I'M THE FIRST PERSON TO HAVE DIED AND I'VE COME BACK TO MAKE SURE I DON'T MISS ANY FUTURE WRITINGS AND ALSO TALK ABOUT POLICE!OFFICER HARRY? OR Y/N DRESSED AS A POLICE OFFICER BECAUSE HARRY SEEMS AS IF HE COULD HAVE A THING FOR IT? PLS STAB ME AGAIN MOTHER ANDREA, I'M READY.
OSJSIWKS OKAY WELL YOU ASKED FOR IT.
So let’s say Harry’s a police officer. And at his police station, there’s a rather cute secretary girl who is in charge of organizing meetings, the filing system, and things of the such. They’ve known eachother for a while now, being in the same friend loop since she’d met Niall in college and he knew him even before college.
They’d gone out for drinks together, movie nights, eachother’s birthday parties– the whole shabam. They’re pretty close, to say the least.
And Harry has this crush on her that he can’t shake, but he’s too shy to ask her out. She’s really adorable, he finds. Kinda clumsy and really sweet. The kind of sweet where she brings him, Niall, Liam and Louis coffee almost every Friday as a gift for “keeping our streets free of psychopaths and, even worse, teenagers breaking curfew.”
And he sense that she might return his feeling because out of all the coffees she brings, his is always special. All of them are usually plain old black coffee, except for his. Sometimes he’ll taste hints of nutmeg and cinnamon. Sometimes vanilla chai. And in the winter, his favorite hot chocolate from the cafe down the street. She always puts in a little extra effort for him, without saying a word about it. It’s their own little secret.
And one Friday night, after getting of his shift, still in his uniform since he takes it home at the end of the work week to wash it, he decides to stop by his favorite farmer’s shop halfway home. It’s a dainty little shop run by a nice elderly woman named Rue, who always knows exactly what herbs and tea leaves he likes to buy. He’d decided to stop by because he was about to run out of chamomile and he knows she closes at 9 PM.
He pulls up to the store at 8:49, rushing in just as she’s starting to close down shop. But she’s too fond of him to send him back out so she rings him up while tutting at him over the brim of her bifocals.
Next to the little shop is a small pub– one he’s been to a handful of times with some friends. And as he’s walking out, someone else is too.
And sure enough, it’s Y/N, wrapped up in a long coat in a pair of uncomfortable looking heels with an empty expression on her pretty face. Harry had noticed she’d left earlier today than usual, but hadn’t paid much attention because it was non of his business.
But he can’t help but want to talk to her.
“Y'know, it’s kinda dangerous for a girl to be out and about all on her own so late at night.”
She turns to him startled, but then gives him a playful eye roll. “Oh, yeah. 9 PM on a Friday night is most definitely the witching hour.”
And basically she tells him that her and some girl friends had planned to go out tonight and have some fun bar hopping, but that she wasn’t really feeling it much anymore. “I was excited today when I left but for some reason, it just went away after one drink. And since Valery is the one in charge of getting us all home, i didn’t bring my car and so she has to stay, meaning I need a taxi.”
“Well, i can give you a ride.” Harry immediately volunteers, signaling his car by lifting his hand towards it, grocery bag bouncing from his wrist.
“That’d be amazing, Har. Thank you so much.”
Harry gives her a small smile, thanking the universe that it’s dark out so she can’t see him blushing at the use of “Har.”
And when they get to her apartment complex, she gives him a tiny smile over the rolled down window. “Do you wanna come in for something to eat? I’ve got Domino’s leftovers that are just screaming to be eaten.”
She claims it’s a thank you for the trip, and Harry doesn’t mind at all. His Friday night is going better than he expected. He can’t say how many times he’s dreamt of spending time with her alone, just the two of them, even if it’s something as simple as munching on veggie pizza.
They entertain themselves with leaning against her kitchen island and counter, across from eachother, chatting and somehow they end up messing around by picking off the veggie toppings and trying to get them into eachother’s mouths by tossing them.
The game is going swell until Harry misaims, a piece of green olive ending up on Y/N’s eyelashes.
“You did that on purpose!” She claims, chucking a piece of pineapple at his nose and laughing when it disorients him.
“No I didn’t! But you sure did.” Another olive ends up on the top of her cheek.
After a few more chucks of food, they’re a giggling mess, picking up stuff from the ground and sticking their tongues out at eachother playfully. Harry sees a slice of green bell pepper has ended up in her hair, alerting her.
“Hold on. You’ve got a little…here, I got it.” He untangles the food from her locks, scrunching his nose as he chucks it into the garbage bin.
“Thanks.” She smiles up at him softly, her eyes big and bright, probably from that one drink she’d had.
“Yeah, no problem. Saving the day is kinda what I do,” Harry taps his name tag, the words “Officer H. Styles” written into metal. “Not to brag or anything.”
Y/N rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay. You’re definitely bragging now.”
“I mean, officer of the year is a pretty big deal. Especially since I’m the youngest.”
She gives her eyebrows a quirk, not noticing how much closer she’s gotten to him. “Really, now?”
But Harry notices. She’s so close that when he tilts his face down to look at her, his chin presses against the center of his collarbone. He gives his lips a cocky smirk, eyes flirting over her own tinted one’s and fighting the urge to surge forward and bite them. “Yep.”
“Well, Mr. Officer of The Year…You have anything else worth bragging about?” And now her fingers are playing at the clasp of his belt buckle and he feels like there’s fire lapping at his back.
Y/N looks down at her fingers, then back up at him, eyes questioning, wanting to make sure this was okay. Wanting to know he wants it too.
And, fuck, does he want it. “Sure do. Care for some visual evidence?”
And then he’s slamming her back against the kitchen island, her hands fiddling with his leather belt as one of his hands cradles her jaw to bring her lips to his, the other shoving down the front of her jeans and toying at her clit over her damp undies, a needy whine leaving his mouth as he feels one of her hands tug harshly at his freshly-trimmed curls.
She unbuttons his uniform shirt but begs him to keep it on, saying he looks incredibly hot in it.
“Y'gonna punish me, Officer Styles? I pelted you with food, after all. Isn’t that an act of aggression?”
“You’re into that?” He breathes out heavily into her mouth, biting her bottom lip roughly and grinning into the kiss when she let’s out a tiny whimper. “God, where have you been all my life?”