cupidsrecs

[cupidsrecs]

this was so hot and so cute at the same time!!! my brain is so fried in a good way

Adam sighs, “You give him like. . .wayyy too much credit, Babe,” he takes a shirt this time, what Y/N recognized as Niall’s, and folds it neatly, “He’s a great guy, probably one of the better alphas I’ve ever met, but he’s still an alpha, at the end of the day. You really aren’t twisting his arm here, to spend a heat with an omega that he likes.” 

“He doesn’t like me,” she had given up packing a little while ago, exhaustion thick in her veins as she stretched out beside Niall who accepted her graciously. 

“Yeah, and Ni didn’t fuck his producing partner last semester.” Astrid rolled her eyes, “We all know that both those things are lies. Harry’s obsessed with you, just as you’re obsessed with him. When will you accept it?” 

With furrowed brows, she tilted her face into Niall’s side, her forehead pressed to his body, and he wrapped his arm around her in solidarity for the call out. She doesn’t reply much more than, “Shut up.” 

or

Y/N and Harry might be obsessed with each other (and not rivals)

part 1

part 2

(18k+ words)

[WARNING: A/O/B dynamics!! If you aren’t into that then this fic might not be for you!]

iii.

“Do you want some of mine?” 

Y/N could guess where Harry might come to that conclusion – that she wanted a taste of the strawberry concrete he’d ordered. Anyone might think that’s why her stare (bordering a glare) is unwavering where she sits from him across the small table. There was outdoor seating, and as the night progressed it had gotten cool enough that sitting beneath a stereotypically ice cream parlor umbrella on a steel grate bench seemed like a good idea. And it was probably because Y/N thought her scent might suffocate anyone inside the actual shop. If her scent without a heat tickling around the edges was too much to bear, it would be smothering, stifling – thick, like humidity after a summer rain. 

She stares at him, a frown set on her mouth and a crinkle deep in her brow, not because of the strawberry concrete. She doesn’t care that strawberry is her second favorite flavor, and that she’s always stuck between getting it or chocolate, while Harry is the exact opposite (so it’s kind of perfect, really, if they share then they get the best of both worlds). She doesn’t care that his top lip is red from the real slice of fruit he’d bit into, or that her brain’s immediate reaction is to wonder how it might taste directly from his mouth. And she doesn’t care that he licks the whipped cream off his spoon in what could only be described as the sluttiest way possible, before getting a little bit on his nose, fucking giggling, before swiping it with his thumb and licking that too. 

No, seriously, Y/N can’t care about all of that because all she can think about is that omega whose scent was all over him. Cloying in a way that burned her nose, made her toes curl and her grip tight around the plastic container holding her ice cream. She’s pissed because he shouldn’t smell like that, he should smell like her, but he doesn’t. And anyone walking by would think he belonged to someone else. . .not that he belonged to her, necessarily, but that doesn’t mean she wants anyone to think she’s just some desperate omega hanging off someone else’s alpha. One who couldn’t get the hint, so spent her time projecting her scent when someone clearly didn’t want it, when that wasn’t the case at all. 

Someone passes by and Y/N wants to grab their wrist and plead her case. Actually, he liked my scent first, and this girl all of a sudden decided that she wanted to smother her scent all over him at a party, but when you think about it, I knew him first, y’know? Like, he’s kind of like my alpha when you look at it that way – like, if I were to have called dibs they would have been called by now. So I don’t know what the hell she thinks she’s doing. 

Y/N feels kind of crazy but she can’t help it, at least right now. Astrid had said her preheat starts hot and heavy each time, and she’s correct – Y/N just forgets how intense it could feel. The blaze of her emotions was fiery and hard to ignore, even with a cold treat to soothe her insides. And when she’s feeling threatened? When it seemed like an omega thought she was a better fit for Harry than Y/N was (though she didn’t explicitly state this, it was just how Y/N was taking it, with her talking to him right in front of her – even though nobody probably even realized they were friends now and not just rivals – it was still annoying), then the fire is incandescent. 

“No,” she refused, just to be difficult, even though she did want it. She stabs her spoon into the top of hers, sliding it beneath a mountain of sprinkles that she added, forcing herself to pry her eyes from Harry’s throat. Despite her getting a handle on her staring problem, Harry doesn’t seem to share the sentiment, and his gaze pierces through her. Two Harry-shaped pupils might as well have made laser marks on her forehead like he was attempting to penetrate her thoughts through her skull. “Look somewhere else,” she grumbled. 

Irascible, is one way to describe Y/N in her preheat and her roommates are all well aware. They know to not pluck at her feathers while she’s preening in the aftermath of something. If she snaps or gets upset, or worse – even cries, sometimes – they wait until she’s done tenderly licking her wounds and straightening herself out before tiptoeing into communicating about it. Sometimes, depending on her mood, they might just have to table it until after her heat. 

It is clear to her that nobody let Harry know this when his foot nudges at her calf from beneath the table, “Are you g’na tell me why you’re in such a foul mood?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, or even all that questioning. He says it like he knows it like it’s obvious – and maybe it is, but Y/N doesn’t like her emotions being written all over her to be worn like clothing. It makes her want to revert to primal roots and flee to a nearby cave, bunker down in the dark, and stay there for a month or two (or three) until everyone forgets that she’d practically thrown a mini-fit at the party tonight. 

“I’m not.” She, again, refuses just to be difficult. Even just the small nudge of his foot makes her heart swell up in her chest, and it’s embarrassing. What’s also embarrassing is how increasingly irritated she gets when she realizes Harry hasn’t so much as touched her since they left the party. Was he ashamed to be seen out in public with her? That’s fucking great, isn’t it? Now everyone is going to think she’s some desperate omega that he doesn’t even want and – 

“Your scent would beg to differ,” he clicked his tongue, his spoon stuck through the center of his concrete while he leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm, “I think everyone could tell within a 10-kilometer radius that you’re pissed.” 

She shoves her spoon through her ice cream, “Well, I’m sorry it’s so offensive and assaulting to your nose and all those around us –” 

“That’s not what I said,” he replied coolly, and his free hand – the one he doesn’t rest his face in – reached across the table. He laced his fingers around her wrist, the pads of them resting on her drumming pulse, “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” 

And it isn’t fair, that all he has to do is speak to her so sweetly that it makes her melt. The hostility building in her chest starts to drain through a Harry-shaped stamp in her side, just a little bit, as the tension eases from her shoulders. His thumb strokes a lazy side-to-side caress on her skin, lighting little trails of heat back and forth. 

“You smell like her,” Y/N stated simply and was content to withhold further discussion because she at least had the sense to feel ashamed about her reaction. Had this not been preheat and just her regular heat, then she’d have no sense to feel anything, and would speak blatantly – but there’s still dregs of self-awareness like this. Her face feels warm, and the flush of it runs down her chest, through to her belly. It’s hard to maintain eye contact, but Harry holds it strong, refusing to blink away, allowing her any sort of reprieve, “Too much like her.” 

Harry’s brows furrowed, “Who?” His head even tilted, like a cute little dog – she wanted to reach across the table and squeeze him too tight, “Hallie?” 

“Is that her name?” Y/N countered petulantly because of course she fucking knew her name. 

Harry seemed. . .well, a little too pleased by her response. A small chuckle rumbled from his chest, his thumb still gentle as it caressed the delicate skin across her wrist, “You’re funny,” he sighed out contently, shaking his head, “A week and a half ago you were avoiding me at all costs, and now you’re jealous ‘cos I smell like someone else?” 

Y/N’s knee-jerk reaction is to deny all of his claims but even she knew she couldn’t. A week and a half ago she was ducking and dodging him at every turn to protect her pride, that’s true. And now she was incredibly, unbelievably (and in her point of view, understandably) peeved that he smelled like Hallie. Instead of seeming annoyed, how he should be because Y/N is the master of sending mixed signals, he just seems amused. 

It makes her feel even stupider. Not in the fun way, where she can look and laugh at herself with him, but in a humiliating way. In a way that makes it feel like he was laughing at her, making fun of her, wondering why she would ever think that she was good enough for him. Why would she think an omega like her had the right to feel jealous over anything he did? 

There must have been something that gave her away, whether it be her scent or the dejected look on her face (or both) but Harry stopped smiling at her in the teasing way he was. She feels guilty about zapping all the fun out of the situation, but she can’t help it – her emotions feel haywire, and if there were a sentient separate part of herself she could refer to as her omega, then it was feeling particularly dramatic. 

Harry wormed his fingers into the spaces between hers, “Come on,” he stood up, squeezing her hand not giving her a choice but to follow, “Let’s get to my car.” 

At first, Y/N took this as an “I’m so tired of dealing with you and you’re back and forth and this sudden entitlement over my scent, I’m taking you home, and we’re never talking again, and you’re annoying by the way, and also the worst person ever” so she’s not the most gleeful. Harry’s holding her hand, sure, but she’s almost certain that it’s only because he wants her to stay still and not run off. If she did, then that would upset her roommates, and Harry is friends with them – he wouldn’t want to upset his friends. 

But when they return to his car, Harry grabs something out of his trunk before getting into the driver’s seat. Y/N was already buckled in by the time he crawled in, staring out the window when the soft thud of something in her lap pulled her attention back to him. She picked it up, her hands feeling around the fabric of a shirt – it’s a simple one, just a university tee – and she automatically looked down at her clothes to see if she’d spilled ice cream all over herself. That would explain why he’s just handing her a shirt, at least. 

When she found herself stain-free, she looked back at him. Harry is watching her expectantly. 

“Go on then,” he murmured, “Scent it for me.” 

“Wha –” 

“No questions,” he ordered, and Y/N felt more inclined to listen, wrapped up in the scent of him – she likes his car, how much it smells like him, and how cozy she feels inside of it. So she took the shirt, rubbed it along her throat and her wrists, she infused herself into every stitch and cotton fiber. Y/N thinks it’s because she’s an omega, he’s doing this; sometimes when they’re stressed, scenting things can help alleviate it, or at least lessen the weight. Y/N doesn’t know the science behind it – something about endorphins and all that – but it’s typical for someone to remind her to do it. She forgets that this is an outlet until Niall shoves a pillow on her and demands she go make a nest. 

Once she’s finished, her eyes widen when Harry works the buttons of the top he is wearing open. He exposes the planes of skin and bare torso that her gaze hadn’t been privy to since they left the hotel, but she doesn’t have a chase to gawk and let her mouth water. Harry wiggled the shirt off his arms, crumbled it up, and tossed it into the backseat. He plucked the shirt from her hand and pulled it over his head, shaking out his hair once it popped through the neck hole and shoving his arms through the sleeves. 

“There,” he fixed the shirt down his stomach, then turned to face her once more, “Is that better?” 

It takes her a second to understand what just happened, but once she does. . .

. . .oh, like, could her insides glitter? That kind of felt like what might be happening, and when her lips twitch into a small, pleased smile then Harry breaks out into a dimpled grin. Before she could think, she went based on her instincts, taking Harry’s fingers and pulling his wrist to her throat. It’s intimate, doing this, and they hadn’t since the hotel. Y/N scents him, feeling like she could purr, and Harry lets her without fuss. Just stares with a gaze fond and warm as he does Cow when he flops onto his back in front of him, and she likes it. Y/N doesn’t know what that says about her, but she decided not to question it. Not when this feels so good. 

The drive to Harry’s place is peaceful and Y/N feels satiated, for the time being. 

The last time Y/N was at this flat, she’d been moments from getting fucked how she’d wanted to be before Harry had snuffed that desire right out. Her memories of the cockblocking only haunt her for a moment as they step through the door, but Christopher isn’t there sitting on the sofa with the telly on staring at them like a stunned animal. And, Y/N wasn’t here to get fucked, though she wouldn’t necessarily mind it. It wasn’t at the forefront of her mind yet, and she was thankful because in the coming weeks being filled up was all she’d be able to think about so. . the tranquility of this was nice. 

Harry led her to his very Harry-like room. He’s got art all over his walls, canvases that he no doubt painted in that dreamy, beautiful realism he’d somehow perfected like a vampire that has had centuries to. His bed was neatly made with lavender-colored blankets, and there were a couple of shirts and pants on the ground like they’d been rejected outfits of the night. Across from where his dresser sits to the right of the door, is a relatively big window that moonlight poured directly into, but he’s got a lamp turned on as well. His desk has art supplies scattered on the top of it, and there’s an easel set up to the left with a small canvas sitting on it, the sketch he’d done of Cow a reference in the corner. 

“Do you want to watch a documentary about animals?” He inquired, pointing under his bed, “It’ll be on my laptop.” 

Y/N feels. . .like Harry knows just what she liked during her preheat. This is a little suspicious – she suspects he must have messaged her roommates when they’d driven from the ice cream parlor. Why else would he know that documentaries about wildlife are her go-to once the first licks of heat settle beneath her skin? She could ask him. Could tell him to let Adam know that sharing her preheat secrets is going to make her tell Harry how he watches reality TV and cries when the couples fight. Or tell him how Astrid will sit in the bath until the water goes from scalding hot to barely tepid, and her skin takes hours to get unpruned from it. And she could tell him what Niall keeps in his top dresser drawer and it isn’t just underwear. 

But she doesn’t. 

Instead, she asks, “Can I have some of your clothes to wear?” 

Harry was enthusiastic in his reply and immediately ventured to his dresser. It was almost like he’d already had something in mind for her to wear and the thought made her insides feel softened and squishy. He supplies her with a shirt, oversized and well-worn and Y/N tries her best not to snatch it from his hands like a rabid animal. Harry has an extra pair of drawstring shorts too, that she could adjust where she felt comfortable, but honestly, she doesn’t see her keeping them on. Her skin feels sensitive all over – during her heat, and the days preceding it, she rarely can stand fabric touching her legs. Honestly, everyone’s lucky if she could be bothered to wear clothes at all.

Once Harry handed her the outfit, she tucked herself in his bathroom. From the outsider's perspective, what Y/N was doing was very stupid and considerably dangerous. To be this close to her heat (even if it was a couple of weeks off) with an unmated alpha, in his room, and changing into his clothes is at the top of a “DO NOT DO AS AN OMEGA” list. Pheromones have every potential to bleed into the logical part of the brain and blur objective thinking; if she were with any other man, she might be more hesitant to do this. 

But with Harry, she felt safe. She isn’t sure why – if she could bring up an example, maybe, it was how he never did anything she wasn’t okay with in the brain fog of rut. If Harry, at his most hormonally crazed could hold back in the way that Y/N saw fit, then she felt he could hold back in this situation as well. That could be the example. . if she had to give one. Mostly, it was just a gut feeling; something certain that settled in her belly, like the understanding that grass is green and that trees grow new leaves in the spring. Right in the middle of those two certainties, sits Harry is a trustworthy person. 

When she returned, Harry had his door cracked open still, and the glow of yellow light from his lamp seeped into the dark hallway. She stepped in to find him fussing with the tower fan, adjusting the settings but the rest of the room was done up well. Harry’s lamp is only part of the lighting – he’s got lantern lights intricately woven along the top and bottom of his bed frame and the area where his easel sits is also lined with fairy lights. Y/N’s stuck between worrying about a fire hazard and being in awe that a man realized the absolute necessity of avoiding overhead lighting at all costs. 

On his bed, there was what could only be described as a makeshift nest. It wasn’t constructed like one, really, but it had all the makings of one. Extra blankets and pillows, a random bear stuffie that hadn’t been sitting there before. Her heart thunders a little, feeling fuzzy and soft in all the right ways as she makes her way toward the mattress, calling to her like a siren in the deepest parts of the ocean. It felt like, if she didn’t get into this bed, she might shatter into fragmented pieces, crushed into such fine dust that nothing was left. At that moment, she thinks her sole purpose in life is to crawl into Harry’s bed, smell his things, and be wrapped up and smothered in his scent. 

It’s nice. . .it soothes something in her that she’d been ignoring for so long. 

Y/N moves things around to her liking, before settling against his pillows and waiting patiently. He has the window open, but the warm air that slithers through is combated by the cool air blowing from both the ceiling and tower fans. Harry’s laptop is sitting on the bed, but he pops it open and drops it down beside it. He’s got one leg hanging off the mattress while the other is curled up, resting his chin on his knee as he queues up something for them to watch. Y/N stares at him rather than at what documentary he’s choosing; she notes the outline of his face, his soft, light eyes, and the way he has a springy headband pressing the hair from his face. He’d changed clothes too, in a shirt that looked faded and must feel soft, and what could only be described as slutty sleep shorts, navy in color and cutting off halfway up his thick thighs. 

This is the same man that, not even a month ago, Y/N would have rather smothered herself with a pillow than spend more than the necessary amount of time with. Yet here she is, feeling more content than she had in a while. 

Harry turned to look at her, grinning, “There’s one about the Amazon rainforest,” he told her, “That was one of my hyper fixations at some point. Did you know it’s estimated that there are like 400 billion trees? Like, actually 400 billion that isn’t me exaggerating.”

Y/N’s brows raise, “Really?” She scooted to the right a little, her silent request that Harry come sit beside her. If he didn’t get the hint then she wouldn’t be fucking asking, which would suck but she has some pride, at the end of the day. Thankfully he realizes the invitation and scoots back so he’s on her left, against the mountain of pillows and carefully situated in her ‘not-a-nest’ nest. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Do you want to watch this one?” 

Truthfully, Y/N had already seen this one – it might have been during her last preheat, now that she thinks about it – but the excited glow in Harry’s eyes kept her from telling him that. Instead, she nodded, melting back into his pillows, letting her body mold its shape into his bed. 

“This one would be good, yeah.” 

                                                             .                       .                        .

Y/N in her preheat is. . .something different, Harry soon realizes. 

Y/N, in general, has always been something different to him. Harry knew that all omegas were distinct just as all alphas were distinct; not one was the same as the other, entirely, but there were certain characteristics that they shared similarities with their corresponding sub-gender. Not all alphas were aggressive, but many alphas would unconsciously growl when they felt threatened, or get a little bitey when they felt the need to reaffirm their relationship. Just as not all omegas liked to build full nests, most had at least a few things they might want surrounding them during their heat. 

It depended on the person, their personality, the way they were raised – a variety of things. 

So he wasn’t sure what to expect from Y/N. 

Harry thinks, at this point, he has a decent grasp of her personality and who she is versus what she likes to appear as. The outer casing is glistening; she always knows the answers, she doesn’t let people walk all over her, and she will not be disregarded no matter the circumstances she’s in. Y/N is keen on coming forth as a force to be reckoned with – and she is. Honestly, Harry thought she was a little scary when they were finally in the same class. She was driven and serious and wouldn’t even crack a smile when she looked at him. . .he’d sensed almost immediately that she didn’t like him. Y/N wasn’t going to hide her emotions, is the thing, and Harry doesn’t think she could if she tried. 

Because her insides are ooey-gooey and soft. Harry had wondered for a little while if she had emotions that weren’t driven by perseverance and anger, but he would catch little glimpses, so long as she didn’t realize he was paying attention. Gaze locked in on her, searching for any tiny cracks that he could dig his fingers into and pry open. He thinks the first time might have been when they received the email about the CAA. Harry was all splayed open nerves; excited but jittery and he’d sought out the comfort of cats and accidentally stumbled upon Y/N as well (he thinks it's fitting that she works with cats, considering she acts like one). Y/N had opened up to him a little bit, about how in response to the male-dominated field she was entering, she forces people to acknowledge her for her brain. She made a little more sense to him then, even just that little glance into her head.

It was the conference as a whole though, that really showed Harry more of her. From how nervous she’d been on the plane ride, to how understanding she was when she woke up in the middle of the night to him drenched in sweat and throbbing. Harry experienced many sides of Y/N that he hadn’t been privy to before and he’d been more than delighted by it. Though the reason for that may be his fault. 

Harry was never trying to make her angry in their lectures or discussion posts, he was just happy to have someone to parry with at his level. He could sense the passion she had for art history from the first moment she spoke in class – he thought bringing up counterarguments and sparking debates might cultivate a friendly rivalry that they could both grow and learn from. Harry knew he had plenty he could learn from her, the way she could so effortlessly drag facts and quotes from the back of her mind to prove he was wrong about something. And he felt he could maybe find something to help her with – guide her in a way similar to how she could guide him. A friendship that pilots you toward success – a study buddy that you could go out for drinks with. 

But it seemed, all that time, Harry had been coming off as a massive, haughty, knotheaded prick. It made sense that Y/N might see him that way. She seemed to be guarded when it came to alphas in general, but then one came into her life, arguing with her over every little thing, and she already had a previous reason to dislike him, to begin with. Really, Harry hadn’t stood a chance. 

The truth is, Harry recognized her the moment that Christopher brought her home with him. It’s part of the reason why he stared at her for so long, why his body wouldn’t budge to remove himself from the living room and make his presence light – or why his brain couldn’t conjure up a joke about putting his headphones on top volume. Harry was immediately transported to the cafe he works in, scrubbing at the counters (a pointless task to do midday, because they would just get coffee stains all over them again, but he would do anything to pass the time) when the jingle of the bells fixed to the knob signified a customer. He’d opened his mouth to greet them, but the scent hit his nose first and stole every coherent thought from his brain and words from his tongue. 

It was intense – something warm and familiar, but something totally new; like a hug from a stranger. Harry was encompassed in it from the moment she stepped through the door, like candied fruit, sweet but not cloying  – and fresh like a cotton-scented candle. He was entranced, by the way it slithered through his nares and wrapped around his whole brain. It kicked his heart into an uneven beat and made his fingertips buzz. 

He’d panicked for a moment, wondering if he might be near to his rut, because the way he was feeling right then just had to be contributed to an influx of pheromones, right? That would be the only reason that made sense for this sudden, desperate need he had to stuff his nose in this stranger’s throat and breathe in deep. To let her scent expand with his lungs, permeate through the tissue right into his blood, and zip around his body. 

“Um. . .excuse me?” Her voice cracked him out of his stupor; he remembered blinking at her a couple of times, shaking his head a little bit, and mustering his best ‘I promise I’m not creepy I just zoned out’ kind of smile. 

“I’m sorry, would you – could you repeat your order?” 

The truth is, as embarrassing as it was, Harry completely zoned out when she repeated it. He’d caught a vanilla latte, with an extra shot of. . .something. Maybe two pumps of caramel? Did she want whipped cream on it? Or had she said no whipped cream? Harry had no clue, and he at least had enough shame not to ask her to repeat herself for a third time, so he’d just guessed. She took the drink from the pick-up counter, nodded her head gratefully, then left, and Harry was stuck thinking about her scent the rest of the day. 

Some omegas just smell good, Harry knew that, but this surpassed even that. His friend Kai was an omega and he smelled good, like lavender and blossoms, enough to lull the mind at ease even when it was at its most hectic – and eventually Harry got used to it. He smelled good still, but the reaction Harry’s body had to him wasn’t nearly as intense as the first time they met (the staring problem Harry had, hadn’t started with Y/N – he’d been eyeballing Kai without realizing it until he’d approached him and asked what the hell he was gawking at).

When it came to Y/N, every time she stepped foot into the cafe, it was like Harry was being introduced to her scent all over again. There were no plodding, small waves lapping at his feet, but tsunami-like tides that crashed over him – and he seemed to be the only one feeling it. None of the other patrons or his coworkers seem to notice anything amiss when she walks in and orders her drink and muffin. They go about their day as normal, without stopping like a deer struck by headlights aimed right in their direction. 

Harry brought this up to Mitch, his friend who’s also an alpha and works at the same cafe, and instead of the look of understanding and agreement that he’d wanted, he gets one of confusion. Harry has to describe Y/N in depth before he actually is the one to remember her order, exactly how she wants it, and the exact opposite of how Harry has been making it this whole time.

“Yeah, I can see her face now. She’s the one you’re going on about?” Mitch was stretched out over his sofa, melted into the upholstery after they’d split a pizza. 

“You don’t think she smells good?” Harry couldn’t help but sound a little offended when he asked. 

Mitch clicked his tongue, dragging his fingers through his newly trimmed hair, sniffing, “I mean, she smells good, but I’m not stopping in the middle of making her drinks or anything like that.” He pulled his gaze from his phone screen to where Harry sat beside him, legs tucked up under his bottom, worrying a hole through his bottom lip, “This is an old way of thinking, but some people say there are certain scents that draw you more than others. Like, that whole school of pheromone compatibility and the like. Supposed to make your bite take better, or something right? And you're supposed to fit each other like missing pieces – I think it’s like a soulmate view, if I remember right; that you’d been split up but your scents are supposed to help you find the person, or whatever.” 

And that could be an explanation, but Y/N didn’t seem to care about his scent at all. If anything, she looked mildly perturbed when she walked in and saw him behind the counter. He thought that, at the very least he knew her order now – he could make it correctly without fudging it up. 

. . .but then she doesn’t come anymore. The next time Harry sees her is a couple of months later, when Christopher brings her home, and it took everything in him not to lunge for his roommate's throat as he pulled her to his room. He’d curled his fingers over the denim pants he wore, the blunt tip of his nail dragging harshly against the fabric and making a biting sound that he hated. It’s better to listen to that though, than to Christopher making her moan, because for whatever reason, that was driving him crazy. 

Harry thought maybe that would be the last time he saw her, but come Monday, they were in the same class and Harry found, somehow on the same course to their degrees, but hadn’t bumped into each other during classes. Thankfully, he’d seen her walking to their lecture hall before he walked in himself, so he was able to take the time to prepare mentally for her. It’s why he was able to walk in and pretend he didn’t notice her, but he’d immediately noticed the annoyed look tugging on her features, and then he felt bad for it. She didn’t seem pleased with him the last time they saw each other, and despite cumming, she left smelling like a very upset omega, so he feels like he’s made her quite mad. He’d resigned to the fact that they might never be friends, and he’d forever just have to experience her smell and never get to burrow his face in it. 

Yet, that plan seemed shot the moment he heard her speak about art. How passionate she was, how experienced she sounded, and how she was the only one who would argue his points back at him. Y/N was intelligent and Harry knew he was smart too – that’s when he’d come up with this great idea about how they could nurture a friendly academic rivalry with one another. And, like he’d said before, that backfired. 

They’d come a long way from that. Where Y/N would barely glance in his direction without sneering, she now has something at least partially akin to fondness in her gaze. When she spoke to him there was less indignance in her tone, and even the words she chooses seem a little softer (like calling him a dummy, in place of a fucking idiot). And she was ten times more open with her emotions with him now, not bothering to play a game of hiding how she felt to maintain any form of mystery – but that might just be her preheat. 

Right, her preheat. .Y/N is just. . .cute. 

Harry had helped a few omegas through heat before and had dated enough that he knew what came in the weeks preceding it. Sure, their reservations melt away into something more open, but Y/N takes that to a whole new level. The walls built around her had been broken down, brick-by-brick tumbling hour-by-hour; Harry was increasingly grateful that they’d gone through their drama before this, and had come out stronger on the other side of it. Had they not, then Harry might not have gotten to experience this and the thought of someone else getting to. . .well, it makes him grit his teeth. 

It started small. She’d been so riled up at the party, he’d smelled the acrid note that her scent had taken before he’d seen the distress written all over her face. Hallie had stopped him to chat – what he’d thought was just friendly at first before she started plucking eyelashes off of his cheek, and just as he realized what was happening, Y/N’s scent spiked even more bitter. Then he heard the clatter of a cup being slammed onto the counter, and the patio door opening and closing. When he looked up, Astrid stood with a knowing gaze, waving him over. 

“I think she’s in preheat,” she’d led with, and Harry was thankful for the insight as she continued, “I tried to convince her not to come tonight but you know how she is.” 

“Is she okay?” He inquired, looking toward the patio door, where the curtains had finally settled back into place. 

Astrid snorted, “Oh, she’s fine, just possessive right now, and a little sensitive. Take her to yours, yeah? Turn on a nature documentary and tell her to relax.” 

“Oh, I – I’m not sure she’ll want to do that with me.” Because sure, they had talked some things out but at that point, he wasn’t sure if Y/N still harbored any resentment toward him. She’d said she didn’t, she apologized, and they’d squashed a lot of the strife between them, but still – preheat is something different. To be surrounded by things and people that bring you comfort is critical, and she would be in his place, with him, of all people. Who, a little less than a month ago, she couldn’t stand. 

“Trust me,” she rolled her eyes, “She’ll want to.” 

In the end, she did. She was all showered, smelling like him, laying beside him on his bed, in a little makeshift nest of blankets and pillows that he’d left out for her to construct. At first, she started just lying propped up near him. They were close enough that he could feel the warmth emanating from her body, and hear her sigh quietly as she wiggled around to get comfortable. Progressively, she got closer, and closer, until eventually, he felt a head hit his shoulder. Once he peered down, he saw her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in slow easy breaths, and he immediately bristled with pride from not only an alpha standpoint but a friend. She trusted him enough to let her guard down. . .to shut her brain off and fall asleep beside him. They hadn’t been that close since she helped him through his rut, and he’d missed it – even if that had only been a couple of days, the whole experience had left something glowing and warm in his chest. He thought about it often on nights he couldn’t find rest. 

It was hard not to get. . .well, hard when he thought about that time. Harry had felt completely normal the first two days, but the third day he woke up feeling. . .just a little different. He figured it was just his body adjusting to being in a new place for a longer period than just a night; he wasn’t around his things, where he was used to, busy from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to bed, accosted with all different types of people and smells. He thinks that could leave anyone feeling a little foggy. Not to mention he was sharing a room with an omega, and Harry hadn’t shared a room with an omega since. . .actually, Harry didn’t think he’d ever shared a room with an omega before. Much less an omega whose scent he’s already obsessed with. 

Still, he tried to press on through his day. He attended the panels he’d signed up for the night prior with sweat building up on his nape but convinced himself the air conditioning wasn’t running as it should be. Harry shook hands with people, smiled, and laughed with an art coordinator who gave him his card, was in the front row of a workshop on realism with oil paints – and progressively, throughout the day, it felt like his skin was pressing all of his nerves to the surface. Every touch felt like it dotted over his entire body, pinpricks and needles poking over goosebumps. His heart was thudding against his chest, his breathing came uneven and unsteady, and when he got a glimpse of Y/N walking through the hall. . oh, god, his cock throbbed to life in a millisecond. 

He was in denial – it wouldn’t make sense, for his rut to start right then, is how he’d seen it at the time. It wasn’t due for a couple of weeks, so all of that must have just been a negative response to all these different pheromones or something. It isn’t uncommon for such severe reactions when in large groups of people, that’s why it’s so heavily advised to wear blockers or take suppressants. 

So he went back to the hotel, took a cold shower, and crawled into the bed. He switched his pillow out for Y/N’s and buried his nose in it, and he felt 10x better already. Until he woke up. . .until the arousal in his belly was too serious to ignore. He had an arm hooked around a pillow, he moved it down before he could even open his eyes and shakily rutted into the plush cotton. Harry’s head had been swimming, his mind in a thousand different places, and all of those places he had Y/N with her bum flush to his groin and her pussy filled with him. In half of those places, she had a pretty bite mark on her throat, a symbol of his claim, and in the other half, he was sinking his teeth into her neck to make it. 

She had handled waking up to him like that considerably well. Then, to push past her dislike for him – to be willing to help him out, to let herself be vulnerable and naked before him – god, he really can’t think about it too much. Anytime the memory of her laid out before him flickers in his head, he feels like he could cum. It’s better to not spend too much time ruminating on it at all, so he tried his best.

But with her in her preheat, it’s getting harder to ignore thoughts like that.

Y/N is a clingy little thing when she wants to be during this period; Niall had been the one to alert him of that. Typically, with her roommates, she’s more affectionate of course but she is very serious about having time to herself and they all were aware of it. At some point, each day, she would hole herself up in her room and do whatever it was she did in those couple of hours (Y/N told them she was charging her social meter and would be out in a little while). If she had a particularly long day at work, or if a class was grueling, then she’d be in there from the moment she got home, come out for dinner, and then return to her nest. 

This was not the case when her heat was approaching. Y/N would be all over them, 24/7 if she could, and if none of them were home (which was a rare occurrence but could still happen) she was whiny, pouty, and teary-eyed. They all had to deposit their clothes, pillows, and blankets in her room for her nesting materials to keep her satiated until one of them returned. And when they returned, she was right at their side, even if she wasn’t touching them, she just liked to be nearby. A sweet little shadow who, sooner or later, would shyly ask for a cuddle.

“She always apologizes for being annoying, but none of us mind it.” Niall had shrugged, trying to speak low (or as low as his voice would go) while Y/N cleaned out the litter boxes in the back, “It’s cute ‘cos she’s usually such a hard ass all the time.” 

Niall hadn’t been lying, Y/N was much more reliant on physical affection and quality time than she seems to be normally. It started as more messages than normal – or ever, really – they didn’t really text – and she never stated that she wanted to see him, but she would send photos of her cat and dog. Together, separately, after a bath, lying on her belly, staring out the window. After a hoard of pictures, he would get a, How are you today? And once he answered, her reply was Are you coming to see Cow? He misses you. 

Harry couldn’t help but feel giddy that he’d entered the roster of people she wanted to be around during her preheat. He doesn’t know why – doesn’t know if Mitch had been onto something with pheromones just connecting with someone, and if Y/N was experiencing what he’d experienced. He isn’t sure – he just knew that her inquiry about coming to see Cow was code for I work today, so you should come. 

He would go to the cat cafe every time Y/N worked that he wasn’t, he’d spend the end of her workday with her, and he’d offer to take her to dinner or for a sweet when Niall inevitably came up with an excuse as to why he couldn’t drive her home. These excuses started out making sense, like “Oh, I have plans with a friend,” but they’ve slowly worn into reasons that weren’t exactly clear. 

“Adam and I are producing a project; a beat with Ducky’s barks.” 

“But Adam is a bio major?” 

“He sure is, isn’t he? Okay, have fun!” 

They do things together that Harry had never imagined, with how up and down their relationship had been. They go out to eat, they share frozen yogurts, they have picnics together, and go on walks. Christopher had become so accustomed to the sight of her shoes beside Harry’s at the door, that he questioned where she was when they weren’t. Adam would send him pictures of Y/N strewn across his lap frowning with a message like You left your cat here. 

And the scenting. . .oh, god. Harry really was in paradise. 

Harry thinks he could probably bury his face in Y/N’s closet and be at ease for a thousand years. He knows that’s kind of creepy, and it’s never something he would say out loud, but it was the truth. So when Y/N, a week and a half into this needy spell she’s fallen into, starts scenting his clothes more often – well, he’s enthused. If she wants the shirt off his back so she can rub it against her wrists, he would tear it off for her. If she crawls into his bed and manages to infuse every molecule in the surrounding area with her scent, Harry tells her how nice it is. And if she ever wants to be scented by him, he has trouble not exploding into something dazzling, like a star. 

Light and feathery; Y/N’s scent is something bright and refreshing to his senses. It reminds him of early summer, sweet nectar from the flesh of fruit but soft, not oppressive. Peaches, the sunrise on cooler mornings, feeling the first licks of warmth on your face on cloudless days. If he could bottle it, he’s sure he would be able to sell it for 80 quid each (and then he’d refuse to give them the bottle, because he’d want to keep it for himself). He’s not ashamed to admit he’ll keep her nest constructed even after she’s left his flat for the night, wiggled to her side of the bed, and buried his face into the pillow. 

That scent and Harry’s reaction to it had been the start of all their problems, sure, but he loved it enough to disregard that. Two weeks since the party, and Y/N sees Harry nearly every day, whether it’s because she asked for it or if he asks for her (another piece of information about her preheat given to him by her roommates, was that Y/N would ask to see him – though she would probably want to see him every day but at some point she would get insecure and start doubting he would want to see her; it was important for him to bridge the gap then, if he wanted, he would need to reach out to her instead). When the scent of heat begins to thicken, Harry tries not to seem like a creep, always inviting her over to his flat instead of out to do things but he tries to keep her relatively close to home. It isn’t safe for her to be roaming around this close to her heat, even with a blocker, and even with Harry nearby to mask it. 

Most of the time Y/N’s alright with it. She seems to prefer being stationary in a room as well, near things that bring her comfort, somewhere she can stretch out and sleep whenever she wants. Naps are often performed midday, like her body is storing up energy that it knows it will utilize once her heat is in full swing. Some days, she sleeps heavily, wakes up groggy, eats with eyes barely open, then promptly loses all will to be conscious and snuggles back into bed. 

“I hate this part,” she pouted one night when Harry was driving her home. It had been two and a half weeks, just about, of Harry seeing her nearly every day, but even then he hated taking her back to her house. If it were up to him he would have her sleepover, but omegas need to have time with their proper nest, in their proper house, with their proper people. Even if Harry’s room can bring her comfort, to be completely severed from her room would be more harm than good – plus Ducky and Cobbler miss her if she’s gone for too long. 

Harry thought maybe, that night, she’d been saying she hated the drive home, but she continued and crushed that dream, “I mean – the weather is so nice, and all I can do is fucking sleep and leak pheromones everywhere! It’s so stupid.” 

He tries not to wither in his disappointment when he replies, “Ah, I know, that must be frustrating.” But you smell so fucking good, and you look so adorable while you’re snuggled up in my bed, I hope this never ends. 

Groaning, she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, “It’s taking forever to start,” she grumbled, “So annoying.” 

“Is it always like this?” Harry combed his fingers through his hair, glancing over at her while they sat at a stoplight. It’s a true testament to his strength and mental fortitude that he’s able to withstand being in close quarters with her and not have a stiffy the entire time. Is he fighting one off constantly? Most times they’re together, actually, and not because he’s a pervert. Y/N had been spending so much extra time with him that she was starting to get less, which meant less suppressing her scent and more of Harry leaving their hangouts smelling like a claimed alpha. 

Harry likes that. It satisfies a deeper, more instinctual need in the back of his mind that suggests he’s a good alpha, to have an omega be so at ease around him. He doubled down his efforts to make her feel even better; comfortable, even when her body seemed to be working against her, turning on her, twisting the temperature inside to something fiery hot. 

“S’cos I skipped one or two while I was trying to get into the program,” she clarified, melting further into the seat – she was barely wearing anything today, but that isn’t unusual. He’d be hard-pressed to find Y/N wearing more than a thin shirt and tiny shorts that should only be worn at home, making things hard. . .no pun intended. Harry had already been struggling to manage his cock so he was doing no better with these new additions. If he was going to be honest, he’s probably been half-hard for over a couple of weeks now but he’s starting to get used to the feeling. Thanks to the neural pathway connecting Harry’s cock and heart, anytime she does something sweet, he’s bound to feel himself twitch in his briefs. 

With a click of his tongue, he was gentle in his chastisement, “Ah, you know that isn’t good for you,” and at the sudden spike in what he could only describe as murderous pheromones, he is quick to continue, “But I understand why you did! It’s hard enough to get into the program as is, let alone when you’re in heat.” 

“Yes,” she agreed, “And I don’t regret it, but my body is livid with me. It’s been. . .what, almost 3 weeks of this? Surely you’re starting to get tired of me.” 

He’d also been warned of this, how self-conscious she gets for needing so much. For someone so accustomed to independence, to suddenly feel like you need someone else to settle you, must be hard. Harry could only imagine how frustrating it must be in the brief moments when her mind turned against her, convincing her that she was being and asking for too much. Adam explained that she once asked him if they could cuddle then promptly cried when he agreed, apologizing profusely about being so needy. No matter the amount of reassurance she received, she would still agonize over it, until eventually, the heat swallowed up her thoughts. 

“Not at all,” Harry admitted, and he’s always been more open and vulnerable than most of his sub-gender counterparts; alphas are known to be far more stoic and often reserved with their emotion, but not Harry – he liked to be honest and raw, “I’ve enjoyed spending all of this time with you. It makes me feel better about. . .all the drama from the other week,” he shrugged his shoulders, “And all the drama before that too. Kind of feels like we’re erasing all the bad memories with good ones, right?” 

Harry is focused on the road, so he can’t look at her, but he can feel her eyes set on the side of his head. She was quiet, the cars driving by them and the hum of his engine the only sounds while the song buffered on his phone were the only sounds for a while. Harry started to believe he’d somehow pissed her off, but finally she responded. 

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that,” she mused, “That. . .makes me feel better too.” 

Then she was quiet again. Harry had expected the rest of the drive to go by in relative silence while she reflected on it, but she did surprise him a couple of moments later when her voice cut through the air again, “Are you busy next week?” 

“Not really,” Harry turned his blinker on, the tick of it echoing through the car, “I’ll work but that’s about it.” 

“Hm,” she scratched her knee, what he could see when he flickered his eyes at her then back to the road, “Um, is your. . .is your work good about time off last minute?” 

Harry is unsure where this is going – did she want to go on a trip? He mulled it over, drafting a script in his head to ask his manager to move his schedule around so he could spend a trip with her. For some reason, the thought of a summer train ride with Y/N in a city nearby is too cute to not consider. Looking out the windows at the lush green trees and rolling hills of grass as they go through the countryside, Y/N falling asleep on his shoulder, the steward mistaking them for a couple and asking how long they’d been together. Sharing another hotel room would be cute too, maybe they could do a single bed again now that they were closer.

Oh, wait, but what about her heat? It might be too dangerous for her to be so far from home, and Harry would hate for her to go through what he had. However, Y/N had made it a thousand times better than it would have been had he gone to the hospital to have it chemically corrected, or if he had to spend it with a stranger. He should tell her it wasn’t a good idea but promise her that they would take a trip like that afterward. If she still wanted anything to do with him, that is – he wondered if she’d still want to be as close to him after the week she would spend away from him. 

“They’re pretty good about it, but – I don’t think it’s a great idea to –” 

“Will you spend my heat with me?” 

They spoke at the same time, so Harry is kind of convinced that he misheard her. He stops, turning into her neighborhood and taking a peek at her. Y/N is looking in her lap, twisting the bracelet around her wrist in circles and plucking idly at the charms, “What was that?” 

“I asked if you would spend my heat with me?” She repeated, and Harry tried desperately not to have too big of a reaction. If there’s one thing he’s learned in his time at the cat cafe, is that big reactions can scare kitties off and he’s got the biggest, most skittish cat at his side. So he doesn’t gasp how he wants to, or twist his head so fast to the side he threatens whiplash. Harry merely keeps his hands on the wheel and slows down in front of her house, making sure to manage his scent, soothing pheromones leaving his body, the same ones he’d used on the plane. 

Harry places the car in park, then finally turns to look at her. Sees how she’s pinching at the tip of her thumb, picking at the polish coated over them and she’s avoiding making eye contact. She’s so nervous, the poor little thing. Harry just wants to tug her over the middle console and into his lap. 

“I would love to,” he answered, tentatively stretching his hand out and resting on her thigh, “If that’s what you want, then I’d love to spend it with you.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, and he can tell how badly she wants to dart out of the car but she keeps herself planted in the seat, “Is that what you want, though? Or are you just being nice?” 

“Sweetheart,” he strokes her with his thumb, feeling the flesh give to the pressure beneath the pad, “Do you want me to be candid?” Y/N nodded, pulling her lips into her mouth and worrying them against each other, “I have thought about fucking you every day since you helped me in the hotel.” This finally encouraged her to look at him, the spike of arousal in her scent made his thighs hum, warmth seeping up and into his cock. Her eyes are wide and soft, and Harry is stuck between wanting to smear his mouth against her lips or see the head of his dick between them. He isn’t sure which though, probably both. “I have to force myself to stop touching my prick sometimes before it chafes, it's like a whole thing – so yes, it’s what I want, and no, I’m not saying yes to be nice. I appreciate you thinking so highly of me though, like I’m that altruistic.” 

Her fingers curl around his hand, pausing the stroke of his thumb but she runs her fingers over the bumps and ridges of his knuckles. He’s got a bit of paint on his skin from earlier – he’d been working on a piece that he’d been hiding from Y/N at the risk of looking like a creep. Y/N hasn’t asked him yet, what he could be making, and he’s thankful for it. He isn’t sure he’d be able to lie to her if she did. 

“Okay, well good then,” a smile curls the corner of her mouth up, and Harry matches it, “I will – we can discuss details later, but right now I’m really embarrassed so I’m leaving.” 

Harry snorts, squeezing her thigh, “That’s alright,” he lets his hand fall away from her, “Let me know, yeah? Tell Ducky and Cobbler I said hi.” 

Harry watches Y/N walk to the door, unlock it, and slip inside. The lights in the living room are on so he knew someone was there to greet her, and he wondered if she was divulging the conversation to them already. If she was giddy and flustered, or shy and fussy about it. They were probably all expecting it but Y/N has no clue, always the last to the party, realizing things later than everyone else. 

On the drive home, Harry revels in the peachy scent she’d left in her wake. 

He’ll start preparing for the week to come. 

                                                             .                            .                          .

Preparing for heat is not fun. 

Y/N thinks, everyone always forgets about all of the logistics of it and focuses on the horny aspects. People forget about having to go to the pharmacy to pick up heavy-duty birth control, to stop from actually being bred. The difference between alphas and omegas is that alphas don’t need to knot to work through their rut, but an omega needs to be knotted, in some way or another. If they aren’t, then it can get really painful. But if you aren’t looking to have kids within the next year, then these were a must. It was also crucial to pick up pain medicines and numbing creams. 

Then there was calling work, having to take heat leave, filling out forms that make sure they’re paid for their time out. It used to be embarrassing when it was her first job and she had to call her manager – a sweet older woman – and tell her, basically, that she was about to be so horny it would be hard to leave her bed, let alone arrange bouquets. By now she doesn’t care who knows and understands that whoever she’s calling has probably smelled it on her in some way, as the blockers she wore lost potency throughout the day. 

There was preparing food, but typically Adam took care of that for her. Somehow bio major and personal chef were synonymous because he could cook dishes that rivaled eating out. He always made her favorites but kept them light, nutritious, and filling. He’d also pad her out with plenty of snacks because the energy was essential for the amount of work she was about to put in. 

Cleaning was a must, gathering nesting supplies an even bigger must, taking an everything shower an even bigger must, because she’d be sweating and leaking so much. Then, there was a discussion with your roommates, trying to block out the gaps in the door to stop them from overwhelming the hallway with omega in heat. They would try to make themselves sparse but then you feel shitty for pushing them out of their home at any point in time. 

This time it was a little different though. Since Y/N would be spending it with Harry, it would make more sense to displace Christopher rather than displace Adam, Astrid, and Niall. 3 vs 1 has him beat but he doesn’t seem to mind it, saying he can crash at his friend's place like he does when Harry has a rut partner (something that makes Y/N grit her teeth at the knowledge of but she ignores it the best she could). Y/N will bring her things, pack a bag of all her essentials, and the food Adam prepared, along with her clothes, blankets, and things from her roommates. 

“I feel bad,” Y/N murmured as she packed her bag, Astrid folding one of her blankets, Adam depositing one of his hoodies into her small suitcase, Niall stretched out over her bed watching, “To be taking over his room, making his bed my nest, that’ll be annoying probably, like – like I’d hate if someone did that.” 

“No, you wouldn’t,” Niall clicked his tongue, “And Harry doesn’t mind, I promise you that. Did you or did you not say he’s been thinking about fucking you since the hotel? Plus, there are worse things in the world an alpha can experience besides an omega in heat in their bed.”

“Yeah, he’s been messaging with me back and forth,” Adam admitted, “He just wants it to be good for you, that’s all he’s concerned with. Don’t overthink it.”  

Astrid snorted, “You say that to the queen overthinker.” 

“I am not,” Y/N grumbled, then proceeded to overthink once more, “I just worry that this is a lot, like – the only reason he wanted me to help him during his rut was because I was his only option –” 

“You weren’t.” 

“--not because he liked me or anything. Now, he probably thinks that he owes me one or something.” 

Adam sighs, “You give him like. . .wayyy too much credit, Babe,” he takes a shirt this time, what Y/N recognized as Niall’s, and folds it neatly, “He’s a great guy, probably one of the better alphas I’ve ever met, but he’s still an alpha, at the end of the day. You really aren’t twisting his arm here, to spend a heat with an omega that he likes.” 

“He doesn’t like me,” she had given up packing a little while ago, exhaustion thick in her veins as she stretched out beside Niall who accepted her graciously. 

“Yeah, and Ni didn’t fuck his producing partner last semester.” Astrid rolled her eyes, “We all know that both those things are lies. Harry’s obsessed with you, just as you’re obsessed with him. When will you accept it?” 

With furrowed brows, she tilted her face into Niall’s side, her forehead pressed to his body, and he wrapped his arm around her in solidarity for the call out. She doesn’t reply much more than, “Shut up.” 

“Just try to enjoy it,” Niall carded his fingers through her hair, scratching at her scalp, “Mm? Reckon you’re only a day out before you sink into it fully. We’ll drop you off tonight so you can build up your nest and talk things out with him.” 

That’s what they do. Y/N waves in and out of a nap while they finish packing for her (Niall, who gets scolded for not being much help, used the excuse – “I have an omega sleeping in my arms! What do you want me to do? Shove the poor thing off?”), and once they finished, they woke her up. She messages Harry that she’s on her way and he sends a reply with too many emojis and exclamation points. Still, she feels warm from it and is suddenly more excited to see him than nervous and embarrassed. 

Y/N had hugged everyone and then teared up already in the car, so her eyes were rimmed with tears and she sounded a little stuffy. Harry, who again – Y/N is sure he’s corresponding with her roommates in a group chat she’s not a part of – doesn’t seem confused by it when he opens the door. He merely pulled her inside, hugging her close, humming long enough that it felt like a purr, “Silly thing,” he murmured, “You’re so sweet.” 

“Don’t patronize me,” she protested but melted into his hold. He smelled so good, she nuzzled her face into the chest of his shirt, the swell of his pecs almost too much to bear – she wanted to dig her teeth into them, “I want to make my nest.” 

“Alright, why don’t you go make it, while I put the meals away?” He took the cooler she wheeled in from her hand, then nudged the side of her head with his nose, “I’ll be in there in a little bit, okay?” 

It’s weird to build her nest in someone else’s bed, but it also manages to feel right. Since Y/N had been more or less inhabiting Harry’s room for the majority of her preheat, it didn’t feel very odd to construct something on his bed. She spends a lot of time on it, making it just right, using the things she’d packed for it – all the blankets and pillows and clothes they’d sent her with, some of her things, some of her roommates. Something swells in her chest and presses against her ribs when she sees that he shoved the bed into the corner of his room, a cozier spot for her nest. She isn’t completely sure that’s why he did it, but if it is, then she thinks she should kiss him immediately. 

At the base of it are a couple of protective pads to save his mattress, and then she fans out towels over towels, layering them across the bed. On top of that she lies his sheet, building from the bottom up, before she starts to add the pillows in and around it. Then she’s placing hoodies and shirts, stuffies and blankets, more sheets, more towels – anything. She was given the go-ahead to raid Harry’s closet as well, so she does without a single moment of hesitation. 

She doesn’t know how long she spends arranging and rearranging, but by the time she’s finished, she isn’t sure if the sweat building at her nape is from her heat or from the labor she’d put into it. Harry knocks on the door to come check on her just as she’s finished, stepping away to assess it. “You don’t have to knock to come into your own room, dummy,” she huffed, but Harry didn’t reply. He’s too busy looking at the nest, cooing too loud.

“This is a beautiful nest,”  he cooed, stepping toward it to get a closer look, and Y/N’s heart thundered intensely in her chest. She’d only had one other heat partner before and he never complimented her neck; it made her bristle, wiggling under the attention, feeling gratified for something silly but so important. 

“You don’t have to flatter me,” she complained, only because there was a clause put into her personality when she was born, that it should be nearly impossible for her to take a compliment appropriately. 

“I’m not, Sweetheart,” he smooths out the corners of the bed, “It’s gorgeous. I truly think that.” 

Of course, this strokes a part of her brain that she wasn’t sure needed stroking, but it felt nice. Y/N crawled into it, while Harry waited patiently outside of it, running his fingers along the pillowed sides. She pats and strokes the insides to make it perfect, before snuggling tight into the corner, near one of Astrid’s blankets – and melts inside of it. “Come inside,” she ordered, and Harry wasted not a second more. He crawls in, careful not to disrupt the flow of things she had set up, and she’s grateful for him. 

Y/N isn’t sure what provokes her. If it’s her heat, or her emotions, or how sweet he appears inside of her nest. She’d been waiting for the heat to take her more intensely before she started showing too much affection so that she could blame this sudden, intense desire to be all in his bubble, on that. But something calls to her right then, and she can’t ignore the desire to crawl into his lap. 

Harry seems surprised but doesn’t mention it, only accommodating the addition of her hooking her leg around his thigh and settling down on top of him. Her bum rests just below his cock, her last attempt at leaving this as anything remotely innocent. For her sanity (and for the sake of her clothes on the way here) she couldn’t think about this as what it is; Harry is taking care of her, sure, but he’ll be fucking her to do that too. He’ll be maneuvering her how he wants, sliding inside of her, and knotting her. All of those things that she’d been forcing herself not to think about when she was with him. All of those things, that, when she was alone and they’d creep into her mind, her fingers would slip inside of her pajama bottoms. 

His palms burn holes where they’re seated on her hips, through the thin cotton over them. The tank top wearing had gotten so intense, that she had to order an entire new pack online the other day, and this one was in it. The lightweight fabric was critical right now, so it did very little to hide anything, like her pebbled nipples and the swell of her breast through the light pink cotton. Her hair wasn’t all done up, how she would have liked it to be, but she had it pulled out of her face because that’s more practical in a time like this. Her shorts are riding up when she sits on him, so more of her thighs are showing, and if she gets wet. . .if she gets wet, then these were pressed close enough to her crotch that she’s sure it would show through. 

And Harry – god, he looks like a daydream below her. Even with his clothes on she could tell that he was built, his shoulders broad and his chest full. Her fingers curl up in the fabric pulled over his chest as her eyes dart around him. To see him in her nest, surrounded by all of these things, his scent perfectly intermingling with all of it. A coil of arousal is tight in her belly, wrapping around itself, becoming more taut, more rigid, bottling itself up until the pressure has no choice but to explode. His hair sits around his head like a crown, looking freshly washed and so soft. And his face – he’s so pink already, his lips bitten a healthy color, and his eyes darken. 

The fan is already set on high, the air from it whips some of the fabric around that wasn’t fixed firmly to the bed, but she doesn’t mind. She breathes in, slow and shaky, letting him fill up her lungs, stretch out with it, absorb into her bloodstream. 

“I want everything,” she told him, her gaze trained on his, searching his face for any sliver of doubt and when she found none, she pushed forward, “I want you to – to take care of me. I’m. . .really needy, in my heat. I hardly think anyone will ever truly be able to keep up with me, but I want you to try. Can you try?” 

Harry squeezes where his fingers lay, dipping into the flesh around her hips, a little into her stomach, “For you, I’ll try anything.” 

Her heart skips over a beat, settling into a heavy, excited thud, “And I want you to knot me. I’ll beg for it every second, even though I know it’s not possible to do it each time, just shove your fingers in my mouth or something if you’re tired of hearing about it.” She swallowed thickly, the drool that was building up against her tongue at the thought of his fingers invading her mouth, stuffing her full, shutting her up, “You can be rough with me but like – not too rough, and I kind of like it soft too, but not too soft, so like. . .figure that out.” 

He laughs, and squeezes again, “Yeah?” 

Y/N nods, “Yeah,” she agrees, then relaxes her hands from where they grip his shirt, instead digging her nails into the swell of his peck and feeling excited when he hisses, “You’ve helped other omegas through heat before?” 

Harry nodded, so honest – too honest, actually, she kind of wished he would have lied to her. The thought of it made her want to scream. “Just a couple,” he added, “Some old relationships – one friend.” 

“Well, forget all of the dumb shit you learned with them,” she groused possessively, “I’m different – I’m better.” 

And listen! Y/N, like, seriously isn’t like this normally. She is such an omega’s omega, like she thinks it’s so stupid that omegas feel the need to pit themselves against one another for an alpha man of all things – but reasonable thought is beyond her right now. Right now, Harry is her alpha, at least that weird sentient possible omega inside of her thinks so, and how dare he even think about any other omega that wasn’t her? Who cares if he didn’t know she existed? He shouldn’t have ever even had conscious thought before she existed in his life! 

Harry doesn’t laugh at her, but he does smile knowingly, nodding, “I will, baby.” 

Baby. . .that feels good. She really likes that.

“And you better call me that the whole time.” 

He nods again, “Of course, baby.” 

Y/N shudders, full-bodied, and then stretches across the top of him. She readjusts a bit, so her head lays against his shoulder, and Harry’s hands slide from her waist so he can wrap his arms around her body. He holds her tight and Y/N doesn’t mind it – doesn’t mind the additional heat because the fan feels so good against her heated skin, and she kind of wants to crawl inside of Harry’s shirt. Be as close as close could allow, melt into him, be absorbed into his body, all that crazy shit that her brain conjures up when she feels like this. 

Fatigue is a common feeling the day before it really starts. Her energy is lacking, and despite taking a nap before coming over, she’s ready to fall asleep again. Harry is half hard against her – she can feel it on her belly, how she lies on him, but she can do nothing with the knowledge. Not right now, when the weary glaze dresses her and starts to pull her under. Harry began to card his fingers through the baby hairs at her nape. 

“Want you to – to bite me all over,” she continues, mustering the last of her strength to move her mouth, “Sink your teeth in me and knot me, and tell me how nice you’ll breed me up.” 

“I can do that,” he rubs his other hand down her back, sliding toward her bum, resting on the curve of it and squeezing softer than he had been on her hips, “Whatever you need, I’ll give to you.” 

Y/N presses her face into him, “Thank you.” 

                                                                 .                         .                         .

Waking up in the throes of it is always a bit disorienting. 

Y/N stirred feeling overheated, but safe. The blood beneath her skin might as well be boiling, the temperature inside of her body too feverish to be normal, and her brain is a hazy mess of incomplete thoughts looping around and around. All she could make sense of was that she was hot, the skin between her thighs was sticky and uncomfortable, the intense desire to be knotted. Her mouth feels too dry, her body feels too heavy, and she’s weighed down with sleep. She’s confused and tired and nothing makes sense.

“Mm, Sweetheart?” 

Then Harry speaks and things clear right up. Y/N blinks her eyes open and meets Harry’s gaze – the sun had sunk beyond the horizon leaving the sky inky and dark, maybe starless (it was supposed to rain tonight). Harry’s room is dark beside the fairy lights strung around the ceiling and even they are in the dimmest setting. His fan is still set on high but it does little to soothe the heat striking through her every cell. 

Harry must be able to smell it because she doesn’t need to say a thing before a look of realization dawns over his face, “It started.” 

She nods, wiggling the short way toward him and wrapping her leg around his hip. This way, her clothed pussy sits right over his cock – she wonders if he’d been halfhard the entire time they slept. If the weight of her against him had started it, but her scent had kept it from flagging. The thought of her being able to keep him hard in his sleep makes her tremble, and her whole body jerks when she rocks her hips into him. 

He fixes his hands around her waist, “Oh,” he purred, fingers digging into her, “This is what you want? Wanna rut against my cock?” 

Y/N whined, words too much right now so she nods and whines and keeps moving her hips against him. She can feel the outline of him as more blood fills him up, growing harder and harder, nudging against her swollen clit. The way his cock strokes against her spreads out all the slick that was leaking into her underwear, and the fabric clings to her pussy. Everything is warm and wet and too much but not enough. The curl in her belly goes from a whirlpool to a hurricane, swirling around and around, the burn of her orgasm tickles through her thighs and flushes the blood from her entire body. 

It must look a little pathetic – it feels kind of pathetic, how she rocks and ruts against him nonstop. The way she shivers, raking her nails down his shoulders, trying to pull him closer to her body. But Harry is hard, so fucking hard, and the thought of him pulling his briefs down – the thought of his cock bobbing out heavy, leaking precum, begging to be in her mouth. . .oh, it’s enough to send her spiraling. Her hips quickened, Harry slid either hand onto her bum and pulled her closer, tighter, picking his leg up just a little to adjust the bulge so it pressed right up against her. 

“There you go,” he encouraged, “Cum for me, Pretty.” 

Her brain whites out for a second, a pleasant buzz and hum while her entire body jerks and jolts through her orgasm. Pressing closer to him, then pulling away, only to rut closer again. Everything trembles as her pussy pulsates rhythmically around nothing, becoming painfully aware of how empty she is, but she soothes the ache by connecting their lips. She pulls his bottom lip into her mouth and nips meanly, then suckles at it like an apology. Y/N doesn’t know what she wants but she wants everything, all of him, she needs him inside of her, she needs to be inside of him, she wants to melt into his body, and she feels like she could – given how hot she was. 

Eventually, Y/N drew back, but only so she could roll them over. She wanted to be on top of him, wanted to tear herself out of her clothes because he wasn’t doing it fast enough. Harry goes pliantly with her and watches as she starts to yank her bottoms down, the whole endeavor a little awkward because she wants to stay as close to him as possible despite how difficult it makes it to take her shorts off. Still, she’s eventually able to do it, tosses them off the side of the bed, then spreads her legs for him. 

When she leans back, her bum nearly sinks between his thighs but he lifts them so she’s leaning against them. It slides her down a bit, but gives her the best position to keep her legs spread for him, showing off her pussy, sopping wet and swollen. Y/N reaches down, slipping her fingers between her lips on either side of her clit and stretching them out. Exposing herself to him, showing him how good and wet she was, how ready she was for his knot. 

Harry’s eyes are dark with lust and his lips are wet from the way he lulls his tongue around them, “Fuck me,” he breathed, framing her lips with either hand, resting them on the tender insides of her thigh, “This is such a pretty pussy, Baby. A pretty cunt to fuck,” Y/N keens with the praise, leaning back further against his legs when he gently brushes her fingers to the side and takes their place, “Don’t think this little hole could take my fat knot yet though. I’ll need to open you up.” 

Y/N huffed an irritated breath, “You don’t,” it’s the first time she’s spoken since they started, shaking her head, “You don’t need to, I can take your knot right now, I’m so – I’m so wet.” 

He clicks his tongue at her, then sinks two fingers inside. From the position he’s in, he wouldn’t be able to curl up and touch her g-spot, but it didn’t really matter right then. Anything inside of her felt too good, so her knees tried to close and trap his hand between her thighs anyway. Harry doesn’t allow it for long, moving his fingers in and out of her, stretching them out, scissoring her open, and gripping her left thigh before prying her back apart.

“Keep still,” his eyes are locked with where his fingers sink inside, her pussy swallowing them up greedily, “Tight as you are, I’d split you right open. Haven’t you been fucking yourself?” 

The world is dizzying right now – she thinks she could cum again already, even if he really wasn’t stroking against any of the spots inside of her that would make it happen. Y/N just likes that he’s inside – likes being spread open and looked at by him, “No, I – haven’t,” she breathed, “Just my fingers, I’ve only used my fingers.” 

“No dildos? I reckon you must have a fake cock you like?” 

“Nuh-uh,” she drools when he sticks a third finger inside of her, stretching her even further, and she pours slick out around his fingers – she’s surprised there's not a puddle forming on his shirt, but the fabric is starting to get wet, “No, I didn’t want it.” 

Harry makes a noise in his throat, “Why not?” 

“Wanted you,” because it’s so much easier to be vulnerable like this, with Harry’s fingers stuffed in her cunt, and the scent of her heat-driven slick permeating through the air, “I’ve only wanted you since you fucked me so well during your rut, I dream about it. Dildo wouldn’t have been the same.” 

This feeling is intoxicating, and the look Harry gives her leaves her crackling with deep, intense, carnal want. She wasn’t lying – it wouldn’t have felt right, she’d tried once and was so dissatisfied with it she didn’t even sink all the way into it. So she’s only used her fingers, and they barely reach all the spots inside of her that she’d like – daydreaming about the stretch she felt around his cock. How it burned when he was in too deep, how full she felt, the way he fucked his shape into it. 

“Oh, baby, you want me to go crazy, don’t you?” He slid his fingers out but slaps her clit with his hand covered in her slick. Y/N cries out, her legs twitching but obediently she keeps still. She’s getting off on this – she loves it so much, the way he slaps her, the wet thwack of his hand against her swollen pussy, “Naughty girl, of course you’d fucking like this.” 

“Wanna cum,” she whined, her back arching just a little, “Please, I need it – I need to –” 

“I know,” he murmured, then slapped her pussy again, and again, two times close together, and whoa, she might really cum like this, “If you keep being good for me, I’ll let you cum as much as you want.” 

So Y/N stays still, she digs her fingers into the blankets beside her and tries hard not to think about how stiff he is beneath her bum. If she does, then she’ll rock against him, to feel him rub her pussy again, and that’s not what he told her to do. He told her to keep still, so she does, and she’s rewarded with tight little circles over her aching clit, then three more swats. The pad of his fingers is soaked, which makes the sound even wetter, and louder, and Y/N is like a steady faucet dripping and dripping. 

“Harry,” she mewls, her toes curling, “M’g’na cum, g’na cum, g’na cum.” 

“Such a naughty pussy,” he murmured, and the arousal careens through her body, “Go ahead, then I’ll fuck you open on my knot, hm? How’s that sound?” 

It sounds good enough to make her cum right then and there. The muscles in her stomach tighten, as she cums, hips jerking and jumping and Harry moans when her bum presses down into his cock. He keeps slapping her, keeps watching the swollen folds move beneath the collide of his fingers against them, and how her slick starts making an even bigger mess. While she clenches and unclenches, he slides two fingers inside to feel the way she milks them, then groans a little louder, “Fuck, baby, that’s good,” he sighed, “So fucking good.” 

Harry pats her thigh, encouraging her to flip over so she is on her back. The joggers he had been wearing are saturated by her, but when he does finally strip them down over his thighs, it hasn’t leaked through to his briefs yet. Though there is a little wet spot where the head of his cock sits beneath the grey, Y/N can’t help but let her hand run over it, pleased, “You’re wet too,” she murmured, “You get so leaky.” 

“How couldn’t I be, when I’ve got you in my bed?” Harry curled his fingers around the elastic of his briefs, “In this pretty little nest you’ve made, smelling so fucking delicious – I already feel my knot forming.” 

The admittance sends sparkles through her, and suddenly, Harry must get inside of her again. She’d settled, even just a little from the second orgasm, but the need was overwhelming once more. Now, instead of letting him take off his briefs patiently, she’s reaching down to help, pulling and tugging, moaning when she finally does see his cock bob up and out from behind the fabric. 

It looks so heavy – tasty and thick, precum leaves the tip so shiny and more pearling at the slit. Y/N could cry with relief; it felt like she’d been waiting months to feel him again when in reality it had only been a couple of weeks. Still, she’d never claimed not to be dramatic as tears bead her eyes, “Want your knot,” she whined, “Need it, need you to knot me, I’ve been so good, right? I’ve been such a – such a good omega, I made a pretty nest and I listened to you, I kept my legs wide open.” 

Harry laughs breathlessly, leaning in close. The shaft of his cock rests against her slit, and Y/N can already feel where the base has begun to fatten with his knot, but Harry doesn’t move to slip inside of her yet. He bends down, smearing their lips together properly for the first time tonight, and Y/N can’t believe she hasn’t done it yet. It feels good to kiss Harry – they hadn’t kissed in so long, but she thinks, at least right then, that she should be kissing him daily. Harry’s lips are slow and easy, the glide of them wet as he works them together. Y/N opens up her lips for him to slide his tongue in before he could even ask, and it makes him chuckle into the kiss, one that Y/N swallows down and feels warm with. Their tongues twist against each other, rolling with the other while his hands caress up and down her body. 

Y/N thinks she could find the answers to the universe in his mouth, or maybe another wonder of the world hiding in here. She would be content to kiss him until she found it at least, or until all of the world’s art mysteries were solved, or until all the breath left her lungs and deprived her blood of any oxygen. She’d kiss him until she passed out, then wake up, and kiss him again. 

Harry parts too soon, but his lips catch on the corner of her mouth, then her chin. He sponges them down, wet and soft to her scent gland, swollen with her heat. Harry laves his tongue over it and Y/N cries out, “Fuck, please,” it’s too much, the desire upends into something even more intense, more necessary, “Please knot me, I need it – it’s so –so hot in here, in my body, it’ll help,” she whined, “Need to feel you deep, want you stretching me out, ah –” 

She’s cut off by the head of his cock catching at her hole, feeling even bigger than it had the first time. There was no worry or wonder of how it would fit – Y/N would make it fit, damn it, no matter what she had to do. Her walls spread around him as he slowly sinks in, but the glide is easy and wet. Y/N’s probably leaking enough to fill a small pool and Harry’s wet too. Still, the burn of it the further in he goes makes her mind blank. It’s so good, she loves feeling this full, loves how small she feels in comparison to him. He buries himself deeper and deeper inside of her, and he moans so pretty too. Y/N could listen to him moan in her ear forever, she thinks. 

Her teeth itch to bite, like a twinkling in her gums that won’t go away. If her brain was focused more on anything else but Harry knotting her then she would think to be a little embarrassed about it. Omegas don’t typically feel the urge to bite, but Y/N always tears through her pillows when she’s in her heat, chewing and pulling at them like an alpha presenting. It’s weird, she knows, even though her doctor assured her it was normal she still felt weird about it. 

But Harry makes her feel so safe. He’s so mindful of her, respectful, and she feels like she could tell him anything – do anything, and he’d let her. So she lets her teeth find his shoulder and she bites, shivering as she does it, and an orgasm washes over her. It’s a little one – brief, and surprising, but it's there and Harry’s hips stutter the rest of the way in. 

“O-oh, that’s,” he rocks his hips into, pausing when his balls are tucked neatly against her bum, so swollen and full she wondered how he hadn’t exploded yet, “That’s cute, baby.” He settled for it, and Y/N took her teeth from his shoulder. She doesn’t bite hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave indentations there, and she feels pleased beyond comprehension, “You didn’t tell me you were a bitey little thing.” 

Y/N settled back into the pillows below her, “Sorry,” she looped her legs around his waist, and her hands curled around his biceps, and she arched her back into him, moving on his cock just slightly, “You can move, I’m ready.” 

Harry listens and doesn’t tease, and she appreciates him for it. Y/N teased him a bit during his rut so she’d worried he would utilize this time as payback but of course he doesn’t. Harry is so good to her, for her – he’s an amazing alpha, and Y/N’s really lucky to have him here to help her. She couldn’t believe how mean she used to be to him – how frustrated and angry she would get, how she never even wanted to see him ever, and now she couldn’t imagine not being near him for more than a day. 

This feels so good, him rocking inside of her, but her emotions are haywire and all her nerves are rubbed raw and vulnerable. She feels her tears bead up and pour out before she can check them – she doesn’t even know if she would check them, honestly, she couldn’t be arsed to when she felt all of this at once. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, “I was so mean to you.” 

This Harry does show his surprise, pulling his head from where he’d burrowed it into her neck, “What are you talking about, baby? You haven’t been mean.” 

She nods, “Yes, I was, like the – the entire first half of the summer,” she holds him tighter with her thighs, meeting his hips, every thrust she rocks down and collides with him, “I was so mean and you’re so nice – you’re so nice, and you’re fucking me so well, I – we could have been doing this the whole time if I wasn’t such a dick.” 

A disbelieving laugh coughs out of him, as he shakes his head, sliding his freehand beneath her nape and pinching her there softly, “Enough of that,” he ordered, leaning in closer and rubbing the tips of their noses together in the sweetest kiss. With the hand not holding her nape, he cups her breast and squeezes, kneading the flesh in his palm, “Don’t think about that right now. I just want you to focus on how good this feels,” he finds his pace, steady and firm, each thrust brushes every single spot inside of her that could melt her insides gooey and sticky, “On how deep my cock is. How much you’re g’na stretch around my knot – f-fuck,” he tips his head down, their foreheads touching – there are bodies meet in so many different places it’s hard to tell where one of them ends and the other begins, “I think you’ll be gaping by the time we’re done, yeah? What do you think?” She moans, wet and soft, “But don’t worry, baby, I’ll keep you plugged up. Make sure my cum stays deep inside, so you’ll look all pretty and swollen full of pups.” 

Y/N cums like that, thighs quivering, her body twisting and rolling against him. Harry holds her tight through all of it and continues fucking her. She can feel the knot getting bigger, catching at the rim with each sink of his hips inside. Her heart was racing fast as he dragged her fingers over his back, begging for it, “Need your knot,” she whined, “Please, you’re so good – such a good alpha, I need it, please.” 

Harry curses under his breath, something low, akin to a growl rumbles through his chest at the first thrust where the knot was too big to fit. He removes his hand from her breast, slides it down to her hip, and keeps her still to stop her squirming before he forces it in with one, strong thrust. Y/N cries out, toes curled, and she cums again, a little more weakly than the others but it’s hard not to when Harry is grinding out his orgasm inside of her. He’s filling her up, cumming and cumming and cumming, so much of it. Y/N can feel him throbbing against her walls that milk him, squeezing around him, taking everything in deeper and deeper. 

They’re both panting and breathless, chests heaving as they come down from it. Harry carefully maneuvers them onto their sides, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist, and he does his best to fluff the pillow that she’s already lying on. He leans in, pushes a kiss to her forehead, and then falls back onto his pillow. 

After he gets them both comfortable, he traces a design up her arm, around the ball of her shoulder, “How was that?” He inquired, “Good so far?” 

Y/N nodded, no need to think about it, “Perfect so far,” she concurred, “Can’t wait for you to keep cumming in me.” 

                                                            .                        .                       .

Y/N is insatiable. 

Harry can’t complain, because when he was in his rut he knew he was trying to fuck into her every 2-3 hours and Y/N kept up with him just fine. But still, he thinks she may be just a touch more voracious than he had been. After his first knot deflated, he thought maybe she would want to rest, but she started rutting against him again as soon as he slid out and his cum followed with him. And. . .well, Harry’s an alpha, it’s pretty easy for him to get hard a second time even after he’d just knotted, so he was able to flip her around and fuck her full one more time. 

There’s a little break in between, where he coaxes a bottle of water in her and offers her a snack. She doesn’t want to eat yet, “Just want your cum,” and he’s able to appease her with his fingers this time. He promises that if he makes her cum again and she eats some fruit Adam had pre-sliced for them, then he would let her suck his cock. Y/N is more than willing then, and Harry finds out there that if he is going to get her to eat, there would have to be an offering of some kind.

So he makes her cum, she eats some pineapple and strawberry, then she’s slithering down the bed with her mouth open and watering. Harry’s a little sensitive, but the thick, heavy heat scent that smothers the room keeps his body hardwired to keep going. Even when she flickers her tongue against the head in a way that makes him squeak out an embarrassing sound. Harry has to watch her closely, because she isn’t concerned with her breathing much, hyperfocused on making him cum and tasting it in her mouth. He curls his fingers in her hair and guides her by the root, and the first tug he gives, she whimpers and shudders. 

“Take a breath,” he chastised, “You still need to breathe, baby.” 

Y/N looked disgruntled, shaking her head, “I need you to fill my throat up,” she argued, “I might just wither away if you don’t.” 

So dramatic, but so fucking cute, he couldn’t stand it. Harry did cum, once he let her bury him down deep into her throat a few times, he cums with a twitch of his hips. He makes sure to pull out enough so the tip is just barely in her mouth, coating the inside of her cheeks, her palate, and her tongue, and Y/N swallows it all, languidly opening her mouth to show off what she’d done. 

She crawled up his body, kissing as she made her way to his mouth, then nipped at his bottom lip, “How quick do you think you can knot me again?” 

Just insatiable. 

Harry fucking loves it. 

At some point, she finally does fall asleep and Harry wants to get up and take care of some things, but he just can’t. She’d worked him to the point of exhaustion, so he passed out right alongside her around 4 AM. When Harry woke up again, Y/N had crawled back on top of him, rutting against his thigh with her hand resting just to the left of his prick, “G’na cum,” she mewled when she noticed he was awake, “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he slid his hands up her waist – she’d taken off her tank top, so her breasts were bouncing with each roll of her hips, “Take what you need from me.” Groggy, he pushes himself up and latches his mouth around her pert nipple. He rolls it under his tongue and Y/N’s hips stutter, her bare cunt squeezing and pulsing against his thigh. 

There’s so much slick, always. Harry, at some point, drinks it up in one of his efforts to give his cock just a moment's rest. Harry slurps her up, licks into her, fucks her with his tongue while she grinds down on it with a grip on his hair. He’s certain the whole bottom half of his face is wet from her, but down her, he gets so scent drunk that it’s hard to care about anything but making her cum. Then, giving his cock a break doesn’t really matter anymore. He’d already started rutting into the nest below them, and when she shakes and squirts all over his face, Harry can’t get his cock inside of her fast enough. 

That’s the second time he knots her, Harry bites into her shoulder and Y/N is so blissed out from it, he finally convinces her to eat. Harry warms up the first meal Adam had labeled, a chicken and kale carbonara that is portioned out evenly for the both of them. He makes a mental note to thank him for going through the trouble of cooking enough for Harry too, whenever he could get to his phone. 

While he waits for it to warm up on the stove, Y/N sneaks up on him. Typically he can smell her wherever she is, but the whole flat smells like her so that has become an unreliable indicator. Instead, she merely appears behind him, peppering kisses along his shoulder blades, and continues when he turns around in her arms, where she cages him against the counter. Harry was content to let her do what she needed, but when her teeth caught on his nipple, he had to stop her. 

“We need to eat, baby,” he presses her hair from her face, looking at the way her eyes swim, full of mirth and arousal and want, “Let’s eat, then I’ll get you off on my fingers again, hm?” 

Y/N blinks at him, pressing close to his front, “O-kay,” she digs her teeth into his pec, and Harry sighs, “You’re still leaking down my legs.” 

He breathes a laugh through his nose, “Yeah?” 

��Mhm,” she agreed, then reached down, running her fingers through the mess and pulling it up to her mouth, “We taste good together,” she murmured around her fingers and fuck, if Harry sinks to his knees to eat her then that’s his problem (and maybe he accidentally burns the chicken a bit, but he can’t help that he’s weak for her). 

It’s a lot of sleeping and fucking and begging Y/N to eat or drink water, then trying to remember to eat and drink water himself. He gets them in the shower and changes out the towels at the base of the nest to throw them in the laundry, but those feats are only possible after he’s left her completely (or at least part way) satiated. But it’s good – it’s so fucking good, Harry doesn’t mind it even a little bit. 

Harry’s always loved taking care of people, especially people who don’t often let others take care of them. So for Y/N to be so vulnerable with him, to let him watch after her like this – he’s over the moon, and it fills up a more innate desire to be needed and to fulfill others' needs. In her moments of clarity, when the waves of heat settle into something more plodding and gentle lapping at their feet, she nestles close to his throat, “Thank you for all of this,” she whispered her gratitude, “I know I’m a lot.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for anything,” he would reply, “You’re perfect.” 

Would saying that accidentally throw her into another wave of it? Maybe, but that’s okay with him. 

It continues for four days, nonstop, and on day five she finally begins to settle. The intensity of the heat has waned considerably, and as much as Harry enjoyed it, his cock is grateful that she isn’t needing as much nor as frequently. He fucks her once in the morning and it pacifies her for the entire day. Now it’s less focused on the fucking, and more on recovery. Replenishing fluids, eating more fulfilling meals (and not having to scarf them down – at least Harry was scarfing them down, mostly in the middle of the night when she was finally asleep, because that was easier than trying to balance his plate while she mouthed at his throat), resting. 

On the sixth day, Y/N is comfortable with deconstructing the nest. 

Harry woke up and turned over, seeing she was already awake, staring at him, nose wrinkled, “It’s too much now,” she complained, motioning around, “My scent is like – suffocating. How were you living like this?” 

“Happily,” he replied, his voice thick from sleep and Y/N snorted, batting his shoulder. 

“Gross,” Harry thinks she might move to sit up, but she doesn’t. He’s happy that she’s not running away from him, or seeming embarrassed. Harry had been so worried she would second guess everything and every action after the fact, but Y/N seemed content. She calls him a creep when she finds him staring but she’s smiling when she does it, and she reflects on their last five days together calmly, though she does apologize once. 

“I mean it though,” she cleared her throat, “I – was like all over you. And you’re covered in all these hickeys and teeth marks.” 

“I promise you, absolutely none of that is a problem for me,” he reassured her, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

For a quiet moment, she regards him. Her eyes look all over his face like she is searching for any indication that he might be lying, but he knows she’ll find none.

“I haven’t minded spending so much time with you,” she lays on her palm, her cheek fitting in the curve of it, “So we don’t have to do that. . .that bullshit thing where one of us – most likely me – gets weird about everything that happened. I want to keep hanging out how we were. Maybe not every day, I can admit that was kind of a lot, but still. . .frequently would be nice.” 

Harry tries to stifle the grin stretching out over his cheeks. What a Y/N way of putting it, he thinks, that it’s funny how she was wording everything. Almost diplomatically, in a way, like Harry hadn’t been squeezing her bum and fucking her hard while she begged him to knot her not even two days ago. She really did remind him of a cat. 

“I’d like that,” he replies, nodding, “How about we grab something to eat after your shift on Tuesday? There’s a new film out too, I think you might like it.” 

Y/N nodded, “Okay, cool,” she seemed to relax some like she’d been nervous that Harry would have said no. Like he wasn’t so obviously and clearly obsessed with her. Her roommates joke about her being a little oblivious, but. . .well, Harry is starting to think it isn’t much of a joke anymore, “That sounds good.”

“We should shower,” he tells her, “And I’ll clean up a bit, but I want you to rest still, okay? You can spend another night here if you’d like to. I don’t mind.” 

Again, Y/N almost seemed to let out a sigh of relief, like she wasn’t ready for the little cloud they left themselves on to lower them back to the ground yet. 

“That’s perfect.” 

                                                         .                         .                       .

Y/N is so fucked. 

She’s fucked because Harry is a really good guy. He’s a really good guy, and he’s a really good alpha, and she thinks she might just be a little obsessed with him. He did so well with her during her heat, he never complained or made her feel bad before, during, or after the fact. Y/N can’t remember the last time she had felt so unbelievably good with someone, who checked every box for her both physically and emotionally. Hell, she’d even thought at one point, that if Harry bit into her neck and mated her, she wouldn’t have even cared. She would have liked it, in fact – would have reveled in her new mark and shown it off proudly to anyone who passed by – to anyone who cared and to anyone who didn’t. 

She’s fucked because the night she went home, she should be so relieved to be back amongst her things. And part of her is – she missed her roommates, even though she had their scent in her nest, she missed their voices and their laughs, so it was nice to see them again. She misses Ducky and Cobbler too, who snuggle up with her in bed all day when she comes back, and Astrid jokes that their favorite parent is finally home. 

But she misses Harry too, like she hadn’t just spent days with him. Y/N wanted him in her bed, wanted him within arms reach again, and wanted to steal more of his clothes. Hell, she’d even stolen one of his hoodies without asking – one that had been in his closet, he’d pulled it out and laid it on the bed to wear. When he was in the shower, she plucked it off the bed, rolled it up, and stuffed it in her suitcase, then acted like she had no idea what hoodie he was talking about when he asked where it went. If he notices she’s lying through her teeth, then he ignores it, and she’s grateful because the humiliation of it would be too much to bear. 

Y/N’s fucked, because she is realizing now, that she’s got big, huge, overwhelming feelings that are going to be difficult to ignore. All Harry was trying to do was help a friend out, and she went and started liking him too much! Like entirely too much! 

Y/N realizes all of this when her phone buzzes and her heart races when she sees it’s Harry. 

Having you around kind of made me realize I’d like to have a cat with me

Do you think Cow is still up for adoption? 

[cupidsrecs]

THE WAY IM OBSESSED WITH THIS ALREADY!!! i love a grumpy x sunshine !! sooo excited to read more of this!!

You’re too sweet for me H.S

The one where Y/N is a delectable little thing and Harry’s got a craving for something sweet.

Word count: 700ish

The first time she ever approached him, her nerves were out of this world.

If the circumstances were any different, she would never have gone up to him— never would have spoken to him. The atmosphere paired with the lone drink she was sipping on beckoned her to shuffle her feet closer to where he stood, in all his intimidating glory. Pressed up furthest from the noise, his head hung low and the soft tufts of his dark hair sat perfectly on his head, pulling her towards him like she was under some sort of trance.

It was odd to her why he had retreated to such a secluded corner of the venue. It was obvious he wasn’t there with a greater motive than to brood alone on the busted leather seat and toy with the amber glass sitting snug between his fingers.

Maybe he was prone to having such magnetic energy.

The type where the bewitched were often on the pursuing end, rather than the poor soul who was building up the courage to make a move on the tall, withdrawn stranger.

The latter which she was currently embodying; hands trembling and smoothing down her dress, making sure no wrinkles or creases were on display. A shove from her friend against her bare shoulder was what finally sent her his way.

Even turned away from her, he was towering. She could smell the cologne off of the jacket hanging on his broad shoulders, the fabric shiny and tauntingly expensive. He must have sensed her somehow, her anxiety wafting off of her in waves, and spared a dull glance over his shoulder. He looked at her for less than a second before turning back, “can I help you?”

His voice was gruff, like the drink he was nursing had the opposite effect of lubricating his throat to produce a smoother baritone. The poor girl’s cheeks tinged the deepest shade of pink. “No— wait, yes. I just,” he looked over his shoulder again.

An exhausted exhale escaped her painted mouth, “um, is this seat taken?”

This time, he really stared at her. Her flushed face, down her equally bashful neck and the rest of the way where she was trying subtly to tug her dress back over her thighs from when it scrunched up. Finally, he met her eyes. “No.”

“Right. Thanks.”

The worn leather of the round seat scratched the bottom of her legs when she settled on it, clutching her drink tight to protect the shaking of her fingers. “So,” she started, “what’s your name?”

The man chanced another glance at her. This one was longer, uncomfortably so, and his eyes skit all over her face.

His eyes, which practically burned her skin— a deep shade which reflected sea moss from the deepest oceans and jewels of the finest collection. It’s then when she was able to properly see his face.

A straight, stoney nose, lips rosey and jaw decorated with a spattering of hair. “What do you want?” His tone was dismissive. So blatantly bored with her presence. “Nothing! Nothing, I’m just making conversation. You were all alone, so…”

His eyes flit over her shoulder this time, clocking her group of friends where she emerged from. When he looked at her again, she could practically read his face like a notebook.

The girl obviously had plenty of other ways to entertain herself, yet she went out of her way to bother him.

Y/N’s delusional mind could only come to one conclusion after that lingering stare he directed towards her pack of girlfriends: He was watching her too.

How else would he have picked out her friends from the herd of people stuffed into the poor excuse of a high-end bar they were at. “Harry.” His drink became the picque of his interest again.

“Nice to meet you, Harry.”

When she held her hand out for him to shake, he could have laughed. Such an eager little thing.

Her’s was warmer than his, soft against his palm and when he pulled away, remnants of whatever lotion she’d rubbed over her knuckles lingered on his fingers. Harry discovered she’s got a name as sweet as she looked. Sugary and delightful when he worded it—a perfect name for her, he thought. Complimenting her and her dewy skin, her hesitant smile and the fruity concoction she was wrapping her pretty lips around.

He could see himself making a mess of her.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

hiiii no smut in this one and its a lil short but i was listening to too sweet by hozier and just HAD to write something ;) let me know if you’re into this, FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED MWUAH love you drink water and sweet dreams <3

[cupidsrecs]

OH??!!??!?! IM SO… SPEECHLESS

the way you always write something so just perfectly needs to be studied actually.. their interactions with each other in this just matches them but is also WEIRD!! in a good way ofc i’ve just never imagined seeing a softer side to either one of them but it’s so so cute!!

“Take the test and then I’ll freak out if you’d like”

SWOONING ACTUALLY I LOVE HIM AND YIU! KISSING YOUR BRAIN CONSENSUALLY

One Day*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where you still hate Harry, but turns out, you might be having his baby.

Word Count: 5.4k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, spanking, brief choking, slight angst (happy ending), mentions of pregnancy and babies! *Please be so gentle with yourself and only continue if you feel comfortable! 💞*

“I’m late.”

“For what?”

You huff. “I’m late,” you repeat, gesturing frantically toward your hips. “A week late. Which I know can happen, but…not really to me, so…I’m late. And I think we’re fucked.”

Harry blinks. Looks down at your stomach. Looks up at your face. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You rear back. “That’s all you have to say for yourself is oh?”

He lifts his left shoulder in nonchalant shrug before flopping down onto your sofa. “I don’t know. What did you want me to say?”

“I…I don’t know,” you huff. “I kind of thought you’d…yell. Or freak out or something. Or ask me if I’m keeping it.”

“Do you want me to freak out?”

“Well…no. Not really.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I…I don’t know, I don’t even…I’m not even sure if I am yet or not.”

“Okay.” He nudges his glasses up before crossing his arms. “Well did you get a test?”

You glance toward the pharmacy bag still sitting on your kitchen counter. It’s been mocking you ever since you picked it up. Staring you down, sticking out its tongue. One, tiny little box that’ll determine the next chapter of your life. It’s almost infuriating. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I, um…got one on the way home from work.”

“Okay. Have you taken it yet?”

“Not…exactly.”

His brow raises. “Do you…need help or something?”

You scowl. “It’s peeing on a stick, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Yeah, well, knowing you, you’d find a way to fuck it up.” He smirks. “Sure hope our baby gets my brains instead of yours.”

You grab the pillow beside him and give him a firm whack. “That’s not funny.”

He laughs as he winces. “Good. I wasn’t being funny.”

“Then, stop it. And stop being so calm.”

“You just said you preferred calm—”

“Well…it’s scaring me now. So what gives?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t really feel the need to waste a reaction on something we don’t even know is happening yet. Take the test and then I’ll freak out if you’d like.”

“You say that like someone that’s had a lot of pregnancy scares.”

He snorts. “No, I say that like someone who knows freaking out won’t exactly help you right now. So just take the goddamn test, Tinkerbell. And we’ll go from there.”

Unamused, but somehow slightly comforted, you oblige and snatch the box from the table before retreating to the bathroom.

Once the timer has been set, you slowly make your way back to him.

He’s still sitting on the sofa. Calm. Unaffected. Watching you without a care in the world. Like his whole life isn’t about to change. 

It drives you nuts.

“Five minutes,” you tell him.

He nods.

Warily, you sit in the chair to his left, staring holes through your shoes as your heart races inside your chest. You’re not sure how you got here. Not sure where you could possibly go. You aren’t ready for a baby. Not…yet. Especially not one with…him.

“Hey,” he calls, pulling your attention up. “S’the matter with you?”

Your eyes narrow. “What the hell do you think?”

Another casual shrug that makes your teeth grit. “I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy?” You lean back. “Why on Earth would I be happy about getting stuck with your DNA for the rest of my life?”

He smiles. “I don’t know. You just seem like the type of girl to want a lot of babies.”

You scoff. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I am not.” You don’t think.

“Really? Is that why you begged me to breed you?”

“I didn’t actually mean it. That’s just what you say in a moment like that.”

His eyebrow raises.

You hesitate. “Did…did you mean it?”

“Kind of,” he admits. “I mean, yeah, maybe I didn’t mean right this second, but…I don’t hate the idea.”

“You actually want to be a father?” You snort. “Bullshit. You hate kids. I’ve seen you.”

“I don’t hate kids, I just don’t care about them when they aren’t mine.” He throws his arm over the back of the chair and smirks. “I like my nieces, though. They’re chill.”

You blink. “You…you have nieces? Wait, you have siblings?”

“Yeah. One brother. He’s got two kids and they’re cute as shit.”

“Oh.” Your head starts to pound. “See? We can’t have a baby when I don’t even know anything about you.”

He chuckles to himself before nodding his chin at you. “All right, fine. Go ahead. Ask me whatever.”

“What?”

“Ask me what you wanna know.”

You think. “Okay. How often do you see your family?”

“Often enough. They live in California, and they work a lot. But we call every couple of weeks.”

“Oh. That’s…surprisingly nice. Uh…do you have a history of disease in your family?”

He grins. “Excuse me?”

“I need to know what I’m getting myself into.” You motion at him. “Answer.”

“This isn’t an interview—”

“Answer.”

“No,” he says. “Not that I know of anyway.”

“Great. Do you plan to be a deadbeat father?”

His eyes roll. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“So, yes? You do? Oh, great—”

“No, because that’s not a fair fucking question—”

“It is a fair question. If I have to raise this baby alone, I want to know—”

“Of course you wouldn’t fucking be alone. Do you really think so little of me—”

“I don’t think about you at all. How am I supposed to know what you’ll do—”

“I wouldn’t leave you alone,” he nearly snaps. He takes a breath to calm himself before adding, “Even if it wasn’t my baby, I wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Your lashes flutter and you can feel your heart lodging in your throat. “Fine. Last question.”

He waits.

“Did you ever want kids…before? With…her?”

He doesn’t have to think for very long, but the mention of her makes him smile. “Nah. We talked about it, but we weren’t ready. We liked it being just us, you know? We had a bunch of shit we wanted to do. We were a long way from babies and a white picket fence.”

You try to blink back the tears swimming their way to your eye. You can still see that beautiful picture of her in his room. An entire future of love and life and adventures that he lost. Now…he’s stuck with you.

“Oh,” you murmur.

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” You swipe your knuckle along your cheek. “So, you probably still aren’t ready.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Harry, come on. You aren’t ready for a baby. I’m not ready for a baby. We…we don’t know each other, we don’t like each other…we can’t do this. You know that.”

“Do I?” He leans forward. “It’s a baby, not a bomb. I think we can handle it.”

“Well, I don’t. You don’t even like me. You can’t have a baby with me.”

“Why not? People do it all the time.”

“But not us.” You give him a firm stare. “Harry, we love our jobs. We want careers, not kids. So having a baby kind of gets in the way of that. There’s…there’s diaper changes, and teething, and potty training—”

“So?”

“So. We don’t work together well. In fact, it’s a rather well-known fact that we don’t get along. We can’t possibly raise a kid. We’d ruin it.” You study him for a beat, unnerved by the nonchalance in his tone. “Why do I get the feeling you actually want this to be real?”

Another shrug and you nearly lunge at him. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, resting his elbows on his knees while he glances at the floor. “I’m older now. Maybe it’s time to…think about settling down.”

Your face scrunches. “Ew. That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

He laughs. “Look, I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it, but…maybe it could be a good thing.”

You stand from your chair and pace the length of your small living room. “This is crazy. This is crazy. I can’t have a baby, I’m…I’m not ready. I’m too young, I…I don’t even know what I’d do with one. Or if I even have a maternal instinct.”

“Probably not,” Harry offers, smirking when you glare. “You won’t really know until you have one.”

“Oh, great.”

“Listen, if you feel like you aren’t ready…we can find another alternative,” he says, softening his voice. “Okay? There are plenty of other options and we’ll find one you feel comfortable with.”

A tad wary of his sympathetic answer, you eye him closely. “Yeah? And what if we disagree?”

“We won’t,” he says calmly. “Your body, your decision.”

“Right,” you snort. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t be the one having to carry it.” He nods as though to reassure you. “Honestly, Tink. This would be your decision, one hundred percent. It’s not mine to make. Just to support.”

The tears rush a little faster as you sniffle and step closer. “You say that now, but what if I decide something you don’t like?”

“I will like it. I promise,” he murmurs, standing up in order to move toward you. “If you want to keep it, great. If you don’t, great.”

“I…I…” You suck in a deep breath, unable to slow the wild racing in your chest. “Fuck, I can’t…I don’t know—”

“Hey, okay, easy. Easy, Princess,” he says, quickly reaching out to take you in his arms and ease you against his chest. “Relax. Okay? Just breathe. Breathe for me.”

“I…I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can. You are.” His lips press to the top of your head while his hand runs up and down your back soothingly. “I’m right here. Do you hear me? I’m right here. You’re not alone. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

You squeeze your arms together and hold on with everything you have. Right now, he feels like your only anchor in the world. The only person strong enough to carry you both through to the other side. And for the first time since you met him…you feel glad that he’s here.

The two of you stand in the middle of the room for a long while before he finally murmurs, “I think it’s been five minutes.”

Your eyes close and you grip his shirt in your first. “I’m…I’m not ready to look.”

“Okay.” You can hear the smile in his response. “Okay, we can wait.”

So, you do as the truth starts to build in your chest. Inescapable, no matter how hard you try to swallow it down.

Finally, you can’t help but whisper, “You know what scares me the most?”

“Hm?”

“…that maybe I’m hoping it’s real.”

The apartment falls silent again. He doesn’t push you to elaborate, but you can feel his heart beating just a little faster inside his chest.

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I don’t…I really don’t think I’m ready, but…but what if I should be? What if…what if we met and we started this because…because we were supposed to do this?”

He considers this. “Like fate.”

“Yeah.” You roll your lips into your mouth. “Because I still hate you. I do. I just…I’m starting to get this picture in my head of us. Being a family. Having a big house in a good school district. Tucking them into bed at night and reading them stories. Which is…dumb.”

“No,” he mumbles. “No, it’s not dumb. I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Because I meant what I said, I’d love to get you pregnant. You’d look really fucking hot.”

You chuckle. “Yes, so you’ve mentioned.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh…okay?”

He smirks. “I never had a breeding kink until I met you.”

You lean back and swat your hand across his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

“What? I’m being serious.” He grins and those dimples pop free. God, you hope your kids have his dimples—

No. Nope. You aren’t going there.

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the thought. “Whatever. You’re just horny.”

“Maybe. But it’s still true.” His gentle gaze sweeps across your face. “If you wanna do this…we’ll do it. You and me. We’ll have this baby, and we’ll raise it to be really smart, and funny, and to not take shit from anybody.”

You laugh, brushing away a few more tears. “Maybe we can teach it to write code.”

“Oh, fucking obviously.”

The two of you smile before the excitement seems to fizzle and Harry’s brows pull together.

“You know I don’t actually hate you, right?” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I know that’s our thing, and I know you said it earlier, but…I don’t actually hate you. This baby wouldn’t grow up with two parents that don’t like each other.”

“Oh…I…I know.”

“Good. Because I don’t want that to be one of the reasons you think we can’t do it. I’d fucking love that baby. And I’d love you for carrying it.”

Instantly, you both seem to still. The four-letter word sounds so loud inside such a small room.

I’d love you.

He clears his throat, shifting a bit as he glances toward the kitchen. “I mean, I’d…I’d appreciate you for carrying it—”

“No, yeah, I know,” you stammer. “I know what you mean.”

“Good. Yeah.”

The two of you fall quiet again before you softly admit, “I think I’m ready to look.”

“Okay.” He squeezes your hip. “I’m right here.”

You take in a deep breath before begrudgingly pulling yourself out of his arms. You already miss his warmth and the way he felt like home and your stomach turns as you slip into the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you reach for the stick that sits on the edge of your sink. And in those three seconds, an entire lifetime flashes before your eyes. 

The good, the bad, and the everything in-between. You see a house and a dog and a big backyard. You see two little kids rolling in the grass and jumping into the pool. You hear them begging for a bedtime story and crying when they scrape their knee.

You see a dozen birthdays and holidays and visits to the zoo. You see their heartbreaks and triumphs, their successes and letdowns. You see a million goodnight kisses and cuddles on the couch. 

And then…you see Harry.

In every picture, every moment. Taking them to their first baseball game and picking them up from their first dance. Sneaking them into R-rated movies even after you explicitly said no and feeding them far too much candy and popcorn.

You see him teach your son how to tie a tie and dance with your daughter as she stands on his feet. You see him cooking breakfast in the kitchen, flour all over his face. You see him curled up in bed, his head on your chest, your fingers in his hair. You hear him tell you how happy he is. How glad that he found you.

It’s a beautiful life. Even if it’s not the one you imagined for yourself. And in that moment, you decide that it doesn’t matter what the test says. If that’s your future, so be it. 

As long as you get to live it with him.

“So?” Harry calls from the hall.

You swallow thickly and slowly glance down.

Negative.

Negative.

No baby. No pregnancy. No white-picket fence.

You stare at the test for at least a full minute. You aren’t sure how you feel. Relieved. Disappointed. Upset. Thankful. Confused.

“Tink?”

You turn around. “Uh…it’s negative,” you report, handing it to him. “False alarm. I guess I’m just late.”

He glances over the stick with a rather blank expression before looking at you. “Are you okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. This is definitely the better outcome. I’m just…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just starting to get used to the idea.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, handing it back. “I know.”

You throw the test away. “Sorry for making you come all the way over here for that.”

“Hey, whoa—” He strides into the bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I’d be here.”

“I just…I wasted your time. I should have taken it before I called you—”

“Tink,” he sighs, taking your cheeks in his hands. “Stop. You can always call me for shit like this.” He looks at you, then amends, “You can always me. For anything. You know that.”

A tear slips from your eye without warning, and you suck in a sharp breath. “I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. This is what I wanted—”

“I know,” he says gently. “I know. It’s hard.”

“Yeah.” You hiccup. “But this is good, right? This is better?”

For a moment, he says nothing. He simply stares at you with a rather sympathetic expression. Or maybe it’s forlorn. Maybe he’s disappointed. Upset that you aren’t giving him what he wants.

Then, he dips down to kiss the tip of your nose. “This is good,” he whispers, and you know he means it. “We would have figured it out. And you would have been a wonderful mom. But I know you. And I know you aren’t ready. Not yet.”

You close your eyes and melt into the feel of his palms against your skin. Into the way he reassures you and protects you all in the same breath. You never thought you’d feel so safe in the serenity of his touch, but here you are. Wishing for him to hold you forever.

“And when we are ready, we’ll do it on our terms,” he says. “Okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “This is good,” you repeat to yourself. “It is. Really. Things are going great at work, I’m finally secure financially, and even you and I are…kind of getting along.”

He smirks.

“This is good. This is better.” You repeat the mantra until you really believe it. “Besides, I probably wouldn’t have been a very good pregnant woman anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’d be really cranky. Or needy. My ankles would get all swollen and I’d be hot all the time and nauseous and miserable. I’d probably try to kill you.”

“Oh, you’d definitely try to kill me. You try to kill me even when you aren’t pregnant.”

You gasp. “Rude.”

“What?” He chuckles again before his eyes slowly start to rake down your frame. “But I don’t know. I think it’ll be better than you think.”

You swat him again. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to picture it.”

“Why? I told you, you’d look fucking hot.”

“Yeah…no.”

However, he only nods, moving in to subtly brush his lips against yours. “You would. Be so fucking beautiful carrying our baby. With your tits all swollen and your belly getting bigger every day.”

Truthfully, the image almost makes you grimace, but there’s something about the way he says it. The way he talks about you so reverently. A soft, sultry murmur that goes straight to your cunt. Because you know he’s not just saying it to say it. He means it. Believes it. Would do anything for it.

He tilts your head back, thumb brushing along your jaw. “And I think you like it,” he exhales. “I think you like the idea of holding me inside you. Having a part of me. Knowing that I did it to you. No one else.”

You suck in a soft breath, knees going just a bit weak. “Harry…”

“What, baby?” His mouth ghosts along your neck. “Are you thinking about it? Thinking about how pretty your tummy would look with me inside it?”

He’s evil. Absolutely evil, and you clear your throat in a desperate attempt to regain control of yourself. “Do you…have a pregnancy kink I don’t know about?” 

His lips quirk up. “Apparently.”

“Mm.” Your lashes flutter and the urge to kiss him grows stronger. “You know…some women get really horny when they’re pregnant.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle it.”

He scoffs. “Oh, no?”

You shake your head. “I mean, do you really think you could keep up? Going for hours and hours on end? Trying to keep me satiated with your poor, limp little dick?”

He makes another noise, and you tsk.

“I mean, you can barely satisfy me now as it is. But if I was pregnant? Pfft. Forget it.”

Instantly, he’s snatching hold of your hips and yanking you against his chest. “Don’t fucking tempt me, Princess,” he nearly growls. “I’ll bend you over right now.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” you retort. “You’ve gone soft on me. Rubbing my back, kissing my hair. You wanna take care of me and honestly? It’s a little pathetic.”

His head cocks rather deviously and your pulse begins to skip. He could split you in half if he wanted to and you both know it. 

But that’s what you need right now. You don’t want to be coddled or looked after. You wanna be fucked. Tortured and teased until you’re begging for release.

You want an escape.

And in that moment, Harry decides to give you one.

He picks you up and carries you out of the bathroom while your legs quickly work to hook to his hips for stability and your arms snake around his neck.

He ignores your squeals and teasing huffs of annoyance, instead dropping you onto your mattress with a soft thud.

You glare and push up onto your elbows. “You know, you don’t have to manhandle me—”

“Shut up.”

He surges forward, lips gliding against yours as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. And kissing is easy with him. As easy breathing, like you’ve done it all your life. You know exactly what he likes, what he wants. And you give it him.

His glasses are cold against your face, keeping him from getting as close as he’d like, and after a moment, he huffs, and rips them off before tossing them aside. And even though you adore when he wears them, you happen to adore being near him even more.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging on his curls, scratching down his neck. He has the added advantage of being on top, but that doesn’t seem to stop him from turning to putty in your hands. Clay for you to mold to your liking. 

No matter how dominant he tries to be, he’s simply a man that needs to be told what to do. Taken care of. Shown. 

And you happen to like showing him.

You feel him tug on the hem of your shirt. “Off,” he breathes between carnal nips to your throat. “I want this off, Tink.”

Happy to oblige, you push him back so you can lift yourself up before you peel the fabric from your chest. You take your time with the bra, allowing the straps to fall down your arms oh so slowly. You don’t rush to reveal yourself to him, instead letting him anticipate you. Until his heart is racing and his eyes are darkening and he’s resisting the urge to do it himself.

But once he can finally see you, he nearly groans. “Oh, good fucking girl.” 

He resumes his work. More kisses are left to the warm, tender skin, and he happily sucks bruises into each swell and curve of your breast before teasing the nipple with his tongue. His hands are greedy—ravenous. Pulling at your flesh, clawing his way along your frame. 

When he reaches your thighs, you whimper. You’ve missed the way he touches you. The way he pries your legs apart and makes a home between.

In a rush, he snaps your panties off into his fist and you toss him a punishing glare.

He smiles.

You rid each other of your remaining clothes in a frantic fashion until they’re nothing more than a dirty pile on the floor. Messy and familiar. Fated.

He drops down onto the bed back first, effortlessly swapping positions as you’re placed in a straddle over his waist.

“Good girl, let me see you,” he murmurs, running his fingers down your cheek before grabbing your jaw. “Go ahead.”

You reach down and take his hardening cock in your hand, running it along your cunt before teasing yourself with the tip. 

“Didn’t stretch you,” he mumbles, leaving a few stray kisses to your collarbone. “S’might hurt, so—”

You push him in, simultaneously sinking down in an effort to feel a more prominent burn., and you both make a rather lewd noise as the grip on your chin tightens.

“Tink,” he hisses with a punishing look of his own. “Careful—”

You drop yourself further, muscles tensing around the thickness until your thighs begin to shake.

“Hey—” He forces your eyes on his. “Enough. Be gentle, m’not gonna hurt you—”

“I want you to,” you pant. “Please. I need it. I…fuck, Har, I need it. Please…please.”

He’s still frowning but his expression softens. “Baby…not like this. Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better—"

“No,” you whimper. Desperate. Fraught. “Harry, please, don’t stop. Don’t make me stop—”

“Hey, easy, easy.” He pulls your forehead to his. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

You try to obey. Try to suck in a strangled gasp of air but it’s useless. He’s gonna take himself from you. He’s gonna leave, and you’ll be empty, and alone, and maybe he won’t ever touch you again—

He places his palm on your chest, right over your heart. “Breathe,” he says again. Soft. Quiet. “In then out. Good girl, just like that.”

You follow the sound of his voice. Mimic his inhales and exhales until the two of you fall into a synchronized rhythm. 

“Good,” he says again, rubbing his other hand along your back. “There you go. You’re all right, I’ve got you. Yeah?”

Weakly, you nod. “I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I—”

“Shh.” He kisses your nose. “You’re okay, Tink. I know.”

A long moment passes before you finally feel in control of your own heart again and once you blink the fog from your eye, you see him. Delicate and strong at the same time.

He sweeps his thumb along your lip. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you admit. “Really, I just…I needed to feel you. And I wanted to…move on, I guess. Think about something else. Lose myself for a bit.”

He sighs but nods his understanding. “You could have told me that.”

“I know. I guess I’m just not used to sharing things with you.”

“I know,” he echoes with a small grin. “But we’ll learn, yeah?”

Your gaze grows suspicious. “And why would we do that?”

“Because,” he says simply. “If we’re gonna make a bunch of hot, smart babies one day, we’re gonna have to communicate.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, that won’t be for a while.”

“Fine. Just gives us more time to practice.”

Your eyes narrow. “You really have gone soft on me, haven’t you? All because you thought I was pregnant."

He laughs, fingers slipping around the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. “I’d argue I’m actually quite hard right now.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“I can hate you and like you at the same time, right?” he teases. “Because I think that’s my sweet spot. Wanting to kill you and fuck you all at once.”

“Agreed. You’re insufferable but you’re also one of my favorite people. Which only makes you more insufferable.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I think we earned a little civility, no?”

You nod and take his lip between your teeth. “And I think we should celebrate with an orgasm.”

He laughs again. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

You dance your kisses down his chest, enjoying the way his head drops back while he sighs at the feel of your tongue. He’s so beautiful and so good and if you’re going to lose yourself, you want to lose yourself in him.

Leaning back, brace your hands behind you on his knees, and start to bounce yourself on his cock. Over and over, faster and faster, until he’s grabbing onto your hips and giving them a firm, encouraging squeeze to help you along.

Your tits bounce right in his face, and he takes advantage of his front row seat, allowing his hands to trace and tease your nipples as you whine. He sucks them into his mouth and pulls them with his teeth. It sends chills along your spine and goosebumps along your arms and when he notices, he smirks.

 Not even a minute later, he’s pulling you down so your chest meets his. His hands land on your ass with a firm grip and he drags you along his cock. Slow and sensual until your eyes flutter shut, and you disappear into the building pleasure.

You feel his kisses on your ribcage as he begins to thrust up into you. Returning to the pace you previously set until you’re both chasing that familiar high. 

“There you go,” he praises through gritted teeth. “Fuck yeah, just like that—”

“Harry,” you mewl, fingers tangling in his hair. “Shit, please—”

“I know.” He leaves another kiss to the inside of your arm before he smacks your left ass cheek. “I got you, Princess. S’okay. Keep going.”

You grind yourself over his lap, knees hugging his waist as you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. Needy. Anxious. You match each other’s rhythm and it’s a dance. An effortless fluidity that brings you closer than ever before.

Then, he sucks two fingers into your mouth, and moves them between your cheeks. He grazes them over your tighter hole, gently teasing them over the other entrance before dropping them down to where his cock is fucking into your cunt. He plays with you a bit, pushing you just a bit closer while you wail—depraved—and beg for more.

“My good girl,” he praises. He spanks you again. “Fuck—that’s it, baby.”

Your staccato whimpers are consistent now. One for every thrust and you can almost taste his desperation as he turns his head in order to kiss your cheek. The sound of skin against skin is crude and delicious. The way your body slides against his. Like butter on a hot day, melting together.

He goes faster, pulls you harder. Fingers digging into your skin so hard it almost hurts. But in the best possible way. In turn, you brace yourself with a palm on his throat. Squeezing it tight as you start to get closer. 

“Yeah,” he groans. “Shit…harder—”

You obey, pinching the sides of his neck until his eyes roll back. 

You can feel his heart racing against yours. You’re both warm. Hot. Shaking. A tangled mess of limps and depraved grinding like animals in heat.

“M’almost…m’almost there,” you whisper.

He nods, looking down your body to watch the way your ass bounces in his hands. “Go. S’okay, go. Let me feel you.”

He leaves more kisses to your side and the tender way his lips feel against your skin makes your brain go fuzzy. 

You grip his throat a bit tighter and just like that…it’s over.

The two of you cum together, the room filling with moans and gasps and promises. He settles beneath you while you ride out the rest of your high but he makes sure to keep his arm around you through every second.

Once you finally catch your breath, he hums. “God-fucking-damn.”

You grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He turns to see you. “I think I’m pregnant.”

You roll your eyes with a swat to his chest but you’re laughing. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet you still like me.”

“I never said that.”

“You said I’m your favorite person.”

“Yeah, well, I lied.”

“Right.” He helps you ease him out before he’s flipping you around and moving himself between your legs.   

You blink. “What the hell are you doing?”

He lifts two fingers and eases them along your swollen pussy. Collecting the white, sticky substance already leaking out before easily pushing it back in.

“Harry,” you scold. “I think we’ve had enough breeding for one day.”

He smirks. “Relax, Tink, m’not breeding you. I just…like to see it drip out.”

Your heart leaps. “…oh.”

“Yeah.” He rests his cheek against the inside of your thigh in order to watch. “S’always so fucking pretty.”

You reach down and card your fingers through his sweaty curls. Happy and content for the first time in days.

He looks up. “One day,” he promises, even though it sounds more like a question.

But somehow, in this moment, it makes everything else worth it.

You grin.

“One day.”

AAA I can’t believe we finally did it!! I’m not gonna lie them being soft with each other is gross 😭 BUT ALSO CUTE!! YAY PROGRESS!!

Thank you so much for reading and for always being so nice!! 🥹💞💞 and of course thank you for the amazing idea hehe

Also, if you see any mistakes……no you don’t 🫶

~  Full 404 Masterlist

Taglist:

@littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa

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[cupidsrecs]

oh i absolutely love love love this! maybe i need to go to a camp for him

campfire chronicles (camp counselorry)

in which harry and y/n are counselors at a sleepaway camp and he hates her from the very second he meets her. or, a classic enemies to lovers summer romance.

word count: 9.2k

content warnings: harry's a dick at first, minor mentions of childhood trauma and divorce, small panic attack scene, tiny mention of drowning, not proofread bc im lazy

so basically I started writing this a bit ago and planned for it to be a full series but then things got ... complicated and I haven't really had much motivation to write for harry. there won't be a part two to this but I think I wrapped it up pretty okay so there isn't a cliffhanger or anything!

I'm not sure if this will be the last fic I write on here but if it is, consider it a parting gift! thank you for all the support and love and I hope you enjoy!

masterlist

Harry Styles is the bane of Y/N’s existence.

…Okay, so maybe she’s being just a tad bit dramatic. But she has good reasoning for it — she swears! All she wanted to do was make some money this summer by working at Happy Campers, a sleepaway camp that was looking for counselors to work from early June to mid-August.

She’d initially seen the flier as she shlepped her canvases and painting supplies from the sculpture studio to the art building on the other side of campus (why it was designed that way, she’ll never know — she thinks whichever builder or contractor did it had some sort of vendetta against art students). In a big, bold black font casted against a bright, borderline neon yellow background (seriously, it kind of hurt her eyes, actually), were the answers to her summer plans: COUNSELORS NEEDED FOR HAPPY CAMPERS SLEEPAWAY CAMP! EXPERIENCE WITH KIDS IS A MUST. $15/HOUR FROM JUNE TO AUGUST. 

And yeah, maybe the only “experience” she had with children was babysitting her neighbor’s daughter when she was in high school, but that was apparently enough for Happy Campers. Because within two days of her interviewing with the owner, a sweet, older woman named Linda who’s been running the place for the past 30 years, she received word that she’d been hired. 

From the end of the semester to the beginning of camp, she had about three weeks to learn everything she could about being a solid counselor. She assumed the basics — no cursing, keep an eye on them at all times, try her best not to lose her cool if one of them was particularly bratty — but did some research on the rest.

She wasn’t sure what age group she’d be assigned to, but Linda told her she’d find that information out at training — a three day-long educational overhaul where the counselors were the only ones at camp, learning about everything from lifeguarding to CPR to mental health awareness.

Happy Campers was located only about an hour and a half from her college apartment so it made more sense for her to depart from there instead of her hometown. On the drive up in her shitty Honda Accord (a navy 2008 model she affectionately named Edith), she tried her best to calm her nerves. She thought it was silly for her to be so anxious over surrounding herself with kids all summer, and a small part of her hoped she would get assigned to an older group — 5th or 6th grades would be ideal since they were sufficient enough not to be too clingy.

As the small university city slowly melted away, tall buildings and chain restaurants were replaced by sturdy oak trees and an abundance of greenery. When her drive had officially shimmied down to just 20 minutes left, she rolled down her window and lowered her music, allowing herself to inhale the fresh air. Even at her 45 mile per hour speed (5 below the speed limit, just in case some ticket-happy police cars were hiding out somewhere), she found a spark of hope in the clean, crispy air that infiltrated the interior of her car. 

Maybe this summer was exactly what she needed.

Perhaps the warm, summer air got to Y/N’s head a bit too much. 

The second she pulls into the faculty lot at Happy Campers, she’s inundated with people everywhere. Some are hugging excitedly, greeting one another after what she assumes has been a year away, while others are pulling their hefty duffles from their trunks and throwing them in heaps on the ground. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she tries to find a parking space to pull into, her eyes twinkling some as she spots one. She flicks her right blinker on, prepared to make the turn when an older, much shitter car than hers pulls through. 

Her jaw immediately drops. Was this a joke? Some kind of first-time counselor hazing thing? Instantly, she rolls her window down and tries to get the driver’s attention, but from what she can see, he’s already busied himself with getting his things together and getting out of his car.

“Hey! Excuse me!” she calls out, waving her hands at him. When he slams his door shut and ambles in the direction of his trunk, a backpack slung on his right shoulder, she yells out louder this time, grabbing the attention of innocent bystanders. This time, she catches his attention and he furrows his eyebrows, shuffling over to Y/N’s car. 

“Yeah?” he asks, almost as if he hasn’t even realized that he completely cut her off. 

“That was my spot,” she says, pointing to where his car now resides. If she had to guess, it’s from the early 2000s — 2004 at best, she thinks. “And you took it.”

The curly haired brunette quickly turns to look at his car before whipping back around, “Was it reserved for you?”

“No, but I had my signal on and I was about to turn in—”

“Then it wasn’t your spot.” he replies, tightening his grasp around his backpack. 

“I had my signal on—”

���Yes, I heard you the first time.” he huffs, his tone bored. Y/N’s eyebrows raise at his blase demeanor. “There’s another parking lot. You’ll be fine.”

Before she has a chance to fight back, he turns on his heel to head back to his car. She watches angrily as he pulls his suitcase out with minimal effort despite the fact that it looks like it’s stuffed to the brim. When he notices her still looking at him, he shoots her an angry glare, as if to say, can I help you?

Y/N breathes out angrily through her nose as she rolls her window back up. What a dick!

Harry tries his best not to be an asshole. 

Really, he does! He thinks he does a decent job of walking around campus and attending his classes without being a complete and utter grump (although his friends do tease him about the scowl that manages to wiggle its way onto his face sometimes). He’s gotten better at participating in lecture-wide discussions without accidentally calling the previous person a stupid prick (the guy who received that one actually deserved it, after he claimed that feminism was a liberal farce in one of his gender studies classes). 

However… the one thing that triggers that crabby, ill-tempered part of him more than anything else in the world is Happy Campers. 

It’s not because he hates the place or anything of the sort. His parents didn’t send him away when he was 7, making him spend his summers in nature year after year while he yearned for the bustling city he’d been born in. It was actually the complete opposite. He’d had to beg his mum the first year he saw the posting for it in the halls of his elementary school, immediately thrilled by the promises on the yellow paper: Boating! Swimming! Archery! Campfires! Harry couldn’t think of a better way to spend the next two and a half months of his life!

At first, his parents assumed he’d let it go after a day or two. He’d never spent a weekend away from them, let alone an entire summer. And while his mum wasn’t proud of it, she knew her son lived in the shadow of his older sister. More likely than not, she’d just end up enrolling them both in the same soccer day camp like she did last summer, and the one before that. 

Much to their surprise, though, Harry wouldn’t let up about Happy Campers. Every morning when he woke up, he asked if they had made a decision yet. When he got home from school that afternoon, he brought up the exciting activities they offered, listing off fun facts he’d Googled in the computer room about the benefits of being in nature. So when May finally tottled around and Harry was still talking about this magical sleepaway camp, they realized they had no choice but to get him a spot.

His first summer there was more fun than he ever could have imagined. He met kids his age from all over the country, spent his days learning new skills and swimming in the lake, and ended the evening with spooky stories and s’mores around a fire. Soon, a pattern began: His parents would all but drag him home at the end of the summer, he’d go to school for the year, and then begin counting down the days until the next session began. For years, Happy Campers was the only place Harry wanted to be.

When he eventually aged out of being a camper, Linda approached him about coming back as a counselor next year. He was 14 at the time and completely ecstatic — really, he couldn’t have said yes quicker, especially since things at home were getting tougher. 

His parents were in the middle of an ugly separation, his sister was older and wanting nothing to do with him, and everything about school was confusing. From social status to crushes and grades, he wanted nothing more than to hide away at Happy Campers for as long as humanly possible. For each of his teenage years, he returned as a counselor, eager to forget about his home life and go back to the only things that made sense to him: Swimming in the lake, spending lengthy, sweaty days in the sun, and making sure these kids had unforgettable summers. 

When he was at camp, nothing else mattered. He escaped from breakups, family fights, bad grades, and hard life decisions, using the site as a crutch to get through to the other side. 

So it’s possible that he’s a bit… protective of his final year at Happy Campers. 

After this summer, he’ll only have one semester left as a student in his university’s political science department. From there, he already has a job lined up at a politician’s office in their communication sector. But it also means that he’ll be working full-time, ergo… no more Happy Campers.

This place is his second home. He knows it’ll be difficult saying goodbye to it, but dammit if he’s not determined to have an incredible last few months as a counselor — yeah, maybe he’s a bit careless when it comes to acknowledging the newbies, who seem helpless, clueless, and all-around confused. But he’s not there for them. He’s here for himself, and the kids.

So, fuck the weak little new girl who couldn’t even snag her own parking spot in the faculty lot. She’ll probably be heading home before the first month anyway.

“Hello counselors, and welcome to Happy Campers!”

Harry has to admit that even in her old age, Linda still has the same jolly, feel-good attitude she did the first summer he attended. 

And while he loves her — truly, he does, and he even called her up when he found out this year would be his last — he can’t help but slowly start to zone out as she launches into her annual speech about being a welcoming, safe, and (you guessed it) happy counselor. 

Harry’s been certified and trained for just about every safety precaution imaginable. 

Campfire safety tips? Yup.

Sun and heat protection? Obviously. (And he knows what to do in the event of sunburns — because there’s always a few — and, in the rare case, sun poisoning.)

Fire safety? Duh.

Lifeguarding? He’s been trained since he was 15 and does weekly laps at his school’s indoor pool.

Emergency procedures, food service, behavior management techniques, appropriate camper and staff behavior, and Happy Camper-specific regulations for supervision? God, he could recite them in all his sleep.

He can feel the mood of the room gradually begin to slump as Linda continues droning on about the importance of memorizing the handbook. Really, all anyone cares about right now is receiving their camper assignments. It’s the one mystery Linda tries to keep until the first day of training. Supposedly, placements are done at random, but Harry’s received his favorite group every year: 5th grade boys. They’re competent enough to take care of themselves (that means they know how to shower, go to the bathroom, and change their clothes without Harry’s assistance), but they’re a ton of fun, too. It’s the perfect age so he knows it’s a given that Linda assigned him to the same age as usual, especially since it’s his last time. 

The room noticeably perks up when Linda announces that she’ll be unveiling assignments before they break for lunch. He can feel the nerves radiating off of most of the counselors — he would be anxious, too, if he didn’t know who he was spending his summer with. He can’t think of a worse fate than being lumped in with a newbie or getting one of the younger groups — ugh. Last summer, Pauli, one of his counselor friends, got 3rd grade boys, which ended up being a mess of homesickness and actual sickness from lack of self-control at ice cream sundae night.

Harry’s sitting in his uncomfortable fold-up chair, arms folded over his eat your honey tee-shirt as he waits for Linda to finish up so he can demolish a lackluster sandwich in the mess hall. He pinches his bottom lip between his fingers, then jiggles his leg, then crosses his ankles. He’s bored, and tired, and hungry, and—

“2nd grade boys, Harry Styles,” Linda booms over the microphone, “2nd grade girls, Y/N Y/L/N.”

What?

This has to be a prank. Linda’s a lighthearted woman and, yeah, maybe he’s hardly seen her joke around about camp-related activities in the 16 years he’s known her, but maybe she decided to start now.

Right?

But then she claps her hands and announces that their lunch break has officially begun, and Harry’s up and out of his chair faster than you can even say second grade. Long, hurried strides take him in the direction of his boss, his eye borderline twitching at the thought of dealing with little kids instead of his usual fifth graders. 

“Linda!” he calls out, attempting to grab her attention over the hasty sounds of everyone leaving the room. 

“Oh, hi Harry!” she grins, turning to face him, “Lovely to see you again. Are you excited for the summer?”

“Um, yeah,” he rushes out as he lifts a hand to tug at the roots of his hair. “Quick question though, why am I paired with—”

“Y/N!” The shrill call of Linda’s voice cuts Harry off and he grits his teeth. He glances to his side to see the girl from the parking lot — the one who all but bit his head off for taking a free parking spot. He resists the urge to roll his eyes and redirects his attention to the older woman standing in front of them. 

“Linda, I really need to talk to you—”

“Harry, this is Y/N, your fellow counselor for the second graders,” Linda grins as she slings an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. The girl blinks, her eyes narrowing as she recognizes Harry. It’s clear that she remembers him too, so she straightens her posture some and ignores him. “Y/N is new to our counseling program but I think you two will get along great!”

“That’s great, Linda, but I really just need a second with you—”

“I do, too,” Y/N pipes up from beside him and it makes Harry’s jaw clench even tighter. “I think I mentioned in our interview that I’m not the most comfortable with younger kids—”

“Yeah, and I always have 5th grade boys, so I’m not really sure what’s—”

Linda claps her hands loudly, bringing both of their complaints to an immediate stop. When they both part their lips, jaws slightly ajar, she smiles gently. 

“Harry, I know this probably isn’t what you were expecting, but it’s your last year and I figured it would be good to change things up,” she says. He goes to reply, but she places an open palm up, wordlessly signaling to let her finish talking. “And Y/N, I know you requested an older group. But Harry’s one of our most experienced counselors, so I know it won’t be too much of an issue if you were paired up together.”

They both stand there silently. 

“Unfortunately, assignments are final. If you have an issue with it, you’re welcome to leave. There is a lengthy waitlist of people who weren’t hired.”

When neither of them respond, both slightly surprised by Linda’s sudden strike of authority, she grins. 

“Good, then! I’m looking forward to seeing you two work together this summer,” she pats each of them on the shoulder, sending them an enthusiastic smile. “Now hurry up and get to the mess hall for lunch! We have an afternoon packed with trainings!”

The sound of Linda’s Teva sandals scurrying away is the only thing that permeates the awkward silence between the two. A moment later, when Y/N has finally somewhat awoken from her brief rendezvous with the five stages of grief, she mutters the same thing that’s on Harry’s mind: “Fuck me.”

The first two days of training are hopelessly boring. 

Y/N spends every second of her day in some sort of seminar, educational meeting, or training. When she’s not listening (or pretending to, anyway — she thinks she’ll be able to manage a decent job at “conflict resolution” between seven year olds), she’s doing hands-on certifications. She has to prove that she knows how to do CPR, the Heimleich, administer EPIPENS, allergy shots, and asthma pumps, and, maybe worst of all, pull a 45-pound mannequin out of the lake. (It’s in case one of the campers accidentally drowns or flounders in the water, but she hates the fact that the dummy they’re using looks like it’s likely from the 1980s, far too worn out to be using in 2024.)

Every night, Y/N hits the paper thin mattress in her cabin like she hasn’t slept in years. She barely has enough energy to shower and brush her hair before her eyelids are fluttering closed. She hasn’t even met her roommate yet, and the only reason why she knows she has one is because all of her things are neatly organized in the main room and bathroom. 

On day three of counseling training (and the day before camp officially begins), Linda announces that they’re to spend the next few hours getting to know their co-counselor and planning activities for their groups. The girls and boys aren’t expected to do everything together but there’s a certain level of socialization expected, especially on rainy days when regular outdoor routines are washed out. 

Y/N’s torn — she’s glad she doesn’t have to be on her feet all day, going between laborious certifications to boring meetings, but she definitely doesn’t want to spend any extra time with Harry. Since learning that they were lumped together for the summer, she’d seen him around, but neither of them made any attempt at conversation. She passed by him in the mess hall every meal, saw him at lifeguard training, and sat two rows behind him at the mental health and wellness seminar, but they ignored one another as if nothing had occurred on the first day. 

Truthfully, that was fine and dandy for Y/N. She knows they don’t have to be friends or even acquaintances. Co-existence was the primary goal, but she was unsure if that was possible when he seemed to be a total and right dick. 

That morning, after Linda’s daily morning announcements, she instructs all the counselors to find their partner and get to know one another. Y/N nibbles on her bottom lip as she searches the room for him, trying to find the head of brown curls (it was the one identifying factor she remembered about him, besides having a British accent). Of course, he ends up finding her first because she chose today of all days to cover his hair with a navy baseball cap. He’s already scowling at her before she even says anything and she holds in a sigh as he plops down next to her.

“Listen, I don’t really want to spend the entire summer fighting with you—”

“Who said anything about fighting?” Harry asks, wrinkling his nose in her direction. Y/N’s eyebrow involuntarily quirks, clearly confused by his response. “What makes you think I care to even fight with you?”

“...Okay,” Y/N replies slowly, “That’s fine, I’m just saying we should try to coexist for the sake of the kids.”

“Right.” he chuckles humorlessly, lifting his cup of coffee to his mouth. The insulated mug looks helplessly small in his large hand and she flits her eyes back to his face. “You’re new, right?”

She blinks. “Yes.”

“I’ve been coming here since I was in second grade. For years, I was the only person who got to counsel the fifth grade boys but for whatever reason, Linda decided she wanted to stick me with the youngest group. That’s whatever—”

“Well, she said it was because she wanted to shake things up—”

Harry sends a harsh look her way. “I’m not finished,” he says, and Y/N’s mouth clamps shut. “The whole second grade thing would be way more chill if I wasn’t stuck with a new counselor who hasn't spent a day in her life outside of the city, but I’m not. For whatever ungodly reason, Linda assigned us together, and I’m pissed. Alright?”

Despite the frustration and anger building in Y/N’s chest, she swallows it down. Instead she takes a page out of the conflict resolution training they had yesterday (maybe it was useful) and nods her head. 

“I understand that, Harry. You’re allowed to be pissed. But you have to understand, I didn’t do anything wrong here.”

He snorts, “You shouldn’t have signed up to be here. That’s what you did wrong.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. 

“So because I wanted a summer job, I’m a bad person? Have you ever considered that you’re just being a prissy little bitch because you didn’t get your way?”

“I don’t really give a shit what you think,” Harry replies, shrugging his shoulders, “Because this is my summer. So whether you like it or not, we’re playing by my rules.”

“Yeah, okay,” Y/N guffaws. She stands up from her metal chair, deciding she’s finished with this conversation for now. She won’t allow Harry to demean her life decisions just because he’s unhappy with where he got placed. “It’s fucking summer camp, asshole. Lighten up.”

Y/N spends the remainder of her day brainstorming ways to entertain second graders. 

She doesn’t really care if Harry doesn’t want to cooperate, or even coexist with her. If he wants to be immature, fine! If he wants to blame her for all the things that are already going wrong with his summer, fine! She tried her best to negotiate with him and, quite frankly, it’s not on her to settle a grown man’s temper. 

At a certain point, when the anger and annoyance and frustration has cooled down some, she finds it a little relaxing. She sits by the lake and allows herself to dig her toes in the cool sand. Yesterday, she’d spent the better part of her afternoon absolutely baking beneath the bright sun, listening to one of the higher-ups talk about swimming safety. Today was far more peaceful, even with the little worms of anxiety slowly beginning to wiggle their way into her brain. As she jotted down a list of activity ideas for their kids, she tried not to get too nervous about their arrival tomorrow. 

She doesn’t have too much time to worry, though, since when she makes her way back to her cabin that evening, she finally meets her bunkmate, a sweet girl named Zara. It’s her third summer returning as a counselor so she’s far more acquainted with everything than Y/N is, and she pledges to help her out as much as she can. It relaxes her nerves even more as she climbs into the tiny shower to wash off the sun and sweat from her body before she heads to bed for the night. At home, she’s always been the type to stay up far too late, but between the hazy sunrays and jampacked days, she’s been finding herself way more tired than usual. 

When Y/N finishes her shower with her hair brushed, moisturizer applied, and pajamas on (which was really more of a pair of sleep shorts and a ratty tee-shirt from her high school’s club volleyball team), Zara flashes her an excited grin.

“Harry came by,” she says before Y/N’s even made it to her bed, “He was looking for you.”

Y/N tries not to roll her eyes at the mention of his name. She didn’t want to say anything mean in case they were camp buddies, or whatever the fuck it was called, but she had to admit, she’d think just a bit lower of Zara if she was friends with Harry.

“We’re both working with the second graders this year. He’s pissed so we didn’t do any planning today.” she replies, running a hand through her damp hair as she sits on the edge of the flimsy mattress.

“God, you’re so lucky. He’s so hot, isn’t he?”

She resists the urge to gag, “I mean, maybe he would be if he hadn’t been a total dick to me earlier.”

“I’d ignore that if it meant I got to look at him all day,” Zara giggles, grabbing a folded up piece of paper from the edge of her neatly made bed, “Anyway, he dropped this off for you. Chances are it’s a steamy love note?”

“Slim to none.” Y/N mutters as she accepts the paper from her roommate. She nestles beneath the scratchy covers and flips it open, her eyes immediately meeting a sheet full of messy handwriting.

-DIY paper kites

-painting

-indoor scavenger hunt

-talent show

-charades

-friendship bracelet making

-tie dye 

-rock painting

Sorry for being shitty today. I’ll try to be better. No promises.

-H

She waits until Zara’s snoring softly before she folds the paper back up and stuffs it into the spine of her journal, right where she wrote down her list of activity ideas.

On the first official day of camp, Y/N quickly learns a few things. 

One: Second grade girls aren’t as scary as she had anticipated. They’re actually quite sweet, if not a bit nervous and apprehensive. Y/N understands that — in fact, she’s felt the same way since arriving at camp a few days ago, so she finds herself bonding with the small group of girls more than she thought she would.

Two: Even if Harry says he’ll try better, he’s probably lying. 

Now, she hadn’t expected him to do a complete 360 and show up to her cabin at 6 a.m. with an apology coffee and muffin. But it would have been nice if he did as much as acknowledge her existence, especially in front of the kids!

That morning, Y/N even wakes up with slightly high hopes as she spends her first few hours of consciousness helping her campers get acclimated to their new lifestyle. But that afternoon, when the girls and boys groups get together for quick introductions and bonding, Harry doesn’t even care to introduce her. Instead, he stands there, effortlessly capturing the attention of every last one of their kids, and just… skips over Y/N!

He skips over her!

Y/N has to clear her throat and step forward, forcing a friendly grin onto her face like she isn’t prepared to rip Harry a new one as soon as they bring their group to dinner. 

“And I’m Y/N! My second grade girls know I’ll be taking care of them this summer, but I’ll be around to help Harry with the boys, too,” she says. 

“Right, yeah—”

“I can’t wait to get to know each of you this summer,” Y/N continues on. Truthfully, she hadn’t planned to proceed with some type of spiel, but she’s in the mood to be spiteful. How couldn’t she, when Harry refuses to even recognize the fact that she’s just as important? “My door is always open and I’m so excited to have a wonderful few months with you.”

The kids have zoned out by now with their blank, moony gazes. Swallowing awkwardly, she takes a step back as Harry sends her a dirty look. 

“You done, then?” he mutters. 

Blinking, Y/N nods curtly.

“Great,” he mumbles, “Well, I think it’s been a long day for everyone, so why don’t we head to the mess hall for dinner? Tonight, we have a camp-wide bonfire and s’mores on the agenda so don’t eat too much!” 

Thankfully, the kids didn’t notice the tension between Harry and Y/N, and excitedly get up from their spots on the ground to follow them to their next meal. Already, Y/N notices that the boys are attached to Harry, asking him a million questions about anything and everything. She hears thrilled chatter from tiny, high-pitched voices as she silently walks next to her own campers. 

“Harry, why do you talk funny?” (He briefly explains that he was born in London, which he refers to as a far away place in a country called the United Kingdom.)

“How old are you?” (He’s 22, just a year older than Y/N.)

“Do you have any sisters? I have one at home and she’s so annoying!” (He has one and she’s in London.)

“Do you have a girlfriend?” 

For some reason, that one makes Y/N listen just a little bit harder. She’s not sure why — maybe it’s because he’s been so persistently rude to her that she simply can’t imagine any girl willingly committing herself to him. She’s not stupid enough to deny the fact that Harry is attractive in the most conventional way, with his broad shoulders, curly hair, and ridiculously tattooed body, but she didn’t think that was enough of a justification to put up with his bullshit.

Harry chuckles at the question that comes from a boy with blonde hair and squinty eyes, hidden behind a thick pair of glasses. 

“No,” he answers, shaking his head as he pulls open the door for the mess hall, “No girlfriend for me. Besides, why would I need one when I have all of you to keep me entertained for the summer?”

Y/N swallows tightly at that.

The first full week of camp is exhausting.

Every day, Y/N has an alarm set for 7 a.m. She showers, brushes her teeth, and does something with her hair so it’s not sticking to her sweaty neck all day. She pulls one of her four camp tee-shirts on (they all have huge, blocky lettering on the back that reads COUNSELOR), a pair of shorts, and the only pair of comfortable sneakers she owns. (She doesn’t know how Harry walks around in his dirty white Vans day in and day out. She owns a pair herself and they have minimal support, so it further annoys her that he gets to wear cute shoes while she’s stuck in a pair of running shoes.) 

From there, she’ll usually have a short and sweet conversation with Zara, who’s just as tired from taking care of her fourth grade girls. After that, she ambles across the campsite over to her group to make sure they’re all awake and getting ready for breakfast. They usually all are, with the exception of Livvy, who is particularly awful at waking up in the morning. She always has a grumpy look on her face as Y/N leads them to the mess hall for their first meal and, for some reason, it always makes her laugh to herself. 

Y/N accompanies the girls while they eat, making sure to get some sustenance in her stomach as well. She typically opts for some fruit and a bagel or toast, accompanied by the shitty watery coffee from the machine in the corner. After breakfast, Y/N plucks the schedule from the bulletin board outside the mess hall (Linda writes out a new one every day, ensuring that every group is able to try out different activities). Mornings are usually a variation of sports, then lunch, and then more relaxed activities, like ceramics or jewelry making. The second graders always have swimming at 3 p.m., which would maybe be a nice way to decompress after a hot, muggy day in the sun, if not for having to be around Harry.

She’s figured out that there’s two variations of Harry: On good days, he’ll ignore her. He’ll grab a chair, stick it in the sand, and scroll on his phone until the 5 p.m. dinner bell rings. On bad days (which usually means one of his campers gave him a hard time), he’ll torture her. He’ll critique every aspect of her approach to interacting with the kids and tell her what she’s doing wrong. (Tuesday, for instance, was a bad day. Apparently, Franklin had a total freak out about not wanting to play soccer that morning and decided to be Harry’s worst nightmare all day long, screeching about how much he hated camp. As a result, Harry showed up to swimming and spent an entire hour critizing Y/N: “You need to bring more snacks with you during the day. What if one of them gets woozy during sports? And you better carry at least three bottles of sunscreen or I swear to god, I’ll report you to Linda. That would be a stupid rookie move.”)

The whole thing is giving her emotional whiplash and is just as exhausting as being a counselor to kids all day. If Linda hadn’t had such a poor response to the two of them wanting to switch at the beginning of training, she would already be in her office and pleading her case. So when Friday rolls around and she can just tell that Harry’s had a bad day based on the dim sunglasses covering his eyes, she decides she’s not going to put up with it anymore — not for a single second longer.

She’s unsurprised when, as she’s keeping an eye on her girls playing Mermaids in the shallow end of the lake (a quintessential summer swimming game, she thinks), Harry plops down in his usual chair with a scowl on his face. Her eye roll is hidden behind her own pair of shades, and she attempts to ignore the anger radiating off of him as she digs her toes in the sand. Again — this whole situation has the potential to be relaxing. All she’s missing is… well, Harry leaving.

“Livvy told Ethan that you come into their bunk every morning to wake her up,” he says, lifting his metal reusable water bottle to his mouth, “You really shouldn’t do that. She needs to learn how to get up on her own.”

“Mind your business, Harry.” she replies, short and curt. She inhales through her nose as a breeze passes through the manmade beach.

“That is my business.”

“It’s really not,” Y/N snaps, whipping around to face him. She tears her sunglasses off her face so he can see the red hot anger burning in her eyes. “And I’m so sick of you being rude to me every single day. I’m not a punching bag, Harry, I’m a human being. If you don’t like your situation, fine, but that’s not my problem. So keep your shit to yourself for the rest of the summer, alright?”

She scuttles up from her spot, grabbing her sneakers and towel before marching halfway across the beach to where the girls are playing. Fury is still raging through her as she plops down at the shoreline with a harsh exhale. She allows the rolling tide to wash over her feet and tries to focus on the cold water instead of the insufferable man still sitting there dumbly.

“Y/N?”

Her head rises when she hears the small voice of one her campers. It comes from Alison, a sweet, kind girl with unruly ginger locks and a smattering of freckles over her face.

“No! Don’t ask her, she’ll tell on us.” Lucy urges from beside her, a frustrated pout on her lips.

“She said we could always come to her,” Alison whispers loudly. Y/N’s heartbeat increases just a tad, worried that something’s gone wrong right under her nose. “Y/N, I have a question, and I was wondering if you could answer it.”

Y/N clears her throat, “Well, I promise I won’t tell anyone about it as long as it’s nothing too serious… you guys know I have to, like, report if an adult’s being inappropriate or something, though, right?”

“Yeah. Stranger danger,” Claire nods matter-of-factly, “My mom gave me a talk before I came here. No letting people touch you an’ stuff.”

“That’s right,” Y/N agrees with a small smile. “Is it anything like that, Alison?”

She shakes her head. 

“Okay, so yeah. It can be our little secret then.”

Despite the persistent frown on Lucy’s face, Alison nods. 

“Okay… well, we were wondering… is it true that when a boy is mean to you, it’s ‘cos he likes you?”

Y/N purses her lips. “Um… I mean, some people say that. I don’t necessarily know if it’s true, though.”

“Has it happened to you?” Claire asks hopefully. 

“Has a boy been mean to me because he likes me?”

The three girls nod enthusiastically. 

She thinks back for a moment — she’s only been in one real relationship before, followed by a series of flings with lackluster people that haven’t always been the best. She doesn’t think they were mean to her because they were attracted to her, though. It was probably because she failed to have a backbone in their situationships.

“No,” she finally answers with a shake of her head, “No, and if someone likes you, they’ll care about showing it. They’ll do nice things and compliment you and… and they won’t make you wonder all the time.”

Each girl looks just as confused and lost as Y/N feels.

“...And we shouldn’t be worrying about boys this summer anyway,” she quickly tacks on, attempting to save the conversation, “Girls rule. Right?”

When grins break out on their faces, she’s thankful that second graders aren’t as emotionally aware as adults.

For the next two weeks, things go as smoothly as expected. 

Y/N is relieved that, for once, Harry heeds her advice. They barely speak with the exception of deciding on an activity to do with the kids, and even then it’s as short and succinct as humanly possible:

“Friendship bracelet making?” 

“Sure.”

In their brief moments of downtime, Y/N sticks to hanging around Zara and her friends Sarah and Mitch. They’re all very nice — she and Zara have a lot in common, and Sarah and Mitch have been working as counselors for the past two summers. They’re both friendly with Harry, and Y/N is shocked (but not entirely surprised) to find out that he isn’t a total dick with everyone, just with her. Sarah’s somewhat puzzled upon finding out that he’s been giving her a hard time in just about everything, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth when Y/N explains how they ended up at this point.

“He’s fairly protective of this place,” Sarah replies. Her tone is soft and soothing so it’s incredibly difficult to argue with her on any line of defense against him, even if she’s not intentionally doing so. “He shouldn’t be so mean to you, but I think this is his safe haven. Mitch said that he’s been going through some stuff and… well, I’m sorry you don’t get to experience the nice version of him.”

So am I, Y/N thinks to herself.

It’s what she’s ruminating on as she sits in the bleachers, watching her girls play soccer. (Well, half of them are playing soccer. The other half are in a circle, making lanyard keychains, and giggling about Henry Moore, a boy in the fifth grade group that apparently every girl has a crush on. It makes Y/N’s heart warm and her chest concave slightly; to watch girlhood in its purest form with the hopes that no one ever hurts them.) 

She wonders when things got this way. When fun, gleeful crushes that made her feel like a shaken can of soda, fizzy and lightheaded, faded away and were replaced with mean guys who had no reason to despise her. She swallows the lump in her throat that formed without her permission and digs her sneakered heel into the gravel below the bleachers. 

When she hears the familiar sound of rambunctious boys approaching, she quickly tucks her sunglasses behind her ears, wary of the watery eyes behind them. She sees Harry, basketball in hand, in his usual camp garb — athletic shorts and some variation of a borderline inappropriate graphic tee-shirt; this one has the words I like to watch scrawled across the chest. Y/N rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses. She’s sure Linda would hand his ass to him if she saw him wearing that. Really, she wishes she would.

The groups intermingle effortlessly. That was one thing she was thankful for — that most of their campers got along and it was easy to take a break when they ended their days doing whatever activity together. The soccer game proceeds, now bigger with formed teams, while a few of the other boys join the lanyard circle. Wordlessly, Harry climbs up on the bleachers Y/N’s currently perched on, taking a seat two benches above her. 

It’s their usual routine of silence and she can probably predict what he’s doing. Right now, he’s probably shifted his black sunglasses from the bridge of his nose up to his wavy brown hair and squinting at his phone. He has a pink phone case, and the device always manages to look stupidly small in his hand while he uses his oversized thumb to scroll through whatever social media app has his attention. 

Y/N holds in a sigh, leaning her head to the side and pressing her ear against her shoulder. She allows her eyes to flutter shut for a few brief moments, inhaling through her nose and listening to the kids’ high-pitched chatter. It’s only when she feels the presence of someone beside her that she opens her eyes, eyebrows thick with worry when she sees Micky, one of Harry’s campers, standing in front of them.

“What’s up, Mick?” Harry asks from above her. She resists the urge to scowl — she could have handled it without him, and she hopes that whatever he needs, it’s a ridiculous request that he’ll have to handle and—

“I miss my mom.”

Y/N’s eyes widen when Micky’s eyes suddenly flood with tears. Quickly, she pushes her sunglasses back into her hair, her lips instantly parting into a sympathetic frown. 

“Micky,” she coos, her heart melting at the sight in front of her, “It’s okay. It’s okay to miss your mom, I know how you feel.”

He’s a mess of tears and snot, his little hand reaching up to knuckle at his bloodshot eyes. Y/N looks up at Harry, who seems just as worried and equally lost. He shuffles down to the same bench Y/N sits at so he’s eye level with him and presses a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“C’mon, you gotta breathe, Mick,” he encourages, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. He only continues in his tearful fit, not listening to a word either one of the counselors say. Helpless, Harry turns to Y/N, his eyes encompassing all the nerves running through each of them. 

“Mick, you have to listen to Harry,” Y/N says, reaching out to grab his hand. She squeezes it in an effort to gain his attention. “Breathe, sweetheart. Look at Harry. He’s gonna help you breathe, okay?”

Thankfully, Micky’s eyes bat open. Harry’s taking slow, deep inhales and exhales and he does the same, though his are shuttered with weepy quivers. 

“You’re doing so good,” Y/N smiles, giving his hand another squeeze. “There you go, just keep following Harry.”

Eventually, his tears stop some and his breathing regulates itself. Harry guides him onto the bench, wiggling his smaller form between his and Y/N’s. 

“It’s totally normal to miss your mum,” Harry says, leaning his elbows back. “But think about all the awesome times you’ve had here so far. You’ve been absolutely killing it at Four Square and you’re a master at ceramics. She’s gonna be so pumped when she sees that cup you made.”

“I’ve never been away from her for this long.” Micky peeps out in a small voice. Y/N swallows, her heart cracking just a tiny bit more.

“Micky, you wanna know a secret?” she asks. Harry and Micky both turn to her and she holds in a snort at the former’s intrigued facial expression. “This is the longest I’ve been away from my parents, too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” she nods, “And I miss them so much. But I’m having a really good summer here. Are you?”

Micky thinks for a moment. A second later, he nods.

“What’s been your favorite part?”

“I really like swimming,” he replies. Y/N grins. “But I like you and Harry more. You guys are my favorite.”

Her eyebrows raise involuntarily and Harry coughs into his hand. 

“You’re just like my big sister and her boyfriend,” he continues. Y/N’s eyes dart over to Harry, who looks like he wants to run for the hills. “They’re always really nice to me. And sometimes they fight and that makes my sister grumpy. But they always come back together. And even if they’re mad at each other, they never stop being nice to me.”

“Well, that sounds really nice, Mick—”

“And one time, he was dropping my sister off at home and I looked outside my window ‘cos I had a present for him but the windows in his car were all foggy and I don’t really know why but—”

“Harry, didn’t Linda say that there were orange popsicles at the nurse’s cabin today?” Y/N asks through a squeaky voice. He blinks and nods quickly, excitedly wagging his finger at her in agreement.

“Yes! She did!” he exclaims, popping up from his seat, “Micky, do you want an orange popsicle? Maybe Y/N can take you?”

“Oh yeah, those are my favorite!” 

Y/N is eager and happy to escape this terribly awkward moment. 

Y/N doesn’t see Harry for the rest of the afternoon. 

That’s fine with her, since she thinks she’s still blushing from Micky’s little Peeping Tom recollection. She brought him to the dining hall after he ate his popsicle and gave his mom a call and, by then, he was back to normal, excited to eat dinner alongside his fellow campers. Y/N picked at a lackluster meal of beef tacos, though she was happy to listen to Zara, Sarah, and Mitch chatter on about… well, whatever it was they were talking about. 

After dinner, there’s a bonfire, and then it’s lights out. She’s exhausted by the time she gets her girls back to their cabin, ensuring that they’re all tucked in for a restful night. She closes their door with a depleted sigh, listening for the quiet click of the hinge before she jogs down the stairs and starts her walk back to her own dwelling.

Only, she nearly jumps five feet in the air when Harry’s standing there.

“Fucking Christ!” she whispers as her heart slams against her ribcage, “Is there a reason you’re standing there like a fucking creep? Or are you taking a page out of Micky’s weird little sneaky book?”

Harry snorts at that before shaking his head. “Sorry. I just put the boys to bed and I saw you were leaving. I wasn’t being creepy, I promise.”

“That’s something a creep would say.”

“I realize that,” he replies, digging his hands into the pockets of his athletic shorts, “But I mean it. I’m nowhere near as creepy as Micky.”

“Shut up,” she mutters, trying to wipe the smile off her face from his joke. “He didn’t know any better.”

“I know. I’m just kidding.” 

They stand there across from one another for another beat or two before he juts his thumb in the direction of the counselor cabins. 

“Can I walk you back to yours?”

Y/N swallows. And for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, she says, “okay.”

At first, it’s silent. The only sound is the gravel crunching beneath their shoes as Y/N tucks her arms over her chest, goosebumps forming over her skin from the night chill. Finally, Harry ventures a glance at her. 

“I want to apologize,” he says, and at first, Y/N thinks she’s hallucinating. “I’ve been really awful to you and… I shouldn’t have been.”

A snarky response sneaks past her lips before she has a chance to take it back: “Did you just realize that?”

“No,” Harry admits. She’s surprised he doesn’t reply with something equally as sarcastic. “I realized it a few weeks ago, when you yelled at me at the lake. I didn’t realize how shitty I was being to you but… then Sarah talked to me and asked why I was being this way with you, and I didn’t even have a good answer for her because you’ve been so good with the kids and you clearly do care about them and giving them a good summer. And I just felt like such a fucking idiot.”

Y/N hums non-committedly. 

“And then today with Micky, it just reminded me a lot of myself when I used to come here as a camper. This was my safe place for many, many years. There’s a small part of me that thinks it still is. I used to have panic attacks midway through the summer when I would think about life back home and the bullshit I was escaping.”

She swallows. A pit forms at the bottom of her stomach when she thinks about a young Harry having the same reaction as Micky did today.

“And I don’t know, I just thought about… how if I had you as a counselor, I would feel really comfortable and happy,” he continues, “And… minus the weird shit Micky said, I was happy to hear that he likes us together.”

Her throat dries a bit at that but she forces herself to swallow as he looks at her for a response.

“Thank you,” she finally mumbles out. They’re stopped at the side of her cabin now, and she desperately hopes that Zara is fast asleep and can’t hear an inkling of their conversation. “I appreciate that. I wish we hadn’t… y’know, gotten off on such a rocky start, but… you are really good with the kids. And I think that we do work well together, even if we’re barely speaking to one another.”

He smirks at that before shaking his head, his gaze falling to the grassy plane beneath them. 

“It was all very immature of me and for that, I really am so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, leaning back against the wood siding of the lodge, “Water under the bridge, yeah?”

Harry looks back up, his eyes finding hers. With his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip, he nods. 

“Water under the bridge,” he agrees.

And she can’t figure out why, but the second their gaze locks, her world slows just a bit. Her chest stalls, her breathing hitches in her throat, and… has Harry always looked this good?

“Y/N,” he rasps out lowly. Her eyes flutter down to his neck, where his throat bobs beneath a swallow. Quickly, she blinks, her eyelashes flittering when she looks back up at his face. 

“Hm?” she asks softly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbles, inching towards her slowly. 

“Like what?”

He breathes out a quiet laugh. “Like you wanna kiss me.” 

She shrugs and he reaches out, gentle and tentative, his fingertips finding her chin. She allows his touch as he strokes over her skin, careful not to make any sudden movements as if she’ll scare him away somehow.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” he presses, his palm cupping her cheek. His hand is warm and her face is cool, and it feels so, so good.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” she repeats, eager to turn the question around.

He smirks. Lopsided and playful.

“Asked you first.” 

“You’re acting like the kids we’re responsible for,” she murmurs, nuzzling tenderly into his hold. “By the way, did you hear Henry Moore kissed Crystal Baker? The girls are devastated.”

Harry chuckles, low and sweet, before shaking his head. Butterflies swarm her stomach at the crinkles that form at his eyes and she bites her lip.

“Sounds like we’ll have to have a feelings circle tomorrow,” he says. “But right now, you’re the only thing I care about.”

Y/N hums, eyelashes fluttering at his breath ghosts over her lips. She doesn’t know when he got this close, but she also doesn’t know how she existed without having him near all this time. His other hand finds her hip, giving it a small squeeze. The fabric of her tee-shirt bunches in his grip and she resists the need to shudder.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his towering form feeling as though it’s all-encompassing now. She thinks that if it were up to her, she would allow him to lay all his weight on her. 

Her brain is foggy and fizzy now, but she’s conscious enough to nod, a short affirmation, before he ducks forward to connect their lips. His lips are soft and plushy and she’s happy to kiss him back, especially since he tastes like the raspberry popsicle he ate at the bonfire. She shivers when he moves his hands up to the siding of the cabin, caging her in so she’s completely pinned against him. She’s neither particularly submissive nor dominant in the bedroom — a qualified switch is what Zara called her — but she’s eager to have her hands on him, one palm flush against his chest while the other presses against his cheek. The stubble of his facial hair scratches against her skin but she doesn’t care.

The kiss ends far too quickly for her, but when they part, noses nudging against one another, they’re both breathless with swollen lips. It makes Harry chuckle softly and he ducks down once more for a peck.

“Think you’re a bit insatiable,” he mumbles. “Pretty sure you would’ve kept going for hours if I didn’t stop you.”

“Probably.”

He laughs, quiet and soft, at her unashamed response. “That’s fine. Good, actually. I think I could live with that.”

“‘M sure you could.” she replies, a smirk edging at her lips.

“You’re not gonna go running off into the night now, are you?” 

This time, she laughs, shaking her head.

“No. I’ll be here in the morning, bright and early.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Henry Moore feelings circle at 9 am sharp?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

When Harry sends her off to her cabin with a pat on the bum and a kiss to the cheek, she has to bite her lip from grinning too hard.

[cupidsrecs]

Harry Styles

smut fluff angst multichapter

Steve Harrington

smut fluff angst

Baron (Marmalade)

fluff smut

Eddie Munson

smut fluff angst

[cupidsrecs]

Everything About You

(Harry Styles x Reader)

Summary- Harry takes Y/N to meet his family. But he’s nervous they won’t like her…

Warnings- angst, mentions of insecurities including weight, cursing. Suggested plus size reader.

>>>——————————->

Harry was nervous, that was for certain. His mother had not left him alone and insisted he bring his girlfriend of a year home to meet his family. Every chance he could, he came up with an excuse on why she wasn’t able to come, and it bothered Y/N.

“Harry, love please! At least just me and Gem! You know we-.”

Harry sighs and shakes his head, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

“Mum, I’m not worried about that. Y/N is… She’s just different. And I just want to make sure I’m actually ready for that… She’s just a lot sometimes.”

Anne sighs through the phone and Harry frowns.

“If you’re leading this poor girl on then you need to tell her. She sounds like a lovely person, so I do hope you’re able to figure it out.”

Harry leans into the couch and closes his eyes as he finishes talking to his mom before she hangs up. He gets up from the couch and walks through his house to his bedroom, finding Y/N pulling things out of the drawer he had designated for her. His stomach drops and his eyebrows furrow as he approaches the bed.

“Y/N? Love? Where are you going…?”

She ignores him as she continues to shove clothing into her backpack before she harshly zips it up, throwing it on her shoulder before she turns around and pushes past him and speeds down the hallway. Harry chases after her, his stomach in knots as she ignores his pleas for her to talk to him. He follows her outside to her car and snatches her keys from her, forcing her to look at him, her tears obvious to him now.

“Y/N, What’s wrong? Why are you leaving all of a sudden?”

She sniffles and rolls her eyes at him as she tries to take her keys back.

“Does it matter? I’m not staying here anymore. I don’t like to stay where I’m not wanted.”

Harry’s mouth drops and he looks at her in confusion.

“Where you’re not wanted? Y/N, what the hell are you talking about?! Of course I want you here!”

She scoffs and folds her arms across her chest.

“I heard you on the phone, Harry. Talking to your mom. Because I’m just a lot and I’m obviously too much for you to handle. What is it then? Tell me what’s too much?”

Harry opens his mouth to speak but her can’t find the words, causing Y/N to scoff again.

“Is it because I actually eat? That I actually have some weight to me and I like to eat? Or is it just because I’m not like all the girls you’ve dated before? If that’s it then I’m sorry to tell you that I don’t want to be. I always told myself I wouldn’t change for anyone, and that sure as fuck includes you.”

Harry shakes his head and sighs.

“Y/N, that’s not-.”

“Give me my keys, Harry. You and I need a break. Figure out whatever the fuck it is you want because it’s clear that it’s not me. I’ll have Jeff come pick up your crap from my apartment.”

She snatches her keys from him and quickly gets in her car, driving away before he can say anything else. Harry ponders for a few days, giving her space as much as he could but he was conflicted.

What had he meant? Sure, she acts silly, maybe a little too silly for a 24 year old. She’s younger than him and maybe he didn’t realize he had set expectations for her? He had always thought she was perfect. They had met after he wrapped up filming for My Policemen.

He had been invited to a small get together and she had happened to be there. She was quiet and she hadn’t really fit in, keeping to herself in the corner as she scrolled through her phone. She intrigued him, and he couldn’t help but approach her. Slowly but surely, he pulled her out of her shell and asked her out.

They had been together for a little over a year, and he had not met her family, nor had she met his, despite her attempts. He loved her, but he constantly wondered if she actually fit in his life. Many of his closest friends liked her, but found her rather annoying. She liked to make people laugh.

It was her passion. And he loved that about her. She always knew how to cheer him up, either talking in a funny voice or making a funny sound. He loved that she was comfortable around him. So when did everything change?

About 6 months into their relationship, photos of them were leaked. From then on, she was a constant target on social media, to the point that she changed her accounts to private. She was discriminated and bullied for just being herself.

After a discussion with Jeff, Harry acted for reserved when they were out in public, and had even snapped at her when she started making funny animal sounds at the request of Sarah, and all because they were being caught on video. And it had only spiraled from there.

Had he been pushing her away without realizing it?

Harry had enough. He loved her. He knew he did. But he let himself get too wrapped up in keeping his public image that he forgot about what was most important to him. After 2 weeks of her ignoring his texts and calls, he built up his courage and drove to her apartment.

She answered the door, he hair tied up messily as she wears a pair of his shorts and a t shirt he had brought her from his tour. She looks shocked to see him at first but narrows her eyes in irritation as she sneers at him.

“What could you possibly want now?”

Harry sniffles and bites his lip.

“To talk. I owe you an apology and an explanation.”

Y/N folds her arms and leans against her doorway.

“You have a minute.”

Harry takes a deep breath before he starts, the words flowing out immediately.

“I’ve been a dick. A big one. And I’m sorry. For everything.”

She scoffs and moves to close the door, but Harry moves his foot to hold it open.

“Y/N, please! I love everything about you! I just got carried away and I lost sight of what was most important to me! I pushed you away… and I shouldn’t have. I love watching you eat. It sounds weird but you’re always so happy. I love when you randomly try to poke me, and in turn I try to bite you. I love that you randomly dance around and I can’t help but dance with you. You’re a lot Y/N. But that’s not a bad thing. I guess-.”

Harry gets choked up and he clears his throat before he continues.

“I fell for you. Hard. You’re… You’re it for me. And that scares me. Every time I passed some sort of ring store on tour… I always had to hold myself back from going in. I’m scared Y/N. And I should’ve been honest with you about it. But I was just overwhelmed…”

Y/N sniffles and wipes away her tears as Harry moves to his knee as he kneels in front of her.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore. I want this Y/N. I want your pokes and your jokes, and your awful craving for fries and ice cream. I want that for the rest of my life. I want you to meet my family. And I want to meet yours. I want to be a family. With you. Will you Y/N? Will you marry me?”

Y/N falls to her knees in tears and wraps her arms around his neck as he takes her into his hold, holding her close as she sobs.

“I-I’m so sorry I left!”

Harry rubs her back and lifts her up, carrying her inside as he hums and shushes her.

“I know love, I know. I’m so sorry I hurt you…”

He sits down on her couch, holding her tight in his arms as her sobs soften and she lifts her head up.

“You say it’s weird but you eat fries and ice cream with me.”

She smiles and Harry lets out a small laugh as he nods. She rests her head on his chest and they lay in content silence for a moment.

“Did you… Did you buy a ring?”

She lifts her head up again and he smiles.

“No- I had something else in mind… You’ll just have to wait and see- That is… if you’re saying yes?”

She nods with a small smile and kisses him.

The following weeks set many things in motion. And as soon as they were able, Harry, along with Y/N, traveled to Holmes Chapel to see his mother.

>>>——————————->

Harry knocks on his mom’s door, holding tightly on Y/N’s hand as she nervously fiddles with her dress. Anne opens the door with a wide smile as she sets her eyes on Y/N.

“My goodness it’s about time! And Y/N- you’re absolutely gorgeous! Come in, come in! Step out of the cold!”

They walk inside and Harry closes the door before he drags Y/N through the house and into the living room where Gemma and her boyfriend Michel sit. Gemma smiles as she sees her brother and gives him a small nod of approval.

Throughout dinner, laughs echo through the house when Anne gets up for a moment, leaving the room, only to come back with a small box, handing it to Harry. Harry stands up and turns to Y/N, once again, getting on his knee. Y/N starts to tear up as she realizes what he’s doing, and he opens the small box, revealing a ring.

“Harry- that’s..”

He smiles and nods.

“It’s not the exact but… this is as close as I could get to replicating your mum’s ring. I know how much you miss her and how you wish she was still here… and I promise to you and to her… You will never be unhappy again. I love you Y/N. Everything about you.”

>>>————————————->

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[cupidsrecs]

yours (ymls check-in)

in which y/n just wants to be harry's — officially.

word count: 3.8k

content warnings: parenting/family stuff (y/n and harry are parents), smut (breeding kink, slight size kink, literal one "mommy" mention, dirty talk)

ymls masterlist | main masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Parenthood is difficult.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, so it takes Harry and Y/N approximately two minutes of bringing Clementine into the world to come to the same realization. Her loud wails break their hearts every time, sleep becomes a luxury, and breastfeeding takes an incredible toll on Y/N’s physical and mental health.

But in the same way that parenting is hard and filled with tears and confusion, it’s just as — if not more — rewarding.

Clementine is the best thing that’s ever happened to each of them. Harry can’t remember a version of his life where he wasn’t head-over-heels in love with his sweet baby girl, and Y/N has softened up a considerable amount now that she spends most of her day cooing to her daughter. 

It’s not perfect by any means — Clem is a tried-and-true daddy’s girl and sometimes it hurts Y/N’s feelings. Clementine also inherited her mom’s grumpy exterior and, in the middle of a visit from Harry’s parents or Y/N’s sister, will starfish her body, going completely rigid until one of her parents takes her. (Harry always thinks it’s funny while Y/N is embarrassed by it. It’s something they’re working on as a family.)

Beyond their little trio, though, lies a larger situation that’s been conveniently tucked away since Clementine was born: Harry and Y/N’s relationship. 

They never decided what they were after confessing feelings for one another. One day, they lived separately and were going the route of platonic co-parenting. The next, Harry moved all his things into Y/N’s, ended the lease on his own apartment, and painted the guest room a pretty pastel pink. 

At first, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Y/N has never cared for labels on relationships, and their devotion to each other was blatant — they were parenting a child together, after all. He kissed her good morning, they held hands on family walks, and at the end of the day, they were crawling into bed together. She didn’t need a ring or a title to reiterate where she stood in Harry’s life.

Until… well, until the supermarket incident.

It was a rainy day, but Y/N wanted to pop into the store before they rounded the corner to head back home. Now that Clementine’s pediatrician gave them the okay to start trying out solid foods — or, as solid as baby food can be — Harry had gotten really into making it from scratch. Currently, their kitchen was a mess of sweet potato, apple, and green bean purees, but Y/N was trying to be supportive, even if the noise of the blender sometimes woke Clem up from her afternoon nap. She remembered him mentioning a new recipe he found for carrots, mangos, and bananas, so she figured they could grab the ingredients on their way home. 

Clementine looked adorable in her cute little rain jacket and matching hat. Harry couldn’t stop taking pictures of her, and as they dipped into the produce aisle, stroller in tow, she remembered they needed another gallon of milk since they were trying to wean Clem off of Y/N’s breast milk. 

“You guys can stay right here, it’s just in the next aisle,” Y/N said, arms stuffed with produce bags. Harry nodded, though his attention primarily laid on Clementine’s gummy smile. Y/N snorted to herself as she quickly shuffled off to the dairy section — the duo were two peas in a pod, but she didn't think she would want it any other way. 

Glancing down at her watch, she put a pep in her step as she walked back to the produce aisle. They had about 15 minutes before Clem started getting antsy and whiney about her pre-dinner nap, and she didn’t want her to get upset on their walk home. 

Only, when she turned the aisle, Harry and Clementine weren’t alone anymore — no, there were two women standing with them, cooing over their daughter. 

“She’s so precious! How old is she?” one of them asked.

“Ah, almost eight months,” Harry replied bashfully, petting down the tuft of brown curls at the top of Clementine’s head. Y/N clenched her jaw. Why had he taken her hat off? It was supposed to protect her from the rain! 

“So sweet,” the other woman grinned, reaching out to thumb over Clementine’s puffy cheek. The vision sent a pang of jealousy through Y/N’s chest — her baby wasn’t some kind of doll that anyone could just touch! Clutching the produce and container of milk in her hands, Y/N all but marched over to the stroller and threw them in the bottom compartment. 

“Ready to go, honey?” 

Harry blinked at Y/N, a world of confusion swirling in the green eyes he shared with his daughter. She stayed silent and still, knuckles white from gripping the stroller handle so tightly. 

“Yeah,” he finally replied, leaning down to gently place Clementine back in her seat, “This is Y/N, Clementine’s mum.”

“Oh, your baby is so sweet! Harry was just raving about you!” one of the women nearly squealed. Y/N smiled tightly as she watched him buckle Clementine in.

“Okay, say bye bye, Clem,” Harry murmured. They’d been trying to teach her how to wave hello and goodbye, but Y/N would rather scoop her own eyeballs out than watch her do it for the first time with these women. 

In fact, she was already pushing the stroller down the end of the aisle before they could even get the word “bye” out.

Since that day about two weeks ago, it’s been constantly replaying in the back of Y/N’s brain. Even though Harry didn’t think much of it (she knows this because he immediately started talking about nonsense on the walk home), for the first time, it plucked at a chord of insecurity that she didn’t even know she had. She’d always felt fairly secure in her relationship with Harry — he’d all but begged her for this life together, and he’d been incredibly involved from the moment she got pregnant — so how is that two random strangers at the supermarket tore this out of her? 

It bothered her so deeply to the point where she did something she’d never done before: Ask Lea for relationship advice. 

“In the years I’ve known you, you have never asked me for help with a man,” Lea had said, her eyebrows raised so high they nearly met her hairline. Y/N grumbled as she wrapped her hand around her matcha, avoiding eye contact with her friend. She’d been able to sneak out for an afternoon coffee date with her while Harry took Clementine to the park. “You’re always so… sure of yourself. And you have a literal child with Harry. What gives?”

Y/N shrugged as she rubbed her lips together nervously. “You should’ve seen the way those girls were all over him. It was… gross.”

“It’s normal to feel jealous, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I am not jealous,” she muttered, “I just… he introduced me as Clementine’s mom. Don’t you think I’m a bit… more than that to him?”

“Of course you are. But you’ve never had that conversation, have you?”

“Like you said, we have a baby together. What else could you need?”

Lea smirked, “That’s all that you need. But he probably needs a bit more confirmation than that.”

Y/N bristled as she stuck her straw between her lips, taking a long sip. 

“He knows we’re in a relationship, doesn’t he?” 

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, “Dom and I used to hear all the gossip about you two before Clem was born, but since then, I think he’s just been focused on making sure you and her are both taken care of.”

“So what do I do?” Y/N asked through a sigh, leaning back against the worn leather of the booth. 

“Talk to him,” Lea said easily, “But… maybe don’t do it in your rough-and-tough-Y/N way. Maybe… make it a little special. He likes that, y’know? Little romantic gestures?”

Y/N scrunched her face. Lea was right — Harry was all about the little things, like surprising her with flowers or waking her up with breakfast in bed on the weekends. And while Y/N was positive she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body, she’d certainly attempt to find one if it meant making Harry happy. 

. . .

A few days later, Harry walks into his shared apartment with Y/N to the scent of something delicious. 

“Y/N?” he calls as he toes his shoes off in the entryway. They weren’t due for company, were they? He doesn’t think so, but with eight months straight of four to five hours of sleep each night, he had trouble remembering anything that wasn’t Clementine-related. 

He follows the fragrance into the kitchen, where Y/N is standing over the stove, stirring a bubbling pot of some sort of sauce. She jumps, hand over her heart, when he goes to greet her. 

“Jesus fuck, you scared me!” she exclaims, the wooden spoon nearly clattering to the floor. He smirks and lets out an amused laugh as he walks towards her, observing the array of pans on the stovetop. 

“What’s all this for?” he asks. Y/N presses a hand to his muscular chest and attempts to block him from seeing anything. 

“I’m making you dinner,” she mumbles, nibbling on her bottom lip, “Clem’s with my sister for the night.”

“Oh?”

She nods. 

“Did I forget a special occasion?”

She shakes her head.

“Then how come I’m getting spoiled tonight?”

Her cheeks warm at that, but they both pretend her blush is invisible. “I just wanted to do something… romantic for you.” 

“Romantic?” he repeats the word like it’s a bizarre concept and it makes a pit form in Y/N’s stomach, “That’s… sweet of you. Thank you.”

She nods, albeit a bit robotically. “Um. Yeah. It’ll be ready in like 5 minutes.”

“Sounds good,” he replies, “Do you want me to set the table?”

She shakes her head bashfully and Harry raises an eyebrow. “I already did that.”

Her demure nature makes a smile form at the edges of his lips and he reaches out to press a hand to her hip, squeezing gently. 

“Y’okay?” he asks softly, tilting his head to look at her. “You seem nervous.”

Y/N shrugs and it supplies him with a tepid answer. “I just wanna make this nice for you.”

His heart breaks a bit at that and he ducks lower to catch her lips in a short, sweet kiss. PDA isn’t irregular for them — not with touch being Harry’s primary love language — so it’s unsurprising to be on the receiving end of one of his dizzying kisses, even if it ends quicker than she’d like. 

“This is already so special to me. I do miss Clem, though.”

She snorts at that as he brushes his nose against hers. “Of course you do. She’s your mini me.”

“Except when she’s making that grumpy little face. That’s all you.”

Y/N lightly bats at his chest before mumbling out to go sit down in the dining room. 

Harry’s eyes widen when he sees the candlelit table — he can’t remember the last time they ate on actual plates, always opting for take-out containers or paper plates for the sake of convenience. He swallows as he sits down and listens to Y/N shuffle around the kitchen. He hears her curse, followed by what sounds like her emptying pasta into a colander — she always burns herself whenever she does that, and he can envision the slight grimace that appears on her face. 

Just as he’s getting antsy and preparing himself to ask if she needs any help, Y/N appears from the kitchen with a big bowl of pasta. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she places it on the table, then stands up straight. She looks like a soldier waiting to be told to return to their duties.

“Um… I made us that roasted red pepper pasta you like.” she says, wringing her hands out in front of her. “I hope that’s fine.”

“That’s great,” Harry nods, gesturing to the seat across from him, “Sit down. You look like you’re gonna have an aneurysm. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” Y/N grumbles as she sits down, and the sound of her grouchy voice makes him chuckle as he grabs her bowl to serve her, “I know I’m not, like… the most romantic person, or even the easiest person to be around, so it’s important to me that I make this really good for you.”

“I hate when you say that,” he murmurs before placing her full bowl in front of her. He moves to serve himself, “You’re the easiest person I’ve ever been around. You’re a great mum and I love being a parent with you.”

Y/N swallows as she listens to him, leaving her food untouched. He watches her and takes a bite of his pasta, chewing slowly. 

“Is that… all I am to you?” she asks softly with low eyes. Harry furrows his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… am I still just a co-parent to you?” 

He sets his fork down and uses his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Well, we never really talked about it, I guess. But you know you’re more than that to me.”

“You’re more than just Clem’s dad to me,” she continues. “And it kinda hurt my feelings when you introduced me to those girls as ‘Clementine’s mom’ a few weeks back.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Oh. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I know.”

His heart strains at the thought of hurting her feelings, but he also knows that what happened in the supermarket was weeks ago. Had she been sitting on it and thinking about it all this time?

“I never want to make you uncomfortable, Y/N. To be honest, I don’t know how to refer to you but… I’d say you’re my partner, yeah? You’re my teammate in raising our beautiful girl and I love getting to live life with you.”

Her heart thumps rapidly in her chest. “But what if… what if you called me your girlfriend, too?”

Harry’s silent for a moment. He reaches out to place his hand on her knee, squeezing softly.

“Would you want that?” he asks. “I’ll only do it if that’s what you want.”

She looks up at him and nods. Her eyes are glassy and it makes Harry’s chest tighten. Suddenly, he needs to be closer to her, so he stands up and scoops her into his arms. At first she rejects his touch, mumbling out sentiments about still having postpartum weight, but Harry shushes her and pulls her into his lap. 

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Y/N.” he murmurs. He leans up and presses a chaste kiss to the side of her neck. She shivers and he keeps his hands as solid anchors on her hips. 

“I want you to call me your girlfriend,” she says, lifting her gaze to look at him. “I don’t want you to entertain any other person or let them flirt with you or touch our baby. I just want it to be the three of us, always.”

If Harry’s being honest, he would have been content with living in this gray, in-between area with Y/N for the rest of their lives. He was happy — so incredibly happy to be in her life, to sleep next to her every night, to raise a gorgeous baby girl with her. He felt fortunate to be there for every moment, good and bad — but he would be a liar if he said he hadn’t been waiting for the day where she told him what was really going on in that pretty head of hers.

He presses a chaste kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says quietly, soft fingertips smoothing over the expanse of her hip, “You’re my girlfriend, okay? Not just Clemmie’s mum. You’re so much more than that.”

She nods her head and Harry smiles gently at how flustered she continues to be — it’s a side of her that he rarely sees, and the sight makes a low chuckle sound from deep in his chest. 

“You’re silly,” he mumbles against the shell of her ear. “Isn’t that what you are? A silly baby desperate to be mine?”

Y/N bristles and swallows harshly, keeping her gaze low in his lap. His smirk only grows as he begins to press slow kisses along her jaw and down to her neck. Her eyes flutter closed. 

“Everyone thinks you’re this pretty, grumpy girl, but I know better than that,” he continues, sliding his hands beneath her tee-shirt to feel her warm skin, “You’re loving and kind. The best mum I’ve ever seen. The best partner and the best girlfriend, too. Isn’t that right, mama?”

She gasps wetly and he feels her thighs threaten to clench, but his hips prevent her from getting any relief. He hums, satisfied with her response and, in a quick movement, pulls her shirt from her body and tosses it to the floor. Her swollen breasts sit prettily on her chest and he tries his best not to groan at the sight. 

“Don’t tease,” she mewls. He chuckles as she grasps at the fabric of his own tee-shirt, the soft material in the tight clutch of her knuckles. 

“Need me to fill you up?” he asks, though he knows the answer is an obvious and resounding yes. They haven’t had actual sex in at least a month, not with Clementine occupying 99% of their time. Even if he’s attempting to play it cool, his cock is hard and throbbing beneath layers of his clothing. He swears he can even feel the warmth of her pussy through her own clothes and it’s taking everything in him not to thrust up and grind against her. 

“Yes,” Y/N pants, shaky fingers digging beneath the waistband of his trousers to pull his length out, “S-stop playing around. You know it’s been too long.”

Harry laughs lowly and lifts his hips up to grant her enough space so she can retrieve his cock. She doesn’t even bother pushing his pants or briefs down, swallowing tightly at the sight of the ruddy tip already leaking with pre-cum. 

“Relax, baby,” he mumbles, grabbing one of her trembling hands and intertwining their fingers together, “Breathe, yeah? I’ll take care of my girl.”

Her pussy clenches at that — my girl — and she nibbles on her bottom lip eagerly when he pushes her soft shorts to the side to reveal her pussy. He wishes he had more willpower to look at what he’s been missing out on and his throat bobs when his eyes flicker down to the puffy clit tucked between her lips. He thinks they’ll both explode if he doesn’t get inside of her in the next two seconds, so he gives his cock a pump before he positions himself beneath her and slowly pushes in. 

Immediately, she whimpers out and he stalls, his free hand pressing rigidly into the skin of her thigh. 

“Y’alright?” 

“Yeah,” she whispers, “Tight fit.”

“I know.” he mutters, glancing up at her to read her expression. “Do you need me to pull out?”

She instantly shakes her head, “No, no. Keep going.”

Harry leans up to seal their lips in a messy, wet kiss as he continues pushing in as slowly as he can. He supposes he should’ve spent more time stretching her out, but if there’s one thing he’s learned about Y/N over the past year, it’s that she’s always eager and ever determined to take him, even if it’s been weeks since their last time together.

When he’s finally all the way in, his balls snug against her bum, their kiss slows, though it doesn’t seem like Y/N has any plans to separate their mouths. He doesn’t move a muscle, even if he knows his cock is throbbing from the tightness of her pussy. And then, after what seems like an eternity, she nods.

Slowly, he begins to fuck up inside of her and breathy moans depart from her swollen lips. Harry’s mouth catches each one, punctuating every whimper with a gentle peck. 

“There you go, mama, take my cock. You’re doing so good, aren’t you?”

She only responds with a lilting whimper and he moans, feeling the way her pussy clenches around his length. It’s not the dirtiest sex they’ve had — not by a long shot — but god, if it doesn’t feel incredible knowing that they’re completely devoted to one another.

“You make me feel so good,” she mewls, making his eyes nearly roll back, “I love your cock— ‘s so good, Harry, want— want you to give me another baby.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, squeezing her hips hard, “Can’t just fucking say that stuff, baby. I’ll bust before you even cum.”

“D-don’t care,” she shudders, but he can tell she’s reaching her peak by the way her thighs begin to tremble, each of her muscles tightening. “Cum inside me, m-make me a mommy again.”

His chest vibrates with a deep groan and he reaches between them to pinch at her pearly clit, rubbing it in quick, tight circles. He’s seconds away from bursting himself, but he refuses to finish before she has a chance to. 

It barely takes a few loops around the bundle of nerves before she’s shaking in his lap, her pussy tensing around his length as she moans out his name over and over again. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and he presses his forehead against her sweaty shoulder, shuddering as her orgasm triggers his own. As requested, he pumps his cock deep inside of her as he comes, pushing his seed as far as it’ll go. She whimpers from the sensation as pants fall from her lips, shivering every time he thrusts another rope of cum into her.

They’re both shaking by the time both of their orgasms taper off. Harry wraps his arms around her sweaty form, pulling her chest against his. 

“You’re mine, yeah?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You and Clem. We’re a family.”

Y/N nods, echoing his words. “Yours.”

They settle into a comfortable silence; Harry’s softening cock still inside. He’s unsure of how how long they stay there, but he does know that they’ll have to move eventually so he can clean her up. It’s only then that she sits up to look at him, her eyes soft and tired. 

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

“Will you get me Plan B tomorrow?” she asks, biting her lip. “I think Clem is… more than enough for me right now.”

He laughs and nods his head. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll pick some up for you tomorrow.”

[cupidsrecs]

Hawthorn

the hawthorn stands out for its paradoxes: it is both a common hedgerow shrub and known for standing alone on the hills, a guardian of the landscape. It represents sex, beauty and fertility but also death. It is said to bring both protection and bad luck

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YN inherited a business she never wanted in the first place, but that doesn’t mean she’ll let Harry Styles, a trust-fund baby with a charming smile and something to prove, take Hawthorn from under her nose.

Content: 18+, smut, death of a parent (pre-fic), unhealthy family dynamics, hot drinks and sweet tooths, me pretending to know business jargon

Part 1 - The Arrival

Content: Hawthorn has a special visitor. No funny business…yet. Mentions of the death of a parent (before the events of the story)

Word count: 6.9k

Part 2 - The Offer

Content: 18+, pumpkins, a business date, an offer, and game plans. Discussions of a sexual nature and two horny people pretending not to be, no smut just yet, but a little...something

Word count: 8.7k

Part 3 - The Acquiesce* - posted Tuesday 28th November

Content: 18+, a nocturnal break-in and hot chocolate kisses, things heat up, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), YN feeling overwhelmed

Word count: 9.2k

[cupidsrecs]

makey makeover - rodrick x hyperfeminine reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: rodrick x gn hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: rodrick isn't used to being taken care of but only briefly mentioned at the end, rodrick does not know what hyaluronic acid is

summary: rodrick can never say no to you, but if it means having you straddle his lap while you use all your skincare products on him and listen to music together, he wouldn't want to say no anyway.

song recs: makey makeover - crazy ex girlfriend cast, jesus of suburbia - green day, perfect day - hoku

a/n: I started writing a kids book yesterday?? like I finished the first chapter and outline in one sitting???? it wasn't at all planned but when the muse strikes yk. Anyway I don't think it will take me as long to write so if you wanna read a chapter book about magic and girlhood and unicorns and other mythical creatures with bella sara vibes that's probs gonna be ready reasonably soon lol

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280 @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @kiara7777 @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @Maggzsworld @xiaos_crustytoenails @ionlymadethisaccountbcihadto @strawberryjen124 @Isaentremundos @hxnbah

Rodrick likes to think he's a pretty tough guy. Between being born and raised on the rebellious messages of pop punk music, and the nonconforming ideologies of emo and other alt subcultures, Rodrick knows in his bones that he'll never let the man break his spirit. He'll never bow down to someone just because they want him to do something. He's had countless opportunities to stand by these beliefs at school and at home, and he has never - not once - come close to doing anything for someone simply because they want him to. Rodrick has been confident in his ability to never give into other people’s orders, no matter how much they demand of him. 

Until now.

“Pretty please, Roddy…?” You pout your glossy lips at him, blinking up at him and batting your doll like eyelashes, and that’s all it takes to make him fold.

“...I guess, if you really-” He’s cut off by an excited squeal from you, and he’s glad that you’re too distracted to notice him blush. Rodrick has never felt his willpower give in so fast, but as he watches you rush around your room and smile, delighted that he’d agreed, he realizes that he’d do pretty much anything you tell him too. Ben and Chris would call him a pussywhipped simp, but… no, that’s pretty much it. He chuckles a little at the thought, watching the pile of stuff grow. He recognizes nail polish and tweezers, but that’s about it.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” You say, rambling happily as you settle down on your bed across from him. “I’ve been wanting to do self care stuff but I’ve done so many everything showers and self care nights there’s nothing left for me to do on myself. But you…”

You take his face in your manicured hands, moving him around to inspect more closely.

“You are in serious need of a facial.”

Rodrick doesn’t really process what you’re saying, he just loves when you touch his face like that. 

“...Uh, yeah totally.” He mutters absentmindedly, distracted by your sweet smell. After a moment, he processes what you said, and chuckles, leaning back into your silky pink pillows. “Babe, you can do anything to me, anywhere, anytime.” 

You giggle, feeling your face flush a little as you get all your stuff organized. Rodrick runs his hands up and down your waist, fidgeting with your soft fluffy pajama shorts and big loded diper shirt you wear all the time. He sees the little burn marks and worn out hems and realizes it’s the one you stole from him. He smiles softly, loving the way you look in it even more now. His attention is pulled back to you when you push something over his face, brushing his hair back. You adjust the fluffy cat ears on the headband, making sure you have access to his whole face. Rodrick giggles a little, knowing he must look a little out of place wearing a pierce the veil shirt and fluffy kitty cat headband. 

“I don’t think my forehead has been this exposed since like, 4th grade…” he chuckles.

“That’s good, you’ll have less sun damage that way.” You smile, putting some micellar water on a cotton pad. It’s a little cold to the touch, but after a moment, the feeling of you gently wiping over his face and neck ends up being way more relaxing than he had expected it to. You throw it away, and he hears it land in your trash can with a crinkle. 

“I’m gonna mist your face now, okay?” You say, and he nods. You spray rose water on his face, and Rodrick can’t get over how considerate you are to give him a heads up like that. Rodrick smiles a little as he adjusts to the subtle floral smelling facial spray he’s used to smelling on you. He basks in the quietness of your room, opening his eyes as he watches you sitting on his stomach and looking for the next product. You hesitate for a moment. You feel like something’s missing, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Oh,” you say, reaching for your phone as you remember. You open up Spotify, and put your favorite playlist on shuffle - the one you and Roddy share. It’s full of both your favorite songs, mostly boiling down to early 2000’s pop punk and trashy pop. It’s chaotic but really does suit you both perfectly.  Rodrick smiles suddenly as he instantly recognizes the opening notes of Jesus of Suburbia begin to play. You take out your favorite serum, jasmine and blackberry hydrating jelly, and place a few drops around his face. 

“What’s that one?” Rodrick asks, picking up another bottle. 

“Hyaluronic acid.”

Rodrick looks at the little dropper bottle.

“Does it, like, melt the flesh right off your bones?” 

“No…?” You chuckle, massaging his cheekbones and jawline with your fingertips.

“Then why is it called hydroponic acid?” He asks rhetorically, “Acid is supposed to melt shit.”

You laugh again, and he makes a mental note to sample your laughter for a song at some point in the future. He doesn’t know which one yet, but he knows it will be his best one yet. 

You rub some cooling aloe vera gel into his skin, then take out your rose quartz gua sha stone. You tap your fingertips against his chest, and he looks at you with an amused smile.

“What does that do?”

He watches you work, eyes locked on you. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and peaceful. 

“I’m prepping your lymphatic drainage system.” 

That clarified absolutely nothing for Rodrick, but he trusts you implicitly. You’re so good at so many things, but Christ, you could write a book on all that girly beauty stuff. It’s way more hardcore than people think it is. You know about all these acids and drainage systems and the pink rock thing, and even though he’s impressed, he’s not at all surprised by how good you are at all this stuff.

You begin gently gliding your gua sha over Roddy’s skin, working from his forehead down to his neck and jawline. He stops talking as you work, and it’s like you melt all of the stress out of his body through his face. He could fall asleep with you touching him so gently like this. After a while you rub some more cream into his face, then place something under his eyes that feels like thinly sliced jello.

“What the fuck?” He asks, bringing another laugh out of you. He watches you take two more of the weird jelly things and put them under your own eyes.

“They’re under eye masks.” You answer with a chuckle. “They hydrate your skin, depuff, and get rid of dark circles.”

“Huh…” he hums in response, playing with the patches as they sit on his face. 

Once you’ve used half your arsenal of skincare products on him, you peel off his sheet mask and let him sit up. You hand him a mirror, and as he sits up and stretches a little, kind of wishing you had more to do, he feels like he just woke up from the best sleep of his life. 

“So? What do you think?” You ask excitedly. He can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are. Rodrick takes the mirror you offer him. When he sees his reflection, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. 

“Oh my god…” he says with a soft smile. He’s glowing. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked this soft and moisturized and… cared for before. He doesn’t even have any crusty eyeliner from yesterday smudged around his eyes. He can never get it off all the way, but one wave of your magic wand, and it’s gone. He laughs again, touching his cheek. He looks up at you in surprise.

“My face is so smooth…” “I know!” You exclaim in delight. “So, do you like facials after all?”

You have a feeling you already know the answer, but Rodrick looks up at you anyway.

“Yeah,” he states, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips soft and exfoliated, topped with your favorite strawberry lip balm. You think Rodrick is right, it does taste better in a kiss. After he pulls away, it takes him a minute for his brain to stop short circuiting. 

“So… uh, are we doing this again next weekend?” 

You laugh at his hopeful tone of voice, how he raises his eyebrows a little. 

“Yeah.” You nod, taking him in for another kiss. You take his hands in yours, looking at the stick and poke tattoo he got of the heart you drew on his hand in chemistry class, his little calluses from drumming. “Next week I can do something about your cuticles.”

[cupidsrecs]

oh i’m…. 🫨🫨🫨🫨

smut blurb bc why not

“Please, pl- please, ple-”

“Shut, the fuck up,” he whispered. “I said I don't want to hear a single thing coming out of that sweet mouth of yours, didn’t I, darling?”

I nodded slowly, trying to contain the shiver wracking through my body.

“And what,” he leaned over, looking into my eyes, “about that, don’t you understand baby, hm? Is that too much for your tiny little head to handle? Already fucked dumb, huh darling?”

All I could do was blink, causing the tears that had been gathering in my lash line to roll down my face, dripping into the tangles of hair amassed on my head.

“Are you going to be a good girl and stay quiet, like I asked?” His gaze slowly dropped to my lips, “Or do I have to think of another way to keep you silent.”

Shaking my head, I look up into his eyes, finding them still caught on my lips.

His head tilts.

“Open up, darling”.

My lips part.

“Wider.”

I just blinked again, which, somehow, was all I seemed to be able to do at the moment.

“Silly, little, baby.” His other hand roughly dropped the vibrator, letting the buzzing toy drop between my legs, just out of reach of where I needed it.

The sudden loss of pleasure sent a shockwave through my body, making me twitch. He roughly grabbed my face in his now unoccupied hand, squeezing my cheeks together.

“Have to do everything by myself, apparently.” his lips parted, and I watched his spit drop down between mine.

“Close.”

My mouth shut.

“Swallow, baby.”

I did as he asked, opening my mouth again afterwards to show I had done what he’d ordered me to do.

“Good girl, baby, you’re doing such a good job,” he mocked, his touch receding, leaving my face cold, without the warmth of his strong grasp cradling my jaw.

“Now, are you going to keep being my good girl? Or do we have to go back to that other method we’ve been talking about, hm?”

I adhered to his demands, pressing my lips even tighter together, trying to prove him wrong, and show him that I could be good, I could do as he said, I could do as he wanted.

I could be good.

“You ready to start up again, baby?” I nodded, noting the pride in his eyes at my confirmation.

“All you have to do is lay here, and stay still. No squirming, no writhing. You’re going to lay here, and you’re going to take it, like i know my good girl would, alright baby?”

dont ask i have no idea what im doing also i still dont know how to get the italics i put in it back when i copy past it to tumblr:’)

just know they were there pls:)

[cupidsrecs]

the way this was so cute and now adding this to my watch list.

amazing as always, smiled the whole time reading it ❤️

Lately Drac’s been thinking about….

Being the last house on Baron’s letter carrier route. Sometimes he tries to get deliveries done a little earlier than noon so he has more time to linger near your picket fence.

Parking his bike near that big tree in your backyard, quickly fixing his wind-blown hair to make it neat and tucked back behind his ears as he approaches you crouched over your rose bushes.

The way your face lights up to see him, even if it’s just to see that small box tucked under his elbow of new watercolor paints you ordered or that letter addressed to you from a publishing company both of you crossed fingers for, hoping they’ll accept some of your poetry.

That sudden fade in your flickering eyes despite that smile you keep on your face in front of him. That small tiny bite on the inside of your lip that chokes down rejection- followed with a big exhale and a oh well demeanor he sees more than often.

There’s always next time!

A voice as sweet as the smell of those salmon-pink Boscobels between the two of you with a wonderful scent like myrrh, pears, elderberries and almonds- all from your care, you speak again,

“How were your deliveries this mornin’ Baron?”

He shrugs, a voice soft, always soft spoken, chest tightening from the way you twirl a pruned rose between fingers while not breaking eye contact as he licks lightly chapped lips,

“Nothin’ too ‘memorable… but… I did see on the marquee that they’re playing Wutherin’ Heights later this afternoon.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… N’I saws you readin’ that book once, so I just figured it’d be somethin’ you’d be interested in knowin’. ”

Clutching the soon to be discarded letter in your hold, the thought of him watching from afar as you sat in your garden with one of your favorite Brontë sisters brings a fluttering to your very center like wisp butterflies on meadow buttercup wildflowers.

“Which one are they playin’ ?”

“Huh?”

“Which version of the movie are they playin’ for the matinee? The one with Timothy Dalton or the one with Laurence Oliver?”

“Oh…” his lips stay in an opening, showing off the bottoms of his two big and cute front teeth. It closes as lips press tightly and he bashfully smiles with a shake of his head, “I’m not too sure… but I was thinkin’ about-”

He pauses, a small chuckle as it starts to heat up under his button up uniform shirt and postal service blue blazer at his neck.

There’s a gentle summer breeze that carries a small lock of his sun-bleached honeyed-caramel waves over his strong and pointed freckled nose that’s taking every bit of your strength to not reach over and tuck it back behind those big ears that were now as pink as your roses.

“I was thinkin’ about… askin’ if I could take you to see it. I ain’t never read the book like you, so, I don’t know what it’s really about.”

Baron watches as you tuck your nose into that large bloom, a hum of contemplation on the spontaneous event that interrupted your plans of doing nothing but staring at an empty canvas or an empty page waiting for your wordsmith attention.

“You wanna take me to the movies?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a sincerity full of hope after waiting for an opportunity like this to come along for weeks, “-very much so.”

You smile at this boy, nay, young man, from the way you catch those few curls of dark hair peeking from his undershirt collar, the lines near his eyes as he squints to see you in this high-noon light.

This is your Baron, the young man that inspired you to pour out those couplets of humid summertime yearning after these few minutes of interaction on the daily stained your every thought like golden tumeric until you laid yourself to rest in a big empty bed.

You bet your Baron runs real warm, seeing him wear those silly mid-thigh length shorts even in late fall on his deliveries. The sweat on his brow evident of pedaling around town with a purpose, his wide palms smelling of the rubber gripped on his handlebars.

“Sure, Honey,” you smile at the man who was melting on the inside like a RocketPop from the way that sweet name breezed into his brain on this warm afternoon. “Sounds like a treat.”

A treat, he smiles, hopping back onto his bike, half a dozen roses in his basket you told him to put in some fresh water with a little bit of 7-Up so the blossoms lasted longer for his mother when he headed home to shower and change.

Honey, Baron catches himself helplessly and stupidly grinning at the thought of being your Honey.

Sweetness is everything he gave to you, sweetness is all he thought you deserved.

To hold those thorn prickled fingers of yours, woven between his; to kiss the tips that bury themselves in the earth and pinch the ink that flows poetry in motion.

He daydreams of listening to you call him Honey once more, imagining his head on your lap with his back to gingham under the clouds, soaking up sun and the recited words from your sonnets. Haikus. Prose poems. Anything, as your hand runs through his hair,

‘Did you fall asleep, Honey?’

‘Mm- just restin’ my eyes, Darlin’ ”

Oh my darling, oh my darling, you pop another clementine in your Huckleberry’s mouth before ruby lips come down to paint the apples of his cheeks like the canvases in your sun room.

So he neatly combs his hair, washes behinds his ears, and uses that old spice cologne that will tickle your nose as you greet him in that babydoll dress, Miss Mary Mack, dressed in black with silver buttons all down your back.

A pachyderm on his chest, his hand itches to rest upon the fabric’s juxtapose along your spine and guide you to your seats.

In the dark, shoulder to shoulder, seated upon plush velvet and sticky floors he’s trying to ignore, as the fatal and selfish side of love is projected onto the white screen. Baron gulps down nothing, despite the large Icee between your seats with two straws.

It’s the way he can smell your perfume, the way your bare knee rests upon his over-worn denim. The way your hand reaches over to his lap for popcorn and you softly whisper into his ear as you tell him to keep in mind certain things for the plot.

Baron would have to watch the movie again, overcome by the way you tucked an arm under his bicep to wrap around his elbow and lay your head on his for the rest of the movie.

Luckily, for him, you owned it on VHS.

Lucky for you, Baron still had a VCR.

‘It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.’

[cupidsrecs]

finally got around to reading this and omg the rollercoaster i just rode…!

the tongue sucking??? filthy

the cat paw chair, i loved how she didn’t forgive niall right away and went in understanding why he did it to a point and her telling him about how she really felt.

THE END??!! SOBBING

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

or

Harry and Y/N like being around each other maybe too much

part 1

part 2

part 3

iv.

Y/N wondered how many vampires she’d seen in her lifetime. 

Unlike the stories and movies, they didn’t lurk in the night and meld into the shadows all of the time. Their skin was pale, but no more pale than someone living in the mountains with very little sun. Their eyes weren’t red, or golden brown, or pools of black – they were just normal irises, no different than humans, the color encrypted in their DNA from conception. They were gorgeous, sometimes eerily so, but not in a way that you could easily group them by their features. It was comparable to being backstage on a runway – the people surrounding you were models, you knew that, and they were all beautiful in their own way with their own unique features. The difference is that instead of only finding them pretty in passing, it’s mesmerizing, almost hard to fathom, alluring in an almost unignorable way. 

But Y/N can’t remember ever being out in public and seeing a vampire, even if she didn’t know what they were called at the time. Clearly she didn’t, if one was able to ask her on a date and she’d just presumed she’d lucked out with an attractive man who didn’t mind dating below his league. Otherwise, they were masters of camouflage, or Y/N was just less observant than she thought. 

Because right now, even to the untrained eye, Y/N is almost positive that she looks like a vampire. Or at least that something is off with her. It’s in the way her posture is almost too correct, ramrod straight like someone straightened out her back and put her in a brace to keep her unmoving. Her chest did not rise and fall with each breath – not because the need to use her lungs had not been completely eradicated yet, but for the fact she’s taking a ton of shallow breaths through her mouth to avoid smelling anything, or anyone.  The way she holds her fork looks weird to her – she hadn’t held a fork in so long it was an unfamiliar weight between her fingers. She gave terse replies to questions, and could barely hold a conversation longer than small talk. 

To anyone looking or interacting with her, they must think she’d grown up in a basement and just recently ventured out into the world. To Harry, who sits across from her with an amused look dancing across his features, he knew she was just attempting to reacclimate into society. 

They had been out before, but normally that was at night, or early during cloudy weekdays when most of the city population is stuck in their stuffy office buildings. When the amount of humans is sparse and Y/N could amble away if being around them became too much. She’d never been forced to sit among them for longer than a couple minutes at a time, maybe waiting in a long line, or patiently off to the side when a human woman was interested in the same earrings that she was. 

That had been her toeing the water; Harry held her hand at the edge of a dock while she dipped her feet into the pool of being a productive member of society again. She would have to return to work at some point, and she would need to be able to attend social events or see her family, or her friends back home without wanting to eat them. Harry was surrounded by humans all day nearly every day and he hasn’t lashed out and ended up in a tabloid for sinking his teeth into a designer. It was possible, though it would take time, and a lot of practice – at some point she would be able to integrate seamlessly back into the human world. 

At some point – right now, it was fucking hard. 

Harry took her out for lunch, at a small deli a couple blocks from his flat. It was a day when the sky was heavy with clouds and would be for the majority of the afternoon, so they were able to venture out with no fear that Y/N would get all rashy again. All of Y/N’s fear lay within being in closed quarters with humans and pretending that the scent of their blood doesn’t affect her in the slightest. Or that the leaves of the salad she was stuffing into her mouth tasted more than just bland, rubbery nothing to a palate now keen on something metallic and sweet. And in that fear, and her overexerting her effort trying to look normal, she thinks she’s making herself look uncanny, unapproachable, and too much like she doesn’t belong. Like someone clipped her out of a comic book and pasted her in The Very Hungry Caterpillar. 

“Relax your shoulders,” Harry spoke from across the table, having already eaten half his sandwich, tucking the straw of his soda at the corner of his lips and sipping, “It looks like I just brought you out of a boarding school.” 

“Shut up.” Y/N had been saying that a lot to him today because it was two simple words that didn’t require as much effort as trying not to eat someone. 

Harry smiled, all too relaxed for what Y/N would think are pretty serious circumstances but she guesses he’s been through this so often he isn’t worried about a thing. Harry never seemed worried when they did something new, always promising her that he would know if she was going to do something stupid, because he knows her. And if the need to subdue her were to arise, then he could do so easily, or so he tells her every time she’s stressed about it. 

“You had plenty to eat before we came,” he murmured, voice just a touch lower, his brows raising slightly, “Even if you take a small little breath through your nose, you won’t feel like you need to do anything.” 

It’s difficult to talk inconspicuously about it, in case someone nosy was listening into their conversation (because Y/N is fucking nosy, so she knows someone else is bound to match her), but Harry does it easily. Y/N did eat a considerable amount before they did this, from the baggies, and even a little treat from Harry just before they’d left the flat. She was full, blood-drunk, and hazy up to the point that they were about to walk inside the shop and she’d worked herself up. 

“Mind over matter,” Harry slid his leg to her and locked their ankles together – he was resting his chin and cheek in his palm, watching her carefully, drinking her in, “Just take a small little breath through your nose, hm? You’ll see it’s not as bad as you think.” 

Y/N blinks at him, gripping her fork a little too hard, and she feels the stainless steel give beneath her grip, “I – okay,” she nodded, slow, steady – the whole point of this excursion was to start working on being able to smell humans without wanting to desperately sink her teeth into them. Before she could start utilizing feeders, she needed to be completely in control of how her body responds and reacts to stimuli like this. At least that’s what Harry tells her, and she’s inclined to believe him since there isn’t anyone to bounce off of his ideas anymore. She isn’t sure if they’re still on the pathway he used for all the new vampires he mentored or if he’d toggled it based on their situation. She could message Christopher and Naomi about it but every time she messages them, her heart yearns and aches in her chest.

“You’ll stop me if anything happens?” She knows he will, but she feels better when he’s all cocky and sure of himself. One of them needed complete faith in the situation, and it usually was Harry. 

Harry, who had been treating her all soft and tender lately. His words could still be harsh and he rolls his eyes and rumples his lips at her when she says something he thinks is stupid, and he’s patient, but even that patience runs out relatively quickly – but every interaction has a much softer edge to it. With every harsh critique of her technique or skill, (“How many times are you going to listen to the neighbor’s conversation and not me outside, downstairs, when you’re on the balcony? It shouldn’t matter how many flights up you are, this is baby stuff we’re trying to accomplish now!”) there is a gentle caress of her skin. His fingers will dance along her wrist, and he’ll slide his fingers between the slots of hers, and squeeze, before murmuring, “Let’s try again.” 

They are much closer now – Y/N doesn’t know if they’re dating, or if vampires even date, but she knows that Harry treats her like they might be. Harry pushes his nose into her neck and breathes in deeply like she’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He entertains her musings about code and work despite not having a clue what she’s talking about or saying. At the end of the night (early in the morning) when she is thinking about lying down, Harry offers his room to her, his bed. 

“You can always sleep in here,” he’d told her, “Even if I’m not here, yeah? Just don’t stain the sheets or anything, because to keep them this pristine even with a kitten has been hell.” 

Shit, he’s even referred to Leaf as their baby a couple of times, whereas previously he’s only called her his own. “What are you doing to my baby?” Is what he would say before when Leaf is playing with one of the many feathered string toys that Harry bought her and Y/N accidentally makes her jump right into the wall. Now it’s things like, “Our baby is so happy,” when she comes up to them on the sofa, purring and kneading at Y/N’s thighs before snuggling in her lap and falling asleep. 

Things with him were soft. This certainly felt like a relationship, sometimes, but Y/N knew better than to get ahead of herself. Last time she did that she ran away from her hometown and then got bitten by a fucking vampire, so it was better to just take things a step at a time. 

“What, you think I’m g’na let you eat someone and make me look bad?” He speaks low enough that only she could hear, helped by the loud chatter of voices around them, and stretches one arm across the table, looping his fingers around her forearm, and dragging the blunt tip of his nail along her skin, “Of course I’ll stop you, dummy.” 

Y/N shivers but feels safe; he’s got a leg wrapped around hers, and a hand on her. If she tried to move, he would stop her immediately. Harry doesn’t say aloud that that’s what he’s doing, but they both know it makes her feel better when he’s got his hands on her in some way. She’d told him as much in the past when she’d looped her arm in the gap between his and his body when they first went into the grocery store. 

“Hm, is this a ploy to make me touch you in public? You’re a filthy exhibitionist.” He’d teased her at the time, but now he keeps his hand on her when they’re out. An arm wrapped around her shoulder, a hand at the nape of her neck, his fingers looped around her wrist. 

She lets herself breathe in, just a little bit, a tiny inhale through her nose. The scents weren’t overwhelming like she’d thought – there’s plenty to sift through, it wasn’t just an onslaught of the blood pumping through the veins surrounding them. Fresh bread, the fabric softener on people’s clothes, the cleaner used to wipe down tables when they were emptied – she smelled all of that too. All a mix, like when she was a human, only she could smell and separate them just a note better than she could before. And the blood – she couldn’t smell blood before, but with a belly full, it wasn’t as hard. It still made her mouth water, and there was an itch beneath her skin that wanted to be plucked at, but nothing she couldn’t handle. 

Harry drags his nails back and forth on her forearm lazily, “See?” His relaxed posture stays, leaning on his palm, “You’re not a monster, are you, baby?” 

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head, “No, I’m not,” she cleared her throat a little, “We need to –  um – we need to get Leaf chicken treats, she likes those best.” Y/N wanted to practice being normal, talking about normal things, and thinking about something else than how she’s trying not to breathe in too deeply. She didn’t necessarily explain this to Harry beforehand but he doesn’t seem confused either, just goes along with it. 

“Really? I kind of thought she liked the shrimp ones better.” 

Y/N focuses more on Harry’s scent – he smells good. He always smells so good, that whenever she does sleep in his bed, she dips her nose into the blankets and stuffs her face into the pillows (obviously when he’s not there, she would never live that down).  If she could shove her nose in the base of his throat and not stuff her teeth into his neck then she would do it all of the time. Harry does it to her, unprovoked and unannounced, burrowing the cold tip of his nose against her carotid. She used to squirm, her ear meeting her shoulder as she pulled away from him, but now she’s gotten used to it – now, she almost expects it when he comes home from work, and if he doesn’t, she’s a little disappointed. 

It’s easy to forget why she’s at Harry’s in the first place if she’s just focusing on her and Harry’s dynamic. It’s also easy to forget that she would eventually face the music when she has to confront her feelings – Niall. There was a heavy weight on her shoulders like she wore a helmet of cast iron everywhere she went; sometimes she would forget about it, it’d been so long that it was easy to let it slip her mind, but then her shoulders would feel the pressure of it periodically. 

Like when you wear glasses for the first time. At first, it is all you can think about, how it rests on the bridge of your nose, the way the frames outline your field of view. But a couple of hours in they’re merely an extension of you, you forget they’re on your face until you reach up to rub your eye and something is in the way. 

The helmet was heavy, the look in Niall’s eyes as he told her, the cold feeling that had flushed through her veins when he’d admitted it. She wondered if it felt like his own helmet had been lifted, the weight of his guilt eased by the admission. Did he know he was going to transfer it to her? Take the helmet off and plop it onto her head? 

Her heart was torn in two. Y/N wanted to hate him for it, she really did – want to cuss him out, scratch him, and spit on him – how did vampires fight? Did they bite each other? Do they punch each other? Kick, slap? Was it still below the belt to kick him in the balls or was that an appropriate fighting tactic? Harry had never taught her how to fight – she thought maybe some sort of combat training would be important down the line, but vampires don’t usually do that. Movies and books make it seem like it was a constant battle, always something going on that they needed to defeat. Vampires typically coexist peacefully, is the thing, and their only true threat are hunters but it’s often better to avoid them or flee the situation than to fight, at least when you’re new. As long as she doesn’t act recklessly then she wouldn’t have to worry. 

And in the same breath that she hated him, she owed him her life. It was a new one – a flawed one, no more flawed than her old life, but still a new life. She would have to change how she lives, eats, exists, and it’s scary – it’s so scary! But she was alive. She was still walking around, she could still work toward goals she’d set for herself, and she could find a place for herself in this world instead of bleeding out in an alley, still feeling lost and alone. 

Would she have walked away from someone in need how she expected Niall to? If she’d stumbled upon the same scene, would she have been able to ignore it? She couldn’t even ignore a fucking kitten meowing! So it was hard – her feelings were difficult to work through and that was only worsened by her not seeing him. Playing house at Harry’s flat and ignoring what happened. 

“Where’d you go?” Harry pulls her out of her reverie, and she realizes she’d been digging her fingers into the croissant she was holding, her eyes dazed. He drags his fingers along her skin again, tenderly, gently, “Hmm? Where’d my girl go?” 

Y/N feels warm and bubbly and allows herself to revel in the giddiness that comes with Harry treating her like something special. If there was one single benefit from this whole mess, it would be Harry – experiencing this homely side of him. Whether it be the connection through their blood, or their time spent together, she felt at complete, and total ease in Harry’s presence. If she was starting to spiral, he pulled her out of it just as quickly. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, swallowing, ripping a piece of the flaky pastry and laying it on her tongue – it tasted like nothing, chalky and bland, “I. . .need to figure things out with Niall soon. I can’t keep burdening you.” 

“You’re no burden,” he answered without a second thought, “Not even a little bit, but I understand needing to sort things out for your peace of mind.” He reaches forward, thumbing at the apple of her cheek, and pinching playfully, “But you don’t need to leave just for that, hm? You’re no burden to me.” 

Y/N rests on the palm of his cheek, sighing, and the smell of all the other humans in the place pales in comparison to Harry, “Mm,” she nuzzles – it’s embarrassing, how easy she is for him, but he doesn’t tease her like he probably could, “I just. . .I think, how I’m seeing it, is I would have done the same.” She explained, “If I’d seen someone, I would have done the same, you know?” Her gaze flickered toward him, “Would you?” 

“I have,” he shrugged, “You know, it’s something that you never really know what you’ll do at the moment but when it’s presented in front of you – that’s when you’ll know. You act off instinct,” he squeezes her shoulder, slipping down to her bicep, “Just how you ran to go save Leaf with no concern of the sun. This isn’t me trying to sway you either,” he shook his head, “If you decided you fucking hated him and never wanted to see him again, I would endorse it. If you decide that you’ll forgive him, then I’ll accept that – whatever you want to do.” 

Y/N nodded, “Yeah,” she ripped another piece of croissant, “Yeah, okay.”

                                                                   .                          .                         .

Despite coming to terms with what she wanted to do, it still took her a week to gain the courage to see him. Harry doesn’t push the issue, merely enjoys his time with her and Leaf until she tells him she is ready. Honestly, there were a couple of times when Y/N wondered if she should just start ignoring it again and live life peacefully with Harry, or as peacefully as she could. But still, it weighed on her, like a Niall-shaped force that stretched himself over her and smothered her in her sleep. She had dreams of confronting him, some heartwarming and with a good outcome, some horrible that left her with tears bearding her eyes. 

She needed to do it. If she did, then she could better focus on whatever the hell is going on between her and Harry. And being a vampire. . .big, important things like that. 

So on a Tuesday, Y/N wakes up from a fitful rest and leaves Harry’s bed to find him in the kitchen. Leaf is cradled to his chest while he speaks to someone on the phone – a designer, she thinks, they’re talking about a pattern of something, but Y/N isn’t sure. She doesn’t get to know either because as soon as Harry sees that she’s awake, he smiles, then hovers his finger over the end button, “Mael, I’ll call you a little later, yeah?” He hangs up without a second thought, and Y/N’s eyes go wide. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she frowned and Harry waved his hand. 

“Nah, s’boring shit anyway. Chevron is a thing of the fucking past and it’s not coming back any time soon on my watch.” He turned on his stool, stretching out his legs and waving her forward, and when she got close enough, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, until she was standing between his thighs, “You take forever to get up. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were still a human.” 

She laid her hands on his thighs, “I need to do it today,” she told him, and she didn’t have to be descriptive for Harry to know what she was talking about, “It’s gotta be today or I won’t.” 

His gaze softened, the pale skin of his face smoothed over into something contemplative and understanding. There’s a soft sound that pulls from his throat, and his legs squeeze around her as he nods, “Okay,” he answered easily, “Do you want to ambush him or should I give him a heads up?” 

“Will he run away if he knows I’m coming?” 

Harry pursed his lips in thought, “You know, Niall isn’t one to run away,” he started, “But he also isn’t one to admit when he’s in the wrong either, and he’s done that, so I reckon some of the things I knew about him fundamentally might be wrong. He may flee from guilt alone or he’ll respect you enough to want to hear what you have to say.” 

“Then you can let him know,” she took Leaf, scratching the soft, short furs beneath her chin, “If this is a friendship worth salvaging, then he’ll wait for me.” 

The drive, which typically felt like an hour-long adventure out to the secluded space in which Mitch’s house resided, felt far quicker than it ever had before. Y/N thought it was because this time, she actually wanted it to go by slowly so that she had the chance to collect her thoughts and plan out exactly what she was going to say, and how she was going to say it. She needed the full forty-ish minutes (accounting rush hour) to develop her script, but Harry must be pressing the gas pedal right down to the floorboards because they zip through the roads in record time. 

There’s a hazy, orange glow casting over the trees while the sun sank beyond the horizon, the other half of the sky blotching the inky black sky of a winter night. She wondered if there would be stars later on – there hadn’t been for the last couple of days because of clouds heavy with snow, that’s now freckling the earth and freezing up the soil. Y/N missed them – she feels like she hasn’t seen them in a while. 

They roll up in front of the house, and Y/N thinks all of three seconds go by before a pouting Naomi rips the passenger door open, “Shame on Harry for keeping you all to himself,” she whined, and she unbuckling Y/N before Y/N could even gather her bearings, pulling her out of the car and into her arms. Naomi looks a bit frail but she’s got the strength of someone who’s prepared for war, and she gives Y/N a bone-crushing hug. “I’ve missed you!” 

Y/N laughed lightly, squeezing her arms out from where they’d been trapped between their bodies so she could reciprocate the show of affection, “I missed you too,” she replied. 

“Oi,” he grumbled, “I wasn’t keeping her to myself, I gave her a haven in a rough time.” 

“You never let any of us come over besides Christopher!” 

Harry crossed his arms, after pushing his sunglasses up into his hair, “Why would I want you heathens in my flat? The lot of you would trash the place or steal from me.” 

“You’re just no good at sharing, you –” 

Their voices fade into the background as Y/N leaves them to bicker, a tiny quirk at her lips like the muscles in her face want to smile but are thinking better than to. It was nice, sort of, to be back; to smell all the familiar scents, like she was returning home. This felt more like home than her flat did now, just from the sheer amount of time she’d spent here. She walked the familiar map from the front door, to her room, and nearly made a pitstop to give herself more time but muscled through the desire to. Y/N took the four more steps she needed to before knocking on Niall’s door – she could smell him in there. 

“Come in.” His voice sounds stiff, and when she opens the door, the position he’s sitting in matches it. He must have heard her coming because he isn’t in the lax state he normally is – his legs are off the end of the mattress, feet firm on the floor. He sits straight, his face serious, stern. She’s so used to the nonchalant way he goes about that this is the most uncanny and makes her feel like an agent sent to question him, or a judge to sentence him. Y/N hated that, she doesn’t want it to be like that – she wants it to be normal between them. Or, normal-ish, at least. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her cat paw chair sitting at the foot of his bed. Niall followed her gaze and answered before she could even question it, “I – um – promise I wasn’t stealing that,” he replied, “I missed. . .you know – having it in here made me feel a little better. Which I know, I don’t deserve to feel good about what happened.” 

Y/N ignored him, closed the door behind her, and then plopped down in the chair, resting her back on the pink, plush toe beans, “Get on the floor,” she ordered, patting the empty spot in front of her with her foot, “Please stop sitting so straight, it’s freaking me out.” 

Niall is quick to crawl down on the floor in front of her, he relaxes his shoulders so they slump just a little, and he kicks his left leg out how he usually did when he was sprawled out on the floor of her room and they were talking. It brings some normalcy to the situation that Y/N desperately needs. She bites the inside of her bottom lip for a second before giving an unneeded clear of her throat (it was just a habit at this point, she wondered how long it would take for it to break). 

“I’m just gonna come right out with it because I don’t want to beat around the bush, and if I do, I’ll just talk myself in circles until I don’t make any sense,” she started, “At first I was so mad at you I could have slapped you and spit on you and called you names. I was pretty sure that I never wanted to see you again and that I would be fine if you were completely wiped from my life,” he grimaces at the description but does nothing to refute it, “But you couldn’t have been wiped from my life, if I wasn’t living to begin with, which – I know, it gets a little confusing and convoluted. This life I have now is. . .odd, and different, and I’m not human anymore, and maybe by all technicalities I’m not alive, but I feel like I am.” She runs her thumbnail along the inside of her other palm, following the lines in them she’s had since birth, “I feel the world around me, and I can love, and I can talk, and laugh, and work, and cry. I can do all the things that I did before and then some, so even if it is different. . .I’m still alive. And I wouldn’t be had it not been for you.” 

Niall is following along, motionless, soaking in every word, “I’m more upset that you kept it from me. It would have just been nice to know, right? What exactly had happened that night, it’d been plaguing my mind and you would ask every so often, and now I’m realizing it was less from a place of care and more you covering your tail.” She shrugged her shoulders when Niall’s face scrunched with shame, “But I can’t sit here and act like I would do something different. I don’t know what I would do, in a situation like that – I think, if I came across someone in my position, then I would have changed them too. I don’t really know how at this point, but I would have tried to figure it out. And I would have been scared, afterward, I don’t know if I would have told anyone either. But I thought we were close enough. . .at least a month in, I feel like you could have told me,” she sighed, “That’s what makes me angriest. I thought we were friends but you were just being nice to me because you felt bad.” 

“That’s not true.” It was the first time he’d uttered a word since she began, “You – maybe at the start, I was a little more protective of you because I felt bad, but the rest of it – I truly felt friendship with you. Not all of it was a lie,” he shook his head, “I wanted to tell you, I did, but it never seemed like an opportune time to. And the one chance I did get, I chickened out. But I get it, if – if you need to be angry, be angry, I honestly wish you would just slap me or hit me or something, so it felt like I was getting punished for it.” 

“I wanted to, believe me, but Harry was pretty convinced that you were punishing yourself enough for it. Listen, what I’m saying is,” she crawled off the cat paw, and took his hands in her own – they were smooth and ice cold – he probably hasn’t been eating well, “My feelings are very conflicted and confusing, and I don’t know if I forgive you entirely, but forgiveness isn’t out of the question. Do you get what I mean?” Niall hums his assent, “I know things can’t go back to the way they were entirely, but I’d like it if we could get somewhere close to it. And – and if you think about it, we’ll probably be around for decades, won’t we? I’m bound to get over it eventually.” 

Niall and Y/N don’t really hug – Naomi is the touchy-feely type, and Y/N can be when she wants to be, but Niall is much more reserved with his affections. So that’s why she is tentative and a little hesitant in embracing him, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck, but she’s pleasantly surprised to feel him hug her back tightly, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and his words vibrated through her throat, “I’m so sorry, thank you for even coming back to talk to me. I thought surely with Harry at your side, you would’ve hated my guts.” 

“You would be surprised by this, but Harry went to bat for you pretty hard,” she peeled back just a little bit, “I mean, he didn’t try to change my opinion but his of you never faltered.” 

Niall frowned, “Ugh, it’s so hard to keep up with hating him sometimes,” Y/N laughed, “Seriously, he’ll be the worst prick alive and then he does something unreasonably kind and it’s like. . .either be a dick, or be nice, I hate the mix-up.” He gently let his arms slip away from her but he remained close, “Speaking of, I’ve been eavesdropping on him and Mitch – they never hear me coming so I can always get away with knowing shite I shouldn’t – has he told you yet? About the whole blood thing?” 

Y/N shook her head, and part of her was worried that Niall would save it for Harry to tell her, but she forgot that Niall is Niall, and through and through, he loved causing trouble for Harry at any given notice, “After Mitch’s initial displeasure that he’d been keeping it from him, he said there was something called ‘fated pairs’ or something like that. Your bodies call out to each other on a molecular level, something that was – predetermined the day you were both born. There was a lot of vampiric folklore nonsense that he spouted off, but he seemed pretty convinced. I don’t know why it affects you both in the way that it would make you horny, but, yeah. He said that it would’ve been the same if you were human – even if you were both humans, actually. That it was like a soul bond.” 

It was a lot to take in; Y/N is relieved of one stress and then immediately another is placed on top of her. Was it stress though? She doesn’t feel stressed at the thought of them being bonded together by their souls – she doesn’t mind that – but she is stressed that maybe he minded that. Because as far as Harry was concerned, there was no rhyme or reason for their reaction to one another’s blood. Y/N hadn’t even known he’d spoken to Mitch about it, and so to find out he has and he didn’t even express the findings to her. . .worries her, a bit. Did he not like it? Was the thought of being tied to her horrible? But if it was then he wouldn’t have been so doting and cuddly these last few weeks, right? 

“You look stressed,” he noted, “I would be too if I was bonded to that fucker, so I understand.” 

Breathlessly, she laughs again, “He’s not so bad.” 

                                                                .                           .                        . 

Harry gets pretty clingy when Y/N goes back. 

Though he’d promised that she wasn’t a bother, she still felt guilty to be inhabiting his home when he was at work. She’d been hearing him postpone different trips too, a couple of days in Italy, a fashion show in France – things that he always went to before, and she had a feeling it was because he didn’t want to leave her alone. It was sweet, but it made her feel guilty, so she decided it was okay to go back for a little while and reacclimate to the house. 

It wasn’t so bad – going from Harry’s modern, high-tech flat to Mitch’s Victorian-style mansion was different but it isn’t horrible. Y/N liked being surrounded by people when Harry was at work or attending some smarmy event, instead of being alone. The only downside was there was a little Leaf-shaped hollow in her heart, but Harry describes shared custody and drops her off with Y/N when he knows he’s going to be out all day or if he does have to leave for one of those week-long trips. 

The others act like she never left. She goes to the movie nights and nobody mentions what happened. Christopher gives her a big, long hug when he sees that she’s returned, then promptly warms her two mugs of “the sweetest blood” as a welcome home present. Naomi comes to inhabit Y/N’s bed and talks about pop culture and how Samuel is fucking someone who isn’t Theodore so that had been a lot of drama while she was away. Delphine starts to visit her room for Leaf – apparently, she’d grown up with a lot of barn cats, so she was very fond of them, and they find their shared love for animals as a link to start speaking more comfortably with each other. And wherever Delphine was, Saskia was close behind. Her past with cats was checkered because she had an allergy to them before, but being a vampire meant eradicating all allergies, so she hesitantly gave Leaf a pet or two. 

Leaf, all tiny and soft, loves the extra attention. 

Niall still comes to her room but not without being invited first. Y/N thinks eventually this will change, but it seems like he doesn’t want to smother her with his presence, though Y/N wouldn’t find it smothering at all. He’s still hesitant, and she gets it – Y/N liked that he respected her enough to let her decide if she was in the right headspace to see him that day or not. 

The only person who takes it hard and acts like it is the worst thing in the world is Harry. He never goes three days without coming to see her, and when he isn’t with her, he’s messaging her and calling her, asking if she wants to FaceTime in between flights. When he does come, he poses a strict, “Nobody bothers us” rule where he threatens to move her dresser in front of the door to ward off “unwanted” intruders (though they could all probably move the dresser anyway, they’re very strong). He crawled into her bed and pulled her into his body, dragging the blankets over them, “You smell too much like the others,” he’d grumble, resting his chin on the top of her head, “Hate it.” 

“You’re silly,” she’d respond but soaked in the snuggling happily — it used to be something they merely indulged in while she was asleep; before, Harry would only ever kind of curl around her or pet her or hold her when she was all blood drunk and full, seconds from slumber. Now he’s much more open and willing to do it whenever – when they were watching the telly, when they were on the ground and Y/N was painting her nails (“I should sit behind you, yeah? You can sit between my legs, and when you’re done with one hand, I’ll blow on your fingers to dry them,”) if they were outside on the deck, practicing whatever Harry had come up with for the day.He crowds her space like he was made to. If Harry was there, they’re glued at the hip, and that was just normal now. 

Y/N wondered if he would ever bring up the whole bond thing, but he seemed content not to. Still, it didn’t seem to deter him from letting her snack on his blood, which she sure only furthers the whole thing. So maybe he wasn’t concerned with it – maybe he was just seeing where it went. Y/N isn’t sure, but she’s usually good at ignoring things. If the other party didn’t want to talk about it then she wouldn’t either, it was never in her nature to press for answers. 

. . .when she was a human, at least. Being a vampire hasn’t changed her at a fundamental level, she doesn’t believe, but it has given her a new outlook on life, and a different perspective on some things. It was better to ask and get an answer that she didn’t want rather than continue not knowing something for sure. If she’d lived by that rule in the past it would have probably saved her a lot of trouble. 

So Y/N asks him outright, Leaf curled in her lap in a tiny furry heap, and Harry with his arms curled around Y/N’s body protectively. Nobody else was in the den – they were either in their rooms or out and about (with a strict curfew now, because of the whole thing between her and Niall – Mitch blamed himself for giving them a little too much freedom being newly presented). Harry suggested they utilize the tv then, instead of trying to watch it on her laptop screen. Harry tells her they should be at his flat, but since he was supposed to go three hours away for a photoshoot tomorrow, he didn’t want to leave her alone (it turns out he’d been postponing more than she had initially thought so now he was playing catch up – something about Spring deadlines and all of that). 

The screen clears as the next episode of the show they’re watching loads up, and maybe it isn’t the best timing or the best place to do it, but she has to ask before she loses her nerve. 

“Are we a. . .fated pair? Is that what it’s called?” 

She feels Harry stiffen behind her, his hold around her arms tightening only slightly as he processes what she’d just inquired. There aren’t a lot of things that could stun Harry, as long as he’s been around he normally has a response to anything and everything within a couple of seconds – but he sits with this for a little longer. His fingers, where they’d rested on her waist, began to play with the fabric of her shirt, plucking at the hem and fiddling with the stitches. The tension in the air is palpable, but it isn’t a horrible tension. Not something she wanted to run away from, at least. 

“Niall,” Harry finally muttered, like he’d been spending half of the time he was silent, trying to figure out how Y/N would have heard that, “That fucker is too good at masking his presence.” 

“Harry –” 

“I know,” he exhales, and Y/N thinks it’s funny that he does things like this not because he’s releasing a breath, but to express how he’s feeling. He nudges the side of her head with his own and dips his nose into the curve of her throat, his favorite spot, “With you at my flat, and with how you’d been eating from me still, the – how I felt for you was becoming concerning and a little obsessive. Not in like an obsessive “I’m going to kill her so nobody else can have her” way, more like a “I want to be near her and I’m forgoing responsibilities to spend time with her” kind of way. I don’t do that, for people, I’m not. . .so giving with my time, which makes me sound like a dick, but it’s the truth. I have my time and they have theirs, even if it’s someone that I’m interested in,” he slides his fingers beneath her shirt’s fabric, his nails tracing circles into her skin, “But with you, I just. . .wanted to be around you. To be with you makes me feel calm; it soothes me like putting ice on a sprain. And for you to drink from my vein and our bodies react so intensely to it. . .well, it had to be something.” 

“I was glad to ignore it and just continue enjoying myself with you, but I was getting curious. And I knew you and Niall would make up soon, and you’re so concerned about being a burden all of the time, I knew you wouldn’t take me up on my offer to stay with me. This meant I was going to be coming around her, and being way more possessive and clingy than I ever have before and Mitch always knows what’s going on in the house. He would ask me about it eventually, so I just beat him to it.” He lifted his head, and his words were less muffled when he coaxes her to lean back against his chest more, “He went into the most intricate, convoluted discussion about molecules, and vampiric folklore, and I’ll be honest most of it went right over my fucking head, except for him saying that we were bound together by our souls. That whether we had met like this, or centuries ago in my village, while I was running from war, or had I just been some random UNI student sitting beside you in class – we would always have this kind of connection. It’s rare,” he squeezes her hips, “It’s a rare thing, a really rare thing, and it used to happen more often back in the 1600s but that doesn’t mean it never happens now.” 

Y/N cranes her neck to face him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her brows pinched toward the center, and Harry reached out, using his thumb to press at the crinkle in her skin and smooth it out. 

“I wanted to, but – I don’t know. I kind of wanted you to conclude for yourself, if you liked me or not. I didn’t want it to feel forced because you knew about this. Other than my blood making you a filthy, horny little thing, I don’t know exactly what your feelings are for me. And I know – you told me you feel whole after you drink from me, but again, outside of that – outside of the blood, I don’t know how you feel.” 

Y/N thinks, that if she’d eaten recently, blood would be roaring in her ears and her heart would be thudding something fierce in her chest. It was one thing to have Niall tell her on a whim, it was another thing for Harry to admit it to her, all shy, avoiding her gaze and pressing tight and close to her body. It was another thing to hear him feel insecure about not knowing how she felt about him.

Because for Y/N, she’d thought she’d been incredibly obvious. She wanted to be around him always, she recognized his scent out of everyone anywhere, she felt safe when his hands were on her in some way, or even when he was just nearby. Even when he was short with her, or grumpy, Y/N had felt endlessly at ease. After what happened at the club, he was the only person she wanted to be around. The way her heart lights up when he calls her sweet names, or when she sees him for the first time in a while. How her whole mind swam at the prospect of him rather hurting his hands than letting anyone else see her vulnerable when she’d been in the sun. No matter when he lost his patience, or when he seemed upset, or even when he swore up and down that he shouldn’t be a mentor  – he was supportive, tender, and made her head feel melty and her insides gossamer soft. 

“I have plenty of reason to like you, outside of some bond,” she finally replied, wiggling in his arms to face him again – Leaf got up, stumbled out of her lap, then stretched with a silent yawn, “And it wasn’t just after eating. Just being with you makes me feel. . .complete, just as I said before. I thought it was just the blood, but when you leave for work and we’re separated, there’s a – it’s noticeable, the gape I feel in your absence.” Y/N curled her fingers up in his shirt, “I mean, how I feel for you, surpasses how I ever felt for Daniel, my old friend. As dramatic as it is, I’d thought I would never be able to love again –” 

“Oh, you humans and your theatrics,” he murmured with a laugh and Y/N smiled shyly, looking away. 

“-- but the way I’ve felt about you lately, I just don’t think whatever puppy love crush I had on him scratches the surface. Sorry, I wasn’t clear about it. I’d been so focused on trying to figure out my place in this world again and how to live life like this, that I hadn’t given myself a chance to sit and sort through my emotions. But they’re there – they’re real and scary.” 

Harry kisses her – she wasn’t expecting it, but she’d completely turned around in his lap by then so at least the angle wasn’t horrible. His lips are soft, and without the preface of something lewd, it is saccharine and chaste. Y/N shivered, her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into him, practically molding herself into the shape of his body. It was good – Harry’s been treating her delicately for a while now, but this was different. Like he was kissing something important to him. Something that he wanted to handle with softhearted gloves. 

When they part, Harry kisses the corner of her mouth, then her right cheek, her temple, over her forehead, and down the other side of her face. They’re feather-light and ticklish but his arms cage her in so she couldn’t wiggle away, helpless but to giggle. Once he finishes, he hums low and their eyes meet. 

“I’ll be keeping you, so get used to this.” He admitted, and if he’d eaten recently, then his cheeks would have flushed pink the way they do anytime he’s sentimental.

Y/N nodded and hid herself in his chest. 

She didn’t mind that at all. 

                                                              .                        .                       .

Harry couldn’t wait to see her. 

He used to take great pleasure in his week to two-week-long trips out of the country for work, whether he was going to Dubai, Milan, Paris, or other places like it. Harry would gorge on international feeders and sex and all the adoration from people who question his otherworldly beauty and get lost in his sharp gaze. It was nice to be sought after, admired, to get his fill of all the blood he wanted. He thought it was a fair trade, for all those years ago, when he’d been scrawny and worthless to everyone. 

However, now? He just can’t wait to get home. Without the sex and the gorging, there actually wasn’t a whole lot to do in any of those spots that he hadn’t done thousands and thousands of times before. It was work, strictly work, and there was no sort of pleasure, apart from the gratification of seeing one of his looks trek down the runway. Besides that, there was only one person he wanted to sleep with now, one person he wanted to be adored by, and only one person he wished to get lost in his gaze. 

And she was thousands of kilometers away from him, probably coding some program that made no sense to his brain, in his sweatshirt that he made her promise to wear and those horrific (and endearingly cute) slippers shaped like cats that she picked up from the store in honor of Leaf (who liked to chew on them when Y/N wiggled her toes). Even on the plane ride back home, he wondered how he could make it quicker – if there was a way to travel even faster than a plane. He supposes he could run, his legs are quite fast, but if someone spotted him going a little too fast to be human, then that would be a whole other list of shit to deal with instead of just tucking himself into Y/N’s side. 

So as soon as he was finished up, the models had gone home, he’d given his statement for editorials, and he’d shared one glass of wine with a designer he really couldn’t be arsed to learn the name of (he’d drank with types like Chanel and Dior in the past, so the glitz and glamor of it now are easily lost on him) – Harry was on a plane and headed home. He used the in-flight wifi to watch a movie Y/N had suggested to him, but he was barely paying attention. How could he, when he was so excited to get home to her? 

It was crazy to think this was where their relationship had ended up. She used to be nothing but an obnoxious little thorn in his side and now all he wants to do is smother her with affection and give her his blood. Y/N was so important to him, it made his heart feel heavy and full for the first time in. . .well, he isn’t sure it’s ever felt this heavy and full before. The weight in his chest is unfamiliar, and at first, it had been unwelcomed, but he likes it now. It’s as if she’d curled her body around it and took residence there. She’s always with him, in that sense of it. 

The others had gotten used to it far quicker than he’d imagined they would. He expected more teasing as well, but they all like Y/N a lot, so he guesses to tease him is to tease her indirectly and they don’t want to. The most he gets is scolded that he isn’t good at sharing, and why should he be? Harry feels like he’d spent centuries waiting for her, now that he has her – doesn’t he deserve to be a little selfish? Especially after a week of not seeing her, Harry just wants her all to himself. That’s why he suggested that she come to his flat the first day he’s back, so they could be alone. 

So he’s more than happy, after the flight, after getting his shit from baggage claim and finding his car in the mass of other vehicles parked for overnight trips, and the 30-minute long drive from the airport to his flat – to see her just as he’d envisioned her. Only with a few additions; she wore the sweatshirt, and she had on these little shorts that were filthy (but she swore up and down she wore them because they were comfortable and not to taunt him with how little it would take before her bum was out), but tucked under her thigh was Leaf’s feather toy. Whenever Y/N was working, Leaf could go from sleeping peacefully at her side to the zoomies in all of three seconds, so this was her way of keeping her preoccupied – the stick was placed just precisely so that the feather and the string hung off the side of the couch for Leaf to jump and pull at. Y/N has pretty decent thigh muscles so she’s able to keep it in place without letting it move around too much. 

She has those horrible little booties on,  but she’s wrapped up in the throw blanket that Harry usually has wrapped around him – not for warmth, of course, but the way soft fibers feel against his skin is nice. He knows Y/N is not using it for that purpose because it touches nowhere that her skin shows, besides a little bit of her face. Y/N has it so close to her so that she can smell him, and Harry is just. . .so endeared by that he could scream. 

When he walked through the door, Y/N turned to face him with a big grin. She slid her computer out of her lap, and Leaf’s toy fell to the ground once she stood, carefully stepping over the kitten, and getting up on the other sofa so she could climb over it. She gets to him quicker this way, and her arms slink around his neck, and she holds him close, “Finally,” she murmured, “A week is too long.”

“You could always come with me.” He smiled into her hair, letting his eyes close – it was good to have her in his arms again, “I don’t think they’d mind a puppy backstage.” 

Y/N peeled away from him, flicking him in the center of his chest, “Shut up,” she threw at him, but it held no real spite, and her eyes were dripping in mirth, “Should I dress myself then show up?” 

“Oh, baby, please don’t – let me be the one to dress you.” 

It was nice, that back and forth, and had Harry not felt so keyed up then he probably would have started a load of laundry, showered, gotten in more comfortable clothes and they could have just hung out for the night. 

But Harry was keyed up – a week away from Y/N meant a week away from not only her beautiful brain, but her beautiful body as well, and he was missing the sounds she’d make when his fingers slid against her. How easy she was to rile up, the way she tasted on his tongue, how dripping wet she got from even just a little bit of Harry’s blood in her. It’s precisely why he’d eaten so much before leaving, and he’s sure she could tell he’d just eaten recently, with how warm his cheeks felt they must be rosy. And that flush on his pale skin is clear as day, especially how it slithers down his throat, and if he’s really worked up, it might splotch his chest. 

“When’s the last time you ate, Sweetheart?” He inquired – the icy little tip of her nose was enough to tell him it had been a while.

“Mm, I had some earlier, when I woke up,” she explained, “But I got distracted with work, so I haven’t since.” 

Normally, Harry might chide her for that, but he’s all too excited to offer his throat, “I have a treat for you then,” he placed his hands on her hips, walking her backward, “Get on the couch.” 

Where Y/N used to start on the side of his body and eventually make her way into his lap while she ate, she just crawled into his lap now to cut out the unnecessary jostling around. The weight of her in his lap is familiar, nice, and something he didn’t realize that he missed until he was away from her. She stretches her thighs on either side of him and scoots in very close; Harry is already half hard, and he isn’t sure if he’d been like this since he saw her, or on the plane when he’d even just thought about her. Whatever it was and whenever it was, he was definitely already getting hard just from the anticipation of her teeth in his neck. It felt like young adulthood all over again, when it wasn’t “mind over matter”, and Harry couldn’t help but get hard in three seconds from one thought. 

“I missed you,” she tells him, pressing her chest up against his, her nipples were already hard and Harry felt dizzy with the want burgeoning up from deep in his belly, “So much, and you were only gone for a week. It’s a little embarrassing.” 

“I miss you when I leave you alone for an hour,” he slides his hand on the nape of her neck and brings her closer, “Isn’t embarrassing. I’m flattered that you like me enough to miss me, even. Now take what you need, baby, I ate enough to fill you up.” 

The slide of her teeth into his skin never gets old, especially when it’s his throat. There’s a bite of pain, immediately soothed over by the euphoric feeling of it not only being a vampire bite, but a Y/N bite. The way she goes about it is still so tentative to start, and unsure, like she’s worried about hurting him – but the moment she tastes his blood on her tongue, all that vanishes. She moaned against his neck like she’d been starving for months and he’d finally come to save her, her fingers digging into his body wherever her hands lie. Harry can feel her inhibitions leave her, the way she gulps, drinks him down, and takes her fill how he wants her to. 

It’s always after a minute that Y/N’s body starts to move out of tandem with her. She hates that she starts rutting against him like an overexcited puppy, but that doesn’t stop the way her hips twitch and push closer to him while she’s eating. Harry’s hand slid from her neck, to meet his other at her hips, holding her still as she rolled her hips into him greedily. “Mm, it feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Especially after not having it for so long,” Harry shuddered, closing his eyes as he melted into the feeling, “I bet your pussy is already soaked.” 

Y/N whines, and he can only imagine how debauched the scene must look from an outsider's perspective. Her hands slip under his shirt, fingers tracing along his stomach and when the muscles in his abdomen tense up, his cock throbs to match. Harry’s fully hard now, and he thinks he’s already leaking, dripping into the inside of his trousers because he was always one to forgo underwear when it caused lines in his pants. Y/N lines herself up with him, tucking him into the folds because her pussy just swallows these shorts up, and rolls into him, “That’s it,” he whispered, “Such a good girl, you can have anything you want.”

The times she bites his throat aren’t always for pleasure. Harry still tries to prepare her for the first time she will meet with a feeder, so each time Y/N eats she gets better and better. She’s learned to stop when she’s full and to not overstuff herself just because it tastes good. She also has learned to read the queues of the other person, that she might have had too much – it’d be different for a human, but she can tell by the way Harry might start feeling even a degree less warm than he began as. 

He isn’t sure what coaxes her to stop today. She pulled away from his neck and lulled her tongue over the little puncture wounds in his skin, before moving so she faced him. Y/N made a pretty sight with her hazy eyes and her mouth stained red. Before he could spend too much time admiring her, she fixes her lips against his, slips her tongue into his mouth, and oh fuck. 

She’d kept some of his blood in her mouth, so it filled his own when she kissed him, and his eyes all but rolled up to the back of his head. Who had taught her something so filthy? His cock throbs so hard in his pants and he’s leaking so much precum he’s wondered if he’s cum already – he’s sure it’s sticky and webby beyond belief around the head of his cock, and Y/N isn’t helping the matter, she’s just making it worse. 

Harry takes her by the chin, parts her lips, and makes sure they stay open. Without having to instruct her, she presses the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip, waiting patiently – normally Harry places a couple of fingers on her tongue for her to suck and bite at, so he presumes that’s what she was expecting. But Harry couldn’t help himself, and if Y/N was going to be filthy, then he was going to be filthier, so he encased her tongue and her bottom lip with his mouth and suckled at it. When Y/N mewls, he takes more of her in, sucking the taste of him off her tongue while he pries at her little shorts. He was in no mood for her to get off his lap to wiggle them down, so he tore them, shredding the fabric. 

She makes a startled sound, mixed with a moan when Harry slips his tongue back into her mouth to kiss her properly again. Harry’s head spins when he backs away from her – they could kiss forever without needing to take a single breath (or they would be able to one day when Y/N really didn’t need to use her lungs anymore), but Harry wanted to look at her. Want to see her with lips bitten red and swollen, filled with blood that Harry kind of wants to knick with his tooth and drink from. He presses at her chest just a little so she stretches back, and he gathers the fabric at the bottom of her shirt in between his thumb and index finger, pressing it up her quivering belly. 

Her pussy is puffy and swollen and soaking wet, he would’ve thought she’d been touching herself before he’d come home. He can’t tell if he wants to bury his face or his cock into it more, but another hard throb suggests he’d better do the latter or he would cum hard in his pants. He uses his fingers to spread her open, showing off the engorged bud of her clit, chuckling brightly when it pulses beneath his attention. Harry is unsure what drives him to sink his fingers lower, get three of them wet then return to her clit to slap it, but he does, and the payoff is Y/N trying to close her legs around him with the most wanton of sounds. He does it again, a little harder, and Y/N’s hand comes to grab his wrist, “I’ll cum,” she whines like that was supposed to deter him, “I’ll cum if you keep going.” 

“Isn’t that the point?” He murmured, sliding his fingers through her juices and tucking them up inside of her, petting at her g-spot for a second before slipping them back out and licking her off his hand, “Want you to cum.” 

“I wanna cum with you in me,” she sounded like she was pleading with him, and Harry had always been a sucker for pretty girls begging, “Please?” 

Harry’s quick to work the button of his trousers open, pulling the zip and removing his cock from the oppressive confines of it. He’s harder than he’d even thought, but he was right to assume that he’d leaked so much precum it looked like he’d cum. The clear fluid oozes from the tip in a long, sticky line, filling up the dip of his hip bone. Y/N ogles him with awe-filled eyes, “Whoa,” she swallowed thickly, her fingers tracing up the underside from his balls to the tip, in a move he doesn’t think she means to be as teasing as it is, “You’re really hard.” 

“I know,” he bites down hard on his bottom lip as he throbs again, under her attention, in the coolness of the air. 

“Like, harder than I’ve ever seen you,” she states, and now her palm slides against his shaft, and she squeezes experimentally, looking between him and his cock, “And you’re so wet –” 

“Y/N,” he just barely holds back from whimpering, “No teasing, Darling, I need to fuck this into you or I’ll cum all over myself. You don’t want to waste it, do you?” He inquired, and Y/N shook her head, scooting closer, “Yeah, let me fill you up, Baby, want to watch it fucking drip out of you when we’re done.” 

She visibly shivered again, and Harry helped her lift and slide his cock inside of her. Y/N moans, her face pinches up from the pressure of him against her walls but she slips right on down like he belonged inside of her. Harry thinks Y/N likes the stretch – the burn of it, as long as it doesn’t border on too painful. She bottoms out, her arms wrapped around his neck, and she smushes their lips together. The kiss is brief before she nips at his plush bottom lip and sucks it into her mouth. While she does that, Harry presses his upper lip just above hers, his fingers digging into her thighs as she squeezes around him, accommodating his size. Her walls were velvety soft and smooth as they contract around him, the ridges and bumps something he’s set on memorizing. 

Her ministrations with her mouth go to his chin, she kisses then bites her way down his jaw, to his ear, laving her tongue over the little wounds that were no doubt closing and healing over by now. Harry offers her his hand when he realizes that she must want to bite something, and he’d made the right assumption when she fits his knuckles between her teeth and chews on him. Harry laughs as she starts to lift her hips, then drops back down onto him, “You’re so fucking cute,” he chuckled, “Should we get you a chew toy? A little bone for a puppy like you?” 

“Shut up,” her words are muffled around his fingers in her mouth but she’s riding him well. It feels so fucking good, Harry is holding onto every last bit of strength not to cum before her. A damning feat to accomplish when she finds the angle that hits that bundle of nerves inside of her just right – she clamps down on him, her eyes bead with tears as she fucks down onto him, and nibbles at his fingers. 

“Do you feel good, Baby? S’my cock stretching you out nice?” Y/N nodded, whining, “You can cum for me. Don’t you want that? Cum on me and I’ll fill this little pussy right up.” 

Harry shoves the sweatshirt up so it rests just above her bare tits, or at least enough that he can visualize them and then get one into his mouth. Her nipples are still hard, so pert and sensitive for him when he pulls them between his teeth and lulls his tongue in big circles around them. Harry alternates between sucking hard and flicking his tongue, and Y/N goes from chewing on his knuckles to holding them uselessly in her mouth and moaning around them. Harry feels her start to cum before she can even tell him through these breathy little whines. 

He isn’t ashamed to say he starts cumming before she could finish – he makes sure to work her through it still, fucking through the point of overstimulation, his thumb lulling on her clit when he raised his feet onto the coffee table and started to fuck into her. Harry fills her up, his orgasm splinters through him so intensely that he thinks his vision whites out for a second. He’s throbbing so hard inside of her, he knows she could feel it each time, and in response to each one, she mewls and sighs as she finally starts to come down from her own high. 

Harry untucks his face from her chest just as Y/N drops his fingers from her mouth. He’s still tucked inside of her but his cum slicks out from around where his cock is plugging her up, too much of it to even keep inside. The feeling is a little atrocious as it cools, but the thought of what it must look like almost has him stiffening up again. 

Y/N all but collapsed onto him, and Harry oofs! dramatically, before wrapping her up in his arms. Her arms moved to hug around his waist this time, and she murmured something on his shoulder that he couldn’t quite make out. She turns her head, so her cheek rests against his shoulder instead, “I said I really missed you,” she repeated, “I’m happy you’re back home.” 

A lot of responses run through Harry’s head, including, but not limited to I’m happy you’re here with me, I’m happy you’re in my life, I’m happy my cum is dripping out of you right now, I’m happy that our fates matched in this way, I’m happy that we have a kitten name Leaf, I’m happy our souls are bound together. 

Harry doesn’t though. He thinks them, and he smiles to himself when he replies with something that he’s pretty sure covers all of that. 

“I’m happy too.” 

[cupidsrecs]

Don’t Let The Flame Die

Part 1- It Starts With A Match

This is a 9-1-1 fox x Harry Styles crossover. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Buck dies in a fire, leaving his girlfriend Y/N to pick up the pieces. Y/N is pregnant and depressed after Buck’s death. Despite the efforts of Maddie and the 118, she shuts herself in. But one day, an old friend comes back with a goal in mind: save Y/N.

Warnings: Death, mentions of depression and harmful thoughts, Pregnancy.

It had been like any other day. I had an OB appointment and I couldn’t wait to show Evan the photos. I pulled out my phone, typing a text when there’s a knock at my apartment door. I sigh, getting up and waddling with my 5 month belly to the door, opening it to reveal Bobby and Eddie.

“Hey guys… um- what’s up…?”

Their eyes are red and just from the sight of them, I’m filled with nerves. Eddie clears his throat and coughs a little before he speaks up.

“Can we uh- come in?”

I nod and step back, letting them in. They walk into the apartment and make their way to the living room, taking a seat on the couch. I follow them hesitantly, taking a seat in the loveseat. It’s quiet for a minute until Bobby starts to speak.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this… And I never wanted to have to do this- I-I’m sorry I can’t-Eddie-.”

Eddie nods and looks at me, tears threatening to spill.

“Y/N… Buck’s gone.. T-There was a fire- He ran in after a kid that was still inside… The structure collapsed on him… I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry-.”

“When.. When did it happen?”

Eddie drops his head for a minute before he looks back up at me.

“A couple hours ago. We tried to get him out but when we got to him… He was gone… We had to um- alert his parents and Maddie first… I’m so sorry Y/N…”

Tears stream down my face and I let out a loud sob. Eddie pulls me into a hug and I stay there for I don’t even know how long. Everything else… It was a blur.

2 weeks later, the day of the funeral

I wake up to a deafening knock on the door.

“Y/N? Wake up…? We need to leave soon…”

I sigh and sit up, looking around at my surroundings. Ever since Evan’s death, I hadn’t been back to the apartment. I was staying with Bobby and Athena, who so graciously welcomed me in. I knew they were worried, everyone is. I can feel their stares.

“Y/N, I know it’s hard but seriously. We can’t be late…”

“I’m coming Athena, I’m coming.”

I get up, taking a quick shower before putting on the dress I had set out. I don’t have enough energy for makeup, so I pull my hair into a ponytail and slip on my flats before leaving the room. I walk through the house, into the den, to find Bobby and Athena sitting at the kitchen table. Athena gives me a small smile and stands up.

“I’ve got some coffee ready if you’re feeling up to it. Bobby made pancakes but I know you haven’t had much of an appetite.”

I fake a smile and nod.

“Coffee sounds good. I wouldn’t mind that.”

I take a seat at the table and she pours me a cup and places it in front of me.

“Just the way you like. Mocha style.”

I give her an actual smile this time before I start to drink my coffee. After about 20 minutes, we leave for the cemetery. I’m sat smack dab in the front with Maddie, Phillip and Margaret. The sight of his coffin sends chills down my spine, and I just want to scream. I tune out most of the procession, my heart can’t take it… that is until I’m forced to pay attention.

Eddie and Chimney walk up to us, Chimney giving Margaret and Phillip the flag while Eddie lays Evan’s helmet in my lap. I hold it tight with one hand, squeezing Maddie’s hand with the other. I blur out the ringing of the bells and the gun salute… I blur out everything. The next place I find myself is back at Bobby and Athena’s.

Hen sits next to me on the couch, Chimney on the other side, both giving me looks of pity. Hen lays a hand on top of mine and gives me a frown.

“Athena said you haven’t gone to any of your appointments.”

I push her hand away and stand up.

“Did you expect me to? Seriously? He’s gone Hen. Do I really look like I’m gonna go to the stupid appointments without him? He’s never gonna know. He’s going to have a daughter and I’m never gonna be able to tell him! So no Hen. I’m not going. I’m not gonna go and see our daughter when I know he won’t ever get to.”

Tears pour down my cheeks and Maddie walks out from the kitchen, pulling me into a hug. I bury my head in the crook of her neck as I sob, breaking down as I have many times over the past couple weeks. It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay.

A few weeks later-

I had finally gone home. I had had enough of their prodding and worried gazes. I was determined to grieve, but I was tired of it the extra attention. And I still had the human growing inside to think about. Not that I don’t constantly. Every kick, every move she makes only makes my heart ache.

I lay on the couch with the tv playing mindlessly in the background when there’s a knock on the door. I sigh and get up, waddling to the door. With another sigh, I open it to see Bobby, Athena and Maddie. I sigh and open the door wide, letting them in.

“What’s going on?”

Maddie takes my hand and leads me to the couch, Athena and Bobby following behind. We take a seat and I look at Maddie, waiting for her to start talking.

“It’s been… Almost months. We’ve all kind of discussed- because we’re so worried-.”

Before she can finish, Athena interrupts her.

“Bobby and I think it’s best that you move in with us.”

My eyes widen and my mouth practically falls to the floor.

“Are you kidding me?!”

Maddie frowns and puts a hand on my back.

“Y/N… We’re worried about you and the baby. You’re not taking care of yourself. No one is blaming you, we just want to help! I know it’s been hard- I miss him too… But there’s nothing we can do… Evan would want you to be happy.”

Athena nods in agreement.

“When that little girl is here, she will become your whole world. I know it’s hard, but you’re not alone in this. We love you, sweetheart. We love Buck. We just want the best for you. Bobby and I want to help. We’ve got an empty house with just the two of us. You wouldn’t have to worry and you wouldn’t be alone. It’s not forever, just until you’re ready…”

I frown and look at the floor, only nodding my head.

“Fine… Alright…You’re right…”

And thus began the longest 2 months of my life. Someone always went with to an appointment, I practically didn’t have to lift a finger moving and I have a cozy bedroom set up at Bobby and Athena’s. Now all that’s left is for baby girl to make her way into the world.

At my 40 week appointment, Evan’s mom, Margaret, asked to accompany me. With Evan gone and now 2 grand babies, she and Phillip have decided to move to California to be closer. We arrive at the hospital and we only wait a few minutes before we’re taken into the exam room. I hop up on the table and lay back, waiting for my doctor.

Not a minute later, Dr. Garcia comes in with a cheery smile as usual.

“40 weeks! How exciting! Let’s check on little girl and see how she’s doing, shall we?”

I give her a small nod and lift up my shirt as she sets up the ultrasound. She moves the cooler around a bit and smiles.

“She’s just about ready, any day no-.”

Before she can finish, we hear a splashing sound.

“Was that-?”

“Did my-?”

She gives me a small nod and stands up.

“I guess she’s ready. Let’s get you settled in a room and we’ll go from there!”

She leaves for a few minutes and I let out a sigh, Margaret giving me a small smile.

“Evan was like that too. He came so quick, it’s almost like he knew he was needed… I know you wish he was here… But I’m sure he’s proud of you, Y/N. You’re going to be a great mother, and you’ll always have a little piece of him with you.”

I give her a small smile and squeeze her hand. Shortly after, I’m wheeled into a room and Maddie meets us here with my hospital bag.

“Alright, Eddie is on his way and I’ll be here too. So I guess now… We just wait.”

I frown and nod, lost in my thoughts again.

“Y/N- Y/N!”

I turn my head to her.

“Hm?”

“Did you think of a name?”

I purse my lips.

“Yeah… I did. Evan- if we had a girl, he wanted to name her after you. Not the same name but something just as cool he said- so I tried to keep to that. Her name will be Maeve Everly Buckley. After her auntie Maddie and her daddy. So she has a little piece of him too…”

I start to tear up and she squeezes my hand.

“He’d love that. I know he would.”

It’s quiet for a minute before I decide to speak up.

“It’s quiet without him, Maddie… It’s cold.. Evan brought so much to my life and he was just gone… I don’t blame him. Or anyone. Evan was always like that and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. That little boy survived because of him… and yet it hurts… Everyday without him just hurts… All the songs I’ve written- I can’t let them go… They mean too much… And I don’t know what to do…”

She hugs my tight, rubbing my back as I cry before she pulls away.

“I may not be the best person for this since Chim is still here and I’m the one that left… But it never gets easier. But one thing I have learned… Reach out. Let us help. Don’t fight it alone. Rely on your friends. They want to know what’s going on! Lean on them. Just like you are now.”

I give her a small smile and nod. After many, many hours of labor, my little girl finally makes her debut into the world.

She is the most beautiful, perfect bundle I have ever seen. She’s quiet but warm, and extremely cuddly. She’s only a few hours old, not even a day… But she’s my whole world.

A Few Weeks Later-

I lounge on the couch as Maeve naps, comfortably on my chest. As much as I’d love to move her, she’s honestly too cute to move. Athena walks into the living room with a smile on her face.

“I swear, that little girl naps more than May or Harry* ever did! Very cuddly too.”

*(Athena has 2 children. May and Harry Grant.)

I smile and nod.

“She must have gotten it from her daddy. I’m just thankful that she’s been sleeping and not crying that much. I was afraid she would keep everyone up but she sleeps better than I do!”

She smiles and nods in agreement.

“Have you thought about going back to work?”

I shrug.

“Yes and no. I’m financially stable but at the same time I miss working. I have a couple people wanting to work with me so maybe I’ll text one of them. She’s pretty quiet so I think it would be okay. But if I’m imposing at all-.”

She lets out a laugh and shakes her head.

“No, but I know you, Y/N. You and Buck were the same. Always working. You enjoy what you do and there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re very creative and I know you’ve missed it…”

I nod and give her a small smile as Maeve starts to wake up.

“Maybe I’ll do that… Get back to it…”

I cuddle Maeve close as she yawns and stretches and I smile, rubbing her back. I decide to text a friend and we agree to meet for lunch the next day. With that to look forward to, I go about my day.

The Next Day

I wake up early and dress myself before pumping some milk for Maeve while she sleeps. I’m able to shower and even do some makeup before Maeve wakes up in tears. I smile and pick her up, cradling her in my arms.

“Well good morning my little princess! Are you hungry? Yeah? Let’s get some milk in you, yeah? We have a long day! You get to meet Mama’s friend and he doesn’t even know you exist! Isn’t that fun! That’ll be a fun surprise for him, huh?”

She gives me a funny look and I laugh. I quickly feed her and dress her before loading up my car with everything I might need. Finally, I get her in her car seat and we hit the road.

After about 15 minutes, I reach the restaurant we agreed to meet at for breakfast. I grab the diaper bag and get Maeve out of the car before heading inside. I look around for a minute before I spot him.

(OF COURSE I HAD TO USE THIS HE’S ADORABLE)

Harry sees me and smiles, waving until his mouth drops. I get to the table and set Maeve down in the booth.

“Hey H! Sorry, had to carry this one in.”

He purses his lips and nods.

“I uh- didn’t know you were pregnant or even had a baby!”

I give him a weak smile and nod, pushing Maeve in so I could sit down.

“Yeah… I’m sorry for kind of going MIA… Things have been hard since Evan- Anyways, yeah. She’s still pretty little. About 3 months? I just- Things have been rough… I pretty much crawled into a shell. Would you- like to meet her?”

He gives me a smile and nods.

“I’d love to!”

I smile and carefully pull her out of her car seat before gently placing her in his arms.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet Maeve Everly Buckley. Maeve, this is your uncle Harry, yeah! Look at her! She likes you!”

Maeve gives him a small gummy smile. Harry smiles wider and holds her close.

“She’s so tiny! Look at her little fingers!”

I laugh and nod. Eventually, hands her back so I can place her in her car seat so we can eat.

“So this is album number four, right? Have you written anything?”

He nods and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Bits and pieces. Nothing finished. Jeff and I were hoping maybe you’d be willing to help? But I understand if you’re not-.”

I laugh and shake my head.

“I’d love to. I haven’t worked on anything in so long and I miss it. Maeve won’t be a problem if you’re okay with her tagging along. She’s pretty quiet and always happy.”

He nods with a smile.

“You know I don’t. I love kids. And besides, I have to hurry up and be the favorite uncle.”

I laugh and nod.

“She loves her uncle Chim, that’s for sure. Not too sure about her cousin but it’ll get easier when Jee gets a bit bigger and mellows out. If you have time, I’m pretty much free to work all day. I packed the car just in case.”

He smiles and nods.

“As long as you don’t mind, I’d love you. It’s been a long time. I’d really like to catch up. “

I smile and nod.

“Oh hey- um Evan’s family is having like a memorial for him- albeit a year later, but they wanted to have a small party in his honor if you want to come. You can meet everyone… I know I’ve been distant but they’ve all kind of forced me to be social these last couple months.”

He laughs and nods.

“I’d love to, as long as I’m not imposing.”

“Not at all! They’re holding it at the station. They’re putting up a plaque in the station and they always find a reason to have cake. I kind of want to take some pictures of Maeve in the station anyways. I was a bit too depressed when she was born to have a newborn photo shoot. But I’m getting there.”

He smiles and takes a sip of coffee.

“Are you still taking the meds?”

“Yeah I’m back on them. I kind of stopped for a while… But after she was born I started back up on them. I’m not over him- but she shouldn’t have to suffer because of that… And I won’t let him be gone… Not forever. She’ll know him. And that’s all I can do…”

He nods and gives me a small smile. We finish breakfast and I follow him in my car to the studio. Harry helps me carry some things in for Maeve. I walk through the door and Jeff looks shocked.

“Oh my god is that yours?! You had a kid!”

I laugh and nod. We get started and Maeve gets passed around the room, relishing in all the cuddles she’s getting. I can’t help but smile, feeling warm for the first time in a while.

A Couple Months Later, Maeve’s first birthday

After moving out of Bobby and Athena’s, Maeve and I settled in a cute 3 bedroom house in the outskirts of Los Angeles. Time rolled around and before I knew it, I had people piling into my house with presents and balloons, all for Maeve. I open the door for the millionth time, this time to find Harry on the other side.

“Oh my god hi! Thanks for coming!”

He smiles and gives me a bit of a long hug. He lets go and comes inside.

“Maeve is in the living room playing. Can I get you a drink? There’s punch, lemonade, water-.”

He nods.

“Water sounds great. Sorry I’m late, I had to keep myself from buying her anything else.”

I laugh and nod, understanding the feeling. I hand him a bottle of water and lead him to the living room.

“Maevie! Look who’s here!”

Maeve turns to me and sees Harry, her face lighting up with her little baby smile. She steadily gets up off the floor and waddles over to him.

“Ha!”

He laughs and picks her up.

“There’s the birthday girl! Look at you! You’re so big! How did that happen?!”

She laughs and he smiles, hugging her close. He attempts to put her back down but she starts to cry, so of course he cuddles her close. Throughout the party, she stays close to Harry, dragging him everywhere she goes. After everyone leaves, it’s just Harry, Maeve and I. Harry plays with Maeve as I clean up, listening to her little giggles echoing through the house.

I finish up and walk into the living room to find Maeve passed out on Harry’s chest. I smile and sits next to him on the couch.

“Looks like she tuckered herself out.”

He only laughs and nods, rubbing her back as she drools on his shirt. His face falters for a minute before he speaks up.

“Hey… There’s some I- wanted to talk to you about…”

I raise my eyebrows and look at him, giving him my undivided attention.

“I’ve been thing- for a while now… Things have been good Y/N. Being with you and Maeve… It makes me happy… And I just- I have to tell you… I’m falling in love with you.”

————————————————————————

I hope you guys enjoyed!!! Please let me know what you thought! I love love love feedback! Please like and reblog!

Tag List

@be-with-me-so-happily @swiftmendeshoran @babyiamperfectforyou @freedomfireflies @kaminokatie @harrysmimi @violetsandfluff @fruitmans @fruitmansrecs @cupidsdolll @rafaaoli @kimmi-kat @erggggggggg @cayleyhannha-blog @acesofspadess @that-mcu-fan @styles-barnes-bitch @purple9950 @justmystyles @itslottiehere @flickerbuckley

[cupidsrecs]

your honor i need him biblically PLEASE

Silk and rope Harry stuck in dom space, please!

missed these cuties tbh :)) thank you for requesting !

based on this series!

word count: less than 1,000

content warnings: um…..this got very dirty by accident lmao but daddy dom/little sub dynamics, dom space, cum play, dirty talk

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

"Daddy? Y'okay?"

Y/N sits up on her knees once Harry undoes her ties. Usually after a bondage-heavy scene like tonight, he takes great care to help stretch her ankles, thighs, and wrists out, but the firm wrinkle between his brows remains, even as they move to the aftercare portion of the evening. With a concerned expression on her face, Y/N gently reaches up to run a delicate hand through his curly hair, willing him to look at her. “M’okay,” he rasps out before swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Just… stuck a bit, I think. I’m sorry, I know you need some love right now—“

Y/N shakes her head. Since they started officially dating, she doesn’t always find herself falling into the intensity of her little space. In all honesty, it was unrealistic to expect that every time they had sex it was rough and kinky, intermingled with toys and choking and dirty talk. It was still something they adored doing — in fact, their dominant and submissive relationship was the basis of how they came to be, so their sexual interests weren't fading anytime soon. But as opposed to when they first started sleeping together and Y/N always felt small and lost after a scene, things had changed.

Tonight was proof of that.

She’d never seen it before, but Y/N had read about dominants getting stuck in their dom space. Sure, it wasn’t as common, but it was possible, especially based on Harry’s current state. He looked frustrated and tired, refusing to get up from the bed even if they both needed some cleaning up.

“I can take care of you,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his temple. “C’mere, lay down in my lap.”

Harry doesn’t question it or reject her, instead waiting for her to sit down against the array of pillows arranged against her headboard. They’re both still stark naked and his cum is even still pushed up inside of her, where he’d finished and fingered her to make sure it stayed.

As soon as she’s settled, Y/N pats her thighs and Harry lays down, placing his head against the soft skin. He allows his eyes to flutter closed and she slowly begins to run her fingers through the messy strands, humming a nonsense song.

“Just breathe,” she mumbles, bringing her hand down to lightly stroke the side of his cheek. “Everything’s alright. You’re okay.”

She listens to him take deep inhales and even longer exhales, watching as his chest rises and falls with each breath. The tension in his facial features gradually begins to melt away. “You alright?” she asks a few minutes later. He nods, his eyes still closed. “Do you need anything? Water? A snack?”

He shakes his head, “No. Thank you, bunny. Appreciate you taking care of me.”

“Of course.”

They keep laying there in silence for a few minutes more, Harry continuing his deep breathing as she soothingly plays with his hair. It’s only when she shifts her legs slightly that his eyes flicker open.

“Do you need to get up?”

“No,” she does, actually, she can feel his load start to slowly seep out of her, “I’ll just need to… you know, push out. In a little.”

Harry’s eyebrows suddenly raise in recognition. “Fuck. Sorry, I completely forgot I did that. I was in kinda deep tonight.”

“It’s fine,” she replies, waving him away dismissively, “I’m okay. We can keep laying.”

His chest vibrates with a hum as he turns into his side. Glancing up at her, he gently pries her thighs apart, the skin already feeling flushed and sore to the touch. It makes Y/N shiver.

“Don’t need to go anywhere to push me out,” he says lowly, “You can show me right here.”

It’s embarrassing to have Harry’s face right there. He’s entirely too close to her pussy and she’s sure he can already see the white substance dribble out of her hole — but, like most things he does, it turns her on instead of makes her feel uncomfortable or weird.

Swallowing nervously, she contracts her muscles and begins to lightly push. Since most of the liquid has already moved to her opening, it doesn’t take much effort before she feels it dripping, decorating her skin. Harry coos at the sight, gently massaging her thigh as he watches.

“Good little girl,” he mumbles, reaching his hand out to spread it over her exposed pussy. She gasps in surprise, still feeling sensitive from before. “I’m the luckiest, hm? Get to watch your pretty hole clench and leak with my cum.”

She whimpers quietly and it makes him smirk. Leaning forward, he presses a gentle kiss to her swollen clit and she nearly jumps.

“Think she can take another one of daddy’s loads?”

[cupidsrecs]

so perfect for me

(late night talking part 3)

Summary: harry shows you his softer side on your third day together

Warnings: smut, 18+!! mostly fluffy

A/n: thank you for the love on the previous parts. these 2 are my fave, can’t wait to see where the week takes them!! please let me know if there’s anything you want to see from them :)

part one

part two

my masterlist can be found here!

You woke up the next morning cold and alone. Dread hit you instantly as you sat up, searching around the huge room for any sign of Harry. He definitely wasn’t there. You knew sleeping together would be too much for him, he initiated it as much as you did but in the harsh morning light, it felt like a mistake. Even with the window cracked, the room smelled obscene. The smell of hot, dirty sex was seeping out your pores, and you had a sticky mess in your panties. Just another reminder of your mistakes. You threw yourself back into the bed, trashing around and groaning. You didn’t even hear the door open and close as you kicked and punched at the soft bed around you.

“Not pleased to see me?,” an awfully familiar voice came from above you. Peeking out of one scrunched eye, you instantly softened at the sight of Harry standing over you. He was wearing an oversized grey hoodie and black Nike shorts, headphones wrapped snug around his neck. He had a cup holder in one hand, two large coffee cups tucked inside, and a Pleasing tote bag draped over the opposite shoulder. “I thought you left, I thought you regre-“, you mumbled, running your hands across your face. Harry set aside the cup holder and sunk down on the bed beside you, pulling your hands towards him. “Hey, I would never. Jus’ wanted to bring you some coffee,” he rasped, planting kisses on both of your hands. You smiled sweetly at this, sitting up to be closer to him. He handed one of the coffees to you, “caramel macchiato,” and let the large bag slide off his shoulder. Reaching inside, Harry pulled out the prettiest bouquet, lavender and baby’s breath wrapped in brown parcel paper. “Got you some flowers,” he grinned.

“Harry! I love them. Thank you,” you replied. You could seriously get used to this sight. Possibly your favourite man in the entire world, perched on the edge of your bed, bringing you beautiful flowers and coffee. It was like you were living out all of your dreams at once.

“Come on pet, let’s get you showered.” Harry spoke as he moved from the bed, pulling the warm duvet off your body. As you turned to get up, you let out a hiss, suddenly realising how battered your body felt. Getting fucked within an inch of your life wasn’t wise after being on your feet for hours, you had no idea how Harry wasn’t wincing with every step. You rubbed at your lower back, padding behind Harry to the bathroom.

He’d already started the shower, giving it time to warm up before you stepped inside. “You need to wash your hair?” he asked, grabbing some products from the countertop. You shook your head, and he came up behind you, claw clip in hand, and secured your hair on top of your head. You watched him in the mirror, handling you so delicately. How could the same man who fucked you so hard last night, be so loving and gentle today? You really couldn’t believe that this was your life. Harry peppered kisses along the top of your shoulders, staring back at your reflection. “Are you sore today darling?” he snaked his hands around your waist as he spoke, rubbing gently at your lower stomach. You winced in response, confirming the damage his huge member had done to you.

You let the hot water run over you in the shower, still not really awake enough to function properly. Harry had stepped in behind you, and was rubbing watermelon-scented body wash all over you. His loving hands were soothing all the aches you felt. You really hated the smell of watermelon, but you’d never tell him that. He was caressing your body so gently, showing you so much time and care you’d never had before post-hook up.

He left you to do your skincare alone, running down to your room to grab you a clean pair of panties. When he returned, Harry dabbed at your dripping body with a soft towel, before holding out each leg of your underwear for you to step into. You stole a huge fluffy robe from the back of the bathroom door and slipped into that, feeling more content than ever.

—

Harry had shown you down to your hotel room after your shower, and your jaw went slack as you looked around. “Harry, I can’t afford this!” you gasped, taking it all in. An enormous bed sat against one wall, a small kitchen area off to the right. There was an entire walk-in wardrobe through a jack-and-jill bathroom, already filled with the clothes you’d brought. The room was accented with pale blue and warm wood furnishings, more homely than Harry’s prestige suite. He rolled his eyes, sauntering into your wardrobe. “Don’t have to worry about that, princess. Haven’t you single-handedly funded my room? Now I’m funding yours.”

He pulled on a white miniskirt as he walked through, pushing the hangers apart to nose at what you’d brought with you. “Which one are you wearing tonight?” he asked. You stepped into the room behind him, plucking a metallic fringe skirt from one of the hangers. You held it up against your hips, shimmying at yourself in the mirror, watching the tassels shine. It was a bright magenta with gold and copper iridescent fibres threaded through. The matching bra left little to the imagination, and truthfully you weren’t sure how much trust you had in the tiny top. You looked over at Harry, anxious to see his reaction to your outfit choice. “F’only I were wearing pink today,” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his chin. “You’ll look amazing.” He came up behind you now, pulling you back so your spine was flush with his front. Harry looked the two of you up and down in the mirror, stroking the tops of your arms.

“Listen, I feel bad that you’re hurting today,” he started, moving one hand to rest on your hip. “If y’wanted to, I could upgrade your tickets to VIP so you don’t have to be on your feet for so long.” You rested your head back on his shoulder, humming in appreciation. “I’d like that,” you nodded, “want more energy for you.”

“Yeah?” he confirmed softly, voice muffled against your hair. “Gotta do it subtly though, Harry. Joanie’s been blowing up my phone about you flirting with me last night.” He nodded, tapping his temple. “I’ve got my ways sweet girl.”

Harry moved to lean against the doorframe, putting his phone to his ear to pull some strings for you.

It wasn’t long before your phone rang, Joanie’s contact photo flashing up as she tried to facetime you. You whisper-shouted to Harry to hide, composing yourself before you picked up. She was screaming when you answered, repeating your name in a frenzy. “What happened?” you asked, genuinely confused. “I just got an email, we were upgraded to VIP tonight!! Apparently they do it to a few people every night. I can’t believe it!!” You snorted at her excitement, wishing you could tell her the rest of the story. “That’s so exciting!!!” You buzzed with her, hoping you were acting surprised enough. “Wait- where are you?” she quizzed, suddenly distracted by the view of your busy wardrobe.

Your heart caught in your throat, you’d forgotten that you already sent her pictures of your previous hotel room. “My hotel upgraded me,” you lied, words coming out before you could think them through. “I complained to the staff, that hotel was trash. So they moved me here,” you shrugged, hoping that would be enough. “Well I’m glad you got moved. I didn’t like you staying there. You know you could’ve stayed with me though,” Joanie pouted. “Show me round your room!!”

You panned the camera around your wardrobe and bathroom, then gave her a quick look at the main room. You had no idea where Harry was so you were anxious to show her too much. She hung up after a few minutes, needing to get ready, promising to send you the details for the show. You called for Harry to come out as you threw yourself down onto the bed. He peeked out sheepishly from behind the floor to ceiling curtain, an amused grin creeping onto his face. You chuckled as he walked over to where you sat on the edge of the bed, stopping right in front of you as you wrapped your arms around his hips.

“Thank you for doing that,” you said softly, tilting your head up to look at him. Harry picked you up by your armpits, throwing you down into the middle of the bed before climbing on top of you. He smushed kisses all over your face, giggling through his pouted lips. “Anything for you.”

Harry’s hands began to wander up and down your body, his mouth pressing kisses into wherever his hands trailed away from. You were panting softly now, your heart hammering in your chest as he worked his magic. You could feel his already hard cock pressing against your leg, and pulled your arms out of the fluffy white robe you’d stolen from his room to give him better access. You were so glad you’d only worn panties underneath. Harry’s eyes bulged as he studied your body, seeming to have forgotten how little you were wearing. His head dived toward your breast, kneading one softly as he licked around the other, suckling on your nipple before releasing it with a quiet pop when your hips bucked under him. “What’s got you so needy, huh? Gonna tell daddy what you want?” he asked, wearing a familiar smirk. “Need you,” you replied, back arching as he took your other nipple into his mouth.

He peeled off his sweatshirt before licking a trail up and down your abdomen, hooking a finger into the gusset of your panties and tugging them down your legs. Your entrance was already smothered in your juices, so wet and needy for Harry. He looked at you through half-closed eyes, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he closed the distance between you. He kissed you softer than he had last night, his tongue exploring your mouth tenderly. Now that he knew how good you could make each other feel, there was no rush to get to the height of your pleasure.

You writhed under him as he slid two fingers into your folds, moving slowly but with purpose. “Let me know if it gets too much, okay pet?” he spoke against your ear, nibbling at your lobe as his fingers moved in and out of you. The slight pain mixed in with your pleasure, almost too much to take. You were reeling from how quickly he had you worked up.

“More, more, please harry. Want you inside me,” you mewled, desperate for the pleasure you felt the night before. “You ready for me, love?” he asked, pulling away to kick his shorts and boxers off his legs. His erection sprung up below his belly button, already glistening with pre cum. Your mouth watered at the sight, you couldn’t wait to have your lips around him one day. He stroked down his shaft, his tip blushing a bright red. “Want you on all fours for me,” he told you, eyes fixed on your curves as you moved into position.

Resting on your forearms, you turned your head to watch Harry as he aligned his tip with your folds, humming in appreciation when he swiped through your juices. “Look so delicious baby, could eat you for every meal,” he moaned, pressing a kiss onto your lower back. His hands groped your ass, fingertips digging in to the soft flesh. Harry pulled your cheeks apart as he pushed his tip inside of you, a moan tumbling out of his parted lips. You’d never get used to the burn he sent through your core. He eased in slow, careful not to hurt you any further. He stilled as he bottomed out inside of you, giving your walls a chance to relax around his cock. You flattened your chest to the bed, allowing your body to open up to him.

Your hips bucked with impatience after a moment, signalling you were ready for more. Moan after moan fell out of you as he started to thrust in and out, “you fuck me so good,” you whined, dragging out the last words. Harry was gripping your hips with both hands as he pushed in and out harder, cock twitching inside of you as his eyes wandered over your rounded ass. He slammed a hand down into one of your cheeks, rubbing it softly after to relieve the sting. You yelped, throwing your hips back into him. He chuckled, spanking you over and over until your walls started to tense around his thick cock. “Gonna come for daddy?” he drawled, reaching a hand around to rub at your clit.

You’d never been this close to your climax from penetration alone. Harry’s cock fit your hole as if it was made for you, your sex bringing you new levels of pleasure like you were only destined to fuck each other. The ball in your core was threatening to burst, so close to breaking point as he slammed in and out of your entrance. “Please Harry. Like that, like that,” you moaned, legs starting to shake and seize beneath you. You were panting heavily, drool spilling out of your mouth as your jaw went slack, screaming out a moan as you came violently on his cock.

“So good for me, baby, so good,” Harry praised, moving his hand from your button as you came down from your high. “Love fucking you raw, knowing you’re filled with my come,” he rambled on, so deep in pleasure that his words were slurring. Your bodies were knocking together forcefully, your juices mixing together and squelching with every thrust. He loved seeing your thick creamy come squeezing out of you, settling at his base. “Want to keep my come inside you all day, have it dripping out of your pretty pussy while you watch me later.”

His words were vulgar, so dirty yet so hot. You groaned in response, picturing it in your mind. No one else knowing the man they were lusting after had filled you up that morning, coated your insides in his pleasure. No one knowing how much he turned you on, how hard he made you come, how crazy he was for you. “Want it so bad daddy, want everyone to see your come dripping down my thighs. Want daddy’s come so much,” you moaned. The use of that name did it for him. How could he contain himself when you were saying such dirty things to him? With one last thrust, Harry was coming inside of you, fulfilling both of your wishes. You couldn’t wait for his show.

—

“What’s all this?” you asked, stepping out towards the balcony. It was late now, though you hadn’t been back at the hotel long before Harry opened the balcony curtains to show you a surprise. Fairy lights adorned the railing, sparkling bright against the dark evening sky. A bottle of red was nestled in an ice bucket, the tabletop filled with all different types of meat and cheese. “M’usually more of a gentleman before I stuff my cock into someone,” Harry shrugged, leading you towards one of the rattan chairs. His cheeks were pink, stained with his newfound shyness. “Feel bad that I don’t have time t’take you out properly, wanted to do something nice.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, smoothing your hair down before taking the opposite seat. “It’s lovely, thank you, Harry.” You felt totally overwhelmed by the side of him you’d seen today, he was so tender and soft. You knew he had you wrapped around his finger already, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You spoke for hours about your families, your homes and hobbies. He snapped a picture of you to send to his mum and Gemma, telling you how much they’d adore you. “Gem’s desperate for me to bring a best friend home for her,” he told you. Your heart warmed at the idea of Harry telling his mother and sister about you, wondering what he’d say. How he’d describe who you were to him. Your time together felt like a dirty little secret, something you’d keep close to your chest for years to come before one day spilling all the details to Joanie. It was refreshing to know he was bursting to tell his loved ones.

The wine had hit you both fast, slurring your words slightly. You were nestled in Harry’s lap now, pressing gentle kisses into every bit of visible skin. Drunk on each other, drunk on the atmosphere. You held a foot up, squinting at it through blurry eyes. “I need to paint my toenails,” you groaned, “got man feet when they’re not done.”

Harry gave a great bark of laughter, sliding you off his lap as he stumbled inside. His head peered around the door, asking you what colour you were wearing tomorrow. He came back holding a little red bottle. He held it up next to his face and grinned, “gonna sort your man feet out. Make ‘em dainty like mine,” he pulled a leg up and wiggled his toes for you as he spoke.

He sat you down in your chair, pulling the other closer towards you. Plucking one of your feet from the floor, he rested it against his knee and opened the bottle. You recognised the rounded top, it was Pleasing nail polish. He held each toe delicately, handling the brush so carefully you could barely feel it tracing your toenails. You watched him as he worked, so tender and careful with each stroke. A blush was creeping up your cheeks, your heart glowing so bright it could illuminate the whole city. You buried your face in your hands and let a toothy grin erupt. This was the most intimate thing you’d ever experienced. Harry was truly perfect in every way. When he was done, he pulled you back into his lap, careful not to knock your feet. His arms were wrapped around your shoulders, holding you tight against him. “Y’so perfect for me, baby girl,” he mumbled, pressing his lips into the nape of your neck.

“Want to take you out properly when I’m done, want the world to see who I have on my arm.” You couldn’t imagine any date would be nicer than what you’d had that evening, but the idea of everyone knowing you were his sent electricity up your spine. You lifted your hand to fiddle with his rings, twisting the giant H around his finger. “Got to get my initial next,” you smiled, pulling a different ring off. You slipped the golden S onto your left ring finger, laughing at how loose it was. Holding your hand out in front of you, you wiggled your fingers giddily. “Y/N Styles,” you giggled before slapping a hand to your mouth. A deep blush took over your face almost immediately, you couldn’t believe you’d said that out loud. You let the ring-clad hand drop into your lap, mortified. “You want to marry me already, sweetheart?” Harry teased, moving one arm to entwine his fingers with yours, pulling your hand away from your face just as he’d done that morning. You stuttered, unable to even try to come back from this one. Your face was screwed up in shame as he turned your head to face him. “Play your cards right and maybe I will marry you. Get you in a big white dress, show everyone how much I like you.” Harry was grinning at you, a true lopsided, wine-drunk, love-drunk grin.

You slipped off his lap, padding inside as you called out, “I’m never speaking again!” He chased after you, grabbing your waist and pulling you down onto the bed in a fit of giggles.

You stayed like that until you both fell asleep, blissfully unaware of the media storm erupting outside your bubble.

part four

[cupidsrecs]

can’t get you off my mind

(late night talking part 2)

Summary: your first night at LOT leads to a new depth to yours and harry’s… friendship

Warnings: smut, 18+!!!

A/n: i love this one. that’s all. this is all based off a very fun dream i had

hi guys!! thank you so much for all the love on this so far. if there’s anything you’d like to see, anything for me to add, anything at all you’d like in the upcoming parts then please let me know 🫶🏼xx

part one

my masterlist can be found here!

Harry spent the entire day thinking about you. He’d dropped you at your hotel that morning, slightly against his will. He woke before you, and couldn’t believe how adorable you looked sleeping. Your hair was a mess from tossing and turning in the night, your cheeks rosy from the morning heat and your rosebud lips puffing out with every breath.

He had places to be and you needed to shower, but once he saw the building you were staying in he decided you’d never go back there. It looked a state. The yellowing brickwork was falling apart, some windows were boarded up and the front door was wedged open for anyone to get in at any time. He made a mental note of your room number before he drove off.

You’d exchanged numbers as you left, but Harry hadn’t heard from you since then. Although he was busy with work at the venue, outfit fittings and some sneaky self-care, he was starting to panic that he wouldn’t speak to you again. So when he’d finally had enough of waiting by the phone like a teenager, he snapped a picture of himself with a sheet mask on. He sent it to you, then followed with a message.

harry: making myself pretty for you :)

He saw you were typing almost immediately, and his heart nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a picture from you flash up. You were wearing a tiny baby tee, and if he looked hard enough (which he absolutely did) he could make out the outline of your nipples under the shirt. You were surrounded by makeup, your hair already styled in perfect waves.

y/n: you’re pretty enough as you are. working hard on myself too 😋

Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he read and reread your message. Tapping his fingers on the side of his phone, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered how you’d just been dropped right under his nose. He always shied away from women who were fans of his work, knowing it can get more complicated that way. But something was different about you, there was a reason he’d bumped into you last night, he was sure of it.

—

With soundcheck finished, all Harry had to do now was get ready. He wondered if you were outside already, where you’d be inside, what you’d be wearing. You hadn’t caved and given him any details, so the possibilities had been running through his mind all day. He paced his dressing room, stretching out his strong arms. Every show was important, every show needed to go right. His first night at Wembley needed to be a good one. He just hoped he’d spot you, know you were there so he didn’t have to keep looking for you. Sighing, he decided to send you one final text before shutting his phone off and getting in the zone.

harry: meet me at my hotel after the show? won’t be there until later but can give your name to the front desk :) x

y/n: only if i’m not intruding !!! good luck tonight, break a leg 🦵 x

Meanwhile, you were in the queue outside the stadium with your best friend, Joanie. You were both wearing denim halter playsuits, her with a blue feather boa and yours white. You’d met each other at school where you bonded over One Direction, so you wished to be able to tell her about your night with Harry. But you knew whatever friendship was blossoming between you two could only continue in private, at least for now, and you knew she’d understand when you eventually told her. She was watching you as you stood there, jittering and anxiously checking your phone. “What’s up with you?,” she asked, her face scrunched up. “Oh. Nothi- I’m just anxious to get inside,” you lied through your teeth, hoping she wouldn’t ask any further. You knew the last thing on Harry’s mind right now would be texting you, yet you still waited for another message. You had your phone brightness turned all the way down so no one could see, and clicked on your text chain with Harry every few minutes. You couldn’t stop looking at his selfie, his glistening green eyes against the white of the mask, the relaxed look on his face. He was shirtless, the heads of his inked swallows just creeping into frame. You hadn’t even clocked he’d slept shirtless last night. The things you’d do if presented with that again ..

The queue began to move inside, and every wall you looked at showed you pictures of Harry’s face. It felt totally insane that the same man you’d joked around with like old friends was the one you’d be screaming to shortly. Part of you wanted to dial down your enjoyment, make him think you’re just a casual fan so he felt more comfortable around you- but you knew the second he came on stage that would be out the window.

You found a perfect spot a few rows back from the front of the walkway, knowing Joanie wanted to see ‘little freak’ and ‘matilda’ up close. It wasn’t long until you heard the opening chords of ‘daydreaming’ and watched Harry burst onto the stage. The atmosphere was electric, and he looked divine in his red and white patterned jumpsuit. You and Joanie were screaming and jumping like children at a school disco, in pure disbelief of the love and wholesome vibes around you.

When Harry appeared just in front of you, you felt a buzzing in your chest. You’d seen his eyes scanning the crowds, as if he was looking for someone, and you really hoped he was looking for you. As soon as you thought about it, his eyes landed upon yours. He sucked in a long breath, losing his train of thought mid-ramble. Harry thought you were beautiful last night but you looked almost heavenly tonight. Your playsuit hugged your curves perfectly, the half-up zipper showing an inviting amount of cleavage. He could see all the tattoos dotted up and down your arms, and the way you were grinning at your friend made his heart melt a little. You had an air of innocence about you, which he loved. Suddenly, your friend was looking at him awestruck and nudging you to see. You half-waved, sending him a subtle wink so as not to alert Joanie to anything weird. Harry managed to carry on with what he was saying, but his eyes barely left you the entire time he was there.

By the time he got around to ‘late night talking’, Harry literally couldn’t get you off his mind. In a sea full of people, it’s like there was a spotlight on you. The way you were dancing, your hair flying around you, he was mesmerised. The rest of the show continued in a blur, with Harry barely in control of his own actions. Going through the motions until he could see you later on. Grinding against the microphone, acting out the dirtier parts of every song. You riled him up in the perfect way.

“I need a little help from you all,” he spoke into the microphone, one hand scanning the crowd. “It’s a little hot today, and I think we need to cool down.” His face remained serious, though the crowd laughed after his antics all night. He was positively feral. Rolling his shoulders back, Harry grabbed the microphone as the first lines of ‘kiwi’ tumbled out his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to be back in front of you, already drenched from the splashes of water he’d requested. He was standing there with a devilish smirk plastered on his face, full water bottle in hand.

She sits beside me like a silhouette

His hand traced the curves of his own body, eyes locked onto yours once again. The words you were screaming were no more than tiny squeaks now, heart caught in your throat as you watched Harry gyrating in front of you.

Hard candy drippin' on me 'til my feet are wet

He raked a hand down the front of his body, pulling away just before he reached his goods. Something in his eyes said he wanted to touch himself right here, right now.

And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it

It's like I paid for it

He pointed towards you now, apparently totally incapable of anything except showing the world that he wanted to fuck you. Heat was swirling round your insides, this song did enough for you without Harry singing it for you.

I'm gonna pay for this

Just as the burning in your core got too much to bear, Harry unscrewed his water bottle and threw the contents right at you. You shrieked as the water hit you, drenching Joanie and the other girls around you. Harry returned your wink, the green of his eyes barely visible around his blown pupils, and moved on as if nothing happened.

“Oh my God!” Joanie screamed, jumping up and down at your side. “He was looking right at you!!”

You were so flustered, you couldn’t even find words to respond. You were almost nervous for the show to finish, hoping Harry still had this energy later.

—

Opening the door to your hotel room, you looked around with your jaw dropped. Everything was gone, all your makeup and clothes vanished from the piles around the room. All that was left was some gym shorts, a black t shirt and the pair of sneakers you wore last night. You turned on your heel, furious that someone had been fiddling with your stuff while you were away. It was only then that you saw the note pinned to the back of the door.

Y/N, this hotel sucks. Got you a room in mine. See you soon , H x

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. That cheeky little bastard didn’t even pre warn you that he’d cleared out your hotel room. You were desperate for a cold shower after the heat of the concert. Instead, you got changed quickly and scrubbed your makeup off, hoping that would make you feel a little fresher. Harry hadn’t even left you clean panties to change into.

—

Barging into his hotel room with the note still in your hand, you were half surprised to even see Harry standing there. You assumed he’d still be a while, but then, he didn’t have to battle through the crowds to leave the stadium. “There you are,” he grinned, so much more relaxed than you’d seen him a few hours ago. You flapped the note in the air, unable to even find words to question him. “Hey,” he started, stalking towards you slowly. “You can’t stay there alone, I don’t trust that place one bit. I put all your stuff in your room- it’s just one floor down from here.” You calmed down slightly at that, not even sure why you were so worked up to begin with. He was right, your hotel was the lowest of the low. “Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him. Harry was standing right in front of you now, wearing only a thin t shirt and the gym shorts from yesterday. He looked exhausted, but totally wired.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he whispered, barely audible above the hum of the music he had playing. “Are you kidding?!” You replied, eyes lighting up as a grin stretched across your face. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” you laughed, poking a finger into Harry’s muscular chest. He grabbed your hand when you didn’t move it away, looking into your eyes with parted lips. His own eyes were darkened, his pupils blown with a look you couldn’t quite place. They dragged up and down from your eyes to your mouth, and just being subject to his gaze lit a fire in your core. He was animalistic. Harry traced along your jaw with his free hand, tentatively as if waiting to be stopped. Only, you didn’t stop him. You weren’t sure you could speak, even if you wanted to.

He let go of your wrist and ran both of his hands through his damp hair, before wiping down his face with his right hand. Harry took a step closer, his big frame overshadowing you as you stepped back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. Please, please let this go as far as I want it to, you silently prayed, wishing Harry could read your mind right now. He was still looking down at you, his firm chest rising and falling quickly. You placed a gentle hand against his pec, checking his eyes for any sign as to his next move. Harry merely cocked his head in response, as if trying to figure you out too. “Harry, please,” you moaned softly, hoping this would be all the permission he needed to have his wicked way with you.

Almost instantly, his hands were under your thighs, scooping you up and placing you on the countertop. He tilted your chin up and looked over your face one more time before his lips smashed into yours, starting a battle of tongues, teeth and lips. You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulder, allowing his tongue further into your mouth. Harry’s teeth tugged at your lower lip as he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. You were panting, half from the lack of air but mostly from the heat in your belly. You mentally scolded him for not leaving you clean panties as they were double soaked now. You wrapped your ankles around his hips, pulling him closer into you until your cores connected. His thick shaft poked your inner thigh, leaving you moaning and crumbling in front of him. “You had me going crazy all night,” Harry moaned against your mouth, pushing his hands up and under your t-shirt. He kneaded your soft breasts as if they were warm dough, pinching your nipple as his lips moved down to your neck. His name tumbled out of your mouth over and over again, Harry, Harry, Harry, ringing around your head as he got to work on your body.

He stepped back, tilting your head up again to look him in the eyes as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your shorts and panties. You gave him a small nod, knowing he’d take that as your consent to do whatever he fancied with you. Harry whipped them off in one go, his cock twitching at the sight of you. Your lips were swollen and pink, pupils blown with lust. He could see the wetness glistening between your folds, looking beyond inviting. His fingers trailed up your thigh, circling your button before slipping between your folds. Your head fell to his shoulder as he pushed in and out of you, stroking at your sweet spot. Your walls were tightening around his knuckles already, so much pent up pleasure pushing you close to your climax already.

“So close already, sweet girl?” Harry drawled, peppering kisses down your throat. You could only moan in response, feeling a ball of heat deep in your core. He slipped another finger in, rubbing on your button with his thumb, desperate to coax you to your high. “Right there Harry, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you panted, screwing up your eyes as he bought you closer. “Look at me, Y/N, look in my eyes as you come,” Harry warned, his tone stern yet breathy. The minute you looked up at him, your orgasm flooded over you. Your thighs were shaking as you called out his name through pants, a hand gripping the back of his thick curls.

He kept his fingers moving inside you, slower now as you came down from your high, before rubbing a hand along your waist. “You needed that, huh? Did so good for me baby,” he spoke softly, pressing kisses into your jawline. “I’m gonna take you to the bed now, okay?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face. You simply nodded, unable to speak after such a fast and heavy orgasm.

Harry slipped off his shirt before sliding an arm under you and gripping you tight, carrying you over to the giant bed. He laid you down gently in the centre of the bed, kicking off his shorts and boxers. Your eyes were drawn to his groin as he gave himself a quick stroke, his erection bouncing up to smack the centre of his laurels. He was big. Bigger than he felt pressed against you, maybe bigger than you’d ever seen. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at you with his lips rolled into his mouth. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m clean, Harry. And I’m on birth control,” you offered. Harry grinned. He wouldn’t normally go raw, he knew the risks all too well. But man, did he want to. He could already feel the way your walls would stretch around him, the sheer pleasure of splitting you in two with no barrier in the way. It was risky, but he’d already taken enough risks with you. One more wouldn’t hurt.

He climbed on top of you, resting one hand to the left of your shoulder. Guiding his cock to your folds, he moaned at the slightest touch. You’d had him hard for so long now, Harry knew he wouldn’t last long when he finally got inside you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips as he pushed his head inside of you. He took the first few inches slow, reeling from how tight you were around him. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay pet?” He looked deep into your eyes as you nodded, throwing an arm around his neck. “More, please Harry,” you whimpered, using one foot to nudge the back of his thigh. “You wanna take it all, princess? Gonna get fucked so good by daddy’s cock?”

You moaned louder at his words, pure filth tumbling out of his dirty, dirty mouth. Harry bottomed out inside you, throwing his head back in relief. He had every intention of starting off slow and careful, but after pulling out, his first thrust was already hard and sloppy. He needed you too badly to waste time warming you up. “You feel so good baby, never had someone so tight around me.” He rocked into you quickly, his free hand gripping onto yours. You had no idea sex could ever feel as good as it did right now. His cock was filling every inch of you, forcing satisfaction into places you’d never felt before. “Harry, fuck-“ you whined, “I’m close.”

“Come for me, I want you to come baby.” His groin was rubbing against your clit, your pleasure threatening to spill out of you again. You looked up at him, just as he’d requested before, and stretched your neck to press sloppy kisses along his collarbone. Your body started to tense up again, you could feel your walls clenching around his shaft. You writhed under him, this orgasm more intense than you’d ever had. “Fuck baby, fuck. Where do you want me to come?” He stuttered, throwing everything left in his body into thrusting in and out of you as you came down from your high. “Inside me, please, fuck Harry.” You panted, clawing into the back of his neck. He wasted no time in painting your walls with his come, his thrusts becoming sloppy and half-arsed as he cried out your name.

—

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I wasn’t expecting it or anything,” you spoke softly, moving your head to look up at Harry. He only wrapped his arm around you tighter, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “I know. I wanted to.” He replied, pulling the duvet on top of you both with his free hand. “Seemed like you wanted it too,” he smirked, nestling his chin into your hair. You slapped his chest playfully, eyes heavy after your long night. You both fell asleep like that, tangled up in each other, wearing nothing but a pair of pants each.

part three

[cupidsrecs]

"Don’t be,” Niall is at her other side, casual in his strides, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, “They’ve got special drinks here so you can get fucked up. Your body metabolizes it too fast to stay drunk for long but it’s nice for a little while at least.” 

Harry waves his hand at Niall like he’s batting him away, “You’re a bad influence,” he grumbled, “The last thing she needs is to be drunk and grinding on some random vampire stuck in his frat boy douche days like you guys are.” 

“Oh I’m sure you would hate that, wouldn’t you?” Theodore was behind them, Y/N guesses he'd been pretending he was invested in the conversation he’d been having with Marcus but he very easily strays away to invade theirs, “Y/N, don’t let him deter you, vampire dick is crazy with one night stands if you’re interested.” 

“Or girls, if that’s what you’re into,” Saskia adds in, “Or both.” 

Harry lets out a sigh beside her, breath puffing out in a plume of smoke, “Just stick beside me tonight.” 

or

Harry is possessive, Y/N gets answers, and wait, who changed her?

part 1

part 2

23k+ words

[Warning: blood play in the smut, because they're vampires, so of course!!]

iii.

Things are. . .different. 

Not drastically, but enough for Y/N to notice; she expected nothing less, after what they had done with each other. Of course, their dynamic would shift, she just didn’t know if the shift would be slight and gradual or notable and sudden. With Harry, it could be either, as wishy-washy as he is with her sometimes. However, for whatever reason she thought maybe being nose-deep between her thighs might have halfway connected a thing or two in his brain and what he wanted his disposition toward her to be. Was he the dutiful mentor, ready to guide her through life and aid her at any moment? Or the begrudging adviser, perturbed by her presence and put out when she needed help?

Depending on the day, she could get either, and that was before the additional camber in their already convoluted dynamic. So she was hardly surprised when he was all over the place after too like he wasn’t even sure what to make of what happened between them. Surely, in all his years on this planet, and all his years mentoring other vampires, he must have run into something like this, right? It couldn’t just be her who felt a tickle down her spine and the vessel-consuming ache of wanting to be filled when she sank her teeth into someone’s body. 

She would ask around but she’s kind of embarrassed to even look at anybody right now. They were in a household of vampires, with hearing that could only be rivaled by a greater wax moth and they weren’t necessarily being quiet about it either. Everyone heard her, everyone could probably smell her too, and if she hadn’t already kept herself up half the night thinking about it, Niall only confirmed her suspicions the following morning. 

“He’s a prat, but he walks around like he’s got a horse cock, so I can’t say I blame you.” 

He’d moved on from it generally fast, but that didn’t stop the consumption of her whole body in shame-driven flames. And when Christopher’s cheeks went a bright, rosy pink when he saw her next, Y/N wanted the whole ground to open up and swallow her whole. She’d only finally gotten comfortable enough to participate in movie nights routinely, and now she wanted to gnaw through her leg more than sit beside any of them on the couch and pretend they didn’t know. That they didn’t hear her, or the absolute filth that left Harry’s mouth, no matter how it might have been muffled against her body. 

Y/N’s sure they all fuck around – there’s no way Delphine and Saskia haven’t slept with each other at least once, with how they’re always clinging onto the other – but still, she can’t fight the embarrassment. She didn’t even talk about sex that much with her old human friends, and these new vampire acquaintances had practically a front-row seat to hear her get eaten out. . .on her period. . . 

God, she’s mortified. 

Harry doesn’t seem concerned about it in that regard. He doesn’t seem ashamed of it in the slightest and that might make her feel a little better in different circumstances if he wasn’t being weird otherwise. It’d been three weeks since it’d happened: some days Harry was around her all day and was no more than an arm’s length away the entire time. He’s on her cat paw chair, in her bed, helping her hang up lights, moving dressers where she wants them, theorizing if she should get a telly in here as the others have in their rooms. If they aren’t in her room, then they’re outside practicing, playing games to help her strengthen her senses when she needs them, and dull them when she doesn’t. Or she’s in the kitchen with him. Christopher is warming her blood again because Harry thinks they should take a break until they can figure out exactly what’s going on. Still, Harry is on the stool directly beside her and his knee is nudging hers, and his arm is pressed against her forearm, and he’s crowding her space, so even if she wanted to ignore him she couldn’t. 

And then some days she doesn’t see him at all; Christopher comes to her door throughout the day to bring her blood, Niall stops by to complain about the others, and Naomi pops in (she’s finally stopped giving Y/N that I know you fucked our century-old vampire mentor look) for face masks that they don’t need because their skin is smooth as whipping cream and pimples are a thing of the past (but it’s fun to do them still, and they smell nice).

But Harry never shows. Doesn’t message, doesn’t call, doesn’t even bother to tell her if he’s working or not like he’d taken to doing. The silence is such an unforgiving static, she briefly questions if he’d ever existed at all, but then she looks to the right and sees a dumb pair of sunglasses or his forgotten 500-quid sweater that is thrown over her dresser. Still, it’s eerie, and Y/N wonders for three seconds if he’s okay then remembers he’s a fucking vampire and one who’d been around long enough to evade several wars. 

Then, as soon as she’s getting used to the quiet and relative peace of Harry doing his own thing – she can smell him before he even steps through the door like her nose was hard-wired to detect him. He’s at her door, no matter the time of day, and he’s invading her space again. 

It doesn’t make much sense, but nothing does anymore, since she was bitten and turned into a vampire. She’s still having nightmares, and she wants blood so badly sometimes she could tear through her mattress, and she misses biting into his wrist, and his throat. Her gums are sensitive and sore, Christopher says from being used more frequently, and then not used at all – these teeth were still new enough that abrupt changes like that were distressing and she starts to wonder if they were sentient. Then she considers practicing biting into the blood baggies, how Harry said she would have started learning if he weren’t her mentor, and Christopher smiled apologetically at her before replying. 

“I reckon Harry probably wouldn’t like you drinking from baggies,” he explained, “He, in his own way, forbade it. And I’m not keen on getting on his bad side.” 

“Well then let me bite you.” She says it only halfway joking and halfway feeling maybe a little too needy to dig her teeth into someone’s skin. 

Christopher shakes his head adamantly, “That would surely put me on his shit list. Who would feed you so often if I wasn’t around?” 

It’s annoying. All of it is annoying, and she still doesn’t understand why she couldn’t bite someone else. Theoretically, wouldn’t it clear up more questions if she saw how her body reacted to them feeding? How would they react to her feeding? That would at least give them somewhat of a better foundation for what was going on, and maybe a better idea of how to deal with it. 

But Harry seemed adamant that this wasn’t the way to go. He shuts it down every time she brings it up, so Y/N just stopped bringing it up. 

She was getting antsy inside of the house. Y/N wasn’t sure how much of it had contributed to what was going on between her and Harry, and how much of it contributed to being stuck inside a house for two months, but she didn’t think it mattered. Especially when she started working again, Y/N was twitchy and annoyed, and she had a phantom ache in her fingers from scrolling and rewriting programs and codes because that’s all she could do from home. They didn’t hurt, her joints well-oiled machinery now opposed to the knobby knuckles that had been her human hands – but she still stopped every twenty or so minutes to fan her fingers in and out like she was kneading the air. 

At least when Harry was in the mood to smother her she had some form of distraction, but when he goes MIA, she has nothing to do. Niall will do whatever he does when he’s disappearing, and Christopher will pop in to give her blood but never stays too much longer than necessary. Naomi might stop in to watch a show on Y/N’s laptop screen (or watch her program for about three minutes before getting bored and getting on her phone) – but if they’re all busy, then Y/N is just alone. And if she isn’t asleep, then she’s tossing and turning, ready to crawl out of her skin, missing the feeling of the wind and the warmth of the sun. 

Y/N was just going to stay on their deck. They had a nice overhang that shadowed any light they would consider too much, but normally that wasn’t a problem, for how dreary this winter had been. However, the weather didn’t certainly play fair with her, because the moment she decided she was ready to pop outside for fresh air was the moment that the clouds unfurled, exposing its underbelly. The sun shot early morning beams across the sky in some spots, in a hazy turnaround from the rainy day they’d been having before, lighting up certain spots of the backyard. 

It wasn’t going out how she wanted; Y/N was worried about being surrounded by humans, but she missed being around more than the same couple of people all of the time. And Y/N didn’t even fucking like crowded spaces, or fighting for her life in the grocery, or nearly being body checked in the mall line during Christmas season shopping – but it made her feel more alive. At the very least, she didn’t feel like she was wasting away in a room, trying not to chew through her hand because she couldn’t drink from Harry or she’ll get horny, and god what the fuck is even going on anymore? 

The fact of it is, that Y/N was feeling weird, and upset, and she went from feeling better and stronger drinking from Harry to this irritated, general disgruntled feeling. That she does open up about to Christopher, who had been trying to satiate her with the sweeter blood (all the positives - A+, O+, etc – are much sweeter, for whatever reason). He regarded her with a knowing look, soft and kind, and Y/N just wondered how he got stuck here doing this, but she still didn’t ask – it still felt rude to ask. 

“Yeah, it’s difficult switching from a vein to a bag. Mitch explained it to me once, the chemicals and endorphins released for us when we get to bite – it’s a lot, and confusing for the body when we start doing it and then stop. I know you hate hearing this, but it’s just something that gets better with time.” 

Yeah, Y/N did hate hearing that answer but she accepted it because she’d finally seen it to some extent. Existing is easier than it had been a month ago, using her nose to differentiate scents is easier, hearing is easier, and she isn’t as overstimulated from just sitting in her room with people walking around outside the door. Even the hunger is a little better, not as overwhelming and preoccupying as it had been. At least, not in the same way it was now. Before she felt like an insatiable little monster, drinking and drinking and never being full, her stomach feeling hollow, empty, always mere moments from devouring itself. 

The hunger now is. . .pressing, but not dominating. It’s more annoying than it is dire. She just wants to bite into Harry again, she was willing to ignore the reaction her body had if it meant getting to eat and feel as satiated as she does when it’s from him. 

So she was outside, sitting on the deck, taking in lungfuls of breath that she didn’t necessarily need but it felt good to let her chest fill up with the cold air. She had planned to just stay out for a little bit, the cushioned seat beneath her bum, and listen to the still, early morning world around her. She wasn’t even going to go into the yard, she didn’t need to. 

And then she heard something. 

Y/N liked to try at least to practice without Harry sometimes to improve, and maybe please him a little bit when he finds that she’s gotten better at controlling her senses than she had been the last time they met. Praise from Harry is something that never fails to make her bristle, even though she hates it, if she had a tail it’d be wagging and thudding every time he told her she did something well. Maybe that’s why he is so sparing with his compliments because it certainly does make her try harder. 

She has her eyes closed, just listening, seeing how far she can hear, and what she can hear. Most of the time it’s just little animals, eating, their footsteps, them crying. . . 

. . .them crying? 

Her brows furrowed, and she leaned forward, and then she kept hearing the crying and. . .it was an animal, surely. It sounded like a small animal, a baby animal, and when she focused in, she could smell them too. Smell the blood of them. Was that what drew her forward? Off the deck, across the yard, beyond the trees? Or was it the remaining bits of empathy in her human heart for another living creature suffering? 

She didn’t know exactly what it was that compelled her but she knew she couldn’t ignore it. Would it have been smarter to take Christopher with her? Sure it would have been, but Y/N was driven by pure instinct right then. There was no time to stop and consider anything, not how this could be some weird trap, or it could be too far from the house, or how humans could be hiking in the woods and she’d be near enough for it to be a problem. 

Or even how the patches of sunlight aren’t so sparse anymore, how they grow, connect, and make bigger spots of sun that Y/N has to avoid. She would just be quick about it – she doesn’t have the speed down yet, anytime she tries to go something quicker than a fast jog she usually slams into something or trips, but she’s still quicker than she was as a human. Y/N would go investigate, figure out what was happening, do whatever it was that she apparently was going to do, and then head back to the safety of the shadows. 

But again, she can’t think about that right now when she keeps listening and sniffing, and then she’s seeing a kitten six meters in the distance. Fur matted and dingy, nose pale, its tiny little body pinned beneath a branch. Y/N wondered if the branch had fallen on it, or if it had tried to squeeze between it and the soil beneath it but couldn’t. It didn’t matter how it got there, Y/N decided, because it was too cold, and this tiny ball of fur shouldn’t be out in it, much less injured in it. 

Y/N crouched down to her knees – she didn’t have animals growing up, but she did have friends who had them. Dogs and cats alike, so Y/N knew it was important to get down on their level, to not appear as domineering looming over them. She clicked her tongue in a manner she hoped was soothing, “Hi baby,” she cooed, then held out her fingers beneath its nose to let it sniff her, “You’re stuck, huh? How’d you get like this?” Y/N cautiously picked the branch up and felt how heavy it was for its size. Most likely weighed down by all the rain they’d had in the last few days, she wondered if that finally made it snap. 

Part of her thought the kitten might hiss at her and scurry off, but it made no move. It held its paw up as it hurt, and Y/N found the blood on the fur was dried, old, and crusted into grey hairs. When Y/N chanced petting the top of its head, a loud, rumbling purr left its throat, high pitched and clunky in the way it would be a baby. Y/N’s heart yanked in her chest, and she carefully plucked the kitten up by her belly and cradled her to Y/N’s chest. 

“Poor thing,” she held it tightly, “I’ll have someone take you to the vet, okay? They’ll fix you right up.” 

The trill is still loud, combatting with all the other sounds of the woods and when she finally looks up from the kitten she realizes the predicament she’s in. Because now, she’s in one of the few spots where there is shade, the clouds in the sky almost having entirely broken up. She looked around, panicked at the sight of the blue sky, and how the grass glittered off the sunlight. Things that would typically bring her peace now flood her with immense dread. 

She hadn’t been out in the sun before, but Harry had made her stick a finger out into the unshaded portion of the deck once. He’d told her that she wouldn’t understand why she shouldn’t just go out in it until she had some form of pain to associate with it. And it hurt, badly, burned like someone had stuck her finger into an open flame but not without giving her a papercut and rubbing huge grains of sea salt into it. She snatched her finger back quickly, held it to her body, and frowned at him for making her do it. 

“Now you won’t make any stupid decisions.” Harry had seemed all too pleased with himself at the time, smug that he was such a good mentor. . .she wondered what face he would be making now. Probably glaring at her. He’d probably call her an idiot too.

“Fuck,” she murmured to herself (and the still purring kitten in her arms, very unaware of the predicament they face. It was either sit here and wait until the clouds completely break away to be burned, or to run back to the house and be burned – there was no getting out of it, and she’s regretting not wearing a sweatshirt or a jacket how she usually would. She’s in a tank top of all things, showing probably the most skin she has had this entire time she’d been here. Of course today would be the day that she ran out into the woods for a crying kitten, and not when she’s covered head-to-toe in a sweatsuit, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The sun expands its hold on the soil before them, slowly spreading out, getting closer, the shade waning. Her heart was hammering; she needed to move. She needed to move, and also not hurt the little kitten in her arms either. And while she’s at it, she needs to beat Harry’s ass later, for messing with her head so much that she went outside in the first place to try and clear it.

Y/N swallows thickly, all of her muscles tense taut as a bow like she was in a relay and impatiently waiting for the start signal. She gives herself a countdown, braces herself, then makes a run for it. 

It burns – like fire, running through it covered in open wounds then dropping into seawater, even going as fast as she possibly could. The scorching feeling transmits inside of her body too, taking hold of her like she’d swallowed metal right off a blacksmith’s tongs. It’s horrible, she wondered if she’d melt, and if she could survive that as a vampire or if that’d do her in. Distantly she remembered Harry shrugging off her being left in the sun – the whole reason Adam had brought her into his home and stuffed her into his closet – he made it sound like she could get past this. But could she? She’s never felt pain this immense before, not since. . .

. . .not since she was turned that night. Writhing on the ground, screaming, begging them to make it stop as her body seared away any chance for her staying human. 

When Y/N makes it to the deck, she is just barely able to set the kitten down on the cushioned seat, before her vision becomes spotted and blotchy. 

Vampires can still pass out? Weird. 

                                                                     .                       .                     .

Y/N wakes up in water, with a disapproving Harry glaring at her from his spot beside the tub. 

“You’re an idiot.” Is how he greets her. 

The water sloshes against the side of the ceramic when she tries to move, but the way her muscles scream and her skin aches, the agony of moving is too much to bear. She’s forced to stay still as Harry looms over her, the sleeves of his linen button-up pushed toward his elbow, his pale arms crossed over his chest, “Don’t move, dummy.” 

“You could have opened with that,” Y/N replied, though her throat felt sandpaper dry, her mind slowly caught up with the situation at hand. She vaguely remembered making it to the deck, the burn of the sun still hot on her sizzling skin, like grease popping on a skillet, the little kitten in her arms. Then nothing – now she’s here. If she digs through her memories she could recall Mitch bringing something like this up, if she were to go into the sun; unforgiving blisters and a horrible, painful bath would follow it. 

When she looks down she’s covered in something thick and slimy, with the color and consistency of mud you might find at the bottom of a river. The water around her miraculously stays relatively clear, despite what she’s coated in, and she’s sure it’s due to some vampire magic she hadn’t learned yet, or maybe never would learn. She stays still – it’s much easier to do so now than it was when she was human. Telling her body what to do and it listening to her for a change. 

“How many times have I emphasized not going outside in the sun?” Harry chastised her, “We only go out on cloudy days, I had you feel the pain that comes from just a fingertip, I don’t even stay out in it for suspended amounts of time and you think you can just what? Sunbathe for a couple of hours? Did Niall talk you into that stupid shit?” 

She frowned at him, “Stop yelling at me,” she grumbled, weighing if she should bring up how when he initially spoke about her going out in the sun, he’d described it as a “little rash” that she would get, “I was getting stir crazy in there, okay?” 

“So you go out in daylight? How could you be stir-crazy when I take you to the backyard routinely?” 

“Am I a dog?” She retorted, and Harry’s brows furrowed deeper, “I just wanted to get out of my room, because I’m all twitchy and jump, and it feels like I’m starving sometimes, even when I’ve been eating from the bag. Then you’ve been acting so weird, and you won’t let me bite anymore, so I just –” 

“So it’s my fault that you got burned?” 

“No, just,” she said, her eyes closed, “I was just going to stay on the deck, but then I heard crying and I smelled blood. I just moved without thinking.” 

Harry still seems displeased, huffing an irritated breath,  “Yeah, you weren’t thinking. You’re lucky that Christopher came out to find you or your burns would have been way worse. You’re still a newbie, you aren’t ready for shit like that yet.” 

Y/N wants to rub at her eyes, but if she moves she thinks she’ll melt away, so she stays put. Part of her just wants to keep her eyes closed, so she doesn’t have to visualize the disappointment swallowing Harry’s features. Admittedly, it was stupid what she did, but she still didn’t appreciate being scolded like an honorary child. Plus, she’d been doing it to save something, doesn’t that count for anything? 

“The kitten,” she started, “Is it okay?” 

Harry looks like he wants to withhold information from her as a punishment, but even he isn’t that cruel. He finally stops looming and moves toward the sink, “She was taken to a vet to get looked over,” Harry replied, shaking his curls out with his hand, “She’s malnourished and wounded, so she couldn’t just stay here. What does that pitiful little thing matter, even?” He motioned toward her, “You’re in much worse shape than some feral kitten.” 

She frowned again (or had she ever stopped frowning? She wasn’t sure). It wasn’t like she’d expected to be able to keep that cat, but she would have at least liked to see it off; sweet as it was, the way it purred in her arms made her feel something she hadn’t felt since she’d been changed. She hadn’t gotten to touch or hold any animals actually, now that she thinks about it. There was no drive to eat them like she feared to have, just the same yearning and longing in her chest at the sight of it, and the way cuteness and aggression threatened to suffocate her. It would have been nice to have it around, slinking through the halls, tail undulating behind itself. To wake up with it purring in the crook of her neck, or to see it sitting on her dresser when she came back to her room – it would have been nice. 

“The solvent coating you has to stay on for ten minutes,” Harry continued unprompted, tugging the sleeves of his shirt further up roughly, his irritation clear as he turned away from her and began to organize the bottles on the sink, “I already did the first couple of steps with Naomi while you were asleep, so the worst of it is over. This will still hurt like a bitch, but I think you deserve it at this point.” 

“What else do you have to do?” She ignored him, and Harry exhaled through his nose in a sharp breath. 

“I have to coat you in three different oils. The first burns, the second cools to the point of pain, and the third is meant to moisturize the skin. It’s thick and feels horrible when you’re in bed, but again, you –” 

“I deserve it, yeah,” she sighed, “I got it.” 

Harry is moving about quietly, angrily, popping open the caps and filling up three separate bowls. Y/N decided it was probably in her best interest to stay silent and let Harry work, though she was curious about the whole process. She wanted to know what her skin looked like when they found her, and if this had ever happened to Harry before. When she’s able to forget about the pain slithering its way through every nerve in her body, she has half the mind to feel embarrassed that she’s just in this tub naked beside Harry. There were no bubbles to obscure the view, just her naked body covered in something gooey in the water, seeming too clear for what was submerged beneath it. 

There’s no words for a while. Not as Harry brings the bowls over to the bath or lowers down to his knees beside it. He has a sponge resting on the edge of the tub that he dunks into the water, plucks her arm up by her wrist, and then squeezes the sponge over it. The substance, whatever it might have been, slides off her body easier than she had imagined it would and reveals Y/N’s skin underneath, looking rubbed raw and irritated. 

Why was Harry doing this? Y/N wanted to ask but she figured the response she received would probably be snarky, so she kept her mouth closed. She just wondered why it wasn’t Mitch, Naomi, or some random vampire healer they invited from a cave in the Alps. Did it have to be her mentor who partook in this whole process while she was stark naked in a tub? Or had Harry just wanted to scold her freely as soon as possible? 

Y/N knows when it’s time for her to get on her knees in the water so he can reach her torso and he hands her the sponge and shifts his gaze politely when she fusses about him seeing too much when she has to get between her thighs and her bum. 

“I had my face stuffed in your bleeding pussy, but seeing your ass is too much?” 

“Shut up.” 

The oil Harry drips on her does burn as promised, and he starts from her neck and drips it down her body, using his hands to slick her skin up with it. She bites back on a hiss at the pain, but she knows he can tell it hurts from the way her face contorts. An antiseptic smell fills the bathroom, the sensation of it on her is equivalent to continuously spraying peroxide on an open wound. It stings, it burns, it fizzles and sizzles through her cells in a way that brings tears to her eyes. With the oil, he focuses on only the spots that were exposed to the sunlight – what was covered by her tank top and sweatpants was only treated with the thick slimy stuff as a preventative measure, Harry had explained to her (sometimes the blisters that erupt on the skin from the light can spread out like an infection if not dealt with correctly, so the first few steps focus on stopping the spread – he’d completed that by the time she came to). 

Still, it burns what skin it does touch, and Harry – for once – shows even the slightest bit of sympathy for her. 

“I know,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze, but his tone was as gentle as it’s been the entire time. “Just a couple more things.” 

He pulls the plug in the tub and starts with the second oil, which feels like rubbing a block of dry ice against her skin. Her fingers grip the edge of the ceramic tub and he reminds her to be careful not to crack it, which she guesses is something she can do now. So Y/N is mindful not to squeeze too tightly, biting so hard on her bottom lip that she tastes the metallic of blood on her tongue. The entire surface of her body feels rubbed open and raw and sore. She’s struggling to focus on anything but the pain occupying her, even the soft way Harry starts to hum, or the calming, gentle coo of his words when he promises that they are almost finished. 

The third oil is thicker; it drips down her skin slowly as molasses and Harry’s palms guide it over her arms, her shoulders, her upper chest, and back. He pets carefully at her neck and smears it over her face. She feels hot from the discomfort, the embarrassment, and the sudden overwhelming hunger that smothers her just as soon as she isn’t focusing on how sore she is all over. 

Harry removes a towel from the warming rack, instructs her to stand, and wraps the bath sheet around her body. It doesn’t hurt as horribly to move but it certainly doesn’t feel great either; she slides her hands into Harry’s awaiting ones when he helps her step out of the tub, “Christopher will add a pain reliever to your blood,” he told her, “It’ll make this a little more bearable.” 

“Do you think the kitten will be okay?” Y/N inquired, now that Harry was being even the slightest bit more tender. 

It seemed to be the wrong thing to ask because Harry made a noise that sounded less than pleased as he kicked her out of her bathroom and into her main room, “Be worried about yourself,” he grumbled, “Things could have been way worse for you, you’re lucky to have gotten away with what you did.” Harry ushered her into her room where there were already clothes laid out for her on the bed – if she allowed him to dress her, he found great joy in it, even if it was just picking out regular, comfortable clothes for her to lounge in. Y/N wondered if it was something from his past that brought him comfort, or if he was just a control freak, or maybe both. 

He’s getting worked up in a way that she’s never seen before. The kind of worked up you get when your friend does something stupid, when your partner does something dangerous, when you’re – “You wouldn’t have puffed into a cloud of dust but depending on the severity of the sun and how fresh you are as a vampire, you could have been out of commission for weeks to months. If it were summer, if it were noon, if Christopher hadn’t found you when he did –” 

“You were worried?” Y/N filled in the gaps herself. 

Harry was a dick most of the time. He teases her relentlessly, scolds her for little things, loses his patience quickly, and acts like he’s obsessed with her one minute, and like he wants nothing to do with her the next – it’s confusing and distressing. Their relationship is all over the place and has split away from the normal mentor and mentored dynamic that they might have possessed had things been different. Honestly, Y/N had wondered if he was even capable of feeling worry when it came to her – even though she was still a fresh, baby vampire, it would take a lot to kill her. Maybe when they had gone to her flat, he had felt worried she would eat her neighbor and he’d have to clean it up, but she hadn’t thought he would ever worry because of her. 

But the look in his eyes today, every time he opens his mouth he sounds so mad that he could spend hours upbraiding her and still have more to say come tomorrow. A couple of months ago, she would have thought Harry was angry that she made more work for him, but Y/N feels like she has just a slightly better understanding of him now. 

Harry was angry because she put herself in danger. He was angry because he cared. 

A couple of emotions trickle over his face; typically, he’s good at schooling them if he doesn’t want Y/N to know what he is thinking. But right now, he doesn’t hide anything. Not the narrowed eyes, the clench in his jaw like he’s going to berate her for even thinking he would worry – and then the way his gaze softens, how his eyelashes flutter when he closes them, gathering his thoughts, collecting his rampant emotions, organizing the way he feels. There are moments like these where Harry is so unbelievably vulnerable with her, matching the openness of her heart and her feelings. They are few and far between but they are there, and they are real, and they make Y/N feel more human than she has for months. 

“Of course I worry,” he settled on, his arms still hanging at his sides rather than crossing over his chest like he does when he’s getting defensive, “I always worry.” 

He turned away, stalking toward the bathroom. Y/N listens to him clean up while she gets dressed, cringing at the way the oil sits on top of her skin and how it feels against the cotton fabric of her shirt. Harry was right, it is a miserable feeling, but it isn’t the most intolerable thing in the world and the coolness feels good on her skin that simmers beneath a boil. It doesn’t hurt to move but it doesn’t necessarily feel good either; her skin is already rapidly recovering even from the couple of minutes she’d been out of the bath so she could only hope for a speedy recovery. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N apologized when he finally came out, and Y/N noticed that he changed his clothes – now that she was looking, he seemed to be in one of her shirts so she guessed he got messed up during the bath, “I should have thought through what I was going to do before I did it. I was feeling jumpy, like. . .like I needed to crawl out of my skin and Christopher said that it was because I went from a vein to a bag so I’m still just getting used to that. That isn’t an excuse though, I should’ve – I should’ve asked for help. So I apologize.” 

Harry looked cute in her shirt – it was an older one she had, a band she followed closely before all of this happened printed on the front all big and bubbly. It was cutesy and pink and flounced over his frame. She thought it was criminal to look so good in an oversized shirt when she felt like a toddler playing in adult clothes if it was too big on her (though that didn’t stop her from wearing them). But he was a model, so it makes sense – it was his job to make outfits look good. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” he replied, his hands full with the dishes he’d used and the bottles of oil tucked beneath his arm. Harry is careful as he places them on the top of her dresser, next to a picture frame she’d brought back from her flat, a photo of her and her friends the last year of UNI. That seemed so long ago now – Y/N could barely remember how she felt in the photo. She was probably all torn up over her pitiful unrequited love – she thinks that’s why they took her out that night, to try and make her feel better, and it ended up being really fun. 

“It was unfair of me to yell at you. I haven’t been making this transition the easiest, I know, I – was at a loss on what to do if I’m telling the truth,” he grimaced when the glasses clink together, echoing through both of their sensitive ears, “I switched Niall from bag to practicing from my vein and the reaction was never as visceral as what I have to your teeth. It felt smart to just stop it entirely so I could figure out what was happening but I didn’t consider how that might make you feel, both physically and emotionally. Of course you would run out into the woods after smelling blood, it only makes sense. At least you did it to save a kitten, I’ve done much worse.” Harry digs his nails into his wrist without hesitation, and Y/N’s eyes widen into saucers, scooting up closer to her bed, “You’re hungry, baby, I know you are. You can have a little taste and Christopher will bring you more.” 

There he goes, calling her baby again, and Y/N’s whole body thrums to life with it. The smell of his blood sends her mind into fuzzy flashes of light, like pressing into her closed eyelids too hard and being dazzled by the universe and constellations made by the consistent rub into them. A confused sound stirs from her throat, brows knitted as she looked between him and the red droplet that welts up toward the surface of skin, “But you said –” 

“I’ve been reading a lot about it,” he cut her off, “There are a dozen different interpretations of what's happening and unless we get a healer involved then we won’t know for sure. Getting a healer involved means telling Mitch that I’ve been keeping something from him and I just don’t know if I’m ready for the theatrics that will bring from the old man. But what I’ve learned for sure is that it doesn’t hurt us in any way, it just makes us horny, and that’s something we can ignore if we want to.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, her throat feeling dry all over again. It’s a battle of self-restraint, not jumping him immediately but she thinks her body has already decided for her as she crawled closer. Her tongue moves wet and warm over the cooled skin of his forearm, licking up the blood that had trickled and tasting saltiness and copper and good, good, good. She missed him so much, sliding her teeth inside, holding onto him tightly – this was as close as they could get with each other, his blood running down her tongue and into her belly. It makes her feel warm, and the itch in her brain is scratched.

Was it the blood that she missed? Was it the need to satiate the need her teeth felt to bite down? Or was it the desire to be this close to Harry? Was Harry what she missed? Him being inside of her, feeding her, completing her – 

Embarrassing enough, Y/N’s hips twitch forward but Harry uses his other hand to hold her still. He’s so strong that he keeps her there, clicking his tongue, “Not today,” she wasn’t looking at him but she could tell he shook his head to punctuate it, “Your body needs rest.” 

She murmurs a sound against his skin, like an agreement she thinks, but her brain has gone cotton so isn’t sure what she means. 

Harry doesn’t let her go for as long as he usually does, and surprisingly Y/N is easy to detach from his wrist, “We should do it in small doses.” 

Y/N hums another sound that might be an agreement but now she’s confused because she doesn’t remember when Harry had sat down, or when she had mindlessly crawled into his lap. She’s here now though, staring between them at the heavy bulge in his trousers. Her hands move before her brain can, hovering over his cock but Harry’s fingers wrap around her wrists – his hold is gentle as he guides them up and away from him, “Your body needs rest,” he repeats, “Lay down and try to sleep.” 

Sleep doesn’t come as easily as it used to for her when her belly was warm and full of Harry’s blood, so now that it has been reintroduced even in a minute amount, Y/N thinks she could close her eyes and fall asleep instantly. But she’s feeling uncharacteristically needy, with everything that has transpired, and she wants to melt over his body like a second skin. Y/N doesn’t want to look for the reasoning, she just wants him to stay with her. 

But it seems she doesn’t even need to ask. Y/N crawls into the bed and Harry lies down beside her, in his self-proclaimed spot on the left, her shirt pooling around his body, “I’ll stay with you,” he told her, “Protect you from any wandering Nialls and Naomis so that you can sleep.” 

It was unnecessary; Niall and Naomi wouldn’t bother her if she was asleep, but if that was the excuse Harry wanted to use then she didn’t mind. As long as he stayed there with her. 

                                                               .                        .                         .

Y/N hasn’t been surrounded by this many people in months. 

Even before she was changed, the last time Y/N had been at a bar or club of any kind was in UNI and even then she had to be drunk to enjoy herself. Otherwise, it was just an overpopulated room, with music too loud for normal conversation, and the suffocating need to look good. In her early UNI days, she liked that sort of atmosphere, and it gave her an excuse to grind on whoever she wanted without many repercussions. At the time, validation from someone pretty at the bar had meant a lot to her, no matter who was giving it to her. 

Now, Y/N was experiencing mixed emotions. When Harry had suggested taking her out with the others, Y/N’s first worry had been that instead of slowly integrating her with humans, he was about to drop her into a cesspool of them. Sweaty and drunk, touchy and feely, completely impervious to fear that should arouse from creatures like Y/N and Harry. What if a well-meaning human accidentally brushed up against her and she turned around and sunk her teeth into their throat? Then what? Wasn’t this a little irresponsible? 

Harry seemed unimpressed by her concerns, “Do you think I’d really just drop you in a room of humans?” He dropped a parcel on her mattress that he’d been holding since the conversation started, “Do I look like an imbecile to you?” 

She frowned at him, looking down at the box and pulling it into her lap. Y/N wedged her thumbnail beneath the tape on one side and began to peel it open, “That’s what you made it sound like.” 

There are exclusive sections in certain clubs downtown reserved for vampires, Harry explained. They look like uppity, VIP sections for smarmy, wealthy individuals but it wasn’t someplace you could buy yourself into. You had to know someone, who knew someone, and that was the ticket inside. This is where they could congregate in larger groups and it’s also where the human feeders are. 

“I looked through all of your things,” he’d continued to explain when she finally peeled the box open, revealing shimmery, navy-colored fabric that twinkled when it hit the lights in her room, “And none of them spoke to me, so I just brought this from work. It’s part of a winter collection spread for a company I model for.” 

Y/N was hesitant to pull the dress from the box, because if Harry brought it from work then that meant the price tag was easily a year’s worth of rent for her. She had to stand from the bed so she could hold it out and up against herself. Y/N wondered how Harry would know her size but she guessed with how much time he spends going through and critiquing her outfit choices, he was bound to figure it out sooner or later. 

“This will compliment you nicely,” Harry nodded, pulling the fabric flush to her skin, showing that it would come down about mid-thigh for her, “I think you’ve been doing well to mingle with everyone in the house, but I think it’d be good to get more stimulation. It’ll make you feel less. . claustrophobic and jumpy and willing to run out in daylight to save a kitten.” Harry makes light of it now that he isn’t upset anymore, and weakly dodges her reaching out to hit him in retaliation for it, “We’ll go tonight.” 

“I wish you would give me more time before dropping things on me.” She groused and Harry made a miffed sound in his throat. 

“Because you’re so busy?” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes, “If I gave you too much time in advance, you’d ruminate over it for hours until you tried hiding in the woods from me to avoid it.” 

Harry wasn’t wrong. She was surprised he’d gathered that in his short time knowing her while it took most of her closest friends years before they realized the best way to make her do something out of her comfort zone was to give her little choice but to do it. Y/N didn’t necessarily mind that, as long as in the end, it was for her benefit and not something that would harm her. And she thinks this would be beneficial, maybe, and at least getting out of the house without the fear of eating someone would soothe her a bit. 

“I’ll make sure you’re well-fed before we go,” Harry promised her, “A few of the others wanted to come too, to experience this with you.” 

“What if something happens?” Y/N fretted her bottom lip between her teeth, the sharpened canine just narrowly avoiding piercing the flesh, “If I – what if one of the feeders walks out or –” 

“That’s not going to happen. The feeders are separated and heavily protected by security, so there’s no need to worry about them. And the building itself is very protected as well, from hunters, from other humans – plus if anything did happen, I would be there,” he reminded her, “I’ll scruff you like a naughty cat before I let you do anything stupid.” 

Despite it sounding like a threat, the notion does pacify her mounting worries. 

Being packed in the car with the others makes her feel very human. Christopher was driving, Harry sat in the front seat, Niall and Marcus in the middle, and Y/N was pressed close to Naoimi and Vivianna in the very back. Delphine and Saskia were driving with Theodore and Samuel in a separate car because they typically like to stay out later than everyone else. 

They’re stuffed close together, Y/N’s thighs pressed tight between the wall of the car and Naomi’s thigh. Her dress has ridden up a considerable amount just from sitting, so if there were any room to move she was just one wiggle away from her underwear showing. It was something she’d need to be mindful of tonight, for sure. Y/N is trying her best to be in a good mood, but she’s nervous, and she’s feeling a little slighted because Harry’s promise to keep her fed was just multiple bags of blood given to her at the rate they had been when she was first starting to eat. She’d thought maybe he’d feed her from his neck or something but she guesses that was too much of a risk before they went out, or maybe he hadn’t eaten enough to share yet. 

Y/N isn’t sure. She’s full, but unsatisfied in the way she knew she could be. 

It isn’t as simple as just stepping through the doors of a club. It’s underground, they have to enter through an abandoned building a few blocks away from a busier area downtown, but they park their car in a lot behind an office. The concrete is uneven and cracked, so when Christopher turns into a space they have all been boggled and jostled around. Y/N had only narrowly avoided slamming her head into the window, but Naomi had slid her hand between the cold glass and Y/N’s head before she could. 

“I swear he hits the potholes on purpose,” she’d whispered to her, “As payback for all the hard labor.” 

They file out of the car like cold-to-the-touch clowns (only darker clothes), and the wind doesn’t bite her skin the way it used to but she can still feel that she should be. The others make a show of crossing their arms around their body in place of acting too content; Y/N replicated them, though nobody was looking at them. They talk and chatter normally, nobody seems tense or nervous about being out in public which makes Y/N feel both better and worse. Better because if they’re calm then she should be calm right? 

But she’ll feel worse if she’s the only one who feels like she’s about to have a panic attack. Her heart thuds hard against her sternum, curling her arms tighter around her body. She can hear shit she knew she wasn’t supposed to, from kilometers away downtown, to deep in the bed of the forest. Y/N is trying to focus on selectively hearing how they’ve been practicing, but it’s harder than at home. The scents, the smells, the blood that is thrumming through the veins of people mucking around the city. Was it really safe for them to have her out like this? Even if she’s going to a place primarily with vampires, getting there is a difficult step, is it not? Y/N’s worried that she’s out of her depth, even if she’s full right now, she doesn’t know if she should be trusted anywhere near humans without – 

“You think too much,” Harry’s voice appears out of nowhere to her left and she nearly screams, “Calm down. I would know if you were planning on doing anything crazy before you even did,” the soft skin at the pads of his fingers strokes across her nape, “Didn’t I tell you I would stop it? You don’t trust me?” 

His words are rough and accusatory, but he speaks to her gently, just above a whisper like that would keep it between them even though everyone around them had great hearing. Though he has no natural heat in his body, a pseudo-warmth fills her when he stands close, up until the point his hand falls away from her neck. 

“Sorry,” she swallowed thickly, “I’m just nervous.” 

“Don’t be,” Niall is at her other side, casual in his strides, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, “They’ve got special drinks here so you can get fucked up. Your body metabolizes it too fast to stay drunk for long but it’s nice for a little while at least.” 

Harry waves his hand at Niall like he’s batting him away, “You’re a bad influence,” he grumbled, “The last thing she needs is to be drunk and grinding on some random vampire stuck in his frat boy douche days like you guys are.” 

“Oh I’m sure you would hate that, wouldn’t you?” Theodore was behind them, Y/N guesses pretending he was invested in the conversation he’d been having with Marcus but he very easily strays away to invade theirs, “Y/N, don’t let him deter you, vampire dick is crazy with one night stands if you’re interested.” 

“Or girls, if that’s what you’re into,” Saskia adds in, “Or both.” 

Harry lets out a sigh beside her, breath puffing out in a plume of smoke, “Just stick beside me tonight.” 

Y/N could barely imagine being in a room full of more than eight people, let alone considering the possibility of hooking up with anyone. Why would anyone even be after her when she was with the people she was with right now? She’s surrounded by people who could be models and someone who is a model, nobody would be sparing her a second glance. Maybe they would be wondering why her entire ass was out when this dress rolled up over her cheeks. If someone did approach her, there’s no fucking way she’d even know what to say – she’d probably mess up and say something stupid, like ask them how long they’ve been a vampire, and when did the hunger pains stop, and do their mentors also spread their thighs when they’re on their period? 

The walk isn’t too far, and they seem to be steering clear of big crowds. Y/N wondered if that was for her benefit or everyone’s benefit – she didn't ask. They pass a couple of humans and Y/N tenses but Harry and Niall bracket her sides whenever they do, but she doesn’t feel the knee-jerk reaction to tear through them like she thought. She doesn’t feel hungry, but still, she’s wracked with nerves. Christopher once told her that her disgust and sheer fear of doing it was proof enough that she wouldn’t lash out in normal circumstances. Still, she was worried. 

They come up to a large building, with cement walls with most of the windows covered up by slats of plywood nailed into each other. It’s the type of place she would avoid at all costs, but they walk into it casually. The smell is musty and stale; with exposed insulation and mildew. Y/N can tell the walls and floors have been weathered by humidity, rain, snow, excruciating heat, and the bitter cold. If they were still human she would be concerned with what they might be breathing in as they were led across what must have used to be an office floor, full of cubicles, and chairs, and bored workers with sore necks and achy eyes from staring at a screen all day. She can hear music, in the distance beneath them, coming from the depths of the building. 

There’s another door, this one leads to a stairwell, and she follows them all down, deeper and deeper toward the basement. The further they get, the louder the music becomes. The stairs are winding, so when they wrap around the last set of steps Y/N is startled to see a man sitting in front of another door, on a stool, scrolling through his phone. He’s not the burly, beefcake she would expect guarding the outside of a club full of immortals but she guesses there were a lot of surprises. 

This man looks up from his phone, his eyes are an intense blue that is ridiculously disconcerting. They settle on her immediately, slicing through her like tiny knives, “She’s new,” he stated, not as a question, just a statement because he can look at her and tell, or smell it on her, or both – she curls her arms around her body tighter, even though she didn’t have to pretend to be cold anymore, “Is she gonna cause problems?” 

“Don’t be a dick, just let us in,” Niall grumbled and Harry exhaled loudly. 

“Listen, mate, she’s much better than this creature,” he motioned toward Niall, “A far better temperament, no crazy bar fights, yeah? Scouts honor.” 

The doorman narrowed his eyes at them both, flickering between all of them with a pursed mouth before he stepped to the side, his palm touching the knob and twisting the door open, “I’ve heard that before,” he murmured, “Have fun.” 

Just as Y/N is wondering what the point of that man is at all (because if a vampire wanted to get into a club, couldn’t they just muscle their way in?), Harry explained as they were entering through a long hallway, with black tile floors and a burgundy runner rug down the center, “He’s one of the only people who can open the door. It’s charmed.”  And while it doesn’t make a lot of sense to Y/N, she nods her head and accepts it, like she’s been doing with just about everything. 

The atmosphere is much like human clubs, where the music is thudding, and the songs are a mix between Billboard’s Top 100, EDM remixes, and Y2K throwbacks. A few major differences Y/N notices right off the bat are that the air around them doesn’t feel sticky or too warm, and Y/N isn’t suffocating beneath manufactured fragrances poorly covering the scent of body odor and sweat. There are still people grinding on each other, and kissing, some even stumble a little but it all seems more. . .tasteful, somehow. Maybe it was the fact everyone was dressed like they were prepared for a photo shoot at a moment's notice. 

Their group thins out almost immediately, everyone going in several different directions and Y/N loses track of them all almost immediately. Harry stayed beside her and guided her to a table, “They’ll come back soon,” he told her, “Most of them are going to get something to drink. Marcus and Saskia need to eat though, so they might be a while.” 

She nodded, happy to slide into a blue velvet booth across from Harry. Y/N is marveling at the interior design of the place, the glossy walls that sparkle, decorated with several different lights, abstract art, and other weird shit Y/N thinks you could probably only find in a place like this. Y/N vaguely recognized the song booming through the speakers – it had just started gaining popularity before she was changed, so it pulled a weird longing in her chest. Just as she’s wishing for the song to end, Harry grabs her attention again, rapping his knuckles on the table, “Christ, it’s like I brought an alien out of their spaceship,” he murmured, “You’re looking around like you’ve never seen people before.” 

A pout decorates her mouth, which is feeling underdressed without lipgloss or lipstick but she hadn’t been in the mood to do any sort of makeup (The entire prelude to them going out, Y/N was stuck wondering if vampires could still have panic attacks, she didn’t have time to try and color match or ask Naomi for a glossy tint she could borrow), “Don’t be mean,” she replied, “I’m – there’s a lot to see. You would be amazed too if you were stuck in a house constantly.” 

Christopher and Niall return first, and Christopher slides a fruity-looking cocktail in front of her on the table, “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” he told her, “I didn’t have to pay for it, so don’t feel obligated.” 

“If you tell them it’s for a new vampire, then they’re usually pretty sweet. The bartenders are very kind.” Harry is surprisingly handed a drink by Niall, who looks more or less distraught that he was made to give Harry anything. Even more so when he realizes the best place to sit is probably beside Harry, across from Y/N and Christopher who had just slid in beside her, but Niall makes Christopher scoot over so he can squirm in the space next to them, “Ah, what am I going to do with you? You’re rotten,” Harry complained but wasn’t concerned with Niall’s choice for very long. He pulls the glass to his mouth and takes a small sip of a darker liquid – was it whiskey? Or was it like whiskey? For some reason, Harry being a guy who was drawn toward brow liquor didn’t surprise her. 

Y/N’s hands grip the sweating glass, the ice clinking against the sides when she rests the edge of the glass against her bottom lip, tipping it carefully until she feels the taste of it splash on her tongue. It’s. . .sharp? Is that a way to describe it? Y/N doesn’t drink many liquids apart from blood now, so she is taken aback by how sweet and poignant the juice is. Then there is something beneath it all the sweet, both tangy and bitter, but she isn’t overwhelmed by that. She wondered if that was what would make her drunk. 

The others do come to enjoy their first drink at the table, but by the second round, some have gotten up and have been moving around. Y/N is finally settling some; the jitters she’d been experiencing before dissipating the longer she sits there, and the longer she speaks to Christopher who is (by no choice of his own but is being a great sport about it) pressed up tight against her. The drink was leaving her loose-limbed and relaxed, speaking to him freely – probably more freely than she’d ever spoken to him by the time she was on her second, slightly stronger drink. 

Christopher doesn’t seem to mind being surrounded by a ton of inebriated vampires, so he entertains her as she muses about his life. She asks him things about his past, cautiously dancing around the million-dollar question. Honestly, she’d thought she’d been doing pretty good at seeming inconspicuous about it but Christopher can sniff her out from a light year away. 

“You want to ask, don’t you?” He pressed, “You’re the only one who hasn’t asked why I’m only half.” 

Y/N’s face feels warm and she doesn’t know if she’s flushed from the alcohol or if she’s embarrassed from being called out. She wanted to know but she was also a firm believer that it wasn’t a lick of her business. Christopher wasn’t used to that, in a house full of nosy vampires, so she guessed he’d just been waiting and waiting for her to inquire – until he realized he was going to have to offer up that information himself. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, a sheepish smile on her mouth, “I’d – if you’re comfortable.” 

Christopher snorted, “Of course, babe, it’s really not that interesting of a story. I grew up in a cult.” 

“What?” 

Christopher was born into a cult; it was a small one, not something published on the news or in the papers because it was in a remote spot in the mountains. He said his childhood was fairly normal, all things considered, that he woke up, ate breakfast, and went to play like any other kid would be doing. It wasn’t until he turned 16 that he realized there was something more to his family than just a lot of people, living peacefully in the forest, among the trees, living off the land and game, and sleeping in huts and caves. 

They took him to the mouth of a cave, a fire burning and crackling bright with two people sitting beside it. His eyes were still sleep blurry, and the soles of his feet ached from the stones and sticks that he’d stepped on as they took him through the trees to this spot. 

“I remember thinking they were pretty,” he told her, scratching the side of his jaw, “It was rare we saw anyone outside of our tiny village, and everyone looked. . .well, as good as they could having grown up in the forest, cleaning up in creeks, and running around in barely any clothes. This was about. . .90 years ago? So I had no concept of models, actors, singers, celebrities, or that kind of star power where you look at someone and you just know they’re probably important but these two looked important and gorgeous.” He scrunched his nose up, “I’d grown up being told my duty was to marry and bed who I’m pretty sure was a cousin of mine or something – have more kids, grow our colony, something like that. I thought maybe that’s what this was – I was going to get married to the girl, and the man was just making sure I was good for his daughter or summat.”

But that’s not what it was. The cult he was in believed these two to be gods because they never aged, and they came with jewels and gold that they could sell down in the main town and taught them how to cultivate and harvest different forms of food on the terrain they lived on. They would give them anything they desired, so long as they provided them with something to eat. 

Someone to eat. 

And it was Christopher’s turn. 

Before they ate him, there was a ritual performed – only the elders knew it, Christopher was confused and scared, tied up to a post so that he couldn’t run off and some incantations were murmured while they covered him in blood – whose it was, he wasn’t sure, but he was begging and pleading with them to let him go and they weren’t listening. The vampires bit him, one on his wrist and the other on his throat, so he got lightheaded fast, and had they not been stopped he probably would have gone quickly. 

But they were stopped; hunters had been spying on this cult for a couple of months, and this was finally their chance to put a stop to it. They killed the vampires, killed the elders, took Christopher off the post, and collected him all boneless, barely alive. 

“And then I woke up,” he shrugged, “Kind of anti-climactic, really, but I woke up without memory of anything. Where I was from, what had happened, why my body felt like it was on fire, and why I felt like I was starving. I don’t know if the hunters thought I was too far gone to be saved, or if they didn’t understand that if they didn’t kill me then I would turn, but they just dropped me off in a leaf pit. I didn’t have the drive you guys do to drink blood or the need, but I knew something was wrong with me, and that the foods I used to survive off of didn’t do it for me anymore. I wandered around for a while, found a village, and told them I didn’t remember anything or where I was from so they took me in.” 

“Mitch found me years later, drawn by my odd smell. He offered me to come with him, for safety, so he could study me – he was so intrigued by the fact that he knew I was a vampire but I smelled like a human as well. He spent decades trying to figure out what it was, and the only thing either of us could come up with was that whatever ritual they performed kind of screwed something up. When Mitch did more research, he found in some texts there were rituals and spells people performed at sacrificial vampiric ceremonies to stop them from coming back as vampires themselves. I don’t know if the cult knew or not, but I guess it doesn’t matter much. For some reason, I’m this way, and that’s life now, whether it was the ritual or not.” 

Y/N was blinking at him, all wide-eyed and shocked, and it took a couple of seconds of silence before she could muster a response, “Holy shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m sorry,” her hand found his, slotting their fingers together, she’d been fed a third drink at this point so she was feeling tipsy, and it turned out human her and vampire her were the same in their tolerance, their emotions – her eyes bead up with tears, “That’s – that’s horrible. I’m sorry.” 

He laughed and patted her thigh, her dress had rolled up quite far and he fixed it for her, “That’s okay, babe, it was years ago. I barely think about it now.” 

“Is she crying?” Harry’s voice rings out, and Y/N only notices that he’s been staring the entire time Christopher explains the story, “What the hell – I told you guys not to let her drink too much.” 

Christopher doesn’t want her to dwell on it – he sends her off with Naomi and Vivianna to dance, much to Harry’s irritation, who is convinced that she needs to stay near him. Y/N lets herself be dragged off to the dance floor, immersed in the music, the bodies, and the dancing. It feels nice to move around freely, even more so when Christopher comes with them and she slings her arms around his neck and holds him tight, “Let’s have fun, okay? Do you want to have fun with me?” 

“Do you want Harry to beat my ass?” He took her by the hips, displacing her gently and pressing her toward Naomi who collected her easily, “I’ll dance too, hm? But Harry is watching us like a hawk.”

Her gaze moves, slipping over to Harry who is glaring daggers across the room at them. Y/N frowned, “Why is he angry?” 

“Because he’s obsessed with you,” Naomi replied, pulling her vodka cranberry to her mouth, and putting the straw between the corner of her lips, “Haven’t you guessed that? He’s so possessive of you, you would’ve thought you two have been together for years. He all but bit Christopher’s head off when he offered to call the healer to do your bath.” 

Y/N tried to crane her neck to look at Naomi, who looped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder, over her neck, holding her close. Naomi is always pretty touchy-feely, so Y/N’s used to this by now, her hands coming to hold her forearm, the skin soft, smooth, and cool, “Healer? You mean he didn’t have to do the bath for me? It wasn’t like a mentor’s job?” 

“He wouldn’t let anybody else do it,” Vivianna answered, “The oils and scrubs during the bath are irritants to skin that hasn’t been damaged by the sun. When Naomi was with him during the first part of the bath, his skin was so red and inflamed, you would’ve thought he was the one with the burn.” 

Y/N’s brain is kind of fuzzy from the alcohol, so she’s a little slow on the uptake but it’s piecing together – what was that about? Did he not believe anyone else could do it? Did he not want someone else to see her naked? What was his hang-up? 

Christopher has his arms slung around Samuel who had slithered his way in front of him, grinding up on him with a big, dopey smile, “He hated the thought of you being hurt – blamed himself for it, so he wanted to fix it, no matter it hurting him. And a part of it is because he’s a possessive bastard but that’s neither here nor there.” 

Y/N melted into Naomi, swaying back and forth with her as she moved them, “Oh,” she blinked at them, “Do you think that has something to do with me drinking his blood?” 

“Oh, that’s because –” 

“Harry should explain that to her,” Christopher butted in before Naomi could tell her, “Hm? He’s just too dumb with his emotions Y/N, he hasn’t had feelings in so long, don’t blame him for it.” 

“Feelings?” Y/N repeated. 

They could go no further, however, because Harry’s scent comes close first and then she blinks and he’s right in front of her, in place of Christopher and Samuel who had been there prior. Harry’s top matched hers, now that she really looked at it, a dark blue that glimmered under the shimmery lights above them. The buttons were undone so most of his chest was showing, pale and soft – she’d never felt it before, but she could only imagine the skin was smooth and unblemished. His pants were dark and wide-legged; the outfit should make him look like a 70’s pornstar douchebag, but he looks good in it. Did he want to match her? Was that on purpose? “Don’t let them corrupt you,” he frowned, reaching forward and gripping the hem of her dress, pulling it back down her thighs where it had ridden up, “Come with me.” 

Y/N pouted, “I wanna dance though.” 

“I’ll dance with you,” he slid his hand around her waist, pulling her closer, “Dance with me instead.” 

Naomi loosened her arm around Y/N’s throat, “He’s never a good sharer,” she sighed, then gave her a small nudge toward him, “Go on then, you can have your time with her too. Bring her back though.” 

Harry pulls her close to him, slips his arms around her body, and pulls her from the group so they are dancing alone (or as alone as they could be with other people crowding them), “Harry? You don’t want to stay with the group?” 

The tip of Harry’s nose is cold dipping into her neck, hands on her hips, “They’re annoying,” he murmured, “Why do you even want to spend time with them, just spend it with me.” 

“You begged me to spend time with them before.” Y/N countered. 

“Well, that was stupid of me,” he replied. 

She twisted around in his hold so that she could face him, peering up at him. Y/N opened her mouth to speak but thought against it – anything she would ask Harry, she was sure he would vehemently deny it. So instead, she found his hands where they sat on her hips and took one of them, taking it to her face. She inspects his knuckles, the smooth, faultless skin. Y/N tries to imagine it reddened, and sore, him ignoring the pain of it to finish her bath. How he carefully and gently smoothed the oils over her skin so tenderly and took care of her; he was so weird. So mean, and so angry with her but was still so attentive to her, and fed her afterward. He makes no sense, and no matter how gruff and rude he can be, she’s never felt uncared for by him. 

Does Harry like her? And why does his blood make her feel the way it does? Why does it make him feel the way he does when she eats? What do the others know about it? 

All these questions are way too annoying. 

“Oh Christ,” he murmured, “You’re more of a lightweight than I thought, aren’t you?” At some point, she uncurled his fingers and laid her cheek in his palm, like a cat requesting to be pet, “Should I take you home, baby?”

Y/N is going to tell him sure, she doesn’t care to be here too long anyway, maybe just a drink more or a dance but she’s got no need to stay out very late. She never has. 

But something stops her. A voice. An all too familiar voice, that makes her blood run cold. 

Y/N pauses, no longer moving with the music, or rubbing her cheek against Harry’s palm. She’s still, unmoving, every cell in her body is still, “What’s wrong?” Harry inquired but he sounded far away, like her head was in an echo chamber. 

I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I – 

He was here. The man who changed her was here – Y/N turned on her heel, eyes scanning the room until they settled on him, with blond hair down his neck. She remembered him, how she met him on a dating app, how he’d asked for her number, how Y/N was trying to finally get out of her shell again after everything that happened with Daniel – her friend and the situation that drove her to this city in the first place. She remembered eating with him, they. . .they saw a movie? And he said he would walk her home. Y/N was reaching into her purse to put her movie ticket in her wallet, but a hangnail on her thumb snagged against her wallet. She hissed and snatched her hand out of her purse, a droplet of blood welting up on her skin. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N inquired when he stopped moving beside her, and she hadn’t noticed for a few steps until she turned to look behind her. His face was dipped down toward the ground, he took a deep, trembling breath, “Quentin?” That was his name, Y/N remembered now, and how she couldn’t imagine moaning it in bed if that’s where the night had ended. 

He swallowed thickly, and refused to look at her, “Shit,” his voice shook, “I – I really wish you’d just –” 

It happened so fast, how she was brought close to him, how he grabbed her hand and pulled her thumb into his mouth. Y/N gasped and tried to yank away, but he moved so fast – one minute he was at her thumb, the next he was at her neck, his teeth pierced her skin, and now. . .and now. . .

Y/n didn’t think she was mad at first when this had all started. Honestly, she still doesn’t know how to feel about the whole situation, but to be faced with the man who had done it. The man who bit her, then left her passed out, left her in an alleyway – she’s angry. It was easy to say she forgave the person who did it when she wasn’t looking at them – when they were just a formless, remorseful shadow in her dreams. 

But right now she was so angry. 

 She’s gonna kill him. He ruined her life, didn’t he? She’s going to fucking kill him. 

Y/N broke away from Harry; she moved briskly in a blind rage, straight toward him with a single goal in mind. Distantly she hears Harry call for her, but she keeps moving, pushing past bodies, and when Quentin turns his head, he sees her. If there were blood to run from his face, then it would have at that moment. His eyes go wide, his mouth falls open, Y/N reaches out her hand because she is going to fucking kill him but something stopped her. Someone stopped her. 

“Y/N, no,” Niall’s voice is gentle, but his grip around her wrist is firm, “It isn’t worth it.” 

“I can’t just –” she feels breathless, her mind swimming – any good, drunk feeling that she’d felt before had completely evaporated. She’s more sober than she’s ever been in her life, “He’s the reason – he’s the reason I’m like this. I’m going to kill him.” 

“It wasn’t just him.” Niall answered urgently, tugging at her when she tried to go toward him, “It – it wasn’t just him, Y/N.” 

“What?” She finally looked at his face, the distress written over his features, weighed his face down. Y/N seldom saw any emotion on Niall’s features that wasn’t indifference, annoyance, or anger, but this one was new to her. This look of solemn, constraining guilt made her stop movement entirely. She didn’t fight to get to the man anymore, the taste in her mouth turned bitter and vile, and her heart worked itself in an impossible knot. A cold feeling trickles down her spine. 

It wasn’t just him. . .it wasn’t just him? 

The memories hit her like a rock careening down the side of a mountain. This man – her date had taken her, bit into her neck, and fed from her but if there was one thing she’d learned in her books and all the studies she’d read and what Harry had explained to her – people don’t just turn because they were bitten. If that was how it happened, then every feeder would have become a vampire by now. 

Stories were true, in some ways, about vampires. Venom did exist – it’s what makes the bite sear through the skin at first, pain crackling through the body as it burns through cells and rewrites the data. But it could be controlled when it was released and when it wasn’t, and some methods and medicines suppress the secretion of it. A vampire blinded by hunger, enough that they would bite someone on a street because they smelled their blood, was not secreting venom – they were focused on satiating their desire for a full belly. The bite didn’t burn from this man – it hurt, but it wasn’t piercing. 

He was stopped in the middle of it. An Irish voice, one steady and disgusted, “Enough, you fucking dick,” and Y/N remembered crumpling to the ground, her vision splotchy, her fingertips cold, her hearing buzzing in and out, “Are you an idiot? You were going to kill her?” 

“No!” Quentin had taken a shuddering breath, his mouth sounding wet from her blood, “No, no, I didn’t mean to! I’m so sorry, I – I –” he sounded panicked, worried, “She cut her hand and just – it smelled so – it smelled so good. I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I – 

“You said you were ready to leave,” Niall sounded angry, even over Y/N’s own, raggedy, thin breaths, as she struggled to stay conscious, “Fucking idiot! You said you were ready!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m – please don’t tell. Please don’t tell them.” 

“Fuck off, I’ll tell them if I want to.” There's a gust of wind, the sound of someone getting hit, the scuffle of shoes against the concrete trying to gain traction to take off, the pad of feet against pavement, “Shit. What should I do?” 

“If I’d left you, you wouldn’t have made it,” Niall explained, his grip on her wrist almost bone-crushingly tight, it isn’t a conversation that should be happening in a club, but it is. Harry is beside her now – she could smell him, and feel him, where he was pressed up against her, “By the time I called Harry or Mitch and they’d come to see what happened, you wouldn’t have survived. I didn’t – I’d never been faced with a choice like that before,” he shook his head, “Either let them find your body in the alleyway that next morning or. . .or condemn you to a life like this one. Neither choice seemed good, but it would have – it would have eaten me alive if I’d left you there. It was selfish of me to change you for my own conscience but I – I did. And I didn’t tell anyone because it’s not permitted in the house, to change someone like that – to do it without asking Mitch. So I called Adam, I told him where to find you – I lied about how I had found you, and. . .and yeah.” His hand fell away from her, “I’m sorry.” 

Y/N doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know what to say. 

Niall? It was Niall? She feels like her heart is cracking, for some reason. It wasn’t the kind of portrayal she might feel if it was a best friend of years who had done it, but it was still Niall – still someone she was close to. . .at least Y/N thought they were. Someone who always felt like he was advocating for her, offering to be there for her, she just – she felt comfortable with him, in a way that she hadn’t felt with anyone else – not even with Harry. 

And he was the one who made her like this? 

Would it have been better to wilt away in an alley in a puddle of her blood rather than be made something like this? Would it have been better for Niall to lay awake at night with a guilty conscience, than for her to wake up with an unquenchable thirst, and a desperate need to be filled with the very thing that flowed through her veins? That kept her alive? 

Would it have been better for her to have not woken up a monster? Someone who couldn’t even manage to be around humans too long without being a threat? 

Y/N doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing. With his hand away from her arm and at his side, she turns on her heel, and blindly makes her way out of the club, paying no mind to where she was going, or who she was running into. It was all too suffocating now, the eyes of a dozen people boring into her as she learned something she didn’t want to. She thinks it would have been better to live in ignorance and never remember. To not know that Niall was as kind as he was to her, despite being distant and cruel with everyone else, because he was culpable of giving her this life. 

This life. . .this miserable twist in her future. 

Or she would have been killed. 

It was a shitty decision to make. 

Harry catches up to her after she’d stepped out of the stairwell, into the empty office floor that echoed her footsteps. He’d probably been calling her name for a while but it only registers now, in the silence surrounding them, “Y/N, wait –” he is a few steps behind her, she thinks, but she doesn’t turn around to look at him. 

“Did you know?” She bit at him, “You knew, didn’t you? That’s – he probably told you, and you knew.” 

“No, I didn’t know,” he sounded more flustered than she’s ever heard him before like he was at a complete loss, “I had no fucking clue, I’m just as shocked as you are.” 

A frown yanks her mouth down, her face feeling heavy, just like her bones, and her muscles, and it feels like maybe she’s using every ounce of her strength to keep from melting to the ground in a pool of flesh and tendons, “Do you promise me?” 

Harry’s tender when his hand touches her shoulder, turning her to face him. There’s a look in his gaze that Y/N’s similar to the one he’d given her in her flat when she’d started to cry, longing for a life she was no longer a part of. It was only then that she felt the scorching hot tears that burned her eyes, scalded her cheeks, and dripped down off her chin. Why did it even matter? Could she trust a word that any of them said? If Niall could lie to her so plainly for months, then what was stopping Harry? 

He uses his knuckles to wipe her face, carefully and quietly, “I promise you,” he looks into her eyes, deep like he’s staring into the bed of her soul, “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like that, Sweetheart.” 

As much as Y/N would like to be tough as nails – to rip herself from Harry and storm off into the night to collect her thoughts and sort through her emotions alone – she isn’t. She doesn’t feel tough, and she doesn’t want to be alone; she feels flayed open like a fish laid out on ice. 

So she tips her face into Harry’s chest and the skin there is just as soft as it looks, but she can’t even enjoy that. His arms wrap around her – Y/N can’t think if they’ve ever hugged before or if this was the first time. She shivers in his hold and then liquefies, molding into the shape of his body. “I’ll take you home.” He offered but Y/N shook her head adamantly. 

“No, I don’t – I can’t –” Not with Niall as her next-door neighbor. Y/N didn't want to be around him right now, or the others, because she likes them but they’re nosy and this is probably the best gossip they’ve had in a while. They’d want to talk about it, to talk to her about it, to poke and prod at her brain and she just isn’t ready for that yet.

“I know, dummy,” he chided, but there was no fire behind it, and he traced his left hand down her forearm, to her fingers, slipping his fingers into the gaps between hers and holding tightly, “I’m taking you to my home.” 

                                                              .                            .                       .

Harry’s flat is precisely what Y/N would have expected out of him. 

He scoffed and turned up his nose when he’d first seen how she decorated, or when she’d complained about the barren walls of her room at Mitch’s. Always spoke highly of minimalism, how overconsumption feeds capitalism, and how having too many things on the wall is hectic and clutters the brain. So for the walls of his flat to be a cool-toned grey with wall art intricately spaced and placed through it, made a lot of sense. 

The door opened up to his kitchen, much like her flat, but unlike her flat, the kitchen looked like it was made within the last year with how pristine and clean it appeared. A vampire has no use for a kitchen, so she guesses it made sense for the black, marble countertop to be spotless, and the stainless silver sink to be without blemish or crumb. He didn’t even have a sponge out to fake like he did dishes. 

The dark tile floor clicked beneath the heels she wore until she immediately leaned against the counter and began to unstrap them, yanking them off her feet. She inspects the living room that’s positioned before her; there’s a stretch of hall with grey, wooden floors and a single stair down that separates the kitchen from his sofas, like a small den. He has two couches that look surprisingly comfortable for how cool, crisp, and unlived everything else appeared. A large black rug sat beneath the coffee table in the middle. Adjacent to the side Y/N stood on near the kitchen, there were windows from floor to ceiling, and since Harry was twelve stories up she didn’t have to worry about people peering inside from the street below (he lived in the nicer part of the city anyway but even wealthy areas had creeps that looked through windows).

Once Y/N saw the fake fireplace and the huge flat screen fixed to the wall above it, she understood why Harry acted like her flat was a drug den (and he probably wasn’t even that far off). 

Before she could continue looking around, something small and furry caught her eye, sitting and waiting patiently, staring up at her from her feet. A brown little kitten that sticks out in Harry’s dark mode flat like a bright red crayon. A familiar little meep and look in its eye tells Y/N that she’d met this kitten before, and she’s only more positive of the fact when she sees how it leans the weight off of its wrapped paw. 

“Oh, look at you,” Y/N murmured, and she knew it was bad practice to just scoop a kitten up but she couldn’t help it – if it scratched her, it scratched her, but she needed something small and warm in her arms, “You look so good, don’t you? Not all covered in dirt and blood?” She turned to Harry, who was walking down the hall with clothes in his arms, “Why didn’t you tell me you kept her?” 

He sighed, “Well, she was going to be a surprise,” the kitten purrs, nuzzling into Y/N’s chest where she pressed the little girl close, “Once she was healthy. She still had a week of antibiotics left and two weeks of treating her paw with some medicinal ointment and keeping it wrapped. Then I was going to hand her over in a nice little tidy bow, but I guess now is as good a time as any to give her to you.” 

“I thought you said I had no business having a kitten?” 

Harry’s gaze darted away, “You seemed so sad about it,” he uttered, “All mopey over a damn ball of fur, so I thought keeping her would make you happy.”

Her heart swells in her chest, pushing other organs out of the way, pressing up against ribs and making them shift so there’s more space for it. Harry acts so mean all the time like he’s a tough-love kind of mentor, but he’s nothing but a hard shell with a soft, gooey middle. Thoughtful and sweet, he surprises her more and more every day, “Does she have a name yet?” Y/N held her up to her face to get a good look at her, and she continued to vibrate with purrs as she looked at her, her tiny features, and her rounded little kitten belly like she’d just eaten recently. 

“I was going to wait for you to name her,” he told her, “But. . .well, I’ve been calling her Leaf.” 

“Leaf?” 

If Harry had fed at the club tonight, his cheeks would have been a pink, rosy hue with the way his gaze darted from her again, and he busied himself ripping open the freezer to show it was full of blood baggies like the one at the house is. Harry grabs a mug for her from the cabinet, sets it down on the counter with a clatter, and leans down to another cabinet where he plucks up a blood (bottle) warmer. 

“I tracked in a leaf with my shoe a couple of days ago, and she really liked it,” he explained quickly, “And meowed like I’d stolen her heart when it crumbled and I swept it up and threw it away, so it kind of just. . .I don’t know, it stuck with her. You can change the name if you want.” 

Y/N shook her head, “No, I don’t think so,” she ran her thumb over the short, tufts of fur around her ears, “Leaf suits her.” 

Harry instructed her to take the bundle of clothes he’d left for her on the counter and go have a shower, so she did. It took her a little while to figure out the knobs in his bathroom before she realized there was something built into the wall she could use for settings like temperature, water pressure, and the way it falls out of the showerhead. It was the most relaxing shower she’d had in a while, all things considered, as she scrubbed her skin raw with the soaps and scrubs that Harry had lined up inside of it. She’s thankful that he’s a man with a taste for sweet smells rather than “manly musks” and “deep forest mahogany pine” or whatever, so she was happy smelling like strawberries and cream all over. 

And this is what Harry uses, which brings her more comfort than she had thought it would. Filled in a room that smells like him, in a flat that smells like him, drying off and getting into clothes that smell like him. It’s what her brain needs right now to quiet itself. Y/N has gotten relatively pretty proficient in disregarding her feelings. Running away from them in a new city instead of facing them head-on and dealing with them. It had worked for her this far. . .except for the whole turning into a vampire thing once she’d moved her, but hey, she didn’t think about Daniel a lot not, considering the circumstances. It was kind of an extreme route for the universe to take for her, but. . .well, what could she do now? 

Y/N wore Harry’s clothes – or at least the top was definitely Harry’s, soft, worn, and loved shirt with threads coming loose at the collar and the words on the front weathered away from multiple machine washes. The bottoms fit her too well to belong to him. She shuffled out of his bathroom back to the living room, where Harry had a mug warm in front of the couch, and the most recent drama she’s always watching when he comes over on the telly. She didn’t even know he’d kept track of what she was watching, because he was too busy criticizing her taste for only watching romantic shows that were too lovey-dovey, with unrealistic leads. 

Harry is on the phone, his face set in a hard frown before he looks up and sees her standing there. He jumped, hand to his chest – she still did startle him by accident, with how light she was on her feet – before he muttered, “I’ll talk to you later,” through the receiver and hung up the phone, “You look much cozier in this rather than that filthy little dress.” 

“Filthy?” She tilted her head, brows knitted, “I didn’t think it was filthy.” 

“You didn’t think the tiny little fuck me dress was filthy?” He looked surprised, “It was riding up your thighs all night! One wrong move and both your holes would’ve been on display.” 

Y/N drops down on the bigger sofa, catching the blanket that Harry throws at her in a massive bundle, “You’re the one who gave me the dress!” 

Always so difficult, he rolled his eyes, “Ugh, who cares about who gave who what,” he waved his hand back and forth, “Christopher and Naomi looked like they were going to eat you alive. I was starting to get annoyed.” 

“Annoyed?” 

“Watch the show.” Harry shut the conversation off there, though he was the one who’d opened it and Y/N puffs a laugh through her nose. 

She doesn’t know if Harry neglects bringing up Niall because he knew she didn’t want to talk about it, or because he didn’t want to talk about it. As hard as it is for her, she imagined some parts of this are hard for Harry too – the person he mentored is who did it to her. Broke some rules that they had established for themselves; she wondered what Harry’s opinion was on the situation. If he would have saved her too or left her to rot on the concrete. If he would have taken the choice from her. . .if he would have made her this. 

Because, from what she’s gathered, none of them chose this life. It fell onto them unwillingly and they’ve just learned to adapt and accept it. It faces Y/N with the question, and discovering her morals: if she saw someone was about to die and knew she could save them, would she do it? Could she turn away? Or would she bite them, even knowing what life may bring them if she did?

A body is beside her, the cushion next to her dips in and Y/N’s body sinks into it, now pressed against Harry’s side, “Don’t think about it for the night.” He ordered, and his fingers trailed lightly over her forearm, in small, delicate circles, “Just watch the show and pretend none of it happened.” 

Y/N listens. 

                                                             .                            .                       .

It’s been two weeks since everything happened. 

Harry doesn’t rush her to sort through her emotions; he tells her to take her time and promises she can stay at his flat as long as she likes. Even told her he prefers to just keep her under his watchful eye here rather than having to stay at the house with her because he pays rent for a reason and this place is too nice to be uninhabited (his words). Once he’d told her that, she’d decided she’d milk it until she couldn’t anymore – until her brain started protesting leaving a conflict unresolved. She’d done that too many times in her life, and she was starting to get tired of the way it ate at her in the time following. 

Y/N took his guest room and lived in his clothes for the first couple of days until Christopher made his way over with some of Y/N’s things. Her computer to work, some of her clothes, a few toiletries – Y/N doesn’t care about all of that though, because she sees him, and her eyes water for some reason, and Christopher collects her in his arms in a big, warm hug. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured low, and unlike everyone else, Christopher was always so warm – the tip of his nose didn’t scent goosebumps where it dipped into her neck – it was like being hugged by a hot pack, in comparison to the rest of them. “Ah, I miss you pet. It’s weird not having my newest little pup around to feed.” 

Harry shut the PDA down relatively fast and Christopher gave her a knowing look. He stayed for a little while, they all narrowly avoided the elephant in the room, and then they had a slightly tearful goodbye, “He’s not going off to war,” Harry grumbled, frowning, “You never get all teary when I leave.” 

“Cos I know you’re coming back.” 

“I need to stop making you feel secure, so I get more emotion from you.” 

They fall into a pattern. Y/N wakes up midday (or leaves her room midday), right around the time the sun has begun to set, early now in the middle of winter. Harry is usually home but if he isn’t, he’s shown her how to use his warmer at home to make the blood herself while he finishes up at work or appears at some smarmy event to show his face. She drinks it down, warm in her belly, feeds Leaf her dinner (vampire-owned kitties still eat kibble, not blood), and has a hot shower before going to the living room. Harry always leaves the area low-lit and somehow inviting despite the cooled color choices of his furniture and walls. Y/N enjoys the synthetic heat of the fire and tidies up the room if she left it cluttered the night before (and cluttered without food wrappers, is leaving the blanket unfolded on the couch or having her computer sitting on the coffee table). She opens the windows and stares down at the city streets below before she gets some work done.

Harry comes home with a sigh every day – Y/N wondered if it was hard being surrounded by humans 24/7 without eating them, but he never expressed that it was. He flopped down on the couch beside her, recounting the events of work, telling her stories with names of people she doesn’t know (she’s starting to learn who is who though). Then Harry either showers and they’re in for the night, or he tells her to put on real clothes because they are going to train. 

“Just because things are a little fucked right now, doesn’t mean there’s any excuse not to use this time to improve your abilities and skills,” he told her, and when she groaned, he clicked his tongue, “I’m a diligent mentor, you know that.” 

Harry switches focus now that they’re in the city, to being around people – humans, namely. It’d been months since she was consistently around them, and Harry told her it was time to start reintegrating back into society. She could never feed from a human if she couldn’t stand to be around them. The more desensitized she gets, the better. 

So they start by going out late at night, in areas that Y/N would have avoided like the plague when she was human. It’s because there are people around, but the action is sparse – there are a couple of stragglers who have stayed out too late. Harry tells her to breathe through her mouth and they focus on how to ignore them at first; to continue a task or walk by them without feeling like she should stop, and sniff their throat, and see if they’re something good she could eat. 

Then they switch gears from ignoring to having to interact with them. He takes her to a grocery store at 10 PM, Y/N has a shopping list to get through, and Harry purposefully puts something on it that she would have to speak to the worker for. When she expressed her concern, he batted it away, “You know I won’t let you kill anyone,” he told her, in a tone far too soft for the suggestion of his words, “I’m way stronger than you, little thing, even if you’re all blood lust driven.” 

At first, it’s miserable, and Y/N has trouble not staring directly at the store clerk’s thrumming carotid when she speaks to them – but she doesn’t eat him. She grounds herself, calms down, cools the rapid desire to drink straight from the source. He always made sure she was fed beforehand, but it was still hard not to let her mouth water. It was like eating a small meal, then being tempted with dessert; a pie warm from an oven, the apple-filled insides sticky, warm, and promising. 

But she does better than she expected and Harry praises her like she really is a puppy. Y/N thinks he’s seconds from scratching behind her ear and calling her a good girl, which. . .as degrading as it is, she isn’t necessarily opposed to it. 

Things are easy with Harry. Easy as breathing used to be, and she thinks she doesn’t give him enough credit for how adaptable he is, and how tender he could be with her. There was a reason he was a mentor – he was so good at it, even if he was sort of dumb about things sometimes. 

There was something special though, between the both of them. Something that Harry doesn’t have with the others, and that they haven’t expanded on, or gone into. Normally Y/N is content with just leaving things as they are, but the last time she did that, it blew up in her face. The last time she did that, she fell in love with her friend after sleeping with him, and instead of stopping it there, she let her feelings get too big. Expected a fairytale and got a poorly scripted Hallmark movie instead, which got trashed in the writing room for the sudden shift from small-town romance, to adjusting in the world as a vampire. She hadn’t defined her relationship back then and now she couldn’t even look at him. 

She didn’t want that with Harry. Christopher and Naomi’s words at the club come to her just before she goes to sleep most days, loud and clear as if they’d only just spoken them in her ear moments prior. It forced her to consider what Harry was to her – what he meant to her. Y/N likes him. . through all his teasing, and all the push and pull, she likes those moments where he’s vulnerable with her. Where she could tell he cared more than he let on. 

It felt like there was never really time to explore her emotions for him, always concerned about being a vampire, and how she got to this point in her life, but now while she was trying to focus on anything but all of that – she had more than enough time. 

Y/N likes being around Harry in a different way than she likes being around the others, and not because Harry feeds her from his veins. If that were the case, wouldn’t she want to be around Christopher all of the time too? Honestly, most of the time she’s with Harry is usually scolding her like she’s a naughty cat, but she still feels so at ease being with him. When he’s close to her, her mind settles down, and when she smells him, she almost instantaneously feels calm. If things were different – if circumstances were altered, and they were just humans, Y/N would probably have been neck-deep in a crush so intensive that her friends and family would be concerned. 

She is someone who relishes her time alone, but she doesn’t mind spending it with Harry. When they are merely quiet, existing together in her room, or on the sofa, or in the kitchen she has the same level of comfort she does when she’s by herself. Y/N doesn’t feel like she has to put on a show for him, to be something that she’s not, and he’s seen her at her most cracked open and vulnerable and he doesn’t treat her any differently because of it. Doesn’t see her as weak, or pathetic. He encourages her to feel things, to lament her old life, to stray away from the cold archetype vampires are supposed to be. 

When Y/N looks at him, she doesn’t see a monster. 

“Harry,” she inquired one day, sitting on the barstool at his counter, swiveling back and forth. He’s on his phone so he hums to let her know he’s listening, even as his fingers type away, “Did you ever find the reason why we feel the way we do? When I drink your blood?” He stops, the pads of his fingers hovering over the screen like he hadn’t expected her to ever follow up on that, “Christopher and the others – that night, they kind of alluded to you knowing something.” 

He exhaled, slow and thready, “Of course they did,” he uttered, “Fucking thorns in my side.” Harry set his phone down, chewing on his bottom lip like he was going to eat it right off of his face. It was seldom that Y/N witnessed him nervous, but it was clear on his features, that there was something he’d probably been intent on keeping to himself. It took him a little while to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. 

“There are. . .a lot of reasons it could be,” he told her, “I’ve read hundreds and hundreds of pages and texts, and they all have slightly different variations of explanations why it’s happening. Because for me, at least, it wasn’t just getting hard,” he cleared his throat, “There’s no, non-corny way to say this, but after you feed from me, I feel. . .whole? I’m unsure if that’s the right word. I didn’t know for sure how I felt though until we went so long without it, and then when you bit into me again after your bath, it felt like a space had been filled.” Harry’s eyes find hers again, and Y/N realizes she's not pulled her stare from him the entire time he spoke, “I’d never felt that with any of the people I’d mentored.” 

Y/N blinks at him, letting his words melt over her brain. 

“Me too,” she finally admits, “When I drink from you, it feels like a part of me is. . .complete? Like a missing spot had finally been plugged. It’s nice.” Y/N swallowed thickly, pushing past every bit of nerves she felt to keep going, “But why – if it felt good for both of us, then why can’t we do it?” 

Harry chuckled gently, “Beside the fear of me rubbing my dick raw to the thought of it? I don’t have a great reason, other than it was freaking me out. I was – it was hard not to be completely overcome by you. I wanted to let you feed from me every day when you woke up and when you went to sleep – having you in my lap with your teeth in my body was something so gratifying for me, it drove me crazy. And the thought of. . .fuck, the thought of you drinking from anyone else pissed me off. But if I couldn’t let you learn to feed from a human it would stunt your development as a vampire, if you ever needed to eat and I wasn’t there. So I thought it would be better to go back to the baggies until you learned how to properly feed on a human.” He worries his lip between his teeth while he watches her, trying to gauge her reaction. 

“Do you want to drink from me?” 

Y/N feels just as surprised as Harry looks about the offer. She didn’t mean to say it, she doesn’t think, but it slipped out before her brain-to-mouth filter could kick into gear, “I mean, I think it would be. . .I think we could just see what happens. Right? We can see if it’s the same.” 

“That. . .doesn’t make a lot of sense,” he called her out, clicking his tongue, “But I’m not. . .opposed to it. I’ve actually been wondering about it for a while. Do you want to feel my teeth in you?” 

She nodded, already feeling a little overwhelmed. Y/N had thought about it briefly before, in passing, but now that the option has been presented to her, she can feel her cells humming to life at the prospect. The last time Y/N was on the receiving end of a bite, it ended quite disastrously, so she was eager to erase that memory. She’d drunk enough today that she thought she could share and not feel like she was missing anything. Maybe not as much as Harry was able to give her sometimes, but she thinks it will still be okay. It would still be nice for him. 

They moved to the couch and sat facing each other. Y/N was always wearing shirts that slung low around her collarbones, so there was no need to move much around. Her heart is racing, thudding hard in her chest, a bunny-like thump. Leaf leaps off the back of the couch where she had been sleeping, toddling back toward Harry’s room where she kept most of her toys hidden beneath his bed.

 Harry swipes his thumb over a tender spot on her throat with one hand, and a tender spot on her wrist with the other, “Where do you want me to bite?” 

“Where – where do you think would be best?” 

He contemplates this quietly, mulling it over in his brain as he considers each option. Y/N’s pulse feels like it’s bounding in both spots, as tantalizing as it could be, promising a gushing mouthful no matter where he chooses. He swallows thickly, humming low, “Ah, puppy,” the nickname makes her feel fuzzy all over like her body is thrumming with static, “Part of me wants to drink from your sweet little throat so badly, but that might be too much for your first time. I’ll stick to your wrist for now, okay?” 

Y/N nodded, raising her wrist to his mouth before she could second guess it. This feels imperative now like she needs it to happen, and after weeks of feeling weirdly hollow about the whole mess of a situation she’s in, she thinks this will feel good. Being completed by Harry will feel good. Y/N tongues at the back of her teeth, which throb in jealousy watching Harry prepare to bite. 

Harry is quick about it, with the precision and practiced ease of someone who has done this for centuries. A little gasp slips from her mouth when his teeth slide into her, but she barely feels the pain that she’d expected. She didn’t even have time to tense up, Harry bit before she could realize what he was doing, and she only had a fraction of a second to register it before she was flooded with a load of endorphins. They rush through her, something hot and fuzzy zipping through her vessels, across her body, encompassing her in something unlike anything she’s felt before. Is this what it was like for Harry each time? And she had thought she couldn’t get any hornier, than when she bit him, but her lower belly twists and burns with arousal. She nearly moans just from this feeling. 

He drinks, slow and easy, but his eyes have fluttered closed and he does moan against her, vibrating up her arm. Harry can’t speak to her but she knew what was going on in his head – it’s good, it’s good, it’s good. He shifts, spreading out his legs a bit, giving his cock room to grow if that’s where this was headed. 

Underlying all the desire that swims is the thing they’d both been talking about. The feeling of being complete; slotted together like a missing gear in a clock tower. Something that you might not notice – the clock worked alright without it, but with the gear, it flourishes, it chimes brightly, and moves smoothly. It’s nice, this feeling, and compared to the murk that had been looming in her head, this was good. 

Harry doesn’t take too much. He stops just before she gets lightheaded, but he parts from her wrist and immediately his lips press to her mouth. The kiss is sticky with her blood, the taste metallic when his hot tongue slides into her mouth with a groan. Harry kisses like he’ll evaporate if he doesn’t; like he could get his fill from licking into her, not bothering to be clean or proper about it. It’s messy and wet, and Y/N thinks she drools a little which should be disgusting but Harry only moves closer to her, merging. 

When he draws back from her, the green of his irises is almost completely erased by his pupil. He really is a sight to see – probably something that would have scared her before, her blood all over his mouth, but she’s sure she makes a similar, horrifying eyeful. Harry doesn’t look at her like that though – he looks at her like he wants to devour her. Like he could sink his teeth into her neck and drink and drink and drink until he’s had his fill. 

He guides her back onto the couch, pushing the sweater she wore (it was his) up beneath her breasts, fitting his cold palms on her hips. His cheeks are a healthy flush since he’d just eaten, the tip of his nose warm when he nuzzles into her throat and teases the tip of his canine across her pulse, “Fuck,” he breathes out against her skin, shuddery and light, “You taste good, Puppy.” He licks over her neck and sucks a kiss there, but the pattern he moves his mouth is similar to how he would drink from her. Y/N’s hands curl around his biceps that cage her in, she squeezes him and digs her fingers in deep. 

If this is how keyed up Harry felt every time she fed from him, then she understood why he needed breaks in between. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever been so wet before, with so little stimulation leading up to that point. She soaks through her underwear like she’d already cum, and when it is pulled away from her body it feels sticky and cooled. Harry fits himself between her thighs, not shy of the bulge in his pants tucking against her cunt, and he laughs breathlessly when she rocks her hips into him, “Harry,” she mewled, rolling her hips again, and again, mustering all the strength she could in her legs as she looped them around his waist and pulled him closer, “Harry.”

“What is it, Puppy?” He teased, finally moving the sweater over her breasts, revealing them soft and supple as his breath ghosted over with each word, “Are you feeling needy? You just love it when we share blood, don’t you? Filthy fucking thing,” Harry, again, is acting off innate instinct and something that resides deep in his loins – just as he was when he’d tasted between her thighs, he is driven by desire with a tongue that speaks nothing but brazen filth, “G’na fuck you full,” he promises, hand sliding from his hip, between the waistband of her pants and underwear. His fingers slide into the mess of her juices, running a big circle over her clit before pinching it between two fingers squeezing in pulsing motions. 

Y/N bucks into his hand, her knuckle fitting its way between her teeth as she moans around it. Harry notices her muffled sound and hums disapprovingly, “I hope you aren’t trying to hide your noises from me.” She shakes her head, quickly, because why would she hide them now when she didn’t even bother trying to hide them when they were in a house full of people? It just felt good to have something in her mouth, to nibble at it while Harry worked two fingers inside of her, the glide of it easy from how turned on she was. Y/N doesn’t even have to explain herself, because Harry figures it out quickly, “Oh, okay, I see,” he murmured, understanding and sweet, “You just like having something in that mouth still, don’t you?” 

Harry pulls at her wrist, ignoring her whine in favor of replacing her fingers with his own. Harry’s are bigger, his knuckles are nicer to chew on, honestly, and she really isn’t defeating the puppy allegations when she accommodates this new intrusion readily. Y/N squeezes around the fingers inside of her, sucking him deeper in, and her canine knicks the pad of his finger. His blood splashes on her tongue, and the sound that leaves her is so wanton and obscene, she feels embarrassed by it immediately. 

But it only encourages Harry to fuck her harder with his fingers, spreading her out, finding the swollen, needy bump inside of her. “Have a little taste, baby,” he eggs her on, “So greedy, such a greedy thing. Want my teeth in you and your teeth in me, huh? So fucking naughty.” Y/N tries to stretch her thighs further for him, rocking her hips down into his hand. A pea-sized pit begins to grow in the center of her, spreading out, stretching tendrils of heat to lick her insides as it grows and grows. Y/N was cumming before she could warn him, and she was cumming hard. sucking on his fingers, tasting his blood, and feeling stretched open, full, and overstimulated, especially when his thumb found her clit to loop tight circles onto it. 

She manages to get even wetter. When Harry slips his hand out of her pants, her slick clings between his fingers in sticky webs. Y/N tries to hide her face in her hands, finally feeling some shame, but Harry chuckles as he removes his hand from her teeth, “Don’t be shy,” he murmured before he smearing his fingers over her mouth, getting her mess all over them before pressing their lips together again. It’s filthier than the first, as he licks over her mouth, her chin, everywhere he has stroked it over her face. Was it centuries on this earth that made him so filthy? Or had he always been destined to be salacious and foul-tongued? 

Harry helps her wiggle out of her bottoms, leaning back so that he can look at her as he spreads her thighs. She can tell she’s as wet as she feels by the way his eyes drink her in, and he lulls his tongue over his mouth. Y/N’s certain he’s about to dive in again but Y/N whines, pawing at the waistband of trousers, “Please,” she begged, fumbling with the button, “I want to see.” 

“You wanna see my cock?” He finds her hands where they’re at his waist, pulling them down so that she cupped him over the fabric, the tent in his pants more than indecent, “Wanna see how big it gets for you? How wet?” Y/N nodded, not above begging again but Harry is either finding it in his heart to be kind, or he’s seconds from busting at the seams. He undoes his button at a leisurely pace, collecting both his trousers and his briefs at once and pressing them down his thighs. 

Y/N almost gasps at the sight of him; Harry’s cock is pretty. She could tell he was heavy, by the way it bowed and bobbed when he moved, and he was so big – something she’d only ever seen in porn and was certain didn’t exist in real life. Y/N swallows the spit gathering in her mouth so she doesn’t dribble down her already messy chin. It’s flushed pink, the tip ruddy and he drools precum from the tip in a thick line, sliding down to land on her hip bone. She wondered if her heart could beat faster than a hummingbird’s. 

With careful, nimble fingers, she reaches out to touch him. Her fingers lace around his dick so she could feel the heavy weight of it in her hand, touch feathery light, barely even squeezing him but he still moans softly and closes his eyes like she’d tucked him in her mouth. She wanted him in her mouth, to taste the liquid his prick offered so willingly on her tongue, but she wanted him inside of her more. Still, she strokes him, makes him leak more, collects some of it on her fingertips, and pulls it to her mouth. 

The sight must work him up pretty badly because he has to grab her wrist, “If you want me to fuck you, then you need to stop before I bust,” he ordered and Y/N nodded. She’s splayed out for him, open and needy, the picture of pure desperation. She wondered if she ever needed something so badly in her life. The blood, definitely, but this is an extremely close second. 

His silken cockhead nudges at her folds, adding to the mess when he paints it up and down, rubbing against her swollen clit, watching her lips separate around the tip that he teases at her hole. Y/N holds the sweater she wore up and out of her way so she can watch, her fingers clutching the knitted fabric tightly, “Will it fit?” 

Harry groans like she’d punched him, face drawing up in something like pain while he squeezed the base of his cock, “God, are you trying to make me cum before I get inside of you?” He resumed stroking against her, slow and steady, “Don’t worry about that, puppy, I’ll make it fit.” 

As if to punctuate, Harry steadies himself at her drippy hole and pushes in.  The tip already feels like a lot, stretching her out wide as he bullies his way inside of her, slowly, but steadily, until Y/N feels like he’s in her stomach, “Will it fit,” Harry repeated, stroking the bottom of her tummy, his thumb swiping over the hair over her mound, “Course it will, with your little pussy sucking me in like this.” 

“Want it hard,” Y/N requested, “Please, need to feel you, wanna feel you everywhere.” 

In her mouth, in her veins, on her tongue, down to her marrow, deep inside of her – Y/N wants him so bad she could scream. Was this blood lust? Was this something she could feel with another person? Or was it something reserved only for Harry? She didn’t even want to sleep with anyone else to figure it out, she just wants to stay plugged up with Harry’s cock forever. They wouldn’t have to leave even, just feeding off each other’s blood in a constant rotation. 

“So fucking good,” Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he starts to roll his hips, hard, as she’d asked. Harry fucks like he’s being paid to, with deep, intense strokes that fill her up so fucking full she can barely breathe. She doesn’t think she’s stopped pulsing around him, squeezing him, pulling him deeper and deeper. Y/N would wrap her legs around him if not for how he holds her open with his broad palms spanned out over her thighs, keeping her spread and still for him. Harry’s eyes are all over, like he’s stuck between wanting to watch his cock spear her open, and her face, and looking at the rest of her body, “You’re so wet, baby, there’s little trails of your cum clinging to me. Sweet little webs from you, hm?” He pinches her clit between two fingers, then smacks it with three and grins when she cries out, bucking toward him. 

“You’re mean,” she whined, but quickly follows it up with, “M’g’na cum, please don’t stop.” 

“Am I mean, or am I g’na make you cum, which one is it?” Y/N pouted at him, which only made him laugh more. There’s a loud squelch each time Harry bottoms out, and of course he couldn’t just leave it be, “Oh, listen to that! Your pussy loves me, doesn’t it, puppy? Listen to how loud she’s being.” 

Harry uses the pad of his thumb to flick her clit back and forth, then takes his other wrist and bites into it. Y/N’s confused, she makes a sound in her throat, but she doesn’t get what he’s doing until he leans back down, presses their lips together and more of his blood rushes onto her tongue.  The swell that had been burgeoning through Y/N’s body overcomes her entirely, she whines pitifully against his mouth, her eyes beaded with tears as she cums harder than she thinks she ever has in her life. The force of it pushes Harry out, she squirts over his thighs and cock, and Harry cusses before he’s cumming too. He cups his hand over his shaft and presses the other side against her twitching, oversensitive pussy, rocking his hips to work himself through it and feeling her twitch against him. 

They part with a wet gasp, Harry kisses away whatever was on her bottom lip but Y/N’s mouth just hangs open dumbly. Y/N shivers, her body a livewire, like any touch would zip through her in electricity so intense it makes her buckle. Harry presses his head to her shoulder, like he’s catching his breath but she knows he doesn’t have to – he laces kisses where his mouth lies, until he’s had his fill. Then he maneuvers them both, despite Y/N being all weak-limbed and floppy. He scoots higher on the couch, so she could lie her head on his chest, and pulls the throw blanket over their bodies to shield them somewhat. From what, she doesn’t know, but she’s thankful to be covered a bit. 

“Wow,” Harry laughs a little, pulling her arm more across his chest so that he could start to trace circles and design into the skin, “You’re cute. Did you know that?” 

Y/N didn’t know what he found cute about that entire situation, but she doesn’t question it. Instead, she nuzzles into him closer and says, “You can drink from me now too, when you want.” 

“We might never leave the bed, if that’s the case.” 

                                                        .                              .                                .

Harry gets her cleaned up. Y/N probably could have been more helpful during the process but he goes on about how he’s a gentleman, and after cumming as hard as she did she deserved to be pampered. So he drew her a bath in his insanely large tub, and unlike the first time they did this, he isn’t scolding her and she isn’t in pain. Harry drags the soapy cloth over her body and washes her off, encouraging her to close her eyes and enjoy it. He gives her a warm towel when it’s time to get out, does a face mask with her, nips at the tip of her nose when she pouts at whatever he said (she doesn’t even remember, he makes her pout so much, she thinks her face is going to get stuck like that). Y/N dresses in another one of his sweaters and he shows her to his room – she’d been in it a couple of times at that point, mostly to ogle the floor to ceiling windows in there that match the living room, mesmerized by the city lights, especially with the time of year it was – everything all strung and lit up for the holidays. 

Now she crawls into his bed, the black sheets spotless, the duvet downy soft and plushy. Her head sinks into the pillows, her body sinks into the mattress, and Leaf uses the ramp that Harry had bought her to toddle her way up onto the bed (“She’ll hurt her leg if she jumps,” he’d reasoned). She purrs and curls up between Y/N’s thighs, and Harry snuggles up on her left. Y/N isn’t sure what time it is, but there is no hazy glow that would suggest dawn was soon. Just the dark sky, and the stars smathered like freckles over it. 

Y/N’s mind is clear, she feels relaxed, and whole, and nice. Now was as good a time as any to really think everything through – to decide how exactly she was going to feel, besides hurt. 

“What would you do?” Y/N inquired, and once again, Harry is looping and tracing delicate designs onto her skin. She doesn’t have to specify what she’s talking about, because he already knows, but she continued anyway, “Do I forgive him?” She asks, “Does he even care if I do?” 

Harry murmurs, “He cares,” almost immediately, “Niall is. . .he puts on a tough front. I think he’s been hurt a lot in the past so he acts all hard and rigid, but he really isn’t. He’s so doughy and squidgy in the center, he’d just never admit it. But he cares, probably more than anyone else would.” He sighed quietly, “I can’t tell you what I would do. It’s been so long since I was changed, I’m not mad anymore, but I used to be.” His fingers trail up her arm, toward her neck, and he traces along her jawline, “It just went away with time.” 

“I just wish he would have told me.” Y/N continued, “I hate that – I hate that he kept it a secret. If he would have explained it right off the bat maybe I wouldn’t have – maybe I wouldn’t feel so hurt. Then there was no false pretext. He’s been so nice to be this whole time because he felt guilty.” Her fingers curled up in Harry’s sweater, “I want to hate him for it, for turning me into this, but he – he saved my life. And this isn’t. . .being this, and meeting you doesn’t feel like a bad thing really. It’s scary, sometimes I want blood so badly I feel like a monster, but you’ve all been so supportive and kind and if you’re like me. . .if you’re like me, then I couldn’t be a monster, because you guys aren’t. And I feel like I’m taking too long to decide, I’m – I don’t want to put you out, I know I should go back to the house. But I’m so angry,” she huffs, frustrated, shaking her head, “The situation is shit.” 

“It is shit,” he agreed, “He should have told you, or at least told me or Mitch and we could have told you but he was scared. Still, it doesn’t negate the fact that he stole a decision from you.” He threads his fingers through her hair, “Whatever you want to do, I’ll support you, yeah? I’ll always stay by your side. Take all the time you need to decide.” 

Y/N closes her eyes, she nuzzles closer to Harry’s chest and presses her face into the fabric. She lets herself be comforted by his scent and the warmth of Leaf purring against her legs. 

She falls into a dreamless sleep.