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claireunoia · 4 years ago

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↳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭 (𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨), 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘦, 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘪𝘻𝘻 (𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘶𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦) 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘵? :)

⇢ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : i’ve been really wanting to write for arvin for a long while now. i’ve just been running out of ideas and keep deleting everything i write. so this is my first arvin fic so lemme know how i did? also note i didn’t plan to make this the readers first time but it kinda just went in that direction but anyways yeah, i hope y’all enjoy <3

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

today was you and arvin’s date night. arvin bringing you over his, having dinner with his sister lenora and his grandmother emma.

emma practically insisting that you come over, being arvin’s first girl he brought home, she loved getting to know you. which instantly brought you to become close friends to your only girl friend in town, lenora. she was such a sweet girl and you liked her and she liked you and that made arvin happier than ever.

after eating dinner at arvin’s grandmothers, he took you to the creek to swim and gaze at the clouds, pointing out the ones that looked like a dog. arvin and you laughing and having fun the whole time there. splashing eachother while arvin picking you up and slamming you gently into the body of water.

a while later after being in the water, you both get out; laying down on the little blanket you brought and began air drying your bodies under the beaming sun because you both didn’t think to bring extra clothes. your head resting on his shoulders and he wrap his arm around you, enjoying the peaceful silence, just enjoying being in each other’s arms.

:·ﾟ✧:·ﾟ✧ :·ﾟ✧:·ﾟ✧ :·ﾟ✧:·ﾟ✧ :·ﾟ✧:·ﾟ✧ :·ﾟ✧

the sun was beginning to set and you and arvin were in the backseat of his car, making out as you began to take your shirt off. arvin taking his jacket off, slinging somewhere in the front seat, discarding his hat somewhere in the same direction, soon his shirt following. his hands cupping your face in his hands as he locked his lips against yours lovingly.

he moved his lips down to your neck, sucking and kissing gently. moving down to your collarbones, continuing his ministrations.

“arvin...” you whisper against his brown curls, your hands running through the locks.

“yes darlin’” he lowly drawl against you, his low voice and his little names he loves calling you, specifically “darlin” gets to you every single time. always knowing how to make you feel good and just knowing the right things to say to you. always such a gentleman.

you place your hands on his shoulders, bringing him to look at you. “i want you. i want you to take me” arvin smiled softly at you, kissing your lips but cutting it short when he pulled away from you, his brown orbs looking into yours.

“ya’ sure, angel?” to confirm his extra suspicion you nod your head, pressing your swollen lips back against his hungrily now. arvin quickly kissing you back with even more vigor; his tongue coming out to swipe against your bottom lip before swirling his tongue with your own. a breathy moan leaving your lips at the feeling of his tongue pressing against yours, the kiss now becoming messier and messier.

arvin’s hands went to the back of your bra, unhooking it after a few seconds of semi struggle. revealing your breasts to his eyes, the soft peak of your nipples hardening due to being exposed.

“y’er so beautiful, y/n. absolutely beautiful” arvin whispers out to you, eyes focused on your chest. he leaned forward, his lips close to your nipples, your breathing quickening a bit from the feeling of his breath on you.

“is this okay?” he ask, his eyes now looking at yours, looking to find any hesitation or doubt. you nod your head, giving him a sincere look that made him smile.

without any other words he took your nipple into his mouth. his tongue swirling around the hard bud sensually, his eyes locking intently on yours when he heard a soft whimper escape your lips. arvin’s hand coming to massage your unnoticed breast, making sure to give both the same attention and affection.

“that feel good, doll?”

you licked your lips before replying, “mhm, oh-“ you cut yourself off with a gasp when you felt arvin’s hand lift your skirt up, his hand cupping your warm panty covered mound, the friction against you making your hips buck up, wanting more.

“my god darlin...” arvin pulled the fabric to the side to show your glistening pussy to his awaiting eyes, “shit, you’re so fucking wet” he moaned, his finger started to inch to your slit where your arousel was collected but halting his movements. “this okay, angel?”

you look at him with a slight pout, you nod. ��yes, arvin... please” with a soft smirk, arvin collected your wetness on his finger; rubbing it against your swollen clit gently. he looked up at you and watched how your face scrunches up cutely at the pleasure you were receiving. his hand going to adjust himself as he felt his boner grow harder each second as he watched you.

you saw that and slowly grabbed his bulge through his jeans, a groan leaving his lips instantly when your hand made contact with his sex.

“take it off” you whisper, arvin nodded and began unbuckling his belt; pulling down his zipper. he hurriedly pull his jeans all the way down, kicking them off on the floor of the car, his underwear soon following.

when arvin freed himself your eyes instantly made contact with his impressive sex. arvin noticed this and the corners of his lips twitched upwards to a soft grin. “it’s all yours, sweetheart” he states, guiding your hand to his shaft, whining out a bit when you close your fist around it. gentle praises leaving his lips when you began pleasuring him, your hand gliding up and down his cock.

“oh fuck- that’s so good darlin’. just like that baby, doing such a good job” he coos, bringing the hand on his cock to his lips; gathering the saliva in his mouth before spitting it onto your hand, the saliva dropping onto your skin slowly. his eyes on yours the whole time.

you never thought seeing someone spitting could make you wetter than ever before. a low mewl leaving your lips as you watch him.

when he was done he guided your hand back onto his cock, getting the hint you began to lather your spit covered hand along him, wetting it so you could glide your hand against him better.

he decided to leave your skirt on and began to take your panties off, you lifted your hips so he pull the fabric over your bottom smoothly, letting it hit your feet before you kick the rest off. arvin’s hand immediately went to your core, rubbing the swollen flesh gently as you jerked him off.

both of your moans combining into the air, filling the car with both of your sounds.

arvin’s cloudy lustfilled eyes boring into your passionate ones as you both pleasure each other.

unexpectedly arvin’s fingers went into his mouth, soaking the digits with his spit before entering your hole until all you could see was his bruised knuckles. a shocked gasp escaped from your lips as he pushed his fingers into you, the stretch burning a tad but the pleasure overcoming the pain was so delicious.

“that okay?” he asks you, being the gentleman he always is. making sure you were okay with everything that was going on. you nod your head vigorously, moaning loudly when he started to pump his fingers into you, your thighs shaking a bit at the new sensation of his fingers massaging your walls.

“fuck arvin...” you keen, the never before feeling you were currently receiving shocking your body like electricity as it flowed through you beautifully.

one particular swipe of your thumb over his tip cause a loud groan to erupt from arvin, his hips involuntary jerking up against your hand. your breath being taken away when arvin collide his lips to yours roughly. his breath consisting the tangy taste of cigarettes and the refreshing taste of toothpaste. a surprising mixture you love.

moans left both of your lips left and right as you brought eachother to the edge, feeling a unfamiliar feeling pooling in your tummy had you clenching your fist around arvin tightly, a loud almost growl like sound leaving him as he kept fingering you, the pace of his fingers never letting up. “baby- i feel s-something” your small voice spoke out to him, your moans gradually getting higher and higher with each pound of his fingers.

arvin peppered wet kisses all over your neck before replying something back to you. “don’t try and hold it, peaches. just let it go... let go for me” arvin whispers, out of breath himself as you brought him close to falling.

when you felt the shocking waves coming closer and closer, you listened to arvins words and just relaxed and let the feeling take over you.

your eyelids begin to flutter as your toes curl painfully tight causing a cramp to form but that wasn’t even remotely close to what’s going on in your mind. the feeling you can only describe it is absolute pure euphoria.

endless shockwaves flowed through you as you orgasmed, the hand you had on arvins cock stopped moving; just stopping all together. arvin’s intense brown orbs intently watching you as you came. seeing you jerk and shake under him had him more turned on and hard he’s ever been. him bringing you to your first orgasm had a feeling of pride swell inside him aswell.

a soft smile is on arvin’s face when you come down from your orgasm. your heavy breathing the only sound filling the car at the moment, your chest rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm.

“how’re y’er feeling, peaches?” he asks you, taking his fingers out of you. grabbing his handkerchief that was on his dash; wiping your cum off his fingers before wiping you down.

it took a few seconds for you to respond. “amazing...” was all you slurred, a chuckle leaving his lips at your blissed state. you finally open your eyes to look at arvin, his handsome face coming into view.

but you couldn’t help but let your eyes travel to his still hard as ever cock. you notice how red his tip was and ask, “you didn’t let go?” you ask almost innocent like, doe eyes peering up at him.

arvin smile and laughs at you before pecking your forehead softly, “yer’ cute you know that, darlin’” you giggle and smiled right back at him and nod your head.

“don’t worry about me, peach. its all about you” he answers but that didn’t satisfy you. you shook your head at him and grabbed his bicep, “no lemme help you let go like you did with me, arvin” you spoke gently, drawing invisible shapes on his arm.

“y’ sure? you don’t have to do anything because you think you do-“

you cut arvin off sharply with an ‘i want to do it because i want too’ he nods his head at that and began to kiss you again, his rough hands cupping your face gently. without another second you wrapped your hand around arvin, a groan immediately leaving his lips. already being close to cum when he was fingering you, it wouldn’t take that long for him to cum.

“can i try something, arvin?” you ask not stopping your movements as you speak to him.

“yeah..”

you move to the floor of the car and got on your knees, arvin now sitting in front of you as you started to timidly lick his sex. the gasp arvin let out made you wet all over again. at his reaction you started to gain more confidence with your ministrations, your tongue now licking his base and going all the way up to his red tip.

“fuck- damn darlin’ ... i thought you said you were a virgin” arvin groaned with a chuckle, his hand now moving to your hair. not forcing you down, just laying it there, running his fingers through the strands of your hair.

you giggle at his words, “i’m that good, babe?” you question with a teasing smirk that arvin copied.

“y’ such a little tease, sweetheart” he drawl, his accent sounding even more delicious than it already does. with another cheeky giggle you started to lick him again, now taking his tip into your mouth. his moans and low groans pushing you to go faster.

his breathing began to get shakier and shakier each passing second.

you then started to push him down your throat slowly, your eyes flicking up to arvin’s when you heard him take a sharp exhale. his eyes meeting yours as you instantly whimper around him when you saw the intense passion and lust pooling in his irises.

sweet praises left his lips as you tried to take him all but you couldn’t so you just took the rest of him in your hand, jerking the rest of him that couldn’t fit in your mouth. “fuck- i’m so close, angel” arvin pants heavily, his chest rising and falling each passing moment.

and with that you speed up your movements. the filthy sounds of you slurping and gagging pushed arvin right to the surface, feeling ready to burst you pushed him back down your throat and that was it for him. he came in your mouth, catching you off guard for a second before recollecting and swallowing it all. the back of your hand coming up to swipe across your lips, wiping the rest of his cum off.

making sure he got it all out you stroked him one last time before letting go of his softening cock.

you grabbed your little blanket from the front seat and straddled arvin, draping the blanket around the both of you. you rest your head on his shoulder as arvin came down from his intense orgasm, his breathing evening as he cuddled against you.

a couple of silenced moments passed as you both sat there just in each others arms, both of you calming down. a second later, arvin’s lips made contact with the top of your head; laying a sweet kiss there lovingly.

“i love you pretty girl” he whispers.

“i love you more arvin”

arvin then looks outside the windows to find darkness, not noticing time flying by that quickly.

“gotta getcha home soon” he chuckles, smiling when he heard your giggle vibrating against his chest, “yeah but let’s stay here together for another moment” you reply with a dreamy like sigh, feeling at home with arvin as you always do.

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 : @ballyhoobarnes @cloudystevie @dummiesshort @itstaskeen @buckybarnesplumwhore @itscaminow @blossomparkers @brattycherubwrites ♡♡.

#arvin #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russel x you #arvin russell #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel smut #arvin russell smut #smut #fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland smut #the devil all the time

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vanchlo · 5 years ago

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The Assistant / Chapter Thirty One, “Timing”

Find all chapters to this story here!

Check out the character survey from Becky’s POV I did recently! :-)

Warnings: Very brief mention of IVs (needles)

Song Inspo: My My Love by Joshua Radin (Click to listen)

Sneaky Peeeeeeeeeky!

“A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one inch mark.

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats.”

“No. W-what are you doing here?” I stutter, unable to control my words. Or my thoughts. Or my emotions.

At the drop of my words, Harry’s face falls. His eyebrows. The budding smile on his lips. And the brightness in his eyes. But he masks it quickly. And it escapes my mind when he crosses the distance between us. His black slacks, teal geometric-patterned button down, and curls are a blur in the seconds that follow. Suddenly, his arms are around me and pulling me into him. With sleep still clinging to my mind, and unsure of what to do, I freeze.

“Please don’t tell me you left work to drive 3 hours to come to Madley,” I confess quietly into the damp shoulder of his black peacoat. Shivering, his fingers run trails up and down my back.

“Shuddup, I ‘ave a case t’morrow nearby in Wolverhampton . . . Jus’ lemme do sumthin’ nice fer ya,” he says, his soft words drifting over the top of my head.

“I-I’m sorry. I just woke up and you caught me off guard,” I apologize meekly, feeling myself relax. My arms wind around his waist and lace themselves together over his coat.

“‘s okay,” he hums. His hands pause and I feel them brush my hair away. “I know ya hadda rough night- well couple o’ days,” Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against my hair. My lungs still and I wait, wondering if he’ll kiss my head. But it doesn’t come, and I try to will away the disappointment beginning inside of me. I’ve become so accustomed to it that it doesn’t want to leave this time. Then it’s joined by the happy disbelief appearing wet in my eyes.

“Couldn’ stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, an’ figured I had t’ come up ‘ere t’morow mornin’ anyways. Wha’s an extra night hurt?” The first few words do it for me, and there I am spewing tears all over his shoulder. They’re not a waterfall, but the emotions growing inside of me feel that way. And they’re here, because he is.

He holds me tighter against him, and I feel his cheek rest on my head. Holding on tight to his coat, I let myself and everything I’m feeling melt against him. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re here,” I confess in a trembling voice interrupted by sniffling.

“I think I do do, ‘coz you were there fer me tha day o’ tha funeral when I needed a friend. An’ at tha hospital. Ya showed up fer me, Becks, an’ I wanted t’ do tha same fer ya,” Harry reveals softly from above me. My lips bend into a happy smile amongst the tears that come harder at his words. “I brought dinna, ‘cuz I knew ya prolly hadn’t eaten. ‘s luck that I found ya atta vendin’ machine.”

His precious laugh greets my ears as his fingers tickle up my back. The bunches of fabric leave my hands, and I step away to search for those green eyes. After a few seconds, I find them staring down at me. They’re blurry behind the tears, but soon his smiling face sharpens.

“No mo’ tears, ‘kay? Le’s go eat some dinna an’ find sumthin’ good on tha telly,” Harry whispers, running the pad of his thumb along my cheeks. Nodding, his hand envelopes mine and we go to find a sitting area.

The halls are deserted besides a few nurses checking in on patients. Familiar medical-sounding beeps sound throughout the hallway. After guiding the way for Harry as I wipe my cheeks, we soon find our dining table. Or rather a sofa with a little table.

“I hope fish an’ chips ‘s alright,” he says, doubt filling his words.

“Of course they are. Did you get them from Maggie’s over on Fifth?”

“Yeah, I think so. Li’l shop with photos coverin’ tha walls?” he questions as he unpacks the brown paper bag.

“Yep, that’s the one. They make the best fish and chips I’ve had. And I would know, because I grew up eating these ones my entire life.”

“Well I guess ya would know then,” Harry relents, shrugging his shoulders with a toothy smile.

Whispered ‘thank yous’ float between us as we pass each other food and napkins. With two cups of water from the cooler a few steps away, we dig in.

“No kiddin’, these are good. ‘s always tha family owned shops that make tha best ones, innit?” Harry mumbles with a mouth full of food. I reply with an ‘mmmhmm’, trying not to laugh at the crumbs speckling his chin.

The crispy, buttery cod melts on my tongue. With my free hand, I grab hold of the gray remote sitting on the table beside me.

“Hey, ‘s my turn t’ pick what we watch,” Harry whines, stealing the remote from me.

“Rude!” I retort, but any words I had left to say collapse into laughter. Licking his thumb, he peeks over at me. A sly grin stuck to his lips.

Shaking my head, I look away and pick up a chip from the paper tray in my hand. When my eyes return to him, a ketchup-covered chip sits in his hand. Meanwhile, his face is screwed up in concentration at the telly. I smile, and then notice his reflection in the dark window on the other side of him. Kicking his foot with my right, he turns to the left to look at me in confusion.

“Just pick something!” I tell him, my palm turning up to help me talk. His dark curls dance atop his head as it goes from side to side.

“Oh hush, you. Cantcha letta man think?” he quips before feeding the chip past his cherry lips.

“No, not when it takes you an hour to pick what to watch,” I reply, yanking it from his hands.

“Heeeey! I was jus’ gonna pick that episode o’ Friends!”

“Wait, you like Friends?!” I nearly yell, my head snapping to look at him.

“O’course! Who doesn’t? I grew up watchin’ that show with me mum an’ sista,” he answers. With those words, my heart does a somersault in my chest. Oh my fuck, I’m falling again. “Wha’? Do ya not like it?”

“No, I-I love it. I grew up watching it, too. It’s like my comfort show - I watch it when I’m happy, sad, mad, excited- you name it,” I reply slowly, engrossed in gathering ketchup onto my chip. When I hear his murmured ‘me too’ from a mouth full of food, the devil and angel inside of me go crazy. For once, they seem to root for the same team.

“Favourite characta?” his words greet the air effortlessly. He licks the salt and grease from his thumb, and I suddenly regret looking up. The things you do to me, Styles.

“On the count of 3?” I ask, and his chestnut ringlets bounce with a nod.

“1 . . . 2 . . . 3.”

“Phoebe!” we both say in unison, sending us into fits of giggles.

“There’s nuthin’ betta than her on dat show. She’s hilarious, plays guitar, ‘s a surrogate fer her bloody brotha, an’ ‘s gorgeous,” Harry explains, and I’m following with every word. And with each one, I feel the butterflies in my tummy flutter again. For possibly the tenth time already tonight.

“All of the great jokes and catchphrases from the show are from her: Regina Phalange, Smelly Cat, Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, ‘I don’t even have a pla’, Gladys the framed doll, and that stupid taxi. She’s blunt and so funny, but she’s so sweet and would do anything for her friends,” I continue, watching him nod emphatically as he picks up another chip.

“Couldn’ ‘ave said it betta meself. Oh I love dis episode where they’re stuck at tha beach house. Poor Phoebs findin’ out tha truth ‘bout her mum dat way, tho’,” Harry comments, his mouth falling into a delighted and then sad O. My eyes follow his to the screen of the telly where our attention is held for the next twenty minutes.

My shoes only stop squeaking when I stop in front of the garbage bin. After tossing the greasy paper bag, I rub a pump of hand sanitizer into my hands. I wince at the awful sounds my shoes make as I try to walk quietly down the tiled hallway. The snoring greets my ears before I see him, but when I do, I smile. With careful steps, I pluck my backpack from the couch before leaving the room.

“He still sleepin’?” Harry asks, looking up from the Friends marathon from the telly. We scored!

“Yep,” I answer, plopping down onto the sofa beside him.

“Good,” he answers, slumping down further into the gray cushions. My backpack drops with a thud to the floor after I got what I needed. “What’re ya doin’? ‘s eleven-thirty, love. Tha’s no time t’ be doin’ homework.”

“I know, but I need to submit an assignment before I forget. It’s due at midnight,” I answer, seeing his nod out of the corner of my eye.

My laptop wakes with its usual jingle, and I watch my browser load. The audience laughter fills my ears at a humorous line from Chandler. Surprise, surprise. The maroon and navy blue colors of my uni’s website appear in front of me. Within a few moments, I’m on the web page for my course.

“Wha’s tha assignment?” Harry inquires, his eyes never leaving the telly. A laugh creases his cheeks, making me smile. But I’m not very sad I missed what’s so funny, because he makes up for it.

“Um, it’s an essay about Thomas Cromwell and his theories and stuff,” I reply, opening the page for assignments.

“Ah, I see they ‘aven’t changed coursework much from my day. Cromwell ‘s bloody obvious when ya start talkin’ ‘bout British law.”

“I know, it’s like the professor didn’t even try when drafting this assignment,” I comment with a small titter. Relief washes over me when I get a message saying my submission was successful. And something else too from being able to talk to him about law so easily. Something akin to how a hot chocolate makes you feel on a winter’s day.

I glance up and find Harry losing it with laughter. There’s a fleeting temptation to ask him to clue me in. But a laugh tingles on my lips when I find what he’s laughing at. Monica’s crying as she holds onto Chandler’s arm, an ocean scene in the background.

“Can’ believe Joey actually peed on Monica.” The words leave Harry’s mouth in between chuckles rather sloppily.

“He was just trying to help!” I comment, unable to stop laughing either.

“But it doesn’t even help! They say it makes it worse even,” he laughs, rubbing his forehead.

Shaking my head, my eyes fall to my laptop screen. After a few clicks, lines of text cloud my eyes. My eyes roll into the back of my head at their appearance. I find it nearly impossible to hold back a groan.

“What’re you gripin’ ‘bout ova here?” Harry questions with teasing in his tone.

“I have to read the entire case of Haughton v. Smith for a test, and it’s so confusing. I mean, working with you brushed me up on a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. But still, a lot of it doesn’t make sense to me,” I huff, my chin falling into the palm of my hand.

“Alright, lemme see what part yer at,” he says in a quiet voice. I try to ignore the regret budding inside of me at what I said about working at his firm. And how it makes me feel, and probably him, too. I don’t know why I ever bring it up, because sometimes it feels like when somebody else brings up the ex-boyfriend, or something. The sofa cushion dips as he closes the space between us. The angel and demon inside of me erupt into synonymous cheers when his arm goes around me.

“God, did you forget your glasses or something, Grandpa?” my question sputters from my lips in a cackle, watching him squint at the screen.

“Oh shuddup, an’ I mean it,” Harry quips, looking away for a moment. When I see the reason why, instead of a laugh consuming my thoughts, something else does. For some fucking reason, my heart warms at the sight of him unfolding a pair of mottled brown Pantos glasses. He tucks the brown case into the inside of his blazer, his peacoat on a chair. “Ya ya, laugh all ya want at me an’ me readin’ glasses.”

But when he looks down at me with them settled on his nose, I don’t laugh. “Why aren’t ya laughin’ anymo’, hmm?” he questions.

“I think they look really nice on you. They make you look handsome and sophisticated,” I tell him slowly, and it’s undeniable the pink that pinches his cheeks.

“Well ‘s ‘bout time fer dat t’ happen, only took me twenty-nine years,” he jokes, bringing a smile to my lips. My head goes from side to side as I close my eyes, my cheeks bunching from happiness painting my lips. Yeah, it’s about time for a lot of things right about now. “Alrigh’, lemme look what part yer at fer real now.”

I nod, trying to get comfortable on the sofa. Pitching my head back, I feel it bump into his arm. Nevermind my fucked neck, I return my eyes to the screen to try and forget that his arm is around me. But they immediately refuse and slowly trail to Harry, his face mere inches away from mine.

Okay, no, stop thinking about his lips and what they could do, I tell the demon inside of my head.

Becky, you could. You so know you could do it.

Shut up! He’s just helping me with my homework, that’s all this is.

Oh yeah? And when are you going to let yourself think about the real reason he’s here, huh?

I can’t do that right now.

Yes, you can! Maybe if you think about it, you’ll realize how good of an idea it would be to let yourself kiss him. I’m sure he’s thinking about it too.

Just stop!

His thumb and forefinger knead his bottom lip. It bunches together in little waves as his eyes flit across the screen. Whiskers the shade of his curls are scattered across his face. They’re dense atop his upper lip and around his chin. And God, I can’t stop thinking about them. Wanting to touch them. Feel them on my face- okay stop it, Becky.

“Well yer mostly at tha end, so wha’ doesn’t make sense t’ ya?” Harry finally says, turning his head ever so slightly to look at me.

“I know, but I feel like I don’t know what I just read. And the verdict is contradicting to me,” I answer with a shrug of my shoulders.

“Well maybe it’d make more sense t’ ya if ya weren’t lookin’ at it at almos’ midnigh’, love.”

“Yeah, well it’s kind of the only time I have lately with everything. I’m afraid to email my prof again saying I need an extension when it’s due tomorrow. I’ve needed a lot of them lately. I just wanna get it done,” I respond quietly, looking to the telly awkwardly. It’s always hard when the truth comes out, and the emotions that hang on to it.

A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my left eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“Kids used to make fun of it when I was little. They’d call it a worm under my eye, because of its shape. It used to be more pronounced and bigger when I was little, but it’s still pretty noticeable,” I answer, adding in an eye roll that he laughs at.

“Aww, poor Becks. But if it counts, I don’ think it looks like a worm. ‘s cute on you,” he adds seriously, pinching my cheek. That makes me look over at him, and I already know that I’m blushing.

A small ‘thanks’ leaves my lips before my eyes dip to my laptop. Close to a minute of silence grows between us before he breaks it. “‘Kay, so Haughton vs. Smith found that ya can’t commit tha crime o’ handlin’ stolen goods, if tha goods they’re talkin’ ‘bout weren’t actually stolen. ‘s an important case t’ know, cuz it was ‘ventually ovaturned by tha Criminal Attempts Act o’ ‘81. Ya’ll neva be able t’ forget tha connection between tha two, issa given. Ya don’ need t’ worry ‘bout that law now tho’, they basically mean tha same thing.”

“Thanks for explaining it, I hope it’s enough to help me pass the test on it,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly.

“Open tha test, an’ ‘ll help ya with it.”

The second my eyes land on Joey’s body covered in sand on the telly, they whip back to Harry. “Really, you’d help me?”

“‘Course I would. Tha’s what ‘m here fer. An’ it wouldn’t hurt t’ see if I still got it.”

“You’ve been a lawyer for years, and this is pre-law, so of course you do. And not to mention, ranked as one of the best in London,” I reply smiling, clicking open a new tab. I suspect how my words will make him feel, because they fill me with the same emotions. Pride. Happiness. Astonishment. And more pride.

“Well, I do me best,” Harry titters proudly. A cocky hum leaves his lips as he brushes off his chest. A laugh sputters from my lips that I can’t contain. “Heeeey, don’ be laughin’ at me.”

“Sorry, I just can’t control myself when you start dropping dad jokes,” I respond nonchalantly, clicking on the tab labeled ‘Assessments.’

“Just pull tha bloody test up an’ le’s get it ova with,” he huffs, amusement still lacing through his words.

“Awww, is it past your bedtime already?” I pout, turning my eyes to him. His lips smush together and I hear the smallest of squeaks get past them. “You know you like my grandpa jokes, don’t lie.”

“Shuddup, li’l one, an’ open tha goddamn test already,” he huffs. If anybody else heard him, they’d think he was mad at me. But even as my eyes cast over the column of tests from this course, I know different. I can hear it in his voice - the joking, the molasses, the affectionate teasing, and the friendship.

Wow, nice choice of words there, Ms. Denial.

Shut up, devil.

“I am not little!” I retort in a high voice, making my two tabs appear as two windows on my screen. Side by side. Cheating time!

“Becks, yer like 5’5, if that.”

“No, I’m not! I’m 5’6, you liar!”

“Ya, cuz that one lousy inch really does a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Harry counters, his voice melting into a goofy one. I respond to it with a hearty laugh that is soon accompanied by his. “Yer still a li’l one t’ me, love.”

“Fine, Grandpa Harry.”

The annoying sound of a laugh track pricks at my ears. Blinking hard, the room around me is blurry. But after a groggy minute of blinking, it begins to sharpen. I don’t remember the lights getting turned off, but the telly screen burns my eyes. Rubbing them, I moan from tiredness. Dropping my arm, I feel it hit something. Looking down, I’m confused. When I lift my head from whatever it was resting on, I find what I was laying on. And well, what was also laying on me. Still is. Her face scrunches adorably before relaxing, nuzzling her head against my shoulder once more.

Becks.

After combing my hair off of my forehead, the lock screen of my phone wakes me up a little more. Especially when I see that it reads 1:18 am. Fuck, I need to get to my hotel and go to bed. I have my case tomorrow. But when I hear a noise and find the culprit, all of those thoughts wash away. An incoherent sound runs off of her lips, ones that are so close to me. Fuck, again. But when my eyes scan the rest of my body, I realize that she’s all over me. Well, almost. Her right hand rests on my chest as she leans against the back of the sofa. But her pretty little head of dark hair is laying on my shoulder. My arm is around her, holding her close to me. I can feel her other arm tickling my side.

Memories float to the surface, and suddenly I’m back at the hospital in London. In December. A phone call woke me from my slumber beside her on the sofa. The both of us curled up on opposite sides. Sleep clinging to my eyes and begging to me to return to it. Her shoulders rising with every soft snore, but it was the most daintiest one I’d ever heard. It felt like my heart was being squeezed tighter with every move I made to leave her. When I draped the second blanket over her. And how much it hurt to move the hair off of her face. To press a kiss to her unknowing head. But nothing compared to the anguish I felt grow with every step I put between us.

Blinking hard, the dark room materializes around me again. Her precious snores welcome my return to the moment. A smile brings my lips upwards as I watch a crease grow between her eyebrows. She’s too goddamn adorable. And that’s why I came, isn’t it? Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t resist her. I can’t say no to Becky. When she called me crying and a mess worrying about her dad, I didn’t know what I was doing until I was putting the town of Madley into my GPS. I guess The Beatles were right with that one song, and plenty of others. She’s really got a hold on me. And before I could begin to stop myself, her skin is like velvet under my thumb. I rub the crease away with the pad of it, and suddenly my head dips. My lips barely brush her hair when she groans below me.

“Harry?” she murmurs, lifting her head from my shoulder.

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

She yawns, moving away to look around sleepily. But soon she returns back to my arms, cozying up to me once more. And I couldn’t be more thankful, or conflicted. The latter word drills into my mind as I rub a hand down her back, sleep trying to coax me back in, too.

“We fell asleep,” she mumbles, her honey voice coated in that very word. Fuck, does it make me feel things. Things that I’d much rather not.

“Yeah, ‘s one in tha mornin’.”

“Shitttt,” she sighs, sitting up fast. Her growing locks pour over her shoulders covered by a crewneck jumper. Faded pictures of balls from different sports are scattered across the heather gray fabric. Like something my dad wore when I was a tot. “You have your case tomorrow.”

“‘m fine, I already dropped me stuff off at tha hotel an’ got me key,” I tell her, missing the warmth of her against me. And I miss the fact in those words alone of what I’m missing. Her in my arms. “But ya should prolly get sum sleep, too. Seems like ya’ve been missin’ it lately.”

“I’m okay, just lots of homework,” Becky says, running her long fingers through her wavy hair.

“‘d offa me hotel room, but ‘s half an hour ‘way in Wolverhampton. An’ there’s only tha one bed,” I tell her, unsure of why. I blame it on the sleepy brain.

“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ll just sleep on the couch in his room. It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” she assures me. Her arms crack as she stretches them toward the ceiling. I can’t help myself when the baggy jumper rides up, exposing the slightest of her milky white tummy. Fuck. But just like that, it’s gone in a flash. If only my feelings worked that way.

It’s like she has some sixth sense that I’m thinking about her, because her eyes cast over to me. It’s hard to make out their ocean blue in this dark, but I know they’re there. I can picture them if I need to, because I do it all the time - trying to make myself remember what they look like. The exact shade. The speckles of darker blue amongst the color.

“Yer welcome,” I return. The tired smile I get in return melts my insides like butter. But that’s how I feel when I’m around her, and that’s how much of a hold she’s got on me.

Shocks of electricity dance across the back of my hand. I don’t need to look down to know her hand is on top of mine. And how it’s making me go crazy. She’s only a few inches away. I could do it. Before I stop myself, I begin to lean in, and she watches me do it. But with only a few seconds left, we jump apart at the sound of a ringtone.

Embarrassment covers me like a dark cloud, among other nasty emotions. My head falls, hiding the heat rising to my cheeks. Pulling out my phone to distract myself, it doesn’t do that great of a job as I hear her talk to somebody on the phone. Dammit, I was so close. With a hand in my hair, I scroll through emails. Deleting some and saving others.

“Sorry, that was Robbie. Just checking in, since I forgot to update him, I guess,” Becky tells me, lifting my head with her voice.

My head only goes up and down, avoiding eye contact. Because I can’t muster it after what just happened, or what didn’t.

“‘s late, ya should get sum rest,” I announce, getting to my feet. Picking up my coat, I slip it on before I dare to look at her.

She smiles shyly at me, sleep hanging around her eyes. Even rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her jumper is precious. And her legs jittering in her faded blue jeans. Vans the shade of her favorite color donning her feet.

“Yeah, you too,” is all she has to say.

Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. For a mere second, I entertain the thought of trying again. But fuck it, she’s so far away right now, figuratively and literally. I can catch a hint of her scent sticking to me, and it makes me sad to realize.

“Go get sum sleep, ‘kay?” Are the only words I can think of as I walk up to her and pat her arm.

“Yeah, you too, Harry. Careful driving.”

“Thanks, Becks, I will. Sweet dreams, love,” I mutter, looking at her over my shoulder.

And I keep walking, and leave her behind. Regrets coursing through my ears, and emotions tugging at my seams. The tiredness coating my every thought and action, only make it all the worse. I’m not sure if I want to wake up more for the car drive to the hotel, because then it will all feel even more real. And discouraging.

“Harry?” stopping in my tracks, I hear her call my name. Spinning around, I feel her before I see her. Her arms surround around my waist and her head comes to lay against my chest. All within seconds. “Thank you . . . for coming.”

A pain sounds in my chest when I hear the emotion in her voice. And it takes all of me to not echo it, because I know I could. And that I would. Instead I say, “Yer welcome, Becks,” and I do at least one thing I wanted to do tonight. Dipping my head, I smooth down her hair and press my lips to her hair for more than a few seconds.

The sweet smell of orange blossom greets me, and my smile is havoced by pain. Her warm breaths tickle the skin at my neck as my hands lace together at the small of her back. Her arms squeeze me around the middle before releasing, and she lets go of me. I think about trying again, but the thought is fleeting when she begins to walk away from me.

And I let her do it. Once again.

The burbling of the running water fills my ears. Well, besides the sound of the football match. Surprise, surprise. And the next sound. His cheering. It makes me smile as I wipe my hands with a paper towel.

“What’s the score now?” I ask, walking back into the room. His eyes don’t go to me at the question, instead they remain on the screen.

“Six-two. It doesn’t look too good for ‘em,” my dad replies snarkily, a devilish glint in his eyes. But it’s there, and that’s all that matters. It’s what makes the smile stick to my face.

“Don’t let your food get cold,” I say, bending over to dig into my backpack.

“I’m done eating. You can have the rest, Ree,” he replies just as I feel the smooth handle I’m searching for.

“I’m okay, thanks. I was probably going to check out the special in the cafe.”

“Oh so only I have to eat the hospital food?” my dad whines, pouting at me when I look at him.

With a laugh, I remark, “I’m eating their food in the cafe too, you dork.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, chemo brain,” he replies, tapping a finger against his head. A striped green hat keeping it warm. His arm returns to the white blanket pulled up to his waist. Light shines in his eyes and his arms lift into the air when they make yet another goal.

Whoops and hollers leave his chapped lips. But this morning, they’re pinker. And so is his skin. If only in the slightest, I notice them. Running the brush through my knotted hair, I yawn as I watch him. A patterned hospital gown covers his upper half, with the sleeves just coming to above the IVs in his left arm. Fluids and meds. The antibiotics. Yippee.

But the thoughts are mulled over when I look to his plate sitting on the moveable tray beside him. It was scrambled eggs, toast, applesauce, and milk this morning. And he ate nearly half of it, even if it took about half an hour. But I want to blame part of that on the football match his eyes are stuck to.

“I’m going to see if I can find your doctor. I had a question,” I tell him, dropping my hairbrush back into my backpack.

“Ree, don’t worry about it. He’ll come by later,” my dad insists, but I stand from my chair regardless of his answer.

“It’s fine. I need to stretch my legs anyways.”

He hums a reply I can’t decode, but I hear his teasing about blocking the telly when I walk by. Over my shoulder, he flashes me a small smile before returning to yelling lazily at the referees. Nurses and doctors pass me, going to and from rooms to the nearby nurse’s station. Tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear, I search for the shock of white hair of my dad’s doctor.

But no such luck.

As I approach the nurse’s station, sounds of beeping, call lights, and murmuring voices fill the air. But another sound stands out from the rest. And I hear my name, or well my last name. It takes me a second to locate where it’s coming from, but when I do there’s a flutter in my chest. And I know I’m in trouble, or maybe that I’m just realizing it now after all of this time.

But I don’t save him right away, and instead I observe. Confusion sews his eyebrows together over those misty green eyes. One lone curl tickles his forehead, breaking free from his damp hair. His black peacoat is draped over his arm clad in a warm violet blazer. A dusty rose button down peeks out from its collar, and I smile. I don’t even know why. But as the seconds tick by watching him talk to the nurse, I think I know why.

“Looking for me, Styles?” I pipe up, stepping forward with my hands hidden away in my hoodie.

Harry’s eyes fall from the nurse and pan over to me. A lazy smile works its way onto his face quickly, only interrupted to thank the nurse.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, turning to walk towards me.

“What are you doing here? You have your case today, you said,” I respond, playing with the sleeve of my black hoodie. The cracked decal of Robbie’s old band covers the front.

“Came t’ bring ya out t’ brekky. Me case doesn’t start ‘til tha aftanoon, bug,” he responds with half of a smile, pinching my arm affectionately. And there’s that nickname, again, I think as my insides turn to mush. “Well jus’ down t’ tha cafe if tha’s alright. I saw sumthin’ ‘bout biscuits ‘n gravy, an’ sumthin’ smelled mighty delicious when I came in.”

“That sounds great,” I say, a smile inching its way up my lips. The wet ends of my hair knock against each other, and my chin. “I’ll just let my dad know,” I tell him, turning around to walk away.

But after only a few steps, a sudden thought brings me to halt. It wills my feet to turn around and look at Harry. “Would you like to meet him?” I ask tentatively in a meek voice. “He’s doing a little better this morning, but I think that’s thanks to the Arsenal match on the telly.”

With what appears to be a shaky smile, he replies, “‘d love t’. Hope ‘s not me Manchester United boys playin’ ‘gainst ‘em.”

Waving a hand towards me, he closes the distance between us. His leather boots squeak from the last bits of melting April snow. It’s only a few moments before I peek my head into his room, and low and behold, he’s still transfixed by the match.

Rapping my knuckle against the door, I get his attention before saying, “Hey, can I steal you away from your precious game for a few? There’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet.”

“Yeah, sure,” he responds, adjusting his blankets before the telly’s volume falls. Over my shoulder, I shoot Harry an encouraging smile. He returns it, but I can see the nerves showing through.

Pushing open the door fully, I walk in and he follows from behind.

“Dad, this is Harry Styles. My uh, former boss I’ve told you about,” I fumble for words, giving a magician-like wave to him. Well, the right words. “He stopped by last night and brought me dinner. He has a case today in Wolverhampton, and we’re going to get breakfast downstairs before.”

A weary smile curls at the corners of my dad’s lips. Nodding, his dusty pink lips part, “Ah, so this is the fella you were with until all hours last night,” he jests, pulling nervous laughter into the air. “Yes, it’s about time we met. I’ve heard a lot about you, son. Thanks for everything you’ve done for Becky, and for your well wishes. It’s meant a whole damn lot to me, and I know for her too.”

Okay, dad, let’s not board the emotional bus yet. Or maybe, ever.

Happy laughs float around the room as Harry steps forward, rubbing hand sanitizer into his hands. “‘s a pleasure t’ meet ya as well, sir,” he rasps, reaching out to shake my dad’s hand firmly.

“Call me Chuck, Harry. I’m not that old yet, although sometimes it feels that way,” my dad jokes, widening the smiles on all of our faces.

“Yes, ‘course, Chuck. I’ve also heard loads ‘bout ya, all good things, so no worries. Ya’ve been in me prayers an’ thoughts ova tha last 7 months. Sure raised a great daughter, ya should know.”

A permanent smile warms my cheeks as I shyly look over to Harry. He meets my eyes and smiles back at me. Winking, he shove his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Thank you, son. That’s mighty good to hear, although I’m not too sure about that son of mine sometimes,” he laughs, soon getting a scoff from me.

“Oh I mean Robbie, too. I’ve only met tha bloke once or twice, but I was impressed. Certainly since I was surprised t’ find out Becky hadda twin,” Harry comments, his eyes burning a hole into my cheek.

“Yes, I think I’ve heard that story. Their mother and I were pretty surprised to find there was two, also,” he chuckles. “But Ree likes to do that sometimes.”

Shaking my head, I look away and to the Spring sunshine. It seeps in through the cracks in between the window shades. Their soft laughs fill my ears before Harry’s voice does again.

“Yeah she’s a spitfire, alright,” he comments, and finally I meet his smirking eyes before they return to my dad. “But ‘m glad t’ hear yer doin’ a bit betta. Hopefully they can get a good handle on dis soon, an’ you lot can go home.”

“Thank you. We hope so too,” my dad nods, running his thumb along the buttons of the tv remote. “I truly appreciate you taking the time to be here with Becky . . I know it means more than words to her.”

Looking away to the floor, his words find the chink in my armor. I feel the lump rise in my throat along with memories of last night. Luckily, the tears stay away and I get away with it.

“‘Course, ‘m glad I was able t’ come an’ be with her. Dunno if she told ya, but she was there fer me when my grandad was in tha hospital befo’ he passed. An’ well, I know how much it means t’ ‘ave sumbody there,” Harry murmurs, almost giving a reason for the tears to make an appearance. But they don’t, and I’m repeating ‘thank yous’ inside of my head.

“I’m pretty proud of my little Rebecca Ann, and it only grows more every day,” my dad comments, flitting his eyes over to me. His words make my cheeks tingle with a new blush and because I know another pair are on me, too.

“Yeah, she makes it ratha easy,” Harry agrees softly, pulling my attention to him. The gentlest smile sits atop his lips, and a sad sweetness twinkles in his eyes.

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your match. We’re going to grab breakfast before everybody else gets the same idea,” I pipe in, unsure of when and how to sever the moment. But the look in Harry’s eyes does something to me, and I don’t know what to do with it.

We exchange short goodbyes before I’m following Harry out of the room. The rising volume of the football announcers voices send us on our way.

“Rebecca Ann, huh?” Harry smiles beside me, the nurse’s station in our rearview mirrors.

“Go ahead and make jokes about it. It doesn’t even sound like my name, I don’t know. I’ve only ever went by that for forms, when I got in trouble, or like on the first day of school and graduation. And the Ann is just my middle name, I don’t have a two parter,” I explain hurriedly, surprising myself when I don’t hear one of his delightful giggles. Tearing my eyes away from the poster at the end of the hallway, I look to him. And he isn’t laughing, which confuses me.

“There’s no jokes t’ be had. I think ‘s pretty, yer name. Figured ya were a Rebecca, but wasn’t sure. Nor did I know yer middle was Ann. Tha’s my mum’s name, ‘ve always loved it,” he tells me, coming to a stop in front of the gunmetal colored doors of the lift. The sickeningly sweet look on his face sends the butterflies in my tummy to flight. Again.

“Oh thanks,” I almost blurt, pressing the button to go down. But then as we step into the welcoming lift, more come to me. “It was my grandmother’s name. It always made me feel closer to her, like I always had a piece of her with me.”

“Tha’s nice. ‘ve always liked it when parents carry on family names like dat. It makes me think ‘d like t’ do tha same with me own kids one day,” Harry continues as I watch the doors shut, cutting us off from the rest of the world. If only for a few minutes. But still.

“Me too.”

“So nobody ever calls ya Becca?” Harry inquires, catching my attention.

“Eh, not really. Maybe Skye sometimes, and my grandma Ann did, but not much anymore.”

“Hmm maybe ‘ll hafta use it then,” he quips, but then he wears a confused smile he pulled out of thin air. “Eh I dunno, actually. Ya’ll always be me Becks,” he finishes, making my heart do a dance. And fueling the angel and demon having a party inside of my head.

“Yeah, I agree. Anything else would sound weird.”

“Ya look like ‘im, ya know. Tha eyes, tha hair, and tha shape o’ yer face - bloody spitting image ya are. ‘Specially Robbie,” Harry acknowledges.

“We get that a lot, but thanks, I like to hear it. Sometimes I can’t see it, though,” I recall. “Which parent do you look like?”

“Um, dunno. I get comments ‘bout lookin’ like both o’ me parents. I guess I mostly ‘ave people say I look like me dad with sum o’ my mum’s features. Which sounds wild.”

“Yeah, I can relate with people saying I look like my dad. It’s like, oh thanks for saying I look like a boy,” I laugh. Turning to look at him on my left, a small one sputters from his smiling cherry lips.

“I know, ‘s weird.”

“I can see it, though. How people think you look like him,” I tell him. When I watch his lips settle into a silent, straight line, I feel instant regret. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, ‘s okay. Jus’ hard hearin’ people say ya look like sumbody ya don’ like.”

A small ‘oh’ passes over my lips before I can stop it. My eyes leave him and go to the changing red number above my head. Words bubble up inside of me, and I tell them to stop. But then I can’t.

“I think I know how you feel,” I murmur, daring to look over at him, her face flashing in my mind. His far away eyes lift from the floor and pan over to me.

I try not to lose myself in their infinity of green, but it’s worthless. And soon I am, and thoughts of last night leak from my memories.

I know it’s at the back of his mind too. That almost kiss. The one he tried to initiate, and the one I want so bad. Five months ago, I don’t know if I would’ve. But now in this moment and in this elevator, all alone with him, I couldn’t want something more.

Or somebody.

22 notes · View notes

jawllines · 8 years ago

Note

please do a part 2 of alpha harry & y/n in heat!!!! Pleeaasssseeeee

oKAY HERE SHE IS, THE HIGHLY REQUESTED PART 2! AGAIN FAIR WARNING THIS HAS A/O/B DYNAMICS!! IF YOU ARENT INTO THAT AND IT’S NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA THEN THIS IS NOT THE BLURB FOR YOU

part 1

Y/N is much too eager for all of this, she knows, and she wonders if it’s only increased ten fold because it’s Harry and she’s always had a small crush on him, or if it’s just this whole omega thing. All she knows for sure is that she’s still insanely wet, after about five minutes of him rubbing her in the car and fucking her with his fingers was she ready to go again, and that he smelled so fucking good. So, so, so good, she just wanted to bury herself in his throat and stay there forever.

She trips over her own feet trying to get inside, the door swinging open and slamming into the wall besides it. Harry chuckles from behind her as she tries getting her shoes off quickly. Y/N just wants to get naked and wants him to take her and do whatever it is her body needs so damn bad. Starting on the button of her pants, but Harry’s thick, ring decorated fingers cover hers, “Shh, shh, slow down, Pet,” he murmurs, and his voice is nice, gentle but deep, and she can feel it vibrating in her bones and sticking to her insides like honey, “Lemme take care of you, yeah? I’ll make you feel good…would you like that?”

Y/N says a pitiful, “Uh-huh” in an all too reedy voice as Harry’s hands slip beneath her thighs, hiking her up against the wall and she immediately throws her arms around his shoulders. From there he starts moving her deeper into her house – she presumes he’s trying to find her bedroom, and she would help him if not for being so preoccupied with rubbing her nose against the junction of his shoulder and neck. Harry keeps a steady hand at her back, his thumb stroking at her shoulder blade, “There we go, Poppet, jus’ calm down for me. Don’ want to take this too fast or I could risk hurting you, n’ that’s out of the question.” His voice is so nice…she noticed it before all this, but even more so now than ever, “G’na get you all nice and warm and comfortable,” he promises, “Then I’ll hold you down by your hips,” he draws her a little closer to him, “And stuff you full.”

A whine crawls from her throat and her thighs tighten around him, because that’s all she wants. To be full of him, to smell like him inside and out, to be his, god all she wants is to be his, his, his, and it’s driving her batty. “Please,” she whimpers, a hand digging at the back of his shirt, tugging it up some, “Want this off, want you now, need you now.”

“I know baby, I know,” he stops at the bed and it’s then she realizes that he finally found her room, bending down to lie her across it. Y/N doesn’t know how he’s so calm – from what she does remember of class is that an Alpha goes crazy for an omega in heat, but Harry is tentative and careful, kneeing himself up on the bed and leaning down to place a kiss at the corner of her mouth as his hands work on the button of her pants.

What Y/N doesn’t know or see is the inner turmoil inside of Harry right now. The caring part of him who has always had a small crush for the beta at the bakery just wants to make sure she’s okay, and safe, and feeling good, full and satisfied. The more instinctive part of him wants to hold this pretty little omega down and tear her to pieces – bite a mark into her neck, squeeze bruises into her hips, make her fall apart around him before he pops his knot right inside of her. Wants to make her smell so much like him no other alpha would dare even look at her twice in a non platonic way.

It’s a lot and it’s hard…it’s so hard, and he’s so hard, his bulge fighting against his zipper and his hands are trembling as he pulls her pants and panties off of her. He needs to take this slow – a first heat is a very delicate thing, her body changing in more ways than one, and as much as she feels ready to be plowed into, that doesn’t mean she technically is – but he also has a pressing feeling to take care of her…he needed to take care of her, whether that be instinct or his own feelings, he couldn’t quite differentiate between the two right now and he didn’t care to. Not when she smelled so good and she was dripping so much for him.

“So ready for me,” he whispers, taking the hem of her shirt in between his fingers and pulling it upwards, helping her take it off, before reaching around and plucking at her bra until it comes undone. Harry doesn’t waste time before he draws the soft peak of her breast into his mouth, lulling his tongue around her nipple and Y/N lets out a loud, wanton moan her legs stretching out and her body pressing itself up into her. Her skin is hot – the warmth she’s emanating is near feverish, and its taking every ounce of self restraint not to take her right there, instead slinking down her body. Stopping to blow a short raspberry into her tummy, and she laughs around a moan, hands twisted in the sheets beside her, “G’na let me taste you?”

Y/N’s hips fight against Harry’s hands but Harry is so strong, she realizes, so sturdy, and calm, and it only adds to the slick dripping from her and the way her heart hammers. The sound of her blood rushing everywhere roaring through her ears, little bursts of fire prickling up her skin, and inside she craved, and needed, and wanted nothing but Harry. She needed him inside of her – she doesn’t even care how lewd she sounds when she pleads for him, “Please, please, I need – I need you to …”

“I know what you need, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the innermost part of her thigh, “Need my big cock in one of your pretty, greedy holes.” He pauses, tilting his head to the side and biting at the skin he’s closest to, sucking a mark deep unto it. Y/N’s nodding, low in her belly is a pit of fire just burning and it won’t take a lot to get her off. She just hopes that once it happens that’ll be the end of this…of this personal hell where it feels like all she can do is want and want and want.

Though she’s not even able to fully revel in the fact Harry’s got his tongue on her most intimate of places (like she’s fantasized about plenty of times), because just one stroke of his tongue against her tore her in two. Her thighs fought against his shoulders, her back lifted from the mattress, and she couldn’t tell if she was trying to get closer to Harry’s tongue or get away from it. She was so sensitive everywhere, and she’s only slightly embarrassed it took so little, but then again she really can’t find it in her mind to care. Y/N feels better for a moment, but the match is caressed and starting up again inside her.

“More, more, more,” she repeats it, panting and tears glistening in her eyes, pulsating when three of his fingers slip inside of her easy and his thumb lulls around the swollen bud of her clit.

Harry was on his last thread, truly, because she’s making this really fucking difficult. He really thinks he could’ve came right there – just one lick into her and she fell apart for him? And she’d tasted so sweet…so heady and intoxicating it made his head swim. Heats were known for stroking the Alpha’s ego but this was more than he could ever describe. He’s dealt with many omegas in heat but never one that made him tremble the way he was now. The sweat building at the back of his neck, the way he must gnaw on his bottom lip, and he’s getting that want, want, wanting feeling he gets when he’s in his rut which is not good. Probably the furthest thing from good.

So after she cums around his fingers and he licks her clean, Harry finally draws back and pulls off his clothes with clammy hands. His cock bobs upward and the head is drooling a sticky, thick line of precum. He has to fit a hand around himself and give a squeeze just to take some of the edge off, but Y/N is mewling at him and pouting because he’s taking too long.

“Need ya t’a move for me, baby,” he tells her, placing a gentle hand on her hip, “C’mon, hands n’ knees.” As much as Harry wants to see her pretty face all fucked out and wrecked, he knows for a fact he himself wouldn’t be able to handle it. He wants to at least give her a proper dicking before his knot swells.

Though this elicits a sadder sounding noise from Y/N, as he scoots up behind her, “Wha’s wrong, Pet?” He asks her, stroking the heated skin of her back, following the ridges and bumps of her spine with the tip of his fingers.

“Can’t see you,” she answers sadly, sounding so far gone, though it’s muffled by her arm, and it makes his heart grow three sizes too big for his chest. Harry scouts out his shirt among the mess of blankets (she had many on her bed), bundling it up and moving it so it’s in front of her face. He’d never tried this before, granted it was supposed to be something that worked for bonded pairs and he’d never been bonded before, but it works nonetheless. Y/N nestles her face into it, breathing in deep, and her fingers bunch the shirt up in her hands to hold it still.

Harry tries to gather his bearings as he takes hold of himself, positioning right in front of her hole that was currently clenching around nothing, dripping and ready for him. The bulbous head catches at the entrance and Y/N cries out, moving to press back into him, but the dominant, instinctive part of him won’t allow it. His hands clap down onto her sides, squeezing tightly and her moans are muffled in his shirt now but still so honeyed to his ears.

He slides himself inside of her, bit by bit until he gets about halfway and sees she’s holding up well, so he sinks the rest in one go. All caution is all but thrown to the wind then, as he’s surrounded in her warm, wet, walls and she’s relaxing around his cock like it’s all she could’ve ever wanted or asked for. He bends himself over so he’s pressed against her back, and he slides one hand around so he can hold her up by her chest. It makes her squeak the cutest noise he thinks he’s ever heard, as his hips start steadily fucking into her like he knows they both need.

The hand on her chest squeezes around her breast, while he takes her ear in between his teeth, nibbling and biting at the lobe while he fucks her hard, not giving her time to make any other sound but punched, bopped out little noises every time he buries himself deep. His other hand is palm flat to her lower belly, digging his fingers in slightly. “S’fucking good,” he rumbles, releasing her ear with a small gasp, “So fucking good, so good for me, g’na knot you soon, baby, don’ worry.”

A pleased noise leaves her, and god it resonates deep within his bones, adding to the white hot fire inside his body. He’s way closer than he wants to be right now, but really how could he help it when she smells so fucking good? When he burrows his face into her throat all he wants to do is bite down, make her his forever, make her just smell overwhelmingly of him, and she’s submissively tilting her head to the side so that he can.

He can’t…he knows he can’t just bite her and bond them, especially when this is her first heat, and he isn’t her proper Alpha…just a stand in…but god it doesn’t stop the idea of it pulling him even further to his peak. So he flips her over so he can see her face (she’s so soft, and fucked out, with blown eyes and a lip bitten raw and swollen, it’s surely a sight he wants to have tattooed behind his eyelids) he starts talking again – needs to, for him and for her, “No wonder you’re an omega,” he starts, voice low and right beside her ear and she shivers, “Always wondered why I wanted to fuck my cute little beta at the bakery and it never made any sense but now it does…now you do…you’re mine, fuck you’re mine.”

Y/N cries out and her body is drawn taut as a bow as yet another orgasm washes over her, and Harry’s knot swells at the base before slipping inside of her as his own release crashes into him in tsunami like tides, and he groans loudly. His eyes flutter as he grits his teeth together, stopping himself from biting into her neck.

He slumps into her, panting with his face pressed against her soft bosom, and wants the roaring in his ears settles to a dull murmur he hears a sniffle. It makes him pop his head up, to see Y/N has tears staining her cheeks and panic over comes him, “Hey, hey, hey, wha’s the matter? Did I hurt you? Are you hurting?” Eyes darting along her body, he searches for any visible things that would cause her to cry.

Before he could start really panicking however, or being angry with himself for hurting her, Y/N shakes her head quick, pressing the heel of her palm to one eye, “It just feels so good,” she tells him, before a sweet smile – the same one that greets him every time he walks into the bakery – pulls at her mouth, despite her watery eyes, “Thank you so much, you feel so good, n’ I like you so much.”

Harry can’t help himself then, as he bends down and smears their lips together in a kiss that sizzles underneath his skin. Her mouth his soft, warm, and pouty; nice to press into with his own as he empties out inside of her. When he parts from her, he lays his forehead against hers and noses at her nose with the tip of his own until she giggles, “I like you too.”

“Does this mean I’m yours now?” Y/N asks him, and it makes Harry grin as he nods.

Little did she know, that she’s been Harry’s ever since he first walked into the bakery, where a cute beta worked behind the counter.

#anon #ALRIGHTY #THIS IS V SMUT #BLURBS #HARRY SMUT #LIKE ALL OF IT IS JUST LITERALLY SMUT #AND IT IS ALSO AOB DYNAMICS

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