PART 3 OF BEACHRRY SNEAK PEEK (Patreon)

HIIIIIII :D Here's a big ol' sneakie of the next part of beachrry!!! THESE TWO ARE SO CUTE TO WRITEEE, and here is some of the Harry POV people have been wanting (I'm people!!)

TOMORROW IS PILLOW HUMPING DUO!! I'M GOING TO START thinking about what kinks we want for kinktober, so I'll make the usual google form!!

ALSO I FEEL LIKE I need to write something about Harry's long-sleeve boobilicious flower shirt!!! I can't stop thinking about it

(4.3k+ words)

iii.

Harry has always liked Y/N. 

Maybe that was a little dramatic; it’s just that Harry really couldn’t remember a time when he knew Y/N and he didn’t like her. It was one of those crushes that sort of happened instantaneously, he thinks. Like he met her and he felt something tick in his chest. But he’d always been a little bit of a romantic too, so he’s unsure how much he can trust his memory of it. 

First, he met Adam, who was sweet, new, and accidentally specimen-swapped a group of bacteria and forgot to set the incubator to the correct temperature in his first week. Harry was his preceptor, so ultimately it would have fallen on him anyway, even though he’d gone through with him a couple of times what he was supposed to do and how he was supposed to do it. He was needed elsewhere, and Adam swore he could handle it, but mistakes happen, and he was new, so Harry wasn’t upset. The rest of the lab was, though, and much like most professions, scientists eat their young – so Harry took the blame for it. He told his coworkers that he’d had a fever and was still getting over it, which was only half of a lie. Technically, he’d had a fever a week ago, but he believes it takes about 1-2 weeks before your body officially recovers. 

Instead of Adam being whispered about and ultimately shunned within his first month of working there, people wished Harry well and offered him some tips that might help him recover more quickly. And that was that! It really was so much simpler than anything Adam would have had to deal with, so Harry had been happy with the decision. And when Adam met him outside that day, he expressed his gratitude a million times. 

“Seriously, man, thank you so much, I – I’m so sorry, I didn’t even –” 

“Really, it’s okay,” Harry told him, and he meant it – he really did. He thinks that mistakes are essential to learning, and he also knew that Adam would never make this mistake again out of fear and guilt alone. Of course, Harry didn’t want him to feel either of those things, but that’s just human nature. Still, Harry could assure him, “The great news about bacteria is that there’s plenty to go around! I offered for us to set up the slides so that you can get more practice.” 

“You might be a godsend, seriously.” Adam told him, “Do you want to come out with my friends and me this Friday? I want to buy you a drink.” 

Harry smiled. “You really don’t have to invite me anywhere or buy me anything, Adam. I swear it’s okay.” 

“For my own peace of mind? Plus, I know they’re going to love you! They’re kind of rowdy, most of them, but we sort of need calmer energy, y’know? And my friend Mei has a shirt with the same character as the pin on your bag,” Adam motions to the pin of Leon Kennedy his sister had gotten him as a joke (Harry does love the character, sure; he thinks he’s really cool in the Resident Evil games. But his sister bought him this less because he liked him now, and more because she caught him working out in front of a poster of him when he was 11 and thought it was hilarious), “She’d love to have someone to talk about him with.” 

And Harry goes, because he is sort of bad at saying no to people, but also he knew that it would make Adam feel better. If inviting him out once and getting him a drink settled whatever guilt he was carrying, then Harry thinks it’s not that bad. He wanted Adam to be at ease with the whole thing. 

Adam was right – his friends were rowdy. They were loud, boisterous, and incredibly welcoming to someone as quiet as Harry. It happened very quickly that they all warmed up to him, and before the end of the night, Harry knew about Niall’s situationship and Maeve’s complex relationship with her sister. He and Y/N hadn’t spoken much that night, but Harry thought she was really cute from where he was sitting across from her. She was sweet to the waiter, and every time they accidentally locked eyes, she’d smile softly instead of mentioning that the weird new guy was staring at her. When Harry had shaken their hands, she’d giggled about him being like a mayor, complimented the rings on his fingers, and said something along the lines of, “Your hands are so soft, what the heck? Why are Adam’s so rough?” And her giggles were pretty, and her hair was sort of messy, and her eyes – when they did rest on him while he was speaking- it felt like he was the only person in the world. 

At first, he thought he was just quietly enamoured. He gets like that with people sometimes, if he likes their style or thinks their personality is nice – it isn’t a full-blown crush, but he is intrigued by them. Honestly, he doesn’t consider it a crush until he starts imagining himself kissing them, and yeah, maybe at the end of the night he saw how soft and wet her lips looked from the combination of lip gloss and whatever drink she was downing – but he’d pretend for a while that he wasn’t looking for that reason. He just read lips, is all, and the light reflected off of her mouth every time he saw them, so his gaze just naturally fell there, right? Right. 

No, Harry didn’t realize just how into her he was until a couple of months in, he thinks. Harry doesn’t know if Y/N remembers it at all, but once she defended him so ruthlessly, she almost got into a full-blown brawl with a man twice her size. To be fair, Y/N was drunk at the time – he suspected that was the only reason she had gone up to get drinks with him in the first place. It wasn’t like they weren’t cordial, or anything, but he’d always suspected that she might not have liked him as much as the others did. She never came to him with any problems or talked to him about anything deep. Their conversations, if they had them, were very surface-level and usually got interrupted by someone else. They hadn’t ever hung out separately either, for coffee, or a walk, or anything. He thought maybe it just took a while to get her to open up or something, so he didn’t push or press. He was an outsider, after all, stumbling in on their group of friends. He didn’t want to cross a boundary of hers by being too involved in her business. 

For this reason, when a bloke stumbles into Harry and makes him spill his drink all over the front of his shirt, then promptly tries to blame it on Harry – he didn’t even suspect her to notice. She’d been making such an intense beeline toward the bar; he had no idea she'd even realize he wasn’t behind her. 

“What the fuck, man, watch where you’re going! Are you stupid?” The guy was about Harry’s height, maybe a little shorter, with a mean-looking mug and a slit on his brow. Harry opened his mouth to apologize profusely and offer to buy him a new drink, and quite possibly a new shirt if the stain didn’t come out – but Y/N was quick to hip-check him out of the guy’s line of sight. 

“You ran into him, fuckhead.” She pointed her finger at his chest – there was no contact, but Harry could sense that she wanted there to be – she wanted the sharp tip of her nail to pierce right through him, “Don’t talk to people like that, or you’ll wish you hadn’t.” 

The guy stood his ground, arms crossed. “What, are you his little girlfriend? I’m not scared of either of you.” 

Y/N raised her hand, of course, to slap straight across his face, but Harry caught her wrist before she could. One of the guy’s friends had stepped in at that point, sliding in between the two, “Sorry about him,” he’d apologized quietly before saying, “Owen, come the hell on; we were on our way out anyway. Stop picking fights.” 

Objectively, not much happened. It was something that Harry would have soon forgotten about, but Y/N, who soon manipulated Harry’s hold on her arm so that she could hold onto him instead, was upset on his behalf. She directed him toward the bar, then turned to look at him, a frown on her face. “What a dick,” she grumbled, “Don’t let people push you around. You’re too sweet to have to deal with some fuck ass guy like him.” 

Her grip on his wrist never loosened, not even a little bit, and Harry wondered if she could feel the intense drum of his pulse beneath it. Even when she called for the bartender's attention and ordered the round of shots everyone had begged her to get. Her fingers stayed looped around him.

“Thank you,” he finally said when she looked back over to him, “For defending me. You really didn’t have to, but thank you.”

“Why wouldn’t I defend you, hm? You’re my friend.” His heart was beating way too fast; he remembered, “I wish you would’ve let me slap him, though. He isn’t getting his ass beat nearly enough.” 

Eventually, when she had to pick up the round platter of shots, she did let go of him, but Harry felt the burn of her fingertips the rest of the night. And when he went to bed, snuggled against his mattress, he couldn’t quiet his heart at all. Harry didn’t end up in many situations where he needed to be defended, but still, things happened. He was rather shy and quiet, and he wouldn’t stand for injustice to his friends or anyone else, but if something happened to him – well, he wasn’t going to fight it. Harry doesn’t think anyone has ever defended him before. 

Still, he knows that she was drunk. Y/N wasn’t doing it because he was special or anything; she would have defended any of their friends had they been in the same situation. Honestly, if it were Mei, Niall, or Adam, she probably would have smashed a bottle over the guy’s head or something equally intense. But still. . .to be defended at all made his heart feel ten sizes too big. 

He thinks that might have been when it left silly crush territory and proliferated into something much more intense. 

Harry wasn’t creepy or a stalker or anything! He just thought about her a lot, and he checked her Instagram often enough that when she updated, it was the first post to pop up on his page. When they saw each other, his staring problem did get like 10x worse, but she never brought it up, and he’d always dart his gaze elsewhere, hoping that she didn’t notice. When they’d accidentally end up sitting together at restaurants or on the sofa during movie nights, he had to almost hold his breath so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. And then there was the fact that he’d purchased a little travel-size of her perfume, with full intent to gift it to her, but talked himself out of it because she’d never actually told him what kind she used; he’d just noticed after a while. So now he just. . .sprays it on his pillow every so often, when he was feeling a little extra pathetic over her. 

Ugh, he just likes her, is all. It makes him feel stupid, because half the time he doesn’t even know if she likes him as a friend, let alone having a crush on him. It’s why he apologizes to her and offers to switch seats, even though his heart practically leaped when he realized they’d be sitting on the flight to Japan together. It’s why he spent most of the trip all hot in the face, blushing warm when Y/N had looked almost disturbed that she would want to switch seats and not be beside him. His audiobooks being romance novels didn’t help much either, so he was already feeling all warm and gooey, and it just tripled tenfold. And she looked so cute sleeping on the plane – a few times her head accidentally lolled and bumped into his shoulder because he was a little too broad for economy seating, and he almost panicked. Then, when she woke up, he could tell she was uncomfortable, so he showed her how to lean her seat a bit further back.

She was cute on the train ride, pressing her face against the glass and looking at everything passing by. And she was even cute while she was clearly struggling with her bags, but wouldn’t let him help. Harry just thinks she’s all-around cute. 

When they find out the sleeping arrangements, he has to school his face so he doesn’t look too giddy but also low-key sick to his stomach. To sleep in the same room with her is amazing, actually, to get to be this close with her and spend extra time with her that he wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. But this also means that the place he’s sleeping would not be some comforting oasis to return to, because his heart would be doing flip-flopping more than Maeve’s sandals against her heel. He’d be so nervous – probably too nervous to relax; he had no idea how the hell he was going to fall asleep. 

And Niall, who Harry had always suspected knew Harry had a crush on Y/N, had scooted up close to him and all but whispered in his ear, “Lucky dog, you,” then pinched his hip, “Y/N is biggggg into cuddling, just so you know.” 

It was a little awkward at first, but he thinks that was mostly his fault. He was just freaking out because he wasn’t used to spending this much time around her. Once he started to relax a little and get used to the space and being in Japan in general, he thinks he was able to relax a little more. Of course, all of their interactions were replaying over and over in his head like a reel, but he expected that from this trip. Even if they were in a completely separate room and barely speaking, if they had accidentally brushed their hands or something, he would have probably thought about it a thousand times before bed. But they were doing more than accidentally brushing their hands. They were eating breakfast together (she was eating what he cooked!!), rubbing sunscreen on one another (he, admittedly, did touch himself at the thought, and he feels sort of guilty about it, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d touched himself thinking about her), and she even licked his ice cream. 

The thing was, despite all of these new experiences they were sharing, Y/N still seemed so overly concerned about being independent when it came to him. And there was nothing wrong with that! Harry appreciated it when someone wanted to get things done by themselves, or to do things for themselves. However, when she was going out of her way to make her life harder rather than accepting his help, or refusing his help but accepting someone else’s offer – well, Harry started to wonder again if she saw him as a true friend or not. If he had done something to make her uncomfortable or not want his help, then he’d like to know. And maybe it took him some liquid courage to finally bring it up to her, a little frantic and maybe a bit too accusatory, but he had to know. Did she dislike him?

He’s glad to have brought it up. He’s glad they cleared it up, and he’s extra glad that they hugged it out at the end, after he got all of his feelings out and she got all of her feelings out. It was nice. He felt closer to her afterward, and extra warm and squidgy before bed. She even lay against him during the movie that night, and Harry spent less time focusing on evil videotapes and more time convincing himself not to start rubbing her arm or tracing the lines of her face. She fell asleep (along with Mei, on her thigh), and Harry carried her to their room, and it felt so domestic that he kept thinking about it until he went to bed that night. He smelled like her a little too, from carrying her, and he liked that more than he should. 

Was Harry embarrassed about crying in front of her? Of course he was. Y/N wasn’t big on flirting, or PDA, or anything like that, so he’d never actually had to experience her taking interest in someone ever. Besides her playfully groping Niall or Christopher, or threatening Mei and Maeve with kisses, he usually saw her ignoring potential suitors at clubs or bars or at the putt-putt golf place they go to sometimes  (Christopher is incredibly into putt-putt). So it was hard to watch, especially because the guy was really attractive and didn’t look like Harry at all, and so he started wondering if he just really wasn’t her type, and then he called her beautiful before Harry got the chance to! He’d done it so easily too, without second-guessing it or talking himself out of saying it after 20 grueling minutes agonizing over whether he’d seem like a creep or not for the compliment. And Harry really is an emotional drinker, even one glass in, so he just – well, he tried to scurry off so nobody saw. But Y/N saw, and she caught him, and he didn’t consider that Y/N might be into tears a little bit or something because she got this hungry look in her eye that made him feel like a lamb in the eyes of a hungry wolf. He would gladly let her eat him, though. 

Eating her out was something he’d dreamed about for months at that point. Again, it’s something he feels a little guilty about – every time he wrapped his hand around his prick and rubbed himself raw, thinking about his nose stuffed up against her pussy. It was always when he came the hardest, but the post-orgasmic clarity told him he was a filthy lecher who needed to be locked in a cell. He couldn’t help it, though – god, he’d been imagining how good she would smell for so long, and when he actually got to, he seriously thinks he came then. Even before he’d gotten to taste her. 

It’s just – Harry has been ridiculously lucky. He thinks maybe the worm he’d carefully removed from the sidewalk and placed back in the soil of a garden must have been Aphrodite in disguise or something. To room with her, to tell her how he felt, and for her not to hate him for it, to have a separate day in Tokyo planned for just the two of them, for them to get rained into a love hotel – it was just too perfect to be anything short of divine intervention. 

And Y/N is perfect for him, in every way, in everything she does. She’s so easygoing and relaxed that he feels like he doesn’t have to worry about her. She, now that he’s told her that he needs it, lets him do things for her, but still likes to help him out as much as she can, too. Y/N doesn’t mind sharing food with him; she likes to eat as much as he does; she laughs at his stupid jokes. Her heart just seems so genuine and pure that he’s surprised she doesn’t float around with a halo of bright light around the perimeter of her body. Every time they touch each other, it feels like thousands of glittery bursts of light dot all over his body. She knows how to talk to him in bed–she somehow figured out that he liked to be told what to do and bossed around a little. 

Harry had dated before, and he’s had sex before, obviously, but he’s always felt limited to one role because he’s broad and maybe a bit more muscular than people expect him to be. As soon as they see him naked, they expect him to be strong, tough, dominant, and bossy. And he can be those things, sometimes, if he’s in a certain mood, but Harry. . .he likes it when he gets to be more submissive and needy. When he can whine and whimper. When the hand in his hair is tugging him and moving him around. When he’s got his wrists handcuffed behind his back and is filling her mouth with enough cum that it starts to dribble out of her lip. Y/N could probably make a killing in the BDSM world if she’s never explored it before. Harry thinks men and women alike would pay a lot of money for her to get that sweet, honeyed, condescending tone that seems so easy for her to take on (and the thought of her in leather does things to him that he really cannot even begin to describe). 

And in his past relationships, they never really wanted much to do with Harry besides sex. Which admittedly may have been his fault – he got on his knees relatively quickly and ate them out, or responded to advances too soon. At least, he thinks that’s what the issue might be. Harry gives it up fast, and then the dates get less about getting to know each other and more about taking their clothes off. He liked that, sure, but he didn’t like when they left after – or when he felt too awkward to stay. He valued pillow talk, though he rarely ever received it. He wanted to cuddle too, and take care of them after, or be taken care of. They could take care of each other. 

Which is why it was such a pleasant change to his typical circumstances. Of course, Harry wanted to do anything with Y/N at all, sexual or not, so he would never turn down a blowie, but past experiences suggested the night might reach a stalemate then. The only choice would be to fuck or something, and then maybe fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. He’d offer to take the small sofa off in the corner too, if she’d rather he do that. 

But instead, Y/N dragged their bags up onto the bed. She, thankfully, had purchased a pajama set while they’d been out shopping that day (it was cute, covered in geese, and Harry told her that if she didn’t buy it, he’d buy it for her), so she put that on. And while Harry wouldn’t have minded if she was pantieless on the bed, he’d understand why she might be hesitant to be walking around “bush out,” as Niall might call it. She beckoned Harry to grab his satchel while she called room service, and they ordered their sweets. Y/N changed the channel to something less smutty – it was a Japanese variety show of some sort, but she lowered the volume so it was just background noise while they spoke to each other. 

After having one of the best orgasms of his life, Harry was sitting on the bed of a love hotel, agonizing with Y/N over what plushies and pins should go where. Y/N, on Harry’s iPad (he didn’t mean to bring it, but it was usually in his bag anyway since it was a mini), starts drawing a version of his work bag to plot where some of the plushies and pins could go. It’s such a turnaround from how their first fifteen minutes were spent here that it almost gives him whiplash. But he’s happy. This is fun – hanging out with Y/N is fun, spending a whole day with her has been a blast, cumming in her mouth was great, getting to taste her again was even better, and now they were carefully constructing his bag with all his new keychains. 

Harry is so happy. He’s so, so, so happy. 

“Harry, pay attention, this is so serious.” She is on her knees and elbows, but the position isn’t sexual – like, if he let his brain go there, it could be, but the situation was so decidedly sweet and non-sexual that it didn’t. She has his Apple Pencil and is making circles around the Badtz-Maru keychain she had tentatively placed on the left side pocket. “I mean, realistically, you have enough Badtz-Maru to go around, but I just feel like your work bag should be more Chococat-oriented because he’s a scientist.” 

Harry’s brows raise. “Wait, really? I didn’t know they had jobs.” 

“Yeah, he’s a researcher, baby! Hangyodon is a comedian and detective; I think Keroppi is a reporter, and Miss. Kitty herself is a freeloader.” 

“A freeloader?” 

“Just kidding, she’s in school,” Y/N giggled, then dragged the clipped photo of Harry’s random cute octopus pin he found and placed it on the strap, swaying her hips back and forth, like she was feeling wriggly. “Anyway, Badtz-Maru doesn’t have an official job, so I think he and Pocaccho should just be hanging out in your casual day bag. Wait – are you into wearing plushies on your belt loops?” 

Harry smiled softly. “How you do?” 

“Yes, let’s match!” 

Carefully, Harry used the side of Y/N’s fork to get a piece of the cheesecake and then held it out to her mouth. Y/N parted her lips without looking, letting him slip the fork into her mouth and pulling the bite off. “Okay, I think this might be perfect.” Her hand gripped his thigh, fingers digging in, and Harry felt his heart rattle in his chest again. God, he likes her so, so, so much. What the hell is he going to do? “Ah! We’re so smart- wait, should we do mine now?” 

Harry thinks he could stay like this forever.