frat alpha harry (a/o/b)

mates (original blurb)

Y/N feels stupid.

Unfortunately, it's not because of the whole matching Playboy bunny costume charade her friends wrangled her into to. She does feel ridiculous standing in the middle of a party in glorified lingerie, getting drooled over by the frat boy alphas that apparently own this house (Y/N would have never agreed to this if she knew this is where they were spending Halloween night. It makes her feel like the perfect embodiment of an omega, and that in turn makes her uncomfortable).

Her friends are all but licking up their praise, flirting and batting their eyelashes at them, and that's fine — really, she's been there before, where she's just wanted some random alpha to stick his dick in her and call it a night — but she's feeling... weird, and she can't quite explain why.

With her drink in hand, Y/N quietly removes herself from the kitchen, Lea and Paige too tipsy and occupied with whatever-their-names-are to care. She meanders through the rooms of the party, passing by the smokers lounge that's clouded with thick smoke, followed by the makeout room that's oddly reminiscent of a middle school party, and then, finally, a bit of quiet.

She finds herself in a long hallway with doors on either side, and she assumes this is where the bedrooms are. She's not naive enough to jiggle the doorknobs to look for an empty room (besides, there probably aren't any), so she just slides down against the length of the wall, sitting down on the gross carpeted floor. A long sigh leaves her mouth as she closes her eyes; an attempt to ground herself and figure out why she's feeling this way.

And even without her wandering eyes, she smells him before she knows he's there. The weird primal part of her that she never quite understood is suddenly awake, threatening to claw out of her body and take over her normally subdued persona. So she peeks an eye open to see him standing over her — towering, really, and it's slightly intimidating — all long, curly brown hair and an oversized leather jacket thrown over his shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

She realizes what this looks like; a Playboy bunny sitting alone in an uncharted part of a Halloween party, red solo cup in hand, and figures he's probably concerned she's going to puke on the carpet at any point.

"I'm fine," she answers, clearing her throat as she stands from her spot, swaying slightly from the platform heels Lea convinced her to wear, "My friends ditched me. Well, actually, I ditched them 'cos they're up some alpha's asses and I didn't wanna deal with all that. Sorry."

In any other instance, she'd turn on her heel and walk away. Standing in the middle of an empty hallway with a man she's never met before at a party sounds like a recipe for disaster, and she doesn't even have her pepper spray on her (there wasn't any room in this stupid black satin bodysuit). Instead, there's something in her body that's causing her feet to stay firmly planted in their spot.

"Oh. Those are probably my friends, so I'm sorry about that." He replies, and Y/N's eyebrows shoot up.

"Oh fuck, I'm such an idiot," she clasps her hand around her forehead in embarrassment, "You're part of this frat, aren't you? And those are like your brothers, or whatever?"

He chuckles, a lopsided grin wiggling its way onto his face, and it makes her nerves calm some.

"Yeah, I am. It's fine, though. They're dumbasses, I don't mind you insulting thousands of years of brotherhood straight to my face."

She can tell he's teasing based on his body language; the way he's leaning his shoulder against the wall now and his eyes are slightly squinted, his lips upturned in a mocking smile.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "I'm sorry, I just didn't realize this is where we'd be tonight and I would've mentally prepared myself more. And maybe worn pants."