his birthday

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"Harry, stop! I'm trying to ask you a question!"

(Y/N)'s command was more than lacking in conviction as she wheezed it through bouts of giggles. Despite her half-hearted request, Harry didn't stop his attack on the soft curves of her sides for even a second, his fingers digging in tickling runs over the sensitive skin. As he lent over her, chest bare with his tattoos on display, his hair hung around them like a curtain as if the strands could offer an extra layer of privacy in the middle of his darkened bedroom.

"A question that y'already know the answer to," Harry sung, teasing her over the sound of her stilted laughter. If he wasn't careful, she was going to lose a lung with the way she sucked in oxygen only to pump it out a moment later under duress.

"Pl-Please! I can't breathe!" (Y/N) squeaked. Begging didn't quite have the same effect through a giggling smile, though, she was learning.

"But y'look so pretty laughing like this," Harry crooned, hovering closer above her, "Why should I stop?"

Fitting her arms around his shoulders, (Y/N) tried her final strategy. She clung to him like a koala, hoping to somehow disarm him or even squish his hands between their bodies to make him immobile. In the end, when her form was pressed to his, it worked as the perfect distraction. Harry couldn't stop himself before he was moving instinctively and wrapping his arms around her to hold her as she wrapped around him like a vine. She panted in his ear, struggling to catch her breath as he rolled them to have (Y/N) lay atop his chest with their legs tangled.

"Thank you," she peeped between gasps, feeling flush after the tirade a single question had brought on.

Harry, with his arms wrapped tightly around her middle and his face tucked into her neck, whispered, "I didn't hurt you or anything, right?"

She was quick to shake her head at his words, the movement stilted in her own position with her face in his shoulder. "No, just couldn't breathe for a little. I know you were only playing, it's okay."

Letting out a deep breath, he flexed his hold on her in a tight pulse before turning to press a kiss to her hairline. His lips lingered on her skin, the cool sliver of his lip ring a bright spot against (Y/N)'s heated skin.

A beat of silence passed, (Y/N) melting in his old before she burst with the same question that had prompted Harry's play wrestling.

"So... You never really answered me," she drawled, hoping her hidden position in his chest would shield her if he decided he wanted to play around again, "What do you want for your birthday?"

Harry sighed, his breath fanning through her hair. "Lovebug," he started, amusement and exasperation mingling in his tone, "I did answer you. I don't want anything, you know that. I only want you."

(Y/N) held back a hmph. What a lame answer.

"But you already have me."

"I know," his classic lopsided smile audible in his words, "I have you every night."

A heat raised to (Y/N)'s cheeks that she was sure he felt against his chest. Despite the fact it was clear he had her last night with the minimal amounts of clothing on both of them—(Y/N) in only his shirt and Harry with boxers slung low on his hips—and the mess of sheets and blankets that wasn't just from the mess of hands Harry woke her up with, he hadn't needed to say it like that

"But—Harry, I—"(Y/N) floundered, unable to find her tongue through her heart lodged in her throat.

His laughter rumbled his chest underneath her, the sound ringing close to (Y/N)'s ears. "You're so cute, baby."

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