harry gently squeezed your hand, bringing your attention back to the present moment. You both paused, eyes trailing over the other’s features under the moonlight. Harry tugged on your arm quickly, pulling you towards the wall. Your heart quickened as his gaze fell to your parted lips, his body gently pressing your back into the brick. The light cast a soft glow on his face, lust etched into every line on his face.

You felt as if you were floating somewhere outside your body as Harry leaned in, his warm breath mingling with yours. His lips brushed against your own, gentle yet filled with an insatiable longing.

You responded eagerly, your hands instinctively finding their way to his waist. The kiss deepened, becoming a dance of lust and unspoken desires. Harry's lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own, his hands roaming your body. It had been a long time since a kiss had ignited a fire within your core, and yet you were burning brighter with every touch.

The taste of him was intoxicating, warm wine, sweetness and desire on his tongue leaving you breathless. He pressed you further into the wall, your bodies molding together perfectly as if they were made to be intertwined.

It had started to rain at some point, though you were too consumed by the raw passion that existed between you to notice the soft raindrops running down your skin. All you could focus on was Harry’s tongue licking into your mouth, a silent promise of the yearning and desire that he felt for you.

He pulled your bottom lip into his mouth before you both pulled away, breathless and panting. The world slowly came back into focus, but the sight of Harry before you nearly made your heart stop. The rain had soaked through his shirt, the thin material now translucent and dipping and weaving over his toned abdomen. His curls were slick against his forehead, raindrops lingering on the end of his eyelashes. His jaw was tense as he looked over your face, one hand gently grazing your waist. He was mesmerising, powerful and yet vulnerable as he stood soaked through in front of you.

You reached out with a gentle hand, pushing the wet curls from his face. But just as your swollen lips parted to speak, the heavens opened above you. It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over you and Harry, raindrops pelting you from every angle. You looked at each other in shock, a laugh tumbling past your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of your hand and ran, the sound of your footsteps slapping against puddles breaking the silence of the now empty streets. You were barely able to hold yourself upright from laughter, falling into Harry’s body as your legs carried you closer to the car. His grip tightened on your wrist, guiding you through the dark paths.

As you reached the car, Harry fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking from the sudden cold. You stood beside him, shivers of adrenaline running through you. The rain smacked against the roof of the car as Harry unlocked it, pulling open the door for you. Even in the pouring rain, he was still a gentleman. You slid in quickly, the sudden warmth fogging up the windows.

You sat in silence for a moment, eyes trailing over each other as you caught your breath. A smile played on Harry’s lips as he looked at you, his hand coming up to brush your sodden hair from your face.

—

There was no way you could sleep. You’d been tossing and turning for at least an hour, the ache in your core too much to sleep on. All you could do was replay the evening in your mind, wondering exactly how you ended up alone in Harry’s bed.

“Here,” Harry handed you one of his T-shirts and some pyjama bottoms. “Shower’s through there, get yourself warmed up.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as you headed into the bathroom, a tiny sigh of disappointment slipping past your lips. You were desperate for him to join you in the shower, craving more of his touch. A night of stolen glances and gentle touches had you burning up even before the kiss, but after seeing what Harry’s mouth was capable of, you were dying for more of him.

As the water washed over you, all you could think about was Harry’s lips on yours. The hunger in his eyes before he kissed you, the taste of red wine on his tongue.

—

“Would you not get in trouble for this?” you asked Harry, hands wrapped tightly around the hot chocolate he’d handed you. “Maybe. But once we have your stuff back, the case is over. They can’t say anything then,” he shrugged, turning to lean against the kitchen counter. He got more handsome every time you looked at him, as if that were even possible. Now, standing there with his old man plaid pyjama pants and a T-shirt tight against his muscular frame, you were left pressing your thighs together to keep the heat in. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Harry smiled from the sofa. You almost jumped out of your skin at his voice, having tried your hardest to creep silently into the kitchen. He looked adorable, tucked under a thick blanket with his long legs squashed up at the end of the sofa. “Just needed water,” you told him, grabbing an empty cup from the counter.

“Why don’t you want to share a bed with me?” you suddenly burst out, turning on your heel to face him. You weren’t going to beg, didn’t want to whine, but the words came out before you could stop yourself. Harry chuckled, padding over to join you by the sink. He pushed a strand of hair out of your face, cupping your cheek with his free hand. Pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, he whispered, “come on,” his voice low and husky.

You followed Harry out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, watching as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He patted his legs, signalling for you to join him. You straddled his thick thighs, eyes fixed on his as he looked over your body. In only his t-shirt and your tiny panties, you’d never looked more delicious to him. “I didn’t share a bed with you because I try not to sleep with women on the first date,” he told you, slipping a hand under your t-shirt before holding your waist with a firm grip. “And I wouldn’t be able to resist if I were in bed with you.” His eyes came to rest on yours, his pupils blown under thick eyelashes. “You don’t have to resist, Harry,” you replied, your voice small, barely slipping out past your heart pounding in your throat. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. His hand moved further up your body, thumb running over your nipple.

“Y’so beautiful,” Harry cooed, pulling your t-shirt off in one quick movement. He sat back for a second, an arrogant smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he gazed over you. Hunger was written all over his face, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in, his lips soft as they brushed against yours. Gentle, yet fuelled by desire. His tongue moved around yours, a delicate dance that left you breathless against his mouth.

Harry’s hands roamed your exposed skin, tracing patterns of heat and need. His touch was electric, insatiable as he gripped and groped at every bit of skin he could reach. He moved with purpose, tracing the curves and contours of your upper body. Every touch, every stroke, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His lips left yours, trailing a path of fire down your throat, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips smooth as he suckled and nibbled at the sensitive flesh.

You shifted slightly on his lap, his hard cock nudging at your folds through his pyjama pants. The room was filled with a symphony of whispered moans and ragged breaths as you rubbed yourself on him, the soft scratch of Harry’s pyjamas between your thighs only adding to your desire. You needed him in a way that transcended reality, a hunger that went beyond the physical. Your yearning was deep in your soul as Harry’s hands continued to explore you, his touch more than just a physical sensation. It was a language of its own, speaking unbridled passion.

He wrapped an arm under your hips, lifting you up just enough to slip his pyjamas down his thighs. His cock sprang up between the two of you, grazing your entrance. You whimpered as his tip touched you, your head falling onto Harry’s shoulder. He stroked a hand down his shaft, hissing as his thumb brushed over the angry tip. He started to move you, not expecting you to want to ride him, but you wrapped a firm hand around his neck and shook your head softly, pulling your face from his shoulder to meet his eyes. “Like this, Harry,” you whispered, shifting in his grip until his head lined up with your folds. You pulled your panties to the side, your juices warm against his head.

“You’re on birth control?” he asked, voice strangled as he resisted the urge to push into you. You nodded, sinking down slowly until his thick cock was deep inside of you, splitting your walls wide open. A deep cry fell from your lips as you stilled, his shaft throbbing as it settled into you.

“So fuckin’ tight, kitten,” he drawled, lips planting hungry kisses along your jawline. His eyes were fixed on the mirror behind you, watching his hand grip onto the curve of your ass. His free hand slid under you, easing you up ever so slightly. You could feel him everywhere, in your stomach and in your throat as he pushed deeper into you. Your walls were threatening to burst around his shaft, the size of his cock scratching an itch you never knew you’d had. It was pure ecstasy.

“Harry,” you whined, gripping him tighter as you pushed your hips upwards, starting to find your rhythm. The burn was white-hot in your core, tingles of pleasure spreading through your body as you bounced up and down on his lap. Your nails raked down his back as he fucked into you, deep whines and moans being pulled from your mouth every time Harry’s cock hit your sweet spot. His strong arm was guiding your hips up and down, his free hand still exploring your body as he pressed kisses along your throat. You still wanted more of each other, still searching each other’s bodies as if you had been starved of touch for years.

You were as close as you could be to him, your bodies melding together with every push of his hips. Your clit was rubbing against the fabric of your panties with every movement, every slap of your cheeks against his groin sending you further into your spiral.

“You’re mine, all mine, huh?” Harry mewled against your skin, his lips moving down to find your nipple. He sucked and licked around the bud, his lips swollen and hot. “All yours,” you whined, your orgasm creeping up on you after Harry’s dominant ownership. He held you tightly, your trembling legs heavy on his arm despite how light you felt. You were sure you could take flight in that moment, pleasure coursing through you with every buck of his hips. You threw your head onto his shoulder as you came, a strangled cry pushing past your dry lips.

Your walls tightened around his cock, his lips pressing a tiny moan into your skin. He flipped you over once your breathing slowed, the new angle pushing his cock deeper into you. Harry splayed a hand across your stomach, feeling where he was fucking into you. His eyes were dark as he looked down at you, watching the way your tits bounced with every rock of his hips. His thrusts started to get sloppier, his hips knocking into you harder as he came close to his high. You could feel him throbbing inside of you as he panted, jaw slack as he pulled out of you quickly. One hand stroked the length of his cock as he came, his come splashing violently all over your chest. You released the hand gripping his shoulder to swipe a finger through the puddle, licking it from your fingertip hungrily. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he drawled, chest heaving as he watched you.

You were more content in that moment than you’d ever been, silently thanking whoever had decided to steal your bag. If it was all an insane plan to get you here, covered in Harry’s come, you’d thank them every day for the rest of your life.

“Baby—“ you hiss as Harry’s teeth come in contact with the junction of your neck and jaw.

His hands are on your hips, gripping tight since the moment he slid you up his lap.

You were making out in the back seat of his car— an impromptu decision to drive out to the nearest city lookout has quickly turned into, well… whatever you call this.

You weren’t together, the two of you. But it’s complicated to describe what you even are. He’d invited you over to watch a movie, so you did that, and nothing sexual had even happened.

Quickly that changed, after driving out here, the middle of butt-fuck nowhere and all the sudden being all over eachother.

Well at least since he joked about the both of you fucking in his car. Pretty sure he was just really into the idea.

He hums in the back of his throat, it’s gravelly, laced with the pleasure he’s evidently gaining from this. You can feel him plumping up beneath you.

You’re salivating over his half unbuttoned shirt. It’s borderline slutty, the way he walks around like that. Teasing his pecs and the top of his butterfly tattoo.

Sometimes you don’t know how people have a coherent conversation with him while he looks like that outside. Hair out, abs peaking through— it makes you almost nauseous.

He’d probably had his hair down during the earlier hours of the day, and then tied it up before you’d come over, since it’d been up since you went over this evening.

As much as your a fan of the manban— trust me, no one loves that bun like you do— you want his hair out.

So your hands lace behind his neck, sliding up to where the hair-tie securing his hair was. You start to tug on it.

It was in tighter than you’d initially expected— causing you to be practically just pulling on it— and nothing could’ve prepared you for the moan that comes out of him.

“God— you’re— shit.” His hips snap up against you. Hard. You almost laugh at how unexpected it was.

“Harry,” You begin, and there’s a teasing yet aroused edge to your voice, “are you getting worked up over me pulling you hair?”

He can’t even verbalise the heat that flushed through him as that happened, his jaw gone lax.

Your fingers wrap around the hair-tie again, tugging it out, earning another groan from him. You don’t stop there though, not after seeing him react like this. You gather up his hair into a make shift ponytail, pulling on it, gauging his reaction again.

His lips scrape up your neck as he tilts his head back to follow the pull.

“Didn’t know you liked getting your hair pulled, huh.” You said, tightening your grip and bringing his eyes to lock with yours.

“Fuck— I didn’t… I didn’t know.” He hissed at your teasing, pushing his hips up to your core again, trying to relieve a little pressure.

“Seems like a pretty submissive trait if you ask me? Like being a bottom hm?”

“Shut up.” He huffs, but you just grip his hair tighter.

Reaching down, you undo a few more buttons on his shirt, “Already half undone for me.”

He pulls at your sweatpants, tugging them off with only a minor struggle. Beginning to palm over you through your underwear, which is damp already.

“Already so wet. Feel it through y’underwear, babe.” He groans, kissing your neck.

You start unbuttoning his jeans, and he lifts his hips and helps you pull them down below his thighs.

“Want me on top? Want me to ride you in the backseat of your car?” You pull his cock out from his briefs, salivating at the sight.

The two of you seemed to be dancing, swapping who was leading every few steps and it was weird to experience. But it was hot regardless, seeing him act so submissive yet dominant in a span of moments.

“Jesus, ‘course I do.” He takes his hand, pushing your underwear to the side, sliding his fingers through your slit.

He drags your arousal up to your clit, drawing fast circles over you that has your stomach clenching. You move his hand away, replacing it with the head of his cock, earning a shared moan from the two of you.

One hand is still tangled up in his hair as you sink down his length about half way before allowing a moment to adjust and take a breath.

“Still so fuckin’ tight Y/N. Anyone would think I’d never fucked y’with my cock before.” He moaned, hands cupping your ass and squeezing.

“Y’still feel huge, H.” You feel him pulse within you as you slide a little further down.

As you feel the stretch, you let out that tension on his hair— yanking it back more.

“Don’t— baby— you’re gonna make me come.” He moans, thighs tensing under you.

“Hold it.” You say, getting to the very base of him and rolling your hips against him.

“Shit…” He curses, and you lean forward to kiss his adams apple, licking a stripe up to his chin.

You begin bouncing on him, starting up a rhythm that has his eyes rolling back into his head.

His hand slides forward from your ass, and down to play with your clit.

The car was genuinely swaying, and with the way the both of you were panting, you were beginning to fog up the windows.

He pinches your clit, and you give a rough tug on his brown curls.

The two of you are undoing eachother, so fast it’s giving you whiplash.

The groans coming from him are unmatched though, and you never thought he’d be so into this.

“Fucking dirty, Harry. Didn’t think you’d love getting pulled on like this. Like a slut would.” Jerking his head back to meet your eyes again, his pupils are blown out with pleasure.

“Y/N—“ he moans, and you purposefully squeeze around his cock.

“Cant admit it, can you? That you’re just a fucking slut.” You say, holding him in place.

“I’m gonna— Jesus Christ— gonna come if you keep pulling on me like this.”

You bounce harder over his cock, kissing his jaw and lips as you ignore the burn in you legs and the pit of your stomach.

His fingers are fucking your clit with a matched pace to your bounces, and your resolve starts to crumble beneath you.

“Harry—“ you cry as his fingers slip all over your absolutely soaked clit.

“Come. Just fucking come on my cock, please!” He begs, and your whole body tenses as it happens.

You thighs are shaking as you come around his dick, so hard your digging the nails of your free hand into his shoulder. The other has got his hair in a vice-like grip.

That combined with the clenching of your cunt, Harry can’t hold it a second longer— his own moans are sounding seconds after yours.

“Fuckfuckfuck—“ he hisses, abs clenching as his warm ropes of come shoots into you.

It takes a moment to come down from your highs. And you’re both still shaking as you begin to untangle yourselves from one another.

“You’re probably gonna have a sore scalp tomorrow.” You laugh a little as he tucks himself gently back into his briefs, wincing a little at the sensitivity of his cock.

“Worth it, I guess…” he admits quietly.

“It’s hot you know? You pulling on my hair like that. Nearly came when you first did it.”

“Well fuck, I think it’s hot you like having your hair pulled.” You shrug, kissing his lips.

“M’ glad. Means you’ll do it again.”

“Anytime, Harry.” You smile, half joking, half not.

Thankfully, you only had to go to the fourth floor of the hotel. If you had stood in that elevator for much longer, you would have died, either out of exhaustion or embarrassment from ramming into your boss.

Finally the elevator stopped, the doors sliding open before you. You had to let Rossi and Morgan out before you, but you filed quickly behind them, purposely bumping into Prentiss on the way out. She only smirked, and you reluctantly let a smile flit over your face, your friendly teasing amusing to you both.

You had half a mind to ask to room with her, but you didn’t have time to do anything about that before Hotch was turning to face you all. You hadn’t noticed him slip past you to be at the front of the group, and you hoped that he’d missed you shoving Prentiss in the hallway.

“Okay, let’s pair up.” He spoke simply, and you turned to Emily, realizing that she was already headed towards JJ. You floundered slightly, watching as Garcia clung tight to Morgan’s arm, the pair already giggling about some stupid joke.

You sought out Reid next, but he was in the middle of rambling animatedly to Rossi about a documentary that he’d been wanting to share with the man, and not even Rossi’s half-panicked expression at his new roommate was enough to get you to interrupt him and ask to be his roommate instead.

Before you could process the situation, you felt a tentative hand on your shoulder.

“It looks like we’re together for the night.” Hotch murmured, his voice low between you in the dim hallway, “I’m sorry you didn’t have much choice.”

You frowned at his apology, your mouth falling open to ask him to clarify, but he was already taking your bag from your hands, hoisting it over his shoulder and tossing everyone else their keys.

“Everyone meet back at the precinct by seven tomorrow,” Hotch made eye contact with each of his agents, “And get some sleep. We need to be on top of our game.”

You waved a brief goodbye to everyone as Hotch opened his door, catching Morgan’s eye as he mouthed an, ‘I’m sorry,’ at you. His sympathy confused you just as much as Hotch’s earlier statement had, and your frown only deepened, hearing the door click behind you as the lock was turned.

“Go ahead,” Hotch pushed the door open for you, your bag still hiked over his shoulder, “You can pick which bed you want.”

You felt around blindly for a light switch, your fingers curling around it when you felt the cool plastic. A quick flick of the switch revealed not two twin beds, but one queen bed, standing proudly in the middle of the room, like it was taunting you.

Hotch seemed to notice at the same time that you did, a soft, ‘Oh.’ coming from behind you as you stilled in the door. You broke out of your trance a second later, making a beeline for the loveseat that stood against the wall.

“I’ll stay here for the night,” You reached for your bag, but he stepped away from you, frowning skeptically at the sofa.

“You need to get a good night’s sleep, Y/N. This is your first time here, you can’t compromise your health like that. I can take it for the night, it’s okay.”

“No!” You urged, “No, I’d feel so guilty if I made you sleep on that. Seriously, it’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“I do,” Hotch frowned, glancing tentatively at the bed, waiting a moment before speaking again, ‘It’s big enough to share, if you’re comfortable with that.”

You were glad that he’d suggested the somewhat compromising sleeping arrangement, because you hadn’t been looking forward to sleeping on what was sure to feel like cinderblocks. But you didn’t want to push his boundaries, so you had stayed silent.

At his offer you nodded with a soft smile on your face, “That’s fine with me.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, no longer stiff under the dark fabric of his suit jacket. He set your bag beside the bed, letting his fall to the floor with an unceremonious thump on the other side. 

You were glad that you’d showered that morning, not wanting to waste any possible sleeping time in a hotel bathroom.

“I’m gonna shower tonight,” He seemed to have read your thoughts, gesturing to the bathroom, “Did you wanna go first?”

“I’ll take one in the morning,” You waved him off, “Go ahead.”

He nodded, grabbing a change of clothes from his bag and locking himself in the tiny bathroom. You heard the shower turn on while you were reaching for a book in your bag, and you could tell just by the sound of the water that the pressure was terrible. You weren’t looking forward to tomorrow morning.

You busied yourself with your book while Hotch was in the shower, your eyes drooping steadily. You didn’t want to go to sleep yet, though, because if Hotch came out of the shower and saw you asleep, you knew he’d make an extra effort to be quiet, and you didn’t want to inconvenience him. 

Your eyes scanned the page in front of you, but your mind wandered. Why had both Morgan and Hotch apologized to you before you got inside? What were they apologizing for? You tried wracking your brain, but the only thing you could think of that would warrant an apology was Prentiss knocking you over in the elevator, and even she hadn’t apologized for that.

You finally gave into your curiosities when you heard the shower shut off, grabbing your phone and pulling up Morgan’s contact.

Hey, you typed, your fingers slightly less nimble than they normally were as you fought your exhaustion, Why did you apologize earlier? What were you sorry for?

He replied fairly quickly, and you rolled your eyes fondly at the knowledge that he wasn’t asleep yet. You weren’t sure if he or Penelope would sleep at all that night, too caught up in giggling and making jokes and enjoying each others’ presence.

‘You got the short end of the stick. No one ever rooms with Hotch. You’re gonna have a long night.’

Why? You replied, your brows furrowing. Did he kick in his sleep? Did he snore? Did he set obnoxious alarms for way too early in the morning?

‘Are you kidding? He’s a hardass! I can’t imagine sharing a room with him, is he barking orders at you? Has he demanded you be in bed, lights out yet?’

He’s not always like that, You scoffed lightly at Morgan’s judgements, He’s a normal person??

‘I think I’ve seen him smile twice.’

Well that sounds like he’s got nothing to smile about around you, You typed out bitterly, uneasiness growing in your chest as you realized why Hotch was probably so reserved around the office, And I wouldn’t either if my coworkers expected me to bite their heads off 24/7.

You didn’t bother replying to whatever half-joke that Morgan made back, setting your phone on the nightstand with a huff. Something inside of your chest ached as you realized that your team regarded your boss as only that, and never considered the person that he was outside the office. You were well aware that Hotch had been through significant trauma in his life, and was surlier than most. But you also knew that he wasn’t like that all the time. You’d seen him smile three times over the past two days, all centered around pictures and videos of his son that he’d been sent. Apparently no one was looking hard enough at their boss to see who he was underneath the title, and his mannerisms made sense now.

The bathroom door opened, and Hotch stepped out onto the thick hotel carpet. You glanced up from your book and offered him a smile at his reentry, and you saw the neutral frown on his face lift slightly.

“Aren’t you tired?” He gestured to the book in your hands, and you shrugged.

“I didn’t wanna pass out and then force you to tiptoe around for the rest of the night. I’ll sleep soon.”

His face fell slightly, and he wrestled with his suit jacket, slipping it over the hanger that he’d stored his dress shirt on, “Y/N, I’m sorry for making you think…” He started, but his face darkened even more and he thought better of it, shaking his head, “You- you can go to sleep. I want you to rest well, this is your first case on the job and you need to take care of yourself.”

You didn’t point out his usage of your first name, but it only further proved your point. He dropped his professional air in the privacy of the hotel room, addressing you as a person and not as a subordinate.

“No, no, it’s okay. I actually wanted to ask you something,” You set your book aside, shifting your body so that you were facing him as he hung up his suit, “Is that okay?”

“Go ahead,” He looked confused, a frown wrinkling his brows, “Is everything okay?”

“You tell me,” You let out a breathy laugh, “Why do you keep apologizing?”

“What do you mean?”

‘First you apologized when we paired up for the night. Now you’re apologizing because I wasn’t already asleep. What are you sorry for in both of those scenarios?”

A resigned smile crossed his features at your words, a pretty sight but one that saddened you, “I’m very well known among the team as the one to avoid rooming with.”

“Do you kick in your sleep or something?” You voiced a concern from earlier, “‘Cause if I’m gonna end up on the floor, I’ll just take the couch.”

“I think you’d be better off sleeping on the floor than the couch,” Hotch threw a disdainful glance at the sofa in the corner, “But no, I think everyone’s just scared to room with their boss.”

“That’s dumb.” You huffed, your words deepening the smile on his face, “It’s not like we’re on the clock or anything.”

“I’m sure I’m not the best company either way,” He mused, his eyes anywhere but meeting your own, “I don’t blame them for avoiding me.”

As his smile widened, your frown did the same. He spoke of his terrible reputation with a wistful air, like he wanted to change it but didn’t know how, or didn’t think he could. The ache in your chest felt like it was splitting you apart by now, the man standing in front of you wringing your heart out with his admission.

“You’re great company.” You spoke, and you watched his eyes widen slightly. He froze for a second, then his hands continued fumbling with his tie, his cheeks growing rosy.

“I’m glad you think so,” He murmured, “Haven’t heard that in a while.”

“Hotch,” You crawled across the bed, kneeling on his side, “Do you believe them?”

“What do you mean?” He hummed, though he continued fussing with his belongings instead of looking at you.

“Do you believe the team when they make jokes about you? About how you’re no fun, or that you’re too serious?”

“I am too serious,” He let out a breathy laugh, “Just because they’re made as jokes doesn’t mean they’re not true.”

“But you’re not always like that!” You urged, “You have a life outside of work. Just because they don’t always see it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist, or that it’s not really you. I’ve seen you smile, and laugh, and crack jokes, and I’ve only been here for a month.”

“I…” Hotch started, opening his mouth to speak and shutting it again quickly. You could see the conflict brewing behind his eyes, then finally he found his voice again, “Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing what?”

“Why are you trying to persuade me that I’m fun to be around?”

“Because you are.” You spoke plainly, shifting your legs so that they hung over the side of the bed, “And I don’t want you to keep thinking you’re not.”

“I appreciate your efforts,” Hotch let a smile break through his expression again, this time much more genuine and positive, “But you’re going to have to listen to them say stuff like that for as long as you work here.”

“Well they can say whatever they want, we’ll know it’s not true.”

Hotch’s smile only grew, and he shook his head slightly, glancing down at the ground, “You’re very persistent.”

“Is it working?”

“Yes,” He finally glanced up at you, appreciation painted over his face, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Anytime,” You grinned, scooting back to your side of the bed, “And if they ever bother you again, I’ll take care of ‘em.” You waved a fist in the air threateningly, and it drew an incredulous laugh from Hotch who crawled under the blankets beside you, occupying the spot you’d just vacated.

“I’d love to see Prentiss’s face when she realizes you’re my protector now.”

The teasing title warmed your heart, as did the soft smile on Hotch’s face. He looked comfortable, not only physically in his flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt, but emotionally as well, if his eyes lingering on your own was any evidence.

“I’d love to get her back for pushing me in the elevator,” You recalled nearly tipping Hotch over, “Just say the word and I’ll attack.”

You could tell that your joke amused him, but at the mention of the near-disaster earlier, his smile faded. He reached out without thinking, the gesture somewhat intimate in the bed between you, his fingers brushing softly over the spot on your head that you’d bumped.

“Are you-” He intended to make sure you were okay, but he seemed to realize just how intimate the touch really was, blushing softly once more, “Sorry, I didn’t think- I just wanted to make sure…”

“It’s fine,” You waved off his concerns, slightly disheartened when he pulled his hand away, “My head doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Do you remember your name?” He recovered from his momentary awkwardness quickly, raising one eyebrow in a teasing expression.

“No,” You let out a yawn, the gesture aiding your sentence perfectly, “But I think that’s because of how tired I am, not because I have a concussion.”

“I hope you’re right.” Hotch murmured, reaching blindly behind him to feel for the light switch, pointedly not turning away from you, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night Hotch,” You mumbled, your eyes slipping shut, “See you in the morning.”

He hummed softly, flicking the light off and settling his head on the pillow, “You can call me Aaron.”

“Tomorrow,” Your brain could barely form the thoughts you wanted to get out, too consumed already by exhaustion, “I’m too sleepy tonight.”

He let out a soft laugh, and you felt his knee gently graze yours beneath the blankets, “Right, tomorrow.”

--

It turned out that Aaron didn’t set obnoxious alarms for way too early in the morning, his phone chiming at only six-thirty. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to make it to the precinct on time, but you appreciated the extra sleep.

You were much closer than you remembered being to Aaron in the queen bed, the both of you having shifted in your sleep to be pressed against one another. One of his hands was wound around your waist, the other beneath your head, acting as your pillow. One of your hands was resting between you two, spread out over his broad chest, as the other was slung over his shoulders. The proximity left a strange, warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you chalked it up to the stifling heat you’d awoken to.

Aaron’s alarm was still chirping on the nightstand, but apparently he couldn’t hear it from where he was burrowed into the crown of your head. Your face was tucked neatly into his neck,and you felt his breath fan out over your skin. You smiled fondly at the way he’d snuggled up to you in his sleep, knowing full well that he hadn’t intended to, and would be adorably bashful once he found out.

You kept your promise from the night before, gently patting his shoulder when he didn’t stir at the alarm, “Aaron,” You mumbled sleepily, “Aaron, it’s time to get up. We’ve gotta get back to the precinct.”

He groaned gruffly, his arms only tightening around you. You giggled softly at his haziness, this time patting his chest, “Come on! We’ll get so much shit if we’re late.”

He stayed still for a moment, but you could feel him gradually waking up, a long sigh escaping him after a yawn, “I thought you said it didn’t matter what the team said.”

You groaned as he quoted your statement from the night before, reluctantly wriggling away from him, “Yeah, but I also wanna find this woman and go home.”

He seemed to agree with that argument, his arms loosening in their grip around you. You blinked slowly as you woke yourself up completely, and because of the way that Aaron had pulled back, his face was level with yours. You felt his eyes on you, and you blearily stared at him too, returning the soft smile that he gave you.

“You slept well?” You guessed at the reason for the bashful grin on his face.

“Best I’ve slept in forever,” You decided not to look into his flattering statement too far, your eyes glued to his own as you agreed.

“Me too.” You prolonged the eye contact for moment, and you could have sworn that he shifted slightly closer to you. Your heart began racing, any leftover drowsiness from waking up completely gone as you watched him inch forward. Your hand was still braced on his chest and you let your fingers curl gently into the front of his shirt, ready to let your eyes slip closed when his phone rang on the nightstand.

He froze, his lovesick gaze on you remaining for only a moment. Then, he was arching backwards, grabbing the phone from his nightstand and sitting up to hold it to his ear. Your hand fell away from his chest, and you caught your breath while he spoke to whoever was on the end of the line.

“Yeah, we’re coming.” He rubbed a hand over his face, still clearly half asleep, “We’ll be there soon.”

He hung up, setting the phone back on his nightstand and turning to face you. You hauled yourself upright, your heart still pounding in your chest. You would give anything to be trapped in that singular, serene moment until the end of time, the closeness and intimacy of what could have been tempting you more than anything ever had before.

“We’re a little late,” He smiled fondly at you while you checked your phone, “We should head over there now.”

“I’ll go get dressed,” You gestured to the bathroom, “I’ll be right back.”

You missed the way that his eyes tracked you as you headed into the bathroom, your clothes for the day in hand. A certain adoration lined his eyes, and he had to shake himself out of his daze to get himself dressed.

You were changed faster than he thought you’d be, because when you stepped out of the bathroom once more, he was half-naked. His slacks were unzipped, his chest on full display as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Your cheeks flared, and he bit his cheek, containing the smirk that threatened to slip past his lips as you hurried to your side of the bed, shoving your pajamas in your bag haphazardly.

He tucked his now-buttoned shirt into his slacks, buttoning them and reaching for his belt. He saw the way that your eyes lingered on his hands while they slid the leather strap through the loops on his slacks, and he basked in your attention.

“We can grab breakfast on the way,” Next he went after his tie, slinging it haphazardly over his neck, “There’s this place down by the precinct that we can drive-” He stopped dead in his sentence as he reached for his bag, feeling your hand on his arm. You turned him to face you, your eyes flitting to the tie over his neck rather than his own that stared down questioningly at you.

Your fingers twisted the tie around itself, brushing against his chest far more often than they needed to. But he relished the contact, finally letting his smile grow over his cheeks once more as you tied his tie.

You adjusted it once the knot was in place, tightening it to his neck and tugging at his collar when it threatened to crease, “There.”

“Thanks.” At his voice, you looked up at him, and your eyes widened slightly with just how close you were. 

You were trapped in another one of those suspenseful moments, the ones that had your heart fluttering and your breath catching in your throat. You so desperately wanted Aaron to kiss you, and he so desperately wanted you to kiss him, but all anyone did was stare into the other’s eyes. Your smiles grew the longer you stared, his eyes twinkling in adoration as yours shimmered similarly in excitement. 

You stood frozen, close enough to each other that you shifted forwards slightly, and were pressed against his chest. Your bold move seemed to give him all of the confirmation that he needed, and his large, rough hands came up to cup your cheeks, tilting your face upwards. He leaned down in one confident swoop, his lips pressing to yours as his eyes fell shut.

Your hands twisted themselves desperately in the collar of his suit jacket, tugging him impossibly closer to you by the fabric. He seemed to understand what you wanted, deepening the kiss while setting a hand on your hip, tugging you in closer. Your cheek was cold now that Aaron’s hand wasn’t covering it, but the warmth that his lips brought you filled your chest and flushed to your cheeks, heating you right back up.

You let out a soft hum into the kiss, a sound that made his hand tighten in its grip around your hip. His tongue swiped sensually over your lower lip, and you wanted nothing more than to part your lips, granting him the access he so confidently sought.

You would have done it, too, if there hadn’t been rampant pounding on the door only seconds after he’d kissed you. 

“Guys,” Morgan’s voice was slightly annoyed, something you’d never heard from the man directed at his boss, “Come on! We’re all waiting on you, are you even up?”

Aaron sighed, breaking away from the kiss and resting his forehead against yours. He had a sheepish grin on his face, making him look as youthful as you’d ever seen him, and he mumbled an apology against your lips.

“We’ll continue this later?” He murmured, keeping his voice low enough so that Morgan couldn’t hear it from outside.

“Definitely,” You nodded, for once hoping that you’d drag out the case long enough to stay another night, “I think we should start rooming together more often.”

Aaron reluctantly let you go as the knocking intensified, but the soft smile was still lingering on his face, “They’re gonna think you’re crazy.”

“Let them,” You started for the door, swinging it open and dodging Morgan’s fist which was still knocking on nothing, not noticing that you’d opened the door. The man glared exasperatedly at you, expecting an explanation as to why you'd been so unresponsive, but you didn't grant him one. Instead, you turned back to Aaron, who had stiffened slightly at the near-accident, sending him a reassuring smile, “I don’t care.”

tags: @sunflowermotel @jhiddles03 @just-shut-up-kid @fadingpersonaspyexpert @cheyxfu @beeblisss @rosaliedepp @skyler666 @wanniiieeee @ssamorganhotchner @wheelsupkels

You shouldn’t even be here. Celebrating Father’s Day is a waste of a perfectly good Sunday that you could be spending doing something else. Something like going to the mall, or working, or fucking your stepfather like you’ve been doing in secret for nearly two months now.

None of those are suitable Father’s Day activities. That means that you’re stuck at the public park with your mom, your stepdad, and your stepbrother, Jack. Your stepdad's coworkers are also there, many of them with their families.

When you get to the park, your mom announces that it’s time for presents. The four of you sit at a picnic table and you watch as Aaron is presented with a new watch from your mom, and a crude family drawing from Jack along with a card declaring him the ‘Best Dad Ever!!!!!!’.

Aaron thanks them both profusely, puts the watch on then and there while Jack crawls into his lap for a hug.

“Sweetheart?” Your mom prompts you after a moment, and both boys look at you. “Do you have a gift for Aaron?”

You arch one eyebrow. It’s all too easy to play the part of reluctant stepdaughter, a role that you find yourself leaning on heavily these days. “He’s not my dad. Just because you’ve been married for a year doesn’t mean I’m going to start calling him daddy.”

Aaron lifts Jack off his lap as your mom opens her mouth- inevitably to scold you- and he cuts her off in the nick of time. “It’s okay, hon. You know I don’t expect anything, and this is more than enough.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about respect,” she argues, but Aaron is unwavering.

“She respects me perfectly fine. If she doesn’t want to give me a gift, I’m fine with that. Now come on,” he says, standing up. “JJ is here with the kids. Jack, let’s go see Henry.”

The little boy is off like a shot, as excited to see his friend as Aaron obviously is to break out of the current conversation.

The afternoon passes in a daze under the summer sun, filled with laughter and drinks and uncountable complaints against the heat.

You play with the kids for most of the day, and find yourself squatting to talk to Jack while Aaron is behind you once or twice. Based on the way he sputters on his beer, he’s caught a glimpse of the black lace lingerie set you bought yesterday.

When Jack begs you to get him some ice cream, you agree and get a cone for yourself, too. It’s hard to pretend not to notice Aaron’s eyes boring into you as you lick up drips of vanilla, but somehow you manage.

The only time your composure breaks is in the mid-afternoon when you’re just finishing your second cone. You’re wearing a low cut tank top, one that makes it glaringly obvious when a droplet of the ice cream falls onto your chest.

Glancing left and right, you don’t notice anyone’s attention on you except Aaron, passively glancing at you while mid-conversation with Derek. Shooting him a wink, you scoop the droplet up with your thumb and lick the digit clean.

If it’s a little more dramatic than necessary, well, that’s no one’s business except your own. And if Aaron averts his gaze like you just pulled off your top completely, that’s no one else’s business either.

Aaron is getting more and more wound up as the day passes, and it’s clear in the clench of his fist and the fire in his eyes. Part of you wonders how not a single FBI profiler is picking up on the downright filthy looks their boss is giving his stepdaughter. But no one says a word, not even when you bring him a drink and flutter your lashes a little and ask if there’s anything else you can do for him, so you consider yourself safe.

Maybe they aren’t paying attention; it’s their day off, after all.

—————

When you finally, finally get home from the park, everyone is exhausted. Jack is fast asleep by the time the car pulls into the driveway, and your mom gives you a kiss on the forehead before she scoops him up.

“I’m going to go to sleep, too. Don’t stay up late, honey,” she adds as she walks inside with you right behind her. Aaron stays outside for a minute, but you could swear that you feel a hand brush against your ass as you pass him.

You go right up to your bedroom and sit back on the bed, content to wait. You listen to the sounds of water running, doors closing, and your mom finally settling Jack in his bed before you hear the master bedroom door click shut.

It’s been a long day under the hot June sun, and it seems like everyone except you is exhausted.

You hear the sound of the front door open and close. Maybe you’re not the only person who isn’t exhausted.

Adrenaline thrums through your body as you hear heavy footsteps leading up to your bedroom, and your breathing is heavy with anticipation.

When the door opens, it’s with a soft ‘click’.

“Hi,” Aaron whispers, closing the door behind himself. “Are you tired?”

God, no. “Not at all,” you answer honestly, sitting up a little straighter. “Are you?”

Aaron doesn’t answer in lieu of grabbing your hand, pulling you to your feet and crushing his lips to yours. One hand cradles the base of your skull as he licks into your mouth, kissing you until you’re dizzy and he’s had his fill.

When he pulls away, you let out a breathless, “Oh…”

“You didn’t get me a gift today,” he says, skimming his hands down your waist until he gets to the waistband of your skirt, tugs it a little. “In fact, I’d call it the opposite.”

It’s hard to resist pouting at that, and you shoot him one until he kisses it away. “You didn’t like it?”

“‘Like you’ trying to get me to slip up in front of everyone? Sweetheart, I almost had to bend you over behind the ice cream stand.” He pulls at your skirt again. “Take it off.”

You follow his direction, slipping the skirt down your legs and stepping out of it before tugging your shirt off. It leaves you in nothing but the black lingerie you put on this morning just to tease him, and he groans softly as one hand comes up to grope at your tits through the thin lace of the bra.

“See? I got you a present,” you say, and he groans a little louder.

“I thought this was a new set. I need a make-up present, too, after everything you put me through today.”

Your eyes light up at that. You weren’t sure he was in the mood for anything further, especially today, but if he’s asking….

“I could ride you, daddy.” Your suggestion hangs in the air as Aaron attached himself to the visible strip of skin above your breasts, mouthing there without leaving any marks.

“You want to ride me? Want to start calling me daddy now that your mom can’t hear you?” He pants against the soft skin, sending shivers down your spine. From his words or from the feeling of his lips against you, you aren’t sure. “You want to lay me down, make daddy feel good? You’re so good to me, baby.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” It pains you to put a hand on his chest and push him off, but you steer him towards the bed without breaking that contact. “Please, I’ll make you feel so good.”

“After today, you’d better,” he warns. He sinks down onto your bed, lays back with his head on a frilly decorative pillow angled so he’ll have a good view of you. “Go on, baby, make it up to me.”

That’s all the encouragement you need before you strip off the black lingerie, tossing it onto the floor as he pulls his pants and boxers off.

You waste no more time before straddling and sinking into him, his hiss and your moan harmonizing for a moment before you start to move.

Usually, Aaron prefers to fuck you. You’re out of practice with riding him, and it’s obvious with how off-rhythm you are. After a couple minutes of you trying to bounce on top of him, he finally speaks.

“Can you speed up at all? I need more, baby, you’ve got to give me more.”

He thrusts up a couple of times, testing his luck with helping you out. A whine of frustration makes him stop, and he stifles a frustrated noise of his own in favour of gripping your waist hard.

“What’s that about? You don’t want my help?”

“I’m doing my best. It’s fine,” you insist, panting quietly as you continue to move at a pace that’s so achingly slow it’s almost masochistic for him to let you continue.

One of his hands lifts up and cracks down against your ass, causing you to clench around him and stop moving.

“Baby, I know you’re doing your best. It’s just not good enough,” he chastises. “So just stop moving, let daddy get on top.”

You lift yourself off of him and let him guide you to lie on the bed. “But I wanted to ride you,” you mumble, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes. “It’s your present, remember?”

Aaron chuckles, leaning down to kiss you as he slides a hand between your thighs and spreads them. “Just let me do what I want, baby, alright? That’s what today’s about.”

“Yeah, daddy.” Your sigh is breathy as Aaron moves his lips down to your breasts, running his tongue over one nipple while sliding back into you.

You moan out loud, and Aaron is quick to pull his mouth away and throw a hand over yours. “Shut up,” he whispers, and you see the shadow of his hand scrambling for something beside the bed.

He finds what he’s looking for, shows you your panties. They’re wet, and he snickers when he notices. “All this just from teasing me? That’s cute, baby,” he taunts, tapping your cheek with three fingers. “Open up.”

“Mm, yeah, daddy.” You smile up at him and open your mouth wide, letting him push the panties in. They’re an effective gag, stifling your moans and whimpers when he starts to really fuck you.

“That’s it, atta girl. So nice and quiet for me, that’s right,” he speaks against your neck, kissing down it while he fucks you. He moves down to your breasts- as much as he can- to leave marks there, sucking and biting in a way that tells you that these bruises will be around for a while.

You moan around the panties, grinding down on him as he speeds up. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, or maybe just the fact that you’ve been teasing him all day; for whatever reason, you’re already ready to cum.

“Hm? Are you close?” Aaron’s voice is more of a low grunt than anything else, his muscles shaking against your thighs. He’s trying not to cum, chasing your orgasm before worrying about his own.

He’s such a gentleman.

You nod frantically, hips bucking up under him as he brings a thumb to your clit and rubs at it. “Cum for me, go ahead. Cum.”

The command hits you like a tidal wave, and your orgasm crests through you so hard that you writhe under him on the bed. Your legs shake hard and you’re moving so much that Aaron has to stop thrusting to hold you down with one arm while his other hand stays on your clit to work you through it.

“Good girl, that’s it,” he pants, obviously close to the edge himself. He pulls the panties out of your mouth, tosses them to the floor. “I need a yes or a no, baby. Do you want daddy to cum inside you?”

“Please, please, please,” you chant as Aaron pumps his hips, a shallow movement out-and-in, once, twice, and then he’s filling you up with a groan that he muffles in the crook of your neck. “Thank you, daddy, oh my god.”

When he pulls out, he sighs and stands up immediately. “Good girl,” he whispers, bending to kiss you as he starts to pull up his pants. “Go to sleep, baby. You need to get some rest.”

“Mmm… stay with me?” You request, and you watch Aaron glance at the clock with a sigh.

“Only until you fall asleep,” he responds, crawling back into the bed. “The last thing we need is your mother waking up right now and wondering where I am.”

You hardly hear him, already burying your face in his chest and cuddling into him. You’re post-orgasm and cozy, and his big hands just feel so nice and comfortable when they pull you in close.

“Happy Daddy’s Day,” you mumble into his chest, and he chuckles at that before laying a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for my gift, baby.”

—————

Taglist: @crowfootwrites @abschaffer2 @jaspxr @angelfxllcm @arsonhotchner @ssamorganhotchner @sadgirlml @sunshinexhotchner @wheelsupkels @shyhotch @ashhotchner @laurensprentiss @hotchnerxo @haley-h0tchner @thebaileybugle @helmihotchner @dontcallmekittens @ssacharcoalgrey @allthefandomstogether @pandorasdreamings @hotched @scargarcia-magshotchner @multiverse-mxdness @nevillescomslut @queenofthepouges @ivanaplvc @itseightbeats @justreadingficsdontmindme

Join my taglist here | Check out my masterlist

Equal parts, in fact, attracted to him and afraid of him. That was often the space where horniness brewed. 

You couldn’t say that you were feeling the result of combining those two emotions now, though. You were more silently suffering beside him now than you were fantasizing about his large, calloused hands wrapped around your―

You couldn’t say that you were feeling the result of combining those two emotions now, though. You were more silently suffering beside him now than you were fantasizing about his large, calloused hands wrapped around your―

“Y/L/N,” You blinked bewilderedly at the sound of Hotch’s voice, looking dazedly at him as he gestured to the door, “We’re here.”

“Oh,” You mumbled, your cheeks flaring once again, “I’m sorry, I-”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Hotch let a miniscule, exhausted smile creep over his face, “We’re all a little out of it right now.”

You hummed along in agreement, pulling the latch on the car door and stepping onto the rain-soaked ground. It had mostly stopped raining since you started driving, the only thing coming down being a light drizzle that you avoided by keeping a hand hovering above your eyes.

“I booked us for eight,” Garcia stuck by Morgan’s side as they stepped out of the second van, ensuring a seat beside him, “I thought we could treat ourselves tonight, y’know?”

You peered up at the dimly lit neon sign for the gourmet restaurant that Penelope had chosen, your work attire perfectly suited for the formal dress code. You filed through the door one by one, relishing in the slightly warm, cozy atmosphere of the restaurant.

Hotch held the door for you all, and stepped in just behind you, the last one to enter the restaurant. JJ was already speaking to the hostess, giving them your reservation information. You watched her brow furrow as she turned, her eyes scanning the eight of you before she turned back to the hostess and replied.

It seemed like troubling news, whatever it was that they were talking about. You simply shifted your weight between feet while you waited, your shoulder brushing against Hotch’s gently.

“Sorry.” You turned, edging away from him on the tiled floor so that you wouldn’t bump into him again.

“It’s fine,” He murmured, his hand pressing comfortingly into the small of your back for a split second as you steadied yourself, “Don’t worry about it.”

His voice was arguably more soothing and beautiful than the violin music coming from the speakers. You didn’t usually have the pleasure of hearing him outside of the office, and his work voice contrasted starkly with what you’d just heard. There was no tension, no professional lining to it, it was smooth, and low, and soft.

The feeling of his hand on your back nearly took you out, your head practically spinning as you tried focusing on JJ when she turned to face you all.

“They’re splitting us up,” She started, a sympathetic grimace on her face, “They’ve only got two tables, one for five and one for two. They said we could stick an extra chair at the one for five, but two of us are gonna have to eat separately.”

You watched everyone look awkwardly around, silently praying for someone else to take one for the team. Take two for the team, you supposed.

“I’ll go,” You stepped forward, drawing everyone’s attention, “You guys enjoy your meal together!”

You didn’t feel unwelcome at the Bureau, by any means. But the rest of the team had worked together for significantly longer than you had, and you would feel bad sticking with them while their older friends had to eat elsewhere. You didn’t mind sitting one dinner out, especially if you’d get to eat some of the food that you saw being carted around.

There was a palpable release of tension at your volunteering, a few people sending you appreciatively sympathetic smiles, though there was still the matter of who’d be dining with you. 

You half hoped for Prentiss or Garcia, though you were sure that the latter wouldn’t dare leave Morgan’s side unless it was absolutely necessary. You mulled over the thought of dining with Reid, though you weren’t sure you’d be able to listen to him with the proper attention that he deserved, you were practically falling asleep standing up.

Before you could run through any other possible eating arrangements, that same smooth voice came from behind you, “I’ll join you, Y/L/N.”

You were almost certain that a few of your team members caught the way that your eyes widened a fraction. You turned tentatively to face Hotch, nodding and returning the half-smile that he sent your way.

“Right, well now that we’re all settled,” Prentiss smiled at you, nodding again in thanks, “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

You joined the group as they were led to their table, hovering awkwardly beside it while the waiter got them situated. You felt Hotch’s presence behind you, intimidating even in silence and out of sight, but soon enough your waiter was leading you to your own table.

The table for two was just as romantically-undertoned as you’d expected it to be. Candles stood tall and flickering between the two plates, and a single rose rested in a vase between them. You felt your legs threaten to give out as you sat down, your brain overanalyzing the way that Hotch pulled your chair out for you.

You busied yourself with your napkin, spreading it over your lap while Hotch sat. You weren’t sure if you’d have been able to stand the sight of his hands gripping the back of the chair, or the way that his pants hugged his thighs as they flexed when he sat.

“We’ll be back to take your orders in a bit, but could we get you started with any drinks?” The waiter hovered beside your table, pen and paper in hand as he looked between the two of you.

“I’ll just have a water,” You started, smiling gratefully at the waiter, “Thank you.”

“The same for me, please.” Hotch folded his hands together on the table, his watch glinting in the low lights of the restaurant, “Thanks.”

The waiter nodded, hurrying off to fulfill whatever orders he needed to bring out next. You glanced around at the floral patterns lining the accent wall of the restaurant, taking your blissfully granted opportunity to look at anything but the man across from you.

“Just water?” Hotch spoke after a moment, his eyes tracking you as you snapped back to attention.

“I’m not really in the mood for much else,” You hummed, “And you?”

“The only other thing I’m in the mood for is alcohol, and I don’t think they serve what I need here.” He cracked one of his rare jokes, a soft smile spreading over his face when you laughed.

“Tonight was tough,” You regretted bringing down the mood at the table, but you weren’t sure what else to say, “I think I’d agree with you that nothing they have here is hard enough.”

The waiter had sidled back over to your table by then, setting your waters down and giving you something to do.

Hotch took a sip of his and you pointedly avoided watching him, but you saw him nod at your words.

“I’m just glad we all made it out of there alive.”

You tried to take his words at face value, ‘we all’ meaning you and your team, but you couldn’t help but think of the unsub’s final victim, shot in the crossfires of the man’s takedown. You were certain you wouldn’t be able to forget watching her lifeless body fall to the ground any time soon. Not all of you had made it out of there alive, and you couldn’t help but blame yourself.

If you had just been faster; better at negotiation, perhaps? You were sure that there was a way to have gotten her out of there before she was killed, and it was disheartening to know that you’d failed her.

“Y/N?” For the second time that evening, Hotch’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. You realized that your grip on the glass had tightened slightly, your fingers pressed against the dewy cup until condensation ran down your wrist.

“Sorry,” You mumbled feebly, your cheeks growing hot as you registered his switch from your last name to your first, “I just- I was thinking about her.”

His face dimmed, and you regretted making the light leave his eyes.

“I am too,” He admitted, “Just don’t blame yourself.”

“But we-”

“Couldn’t have done anything.” Hotch didn’t even let you finish your sentence, giving you a knowing look, “Guilt like that will tear you apart. It gets easier with time, and this is one of your first, so I know it’s a lot. But I- uh, we are here to help, if you need it. Okay?”

His rather impromptu speech seemed to have drained him, his chest heaving with a long exhale when he stopped talking. Your eyes had widened slightly, and you nodded hesitantly at his words.

“Thank you, Hotch.”

“We’re not at work, Y/N,” He seemed relieved that you’d taken his advice, a gentle smile spreading over his face, “You can call me Aaron.”

“Thank you, Aaron.” You corrected yourself, sending him a similar smile as you sipped from your glass, your heart fluttering as his only widened.

“We should figure out what we want,” Aaron suggested, reaching for the menu that was set atop his plate, “It’s been a while since I ate here last.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been,” You mused, thumbing carefully through your own menu, “I haven’t really been out to eat much since moving here.”

Aaron let out a sympathetic hum at your words, “I’ve been living here for years and I still haven’t been out to eat much.”

You let out a short chuckle, your eyes skimming the seafood section of your menu, “Well, maybe if you left the office before eleven every once in a while, you’d have more dinner opportunities.’

“Maybe,” Aaron hid his wistful smile behind his menu, “But how do you know I never leave before eleven?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop your bashful grin from spreading, “Well, okay, maybe I should leave earlier too.”

“Definitely,” He nodded, “It’s your first year on the job and you’re already trying to rival my hours.”

“I could never steal your title as reigning workaholic,” You teased, adoring the beautiful grin that seemed permanently affixed to Aaron’s lips now, “I think I’d work myself to death trying.”

He looked down at his menu once more, not to figure out what he wanted, but to keep the fondness he knew was brewing in his gaze out of sight. He could feel the rest of the team staring at the two of you, and he knew that he was acting more open now than he usually ever was with them. It was bound to raise questions.

“Have you two had time to look at the menu?” The waiter came back, asking despite seeing the menus in both of your hands. You nodded, handing them over as he jotted down your orders. The food was expensive, you knew the bill would be large, but Rossi had volunteered to pick up the tab (before he knew where you were going), and you weren’t going to let him take back his poorly timed generosity now.

The waiter left with your orders and your menu, leaving you and Hotch to pick up conversation again. You hoped to steer it away from your jobs, the topic all-too-familiar, and into something that might let you know more about your Unit Chief as a person.

“How’s Jack doing?” It was a good start, apparently, if the widening of Aaron’s smile was anything to go by.

“Good,” He glanced at his phone, and you knew that if he’d tapped the screen a picture of his son would come up, “He wants me to bring him back a book, even though this one was local. We have a little tradition, every time I miss reading him a bedtime story. I have to pick one up from wherever we are. I told him I’ll be home tonight, but I think he went to bed early just to weasel another book out of me.”

“Oh,” You gushed, “That’s adorable! What kind of books does he like to read?”

“We’re in the middle of the Magic Treehouse series right now.” Aaron reached into his suit jacket, rifling through a plastic bag that was tucked inside and flashing the cover for #64, “We’re only on number thirteen, but I miss a lot of bedtime stories.”

You hummed sympathetically, “I’m sure he’s happy when you do get to read them.” “He is,” Aaron smiled softly, images of his sleepy son asking him for one more chapter flashing through his head, “He doesn’t let anyone else read them to him. Just me.”

You cooed at the admission, watching Aaron’s cheeks tinge just the slightest bit pink. You caught Prentiss’s eye from across the room, her own blown wide open as she gestured frantically between you and Hotch.

You looked away as if you hadn’t seen her, not wanting to ruin the moment you’d gotten yourself into with Aaron.

“What about you? Are you a big reader?” Hotch raised an eyebrow, taking another sip from his drink. 

“Well I’ve advanced a bit past the Magic Treehouse series,” You joked, “But yeah, I usually read on the jet.”

“I’ve noticed,” Aaron admitted, not missing the way your eyes widened almost imperceptibly at the thought of him watching you, “Sometimes I can’t even see your face behind the book you’re reading.”

“I just get into it,” You groaned sheepishly, “They’re good books!”

“I’m sure.” Aaron hummed into his glass, the water level dwindling as he glanced around the restaurant. 

--

By the time you’d gotten your food, you’d received twelve texts. Six from Penelope, three of which had some form of sexual innuendo about them, two from Prentiss, who demanded that you reveal your true feelings over your accidental candlelight dinner, one from JJ, asking you if the bread at your table was as dry as it was at theirs, one from Rossi who had mispelled several words in asking if you were ‘comsiderig tbis a datw’, and finally, one from Reid, complete gibberish which he’d accidentally typed while the phone was in his pocket.

You ignored all but Penelope’s, knowing that she’d come over to your table and talk to you herself, right then and there, if you didn’t answer.

Shut up, you typed, your fingers tapping the screen below your table so as not to look rude, If you guys ruin this for me I’ll ruin you.

You watched with disdain as Penelope handed her phone to Derek, the two giggling at your message before Derek typed back.

Someone’s real defensive ;) - D

Just stop looking at me like you expect me to strip for him right here, I can’t-

“How was your food?” Hotch raised an eyebrow, watching your gaze shoot up to meet his in surprise. He let out an apologetic, ‘oh,’ shaking his head slightly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No problem,” You locked your phone eagerly, happy to not have to carry on conversation with the other table anymore, stuffing it in your pocket, “It wasn’t important.”

You would have been content to continue your casual conversation with the man, but his eyes lingered on you, the flickering candlelight between you reflected in his discerning gaze.

“Y/N,” He started, a hint of something you’d never heard (uncertainty?) in his voice, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” You hoped that the way your voice shook was just in your head, because the simple question had your stomach in knots, “Ask away.”

“Why did you volunteer to sit here so fast?”

“What?”

“When we got the news that we needed to split,” Aaron gestured back to the hostess stand, “You stepped up almost immediately. Why was that?”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to lie to a profiler, let alone a seasoned one like Hotch. But you tried anyways, letting a smile that didn’t reach your eyes cross your face as you joked, “I just wanted to get things moving along so we could eat faster.”

He hummed in acknowledgement of your answer, but not in acceptance. He took another long sip of his now-refilled water, speaking again after licking his lips softly.

“What you said back there: ‘You guys enjoy your meal together?’”

“What about it?” Your brow furrowed as Hotch quoted you, uncertainty brewing in the pit of your stomach as he kept his eyes locked on you.

“You weren’t taking one for the team, Y/N. You were excluding yourself. Why?”

“I don’t- I don’t really think that-”

“Please be honest with me.” Hotch murmured, his own brows dipping as he watched your reactions to his questions, “I’d like to know what your reasoning was. It’s important to me.”

Another lie was on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill from your lips, but Hotch’s concerned eyes seemed to melt your stubbornness away, and you sighed inaudibly.

“I felt like they’d enjoy a meal together more than if I was there. They’ve known each other for way longer than they’ve known me, it makes sense for me to duck out first.”

Hotch finally seemed to take your answer as the truth, which was good, because you’d never been more honest with the man. His face was set in his usual neutral frown, but his lips shifted miniscully as he monitored your confession.

“I- I know I’m welcome here,” You felt as though you needed to contribute more to the discussion, him having fallen silent and leaving an awkward air behind, “I just thought that I’d let everyone else have their dinner together.”

Before you’d even said the last word, the waiter had come by with your check. Apparently the other table was taking longer, even though Rossi had forbade anyone from ordering dessert and lengthening the bill.

“Thank you,” Aaron broke out of his trance, his eyes leaving yours for the first time in minutes as he slid his card into the folder, “The food was excellent.”

“Hotch,” You murmured, forgoing his first name after your conversation had taken such an intimate turn, “Rossi said-”

“I’d like to pay for tonight.” He stated simply, handing the waiter back your bill, “Would you return the card to that table? We need to leave rather urgently.” Hotch gestured between the two of you, and your heart sunk. Were you terrible enough company for him to want to rush out like this? How awful had your admission been to drive him away?

Tears stung at your eyes and you ducked your head to hide them from Hotch, though you knew he saw them anyways. The waiter frowned at the odd request, but ultimately complied, leaving your table once more to charge the card.

Hotch stood abruptly, readjusting his suit jacket on his shoulders and subsequently rustling the plastic bag inside. You made to stand up by yourself, but Hotch circled the table, gripping the arms of your chair and gently pulling you out from the table. He laid a hand on your arm, guiding you up and out of the chair, then the same hand flew once more to the small of your back.

You tensed at the contact, and you knew he felt it. But he didn’t back down, waving subtly at the rest of your team and leading you out the front doors of the building.

You followed him without protest, walking side by side through the parking lot. His hand never left its comforting position on your lower back, even though the mood of the situation was less-than-pleasant.

You felt anxiety churning your stomach as he stepped up to the van, unlocking the doors and holding the passenger’s side open for you.

“Hop in,” He offered at your hesitant gaze, “We’re going team building.”

“Team building?”

“Team building.” He confirmed, offering no further explanation, “In.”

You climbed into the van, sliding your seatbelt over your chest and thanking him softly when he went to shut the door for you. You felt your phone vibrate relentlessly in your pocket, probably another round of texts from everyone wondering if you were boning your boss in the government vehicle. Hotch rounded the front of the van in seconds, stepping up into the driver’s side seat and starting up the car.

“Dessert preference?” He adjusted his mirrors, not bothering to look you in your (very confused) eyes.

“Wh- what?”

“What do you want for dessert?” He finally glanced over at you, “We’re stopping by a bakery.”

“Oh, Hotch, you don’t have to-” You cut yourself off at his stern gaze, not sure whether it was because you’d called him ‘Hotch’ or because you were protesting his actions. Probably a bit of both, so you swallowed, starting again, “What do they have?”

“A bunch,” Aaron glanced behind him, stretching a hand to rest on the back of your seat as he turned, backing out of the spot with his free hand, “I usually get a muffin.”

“That sounds good,” You hummed, trying to focus on anything but the soft bulge of his muscles from under his shirt, “Um, Aaron?”

He seemed much more pleased once you addressed him the way he’d asked, turning to face you with a soft smile, “Yes?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?” His smile never fell, traces of amusement lingering as it dimmed.

“This,” You gestured to the road he’d started on, “Why did we leave the restaurant?”

“Because we were finished eating.” He spoke plainly, “That’s what you do once you pay the check.”

“That’s not what I mean,” You let out an exasperated but lighthearted scoff, a small smile creeping over your lips, “I mean, why did we ditch everyone and drive to a bakery at eight at night?”

“Oh,” Aaron feigned surprise, “That.”

“Yes that,” You let out a breathy laugh, “Is there a reason you abducted me?”

“Abducted,” Aaron scoffed, shaking his head as his smile turned fond, “I told you. Team building.”

“Well we left our team back there.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to tell them what you told me.” Aaron’s voice became softer, more sincerity coating it rather than its previously-contained sarcasm.

“So that’s why you’re doing this?”

“Yes.” He nodded once, “I’m glad that you don’t feel unwelcome with us, but if you still think that you’re the odd one out, you clearly haven’t spent enough time with us outside of the office.”

“That’s not- I don’t think I’m the odd one out!” You protested weakly, “I’m just the newest.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re the least desirable.” Aaron glanced over at you carefully from the driver’s seat, “It’s important to me that this team feels like one. And if you’re not feeling that a hundred percent, I’m going to do something about it.”

His sincere concern for you left more butterflies swarming around your stomach than you’d have liked to admit. You wished so desperately that you could turn off your attraction to him, that you could take his words at face value and treat him like your boss. But there was always the desire for something more hidden deep inside of you, and it crawled further and further towards the light the more he expressed such gentle care for you.

You leaned to the left slightly as he turned the van rather sharply, and his hand shot out to rest on your thigh.

“You okay?” He murmured, his brows furrowed in concern.

“I’m good,” You answered honestly, your eyes locked onto the way that his hand dug slightly into your thigh, “I’m good.”

“Good.” He parroted you, a satisfied smile adorning his features.

When he finally pulled into the bakery’s parking lot, the dimly lit sign flickered with age. It was a little hole-in-the-wall place, shelves lining the walls of different baked goods that looked a thousand times better than any tiny portion you’d have gotten at the restaurant you’d eaten at.

Aaron gestured subtly to the rack of muffins, “That’s what I usually get. But you’re welcome to anything, Y/N.”

Your eyes skimmed over the prices listed on the display cases, flickering away from items whenever the first digit went over 5. You felt in your pocket, making sure that you still had your spare $5 that you’d stuck in there after lunch that day. Finally you decided on a chocolate croissant, smiling kindly at the woman behind the counter as you ordered.

“And a chocolate muffin, please.” Aaron was suddenly right behind you, that comforting touch of his hand on your lower back again, “Thank you.”

You didn’t dare turn, having heard his voice from right beside your head. You weren't sure what you'd do if you made eye contact with him while your faces were that close, but you knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself. If he felt you tense once more at his touch, he didn’t let on, standing confidently behind you at the counter as he waited for the woman ringing you up to be finished.

Your total came out to be less than $5, and you jumped at the chance to repay one of Aaron’s many favors towards you that night. Before you could so much as touch the bill that laid in your pocket, though, Aaron was sliding another card over the counter and handing it to the woman.

“Aaron-” You started, “Please let me pay for this.”

“Not neccessary,” He brushed you off, pushing your hand away when you offered up your cash, “This was my idea, I’ll cover the tab.”

You wanted to protest more, to insist that he let you pay, but you would have caused a scene, and you didn’t want to inflict that upon the poor employee. Instead you merely frowned, nodding in agreement and thanks.

You took the bag that the woman handed you, the brown paper wrinkling under your touch. You could feel the heat from the pastries inside, and even though you’d just eaten, your stomach twisted eagerly at the thought of a warm, gooey chocolate croissant. 

Aaron slipped his card back into his wallet, his hand returning to its now permanent place against your back. His touch was electrifying, burning through the layers of clothing you had on and searing your skin.

You wished that the night hadn’t been as chilly as it was, because when he removed his hand to open the door for you, you felt a chill. You tried to commit the feeling of his hand pressing flush against your back to your memory, ashamed as you admitted to yourself that you’d spend many a night trying to relive the scenario.

You set the bag of warm pastries in your lap, thanking Aaron softly as he helped you get settled again. His attentiveness hadn’t gone unnoticed by you, and you couldn’t help but read further into it than you should have. The attraction that had been swelling in your chest since the moment you laid eyes on the man was starting to surface, and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to contain it if he touched you any more than he already had.

He stepped up into the van with the same confidence he had before, settling himself in his seat but waiting to shut his door. 

He slid his suit jacket off of his shoulders, eyeing your sheer blouse, “You cold?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, your jaw tensing before you stammered, “Only a little, but I don’t-” 

Before you could finish your feeble protests he had spread out the jacket, twisting his arms in what was probably a very uncomfortable gesture to lower the fabric over your shoulders. The faint scent that you had caught being sat beside him earlier was nothing compared to the smell that enveloped you as the fabric of his jacket clung to your shoulders, cozy and inviting, faintly husky.

Without meaning to, you shrunk into the jacket, relishing in what would probably be the closest you’d ever get to hugging the man. 

He watched you with that same hint of fondness he’d displayed in the restaurant, finally shutting his door and keeping the cold out. You thanked him softly, biting your lips to contain your overjoyed smile at the advances you were determined to look too far into.

“It’s no problem, Y/N.” His voice, just as low as it normally was, created a completely different atmosphere than it typically did, warming your heart instead of chilling it. While he was usually intimidating and cold, the affection dripping from his sincere smile made you genuinely forget what he looked like when he was stoic.

It was a beautiful expression on him, happiness. You wished that you could see it all the time, that his work didn’t suck so much joy out of his life, but you made a mental note to ask him about Jack more, because the same emotions lit up his face at the mention of his son.

You realized you’d been staring at him for way too long, clearing your throat lightly. Your eyes were locked onto his own, and you must have had some delusional lapse of coherency, because you could have sworn that his eyes had flickered down to your lips for a split second. But you had to be imagining things.

He reached forward, and your chest tightened. You swallowed lightly, preparing yourself for whatever impossible scenario was about to happen, but his hand only curled around the bakery bag, unfurling the crinkled paper.

You cursed yourself for being so hopelessly romantic, watching as he reached in, his muffin and your croissant in the same large hand.

“Here,” He handed you your pastry, “We’re eating in the car.”

“Isn’t that a bit unprofessional?” You teased, priding yourself on your steady voice.

“That’s the point.” He grinned, breaking off a piece of his muffin and popping it into his mouth, speaking delicately around the treat, “We have to be unprofessional together if we want to work well professionally.”

It was a sensible statement, it really was. But your mind began wandering to all of the other unprofessional things that you two could do together, Derek and Penelope’s teasing far too accurate to what ran rampant in your brain.

You took a bite of your croissant to give you something to do, to fill your mouth so that none of the words on the tip of your tongue could fall out and embarrass you.

You hummed softly at the warm pastry, the taste of chocolate fresh on your tongue, “‘S good.”

“Mine too,” Aaron agreed, leaning his seat back so that he was all but laying down, “Y’wanna open the sunroof? We can look out at the stars.”

You couldn’t help but scoff incredulously, an amused smile on your face, “Where did this come from?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This,” You gestured to him lounging in his government vehicle, munching on a warm chocolate muffin far too late into the night, “What happened to you? Is it the jacket?” You brushed a hand against the fabric over your frame, “When you take it off, does it break some grumpy spell you’ve had cast over you by a mean old witch? You’re a completely different person than I’ve ever seen you!”

He laughed, long and loud and free at your accusations, his eyes crinkling at the corners as chocolate stained his lower lip, “That’s why we need to do this, Y/N. We need to know each other outside of the office, or else we won’t know each other at all.”

You smiled, shaking your head teasingly at his words. This was a side of Aaron Hotchner that you liked, one that didn’t make you want to shrivel under his gaze and apologize for something that you didn’t do.

“This is not what I had expected of tonight,” You admitted, rolling back the sunroof and reclining your own seat, “I thought you were gonna fire me or something.”

“What?”

“Well, I mean, you ran us out of that restaurant like it was rigged to blow!” You urged, eyes wide as you swiped chocolate off of your cheek, “I admitted I didn’t feel like one of the team quite yet and I thought you were gonna ensure that I never would be!”

He let out another one of his laughs, the sound quickly climbing your list of favorites, “I wouldn’t fire you for that. But, I mean, are you enjoying this? Even if it’s not what you’d expected?”

You wanted to gush, to tell him that it was the best night you’d had since moving to Virginia, profess your undying love for the man right then and there. But you caught yourself before you could, your tongue digging at your bottom lip to rid it of chocolate stains, and you spoke carefully and sincerely instead.

“I’m enjoying it. Thank you, Aaron,” His name felt comfortable on your tongue now, instead of foreign, “I really appreciate this. I was nervous, y’know. To tell you. Because I don’t even think I’d admitted it to myself, I.. I was kind of just trying to pretend. Fake it ‘till you make it, y’know?”

He nodded, his eyes drifting to the open sunroof above you and trailing after each star that he could see, “I know what you mean. But I’m glad you’re having a good time, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up until now,” A frown threatened to take over his beautiful smile, and it tugged at your heartstrings, “But you’re just as valuable as anyone else on our team, whether we’ve known your for minutes, for days, or for years.”

His sweet sentiment, murmured in that beautifully low, soothing voice of his, had you containing yet another massive smile. This time you let it break free, though, not even bothering to hide it behind your croissant as you turned to catch his eye.

“Thank you, Aaron, again.”

“Anytime,” He hummed, “You can tell me, you know? If things don’t feel right.”

What didn’t feel right was that you weren’t in his arms. He wasn’t holding you, he wasn’t kissing you, he wasn’t loving you. But you shook those desires away, nodding thankfully.

“I will,” You weren’t sure if you’d keep that vow, the threat of annoying him with your mediocre feelings scarier to you than feeling out of place. But you placated him with promises anyways, so that he settled back into his seat, his muffin nearly gone.

“Favorite star?” He asked, breaking a moment of silence.

“I- I don’t have one,” You hesitated, frowning slightly, “Do you?”

“No,” He admitted, a light blush dusting his cheeks as they raised into a bashful grin, “I don’t know why I asked.”

You laughed, the sound lighting up his expression just like his had done to you, “You don’t have to make conversation if you don’t have anything to say,” You chided him, “I’m perfectly happy to sit in silence for a bit.”

“You are?” He glanced over at you, something hesitant lingering behind his eyes.

“Of course!” You took another bite of your croissant, careful not to get crumbs on the jacket still draped over you, “This is nice.”

“It is.” A wistful smile broke out over Aaron’s face, and he tore his eyes away from you before he could do anything rash, “Thank you for opening up to me, Y/N.”

“Thank you for joining me tonight,” Your words held more behind them than you hoped Aaron perceived, “I’m glad it was you.”

You were too busy staring at the stars to watch him react to what you’d said, so you missed his eyes darting to your cozy figure, curled up on the seat in his jacket with your croissant in your hands. He admired you for longer than he’d like to admit, his eyes raking down your form and back up again, drinking in the sight of you in his jacket.

“Me too, Y/N,” He murmured, turning back to the stars, “Me too.”

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

A/N: i hope you enjoyed!! i've actually got a multi-chaptered hotch x bau!reader story in the works, and i might tweak this and add it in as a chapter. but for now, it's a standalone!

He was a cocky, self absorbed playboy. He was also your biggest competition. The entire semester the two of you had traded off in getting the highest scores on exams and presentations. It pissed you off because you knew that he wasn’t working as hard as you. He had the reputation of sleeping around and partying hard. He didn’t have to worry about financies and he wasn’t afraid to boast about it. He was the opposite of you, everything you detested.

“I didn’t know miss goody two shoes knew how to have fun.” His smooth voice is sarcastic as he nudges your elbow.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Hotch and I’d like to keep it that way.” You lean away from him, your face wrinkled in disgust.

“Sabina, sweetheart, would you mind giving us a minute?” He doesn’t stop looking at you though he’s speaking to her.

“That’s my cue to get another drink.” Sabina announces without looking at you and your mouth drops open.

“Sabina!” You call after her, but she makes a beeline for the bar. You didn’t know how but you’d make her pay for this. You knew this is what she wanted. She always suggested that you and Hotch sort out your tension in a sexual manner but you were hellbent on staying away from him.

“Ouch, am I that bad?”

Ignoring his question you attempt to get him to the point of this unwanted interaction. “What do you want Hotch?”

“To congratulate you on getting the highest mark on the final.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his own beer.

“Well you’ve done it, thanks, you can go now.”

“I wasn’t finished.”

“What else could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Go out with me tomorrow.”

If the music in the bar weren’t so loud the laugh that leaves you could be heard down the street. “You’re kidding.” He keeps his expression serious and your laughter fades. “Oh, you’re not kidding.”

“There’s obviously some kind of tension between us, I’m not the only one who feels it, I know that.”

There was that word again; tension. You wonder for a moment if Sabina’s put him up to this.

“Yeah, there’s tension because you’re a prick.” You say matter of factly.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me too, ya know?”

“I know that you’re a rich playboy who just happens to be smart.”

“I’m hearing a lot of assumptions there.”

“Most of my assumptions happen to be right.”

He leans closer to you, his lips almost brushing your ear. “Let me prove you wrong.”

You think about it for a moment. What’s the worse that could happen? Nothing serious would come of this even if you did sleep with him and you’re sure the sex would be decent enough. You were long overdue for getting laid. “Fine.”

“Yeah?” His mouth quirks up into a smile.

“Don’t make me take it back. Give me your phone.” You hold out your hand. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. Quickly, you save your contact in his phone and text yourself before pulling out your own phone to save his number.

“Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at 10:30.”

“Mmm.” You mumur noncommittally as you find Sabina in the crowd and start in that direction, preparing to strangle her with your bare hands for leaving you alone with him.

*

It was a mild Texas morning, you had checked to be sure it was okay not to bring a jacket. You’re making sure you have your keys and wallet in your purse when there’s a knock at your door. There was no getting out of it now.

“I have Sabina on standby in case you’re an asshole today so watch it, Hotchner.” You grumble at him as you step out of your apartment and make your way to his car.

“I plan on being the perfect gentleman, starting with this.” He opens the passenger side door for you, helping you into his black truck.

“Thank you.” You say begrudgingly to which he just flashes you a smile, patting your knee. When he climbs into the driver seat you look over at him skeptically. “Where are you taking me?”

“Well first, brunch because who doesn’t love a good drink at 10:30 on a Saturday. And then the aquarium.”

“The aquarium? Who have you been pumping for information?” You cross your arms defensively.

“I heard you talk about how much you wanted to go in class a few weeks ago.”

“So you were eavesdropping on my conversations.”

“Precisely, which worked in my favor because you said yes.”

“This is not a date by the way.”

“Whatever you say princess.” He places his hand on your thigh and squeezes.

The contact makes your heartbeat increase but you continue to look unaffected. “Don’t call me princess.”

“I think you like it.”

“I’m glad you don’t get paid to think.” You take his hand off your thigh in a grand gesture, letting it fall from midair.

He chuckles at your theatrics as he turns up the radio. A soft guitar instrumental starts to play, shocking you. It wasn’t what you thought he’d listen to since he was all leather, tight jeans, and rock band tees. “For a good girl you’re very feisty.”

“I am not a ‘good girl’.” You mumble defiantly and it sends him into a fit of laughter. Even though he was annoying you, you notice how much you like his laugh. It makes you think of warm days filled with nothing but happiness.

“I think we both know that’s not true.” He replies, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Don’t forget that you hate this man, you think to yourself.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Irresistible is a better word.”

“I’ll jump out of this car right now.”

“I never imagined you to be so dramatic, Y/n. Just relax. I really just want us to have a good time together, we don’t have to be class rivals right now.” He says softly. Gently. Patiently.

“Fine, but don’t push me.” You warn to which he sends you a cheeky grin. You couldn’t deny how handsome he looked when he smiled. He had the cutest dimples and the whitest teeth.

He doesn’t respond but holds his hand palm up and glances at you expectantly. Instead of continuing your usual banter you give in and place your hand in his. He laces his figures through yours and that’s where your hand stays the entire drive as he hums along to the music. He takes you to one of the nicest restaurants in town. Luckily you had anticipated this and worn a dress, casual but nice enough to not feel underdressed.

Once seated at the restaurant the two of you talk about everything under the sun. His music taste is varied like yours but his favorite is The Beatles White album. You tell him that you have an older brother and learn that he has a younger one who gets himself into all kinds of trouble. Both of you eventually want to go into law or law enforcement. His dream is to be a renown prosecutor while your classes this semester have convinced you that you want to catch murderers. All in all its light and easy talking to him over brunch and you find yourself enjoying the time spent with him.

He finishes his plate when you stifle a giggle. “Hotch, you’ve got a little something.” You point to your face to indicate he has some grease on his cheek.

His eyes widen innocently as he uses his napkin to completely miss the spot on his face. “Did I get it?”

“No, just lean forward.” You command and he does. You use your fingers to wipe the grease away, his eyes catching yours as you complete the overly familiar gesture.

You try to pull your hand away as you feel your face heat up but his hand catches your wrist. “Thank you.” He murmurs before placing a quick kiss on the inside of your palm.

Your breath catches in your throat as you bring your hand back to sit in your lap. “You’re welcome.”

“Ready to go?”

“Don’t we have to pay?”

“They can just put it on my tab.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you’re rich, you have things like that.”

He rolls his eyes at your words as he stands. He offers his hand to you, and you take it. To your surprise he pulls your body flush to his, his eyes smoldering into yours as he looks down at you. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.” You squeak. He releases all of you but your hand, guiding you out of the restaurant and to his car. Instead of opening the door he pins you against it, though you could easily push him off.

“Can I try something?” His gaze settles on you lips for just a second before looking back up at you.

He was asking permission to kiss you. The sentiment sends butterflies through your stomach.

“Um, sure.”

“Just relax.”

His lips gently capture yours, though you can tell he’s holding back by the strength of his grip on your hips. You wouldn’t be surprised if it left bruises with how tightly he was holding onto you. You moan into the kiss and his tongue eagerly slips into your mouth, taking your breath away.

“That was…” You huff once he pulls away for just a moment. He kisses you again, cutting you off.

“It was. Let’s go, yeah?” He asks, his lips still against yours. Unable to speak all you can do is nod.

*

The aquarium is surprisingly empty for a Saturday afternoon but you have no complaints. Your hand is in his firm grasp and all you can think about is how good it feels. You catch yourself, shaking your head slightly. This was not a date. This is the lead up to really good sex, and that was it. You refuse to catch feelings for Aaron Hotchner.

Absolutely not.

“Hotch at least let me pay for this, I know brunch was expensive.” You whine as the two of you make your way through the queue.

“I have a membership don’t worry.” He hands the attendant a card. After a quick swipe the attendant points to the left and mumbles some rehearsed greeting. The two of you start down the first hallway of tanks full of fish, jellyfish and other sea creatures.

“Of course you do.”

“And we’ve kissed, I think you can call me Aaron.”

“Aaron?” You ask skeptically, leaning closer to the glass to watch a school of clownfish swim by.

“Yes.”

“I bet you let all the girls you kiss call you, Aaron and that’s a long list.” You tease, leaning up against the wall next to the tank so you can get a good look at him.

“No. Just you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I know you think I hate you but I think you’re brilliant and funny and incredibly beautiful. Things with you are just…different. They always have been.”

“If you’re saying this to get into my pants, you didn’t have to, I was going to sleep with you anyway.” You try to joke away the feeling his words bring on but he doesn’t let you when he continues with his sweetness.”

“Y/n, I could never touch you again and I’d feel the same way.” He maintains eye contact as he says this and you feel your body get warm and tingly. “Never thought I’d render you speechless.”

You push on his chest playfully, taking your lip in between your teeth. “Shut up, let’s go see the dolphins.”

The two of you walk hand and hand through the aquarium, stopping to take pictures with the starfish and a mantis shrimp before you arrive at the tank with the dolphins. You practically glue yourself to the glass, completely enamored with them. What you don’t notice while you watch the dolphins swim circles around each other is Aaron taking candid photos of you.

“Do you want to touch them?”

“I wish, but I don’t think they offer that.”

“What if I told you we could?”

“Yeah?” Your whirl around to look at him, an infectious smile on your face, your eyes alight.

He simply holds his hand out for you and the two of you go through a bunch of hallways that say employees only. There’s a worker waiting for you and when you realize he had this planned your heart softens. Maybe, just maybe he wasn’t exactly who you thought he was.

The dolphins are sweet and playful, and Aaron takes a bunch of pictures of you feeding and petting them. You make sure to get plenty of him doing the same and then the worker takes some of you together. There was now concrete documentation of you and Aaron spending time together and you come to realize that you’re okay with that. Happy with it even.

As the day goes by he gets more affectionate. Whether it be a soft kiss at the nape of your neck or corner of your jaw and ear, or just the simple squeeze of your hips, his hands are always on you. His hands, which you’d never give much thought to before today that are so strong and rough and warm. All this physical attention drives you mad and by the time your make it to the sea lions you can’t take it anymore. He’s driving you wild, a subtle ache between your legs turning into a heartbeat you can’t ignore.

“Aaron.” You whisper desperately into his ear though no one is around you. It was still strangely empty in the aquarium.

His eyebrows knit in concern as he gauges your expression. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“You’re driving me crazy with all the physical attention.”

“Am I?” A familiar smirk spreads across his face and he raises an eyebrow.

“You’re a jerk.”

“Come with me.” He says, though you don’t have much of a choice since your hand is in his. He leads you to the nearest bathroom and into the largest stall in the back. Before you can say anything he pins you against the wall and his mouth is on yours.

“Mmm.” You whimper when he grinds his erection into you. You cup his face with your hands and you push your tongue into his mouth, intertwining it with his.

“I always like it when you wear a ribbon in your hair. Comes in handy.” He gasps as he unties the ribbon holding half of your hair up with ease, letting the rest spill around your shoulders.

“You’re going to tie me up? In a public restroom?” It was the first time a sexual partner of yours had done this and you’re intrigued.

“Absolutely, its not like we’ll get caught. Hands behind your back, now.” You stand up straight and put both hands behind your back and he ties your wrist together, tightly but not too tight. “You’re so obedient, I knew you would be, my beautiful girl.”

His hands push your dress up and your underwear down, baring you to him. He attaches his lips to your neck, sucking a dark mark in the soft skin there as his hand finds your clit. You mewl against him, unable to do anything but take and attempt to absorb the pleasure he was giving you. He rubs your clit slowly, enough to feel amazing but not enough to build towards anything and eventually, you grow impatient.

“Please, Aaron.” You beg breathlessly.

“Please, what?” His mouth quirks into his signature smirk and if you weren’t so needy for him you’d have a smart remark. But your mind is blank, the only thought registering is pure desire.

“Just fuck me already.”

“I don’t have a condom. I mean I’m clean but-“

“I’m clean and on birth control.” You interrupt him before he can finish, needing more than the lazy circles he’s rubbing into you.

“Ask nicely, like a good girl would.” He whispers seductively into your ear.

“Please fuck me, sir.”

The wolfish grin you receive tells you that’s exactly what he wanted to hear. His assault on your clit stops and he gracefully undoes his belt, dropping his pants and boxer to his ankles. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of his erection and you lick your lips, unable to do anything else because you’re tied up.

“Like what you see?” You nod eagerly in response. “Words, honey.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, now spread those beautiful legs of yours and press hard into the wall for me.”

Following his orders is like breathing to you, you don’t think twice. His hands come to grip underneath your thighs, lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and at the same time he plunges deep into you, your moans mingling with his as he stretches you completely.

“So wet. All for me?” He slides in and out of you slowly, letting you adjust to his size before he sets a steady pace.

“Just for you.”

One hand tightens around your hips, the other comes to squeeze your throat with the perfect amount of pressure. “Damn right just for me.”

He’s hitting your g spot with every single stroke, never missing a beat. No one had ever been this deep inside you or made you feel this good and you can barely concentrate on the intense feeling.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron, baby.” You can hardly choke out the words as his increases the speed of this thrusts, ramming into you like his life depends on it.

“That’s it, let me here you. Tell me how good it feels.”

“So good. So fucking good.” You flex your wrist again, wishing that you could run your hands over his chest or through his floppy hair.

“Who fucks you this good?”

“You do.”

“Louder.” In this moment you look up at him, wanting to take in all of him. His brown eyes are so dark they’re almost black, his mouth slightly slack with pleasure. He looks concentrated, almost frowning as fucks you, sweat collecting on his forehead.

“You do!” You yell, caution to the wind, leaning forward to place fleeting kisses on his jaw.

“Who does?”

“You do, sir!” You correct yourself. He rest his forehead against yours, kissing you once again.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes, sir, I’m so close.”

“Cum for me baby, I need it.” The hand around your throat comes down to put pressure on your clit and you know he must be close, wanting you to finish before him. “Now, baby.” He grits through his teeth.

With that, your body throws in the towel, the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had pulsing through every cell in your body. You throw your head back with a cry and your wrists pull against the ribbon wrapped around them. He continues to move in and out of you, prolonging your high. A low, guttural groan leaves him as he meets his own release, filling you up. As he stills inside you, your name comes out of his mouth in soft whispers.

He leans into you, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. “You were so good for me.” His murmurs as he releases your wrists from the ribbon. All you can do is hum in agreement as he pulls out of you, your body exhausted.

After pulling his jeans back up he kisses you on the cheek and exits the stall. You hear the rip of a paper towel and the water running before he enters the stall again. He cleans in between your legs slowly and gently before he hoists your underwear up, smoothing your dress down over them.

“T-thanks.” You say timidly, reality setting in. You weren’t embarrassed per se but everything between you and Aaron had changed so quickly. It was going to be an adjustment.

He must notice your hesitancy because he plants a reassuring peck on your lips. “Of course, baby.”

*

You and Aaron are laying on the hood of his truck later that night looking up at the stars when something dawns on you.

“Aaron?” You lift your head off of his chest to look up at him.

“Yes?” He keeps staring up at the sky, his fingers drawing circles on the exposed skin of your thigh.

“How did you know we weren’t going to get caught earlier?”

“Because I rented the place out.”

“That’s a huge waste of money.” You scold, sitting up to look at him in disbelief.

“You’re worth every penny.”

“So what are we dating now or something?” You ask jokingly as he sits up next to you.

“For someone who was so opposed to even being seen with me yesterday you’re making huge leaps.” His laughs with a smirk on his face.

“Says the man who rented out an aquarium for a girl he barely knows.”

“I know you enough to say I want to keep doing this.”

Oh.

“For how long?”

“I’ll be here as long as you want me. Work for you?” His hand comes up to caress your cheek, his eyes melting into yours.

“Yeah, works for me.” You whisper breathlessly before pressing your lips to his.