"Oh, good lord." (Y/n) muttered. It was Monday afternoon and she was standing outside her apartment building. Just a few feet in front of her as Harlow and his motorbike. Her hands shook as she gazed at the bike in terror.
"Your chariot awaits." Harlow just smirked at her fear, some part of him loved the feeling of having this kind of power over her. The power to choose if she lived or died, of course he'd choose her life every time but it was a quite a trip for him to be in control. It was only fair since she had been making him feel unwanted emotions since their first session.
"Is that thing safe?" (Y/n) asked, walking closer to the bike.
"If you've got a good driver. Lucky for you, you do." He held out a helmet. "If it makes you feel any better."
"Thanks." She said in relief. "I'm starting to regret this. I can just drive us there in my car if you want-"
"Too late!" He chirped, climbing up to sit on the seat. "Get on behind me and just hold onto my waist, okay?"
"...okay." (Y/n) hesitantly sat behind Harlow. She looked between her hands and his back, unsure of how to hold onto him in the least suggestive way possible.
She carefully placed them on either side of his waist, not applying any pressure.
"You're gonna need to actually hold on, (Y/n)." He said, placing his hands on hers and pushing them further into him. (Y/n)'s breath hitched as he did this. "You okay?" Harlow was glad that she couldn't see the smug smile on his face.
"Yep." She squeaked unconvincingly.
"If I'm going to fast or if you want me to stop then squeeze on the left side three times." Harlow thought he'd ease off some of her anxieties. While he did enjoy teasing her, he didn't want (Y/n) to feel unsafe with him.
"Left side, three times," She recited. "Got it."
"Alright, let's go." Harlow revved the engine and felt his face heat up as the grip on his waist increased tenfold.
(Y/n) had planted her face into Harlow's back as they drove, not wanting to look ahead. "Oh fuck..."
"You can open your eyes now, we're here." Harlow chuckled.
(Y/n) lifted her head and almost laughed. "Oh my god, I'm alive."
As she let go of his waist, Harlow felt his heart sink but quickly dismissed the feeling.
(Y/n) was trying to take the helmet off her head, but was having some trouble figuring out the adjustment mechanism. "Son of a bitch!" She cried.
"Let me." Harlow took her hands gently and removed them from the helmet. He worked the clasp and took the helmet off, placing it on his bike. Turning back to (Y/n), he patted down her now messy hair.
"What're you doing?" She asked with a small smile.
"Fixing your hair... it's a mess." Even after the flyaways had been tamed, Harlow kept running his hand over her head.
(Y/n) snorted. "Like you're one to talk."
Harlow widened his eyes as he heard her laugh, abruptly stopping the movement of his hands.
"Oh god, sorry, my laugh is-"
"It's cute." He tried to remain nonchalant but couldn't hide the colour that came to his cheeks.
(Y/n) paused for a moment, and then shook her head in denial. "That is... becoming a more popular opinion recently."
"His paintings are just down here." (Y/n) said as they walked through the gallery. She knew all the paintings, sculptures and other art exhibits and where they all were like the back of her hand due to the frequency she and her mother used to visit the gallery.
Harlow trailed behind (Y/n), his eyes flicked from left to right, trying to take in a process all the incredible art that surrounded him. He'd never been to a gallery before and the experience was surreal, he only wished (Y/n) would walked a bit slower so he could take it all in. But that was no big matter, he knew he would come back again to properly look at all of the work.
He was (Y/n) stopped ahead of him and sped up to catch up to her. "These two are his. The rest have been auctioned or my mom has them."
The two paintings were both made of intricate patterns, one in cold blue tones and the other in warm orange and red tones. "He had synesthesia, it's a neurological condition and people who have it experience several senses at once. Like you can taste words, see music and hear pictures."
"That sounds... busy." Harlow's eyes examined the two paintings closely, admiring their excellence. He then spotted the label beneath them. The blue one was called 'Annabel' and the orange one was called '(Y/n)'. He pointed to the orange one. "This one's for you." He stated bluntly.
"Yeah, these were basically what he'd see when he heard our names... It's a pretty neat concept." She smiled proudly at the artwork.
"I wish I were this talented." Harlow said quietly, reaching out his hand to touch the painting. As his fingers made contact with the canvas, he caught a man's attention.
"Excuse me, you can't touch the art."
"Hey, fuck off, it's a free country!" Harlow growled, squaring up to the middle aged man.
"Harlow." (Y/n)'s voice pulled him back into reality. Harlow reluctantly took a step back. "I am so sorry about him." (Y/n) addressed the man and then looked to Harlow. "He's right, you're not allowed to touch the art work in most galleries."
"...oh, I didn't know." Harlow looked at his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"That's fine. Is this your first time in a gallery?" (Y/n) asked.
Harlow nodded.
"Well, get used to it. I'm sure your work will be hanging up in here in no time." (Y/n) gave him a playful nudge.
"You haven't even seen my art." Harlow shook off her compliment.
"True. But I can tell you're good, the way you look at art in a critical but appreciative way. It shows that you've got an eye for it."
Harlow felt incredibly flustered, unsure of how to respond.
(Y/n) giggled at his state. "Let's carry on."
YOU ARE READING
something more ((yandere x reader))
Random(m. yanderes x f. reader) (complete) (Y/n) was working her dream job as a clinical therapist. After one of her best friends went away for a year, she swamped herself with work to keep her mind off of his much missed presence. He'd always been clingy...
