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[hrrysafterglow]

“Where’d your manners go?” He chastised her and Y/N frowned, “That’s one way to get kicked out of a feeder’s booth, I’ll tell you that much. You don’t just go biting when and where you want.” 

She understood though that didn’t make him setting her up to do it any less annoying. Y/N placed her hands in her lap, waiting patiently, albeit irritated as he held his wrist back out, “Alright, you walk into a booth and I’m the feeder, how do you think you start?” 

Brows furrowed, she guessed, “Can I drink from you, please?” 

Harry sighed, “Have you ever heard of asking someone how their day is?” 

or

Y/N needs to practice drinking blood and Harry's happy to help

[WARNING: Period sex (oral)!]

part 1

ii.

Y/N used to get nightmares often when she was younger. 

There was no deeper meaning to them, at least she didn’t think so. Her subconscious was plagued with endless fears because when she was little, everything was scary. The dark, the basement in her home, scary drawings in books, the shadows on the wall when the nightlight in her room illuminates just a small corner, the groan of the walls settling, the thought of what may lurk beneath her bed and in her closet. When she got older, the subject of her dreams changed as her fears did so the creepy crawlies that skulk around are in the shape of people her age, public speaking, random and intense changes in her appearance, and rejection. They just mirror her anxieties at the time in a misty, claggy haze where her limbs don't move quickly enough, and her mouth feels clogged with puddy every time she tries to speak. 

So what does a new vampire have to fear? 

The format of the dreams is the same; a turbid view of things that make no sense and too much sense. Dark and shadowy figures, a maw dripping with blood, her heart thudding so loud, echoing in her brain. It was silent, around her ears, and her lungs filled with water like being dropped to the bottom of the ocean with a weight around her wrists. Her neck is sticky with something awful, pain throbs all around it, and she wants to move – she thinks she’s moving, but she’s pretty sure she’s only writhing in agony. It’s silent until it’s not – until her ears are ringing. Her mouth won’t open, she can’t scream for help, can’t ask the person hovering over her why they did what they did, can’t tell them to stop apologizing because they’re being too loud. . . 

I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I – 

“Y/N,” she startled awake, her hand flying to grab whoever careful palm rested on her shoulder – her fingers loop around their wrist tightly, but they don’t budge or move or tell her to fuck off, they just keep talking, “I have some blood for you.” 

It’s Christopher. Y/N had been facing the wall adjacent to the door, so she twisted around and pressed up from the mattress to face him. His hand fell away from her shoulder, swaying back at his side and when she met his gaze it was soft and warm as it always is, “You were having a nightmare,” he noted, like he was informing her, “Otherwise I wouldn’t have woken you.” 

“Thank you,” she murmured – sleeping is the same so far for her, but she’s able to reorient to the world around her much quicker than she could as a human; there’s no grogginess lingering and making her feel out of body, “Was I being loud?” 

He smiled gently, “No,” he assured her, tucking the wisps of his hair sticking out back up into the beanie he wore. Christopher appears tired but she doesn’t really know if he sleeps – he seems to be up at all hours making sure she eats. Y/N knows at some point the necessity for sleep dissipates, but a lot of vampires – even the older ones – do it to pass the time, mostly (“Who the hell would want to be awake all hours of the night and day? What is there to do but sit and mull over useless things?” Harry had grumbled when she’d asked him).  “But you were whimpering and thrashing a bit, normally you’re pretty still.” He held the mug out to her, and Y/N took it gratefully, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

She shrugged, “There isn’t much to. . .to talk about,” her brows furrowed, pulling the mug to her mouth, “I think my brain is trying to remember something but it can’t, so it’s just annoying.” 

Christopher hummed, settling his hands back into his pockets – he’s in a hoodie that’s about two sizes too big for him, and sweatpants. Y/N wondered if he was still in the habit of dressing like a human too, or if being half-human actually made him susceptible to the cold. Either way, even Y/N could tell it was ice cold in the house like Mitch was pumping the air conditioner despite the frost on the windows in the morning. 

 “I used to have those too,” he told her, “Same with Niall. They get better. Clearer.” 

Before Y/N could inquire what his nightmares were about and if they resembled hers at all, Harry appeared at her door with a small frown on his mouth. Y/N has been good at differentiating his scent from other smells, but when Harry has been lingering in the house for a while, she struggles to decipher when he’s coming and from what direction. The whole place smells like him, almost as if he’s dragging his body along the walls he passes, so it is a surprise to see him in the doorway so suddenly. 

“When are you going to start making her be a big girl and warm up her own blood?” Harry griped, arms crossed over his chest – he was always dressed so well, in a long sleeve shirt she was certain she’d seen on a celebrity recently and pleated trousers. Where was he going that he always needed to look so good? Honestly, where could any of them go? Deep in the night? Without wanting to drain every vein they smelled?

She mirrored his frown and Christopher snorted, always seemingly amused by their back and forth, “Leave her be, Harry, you know I don’t mind.”

“I bet you don’t,” Harry replied snidely. Y/N doesn’t understand what he meant, but it seems like Christopher did; whatever it was, he doesn’t seem threatened or perturbed by Harry’s comment. Y/N wondered how long they must have known each other for Christopher to merely accept Harry's disgruntled nature. She’s still getting used to it herself, especially when he turns to face her, “You sleep too much and you isolate yourself in here, Mitch is starting to worry you’re depressed,” he relayed, “Shower and get dressed, you’re meeting the others.” 

Y/N wriggled in her spot, “You told me sleep was important for the first couple weeks to months.” 

“It is important,” Harry agreed, “Just as important as socializing with someone other than your feeder, your mentor, and your horrendous room neighbor.” He walked to the closet, sidestepping the cat-shaped bean bag that Niall had left. The door has already opened a crack, so all he has to do is slide his hand against the panel to open it the rest of the way. Y/N had tried to make it as home-like as she could, for her own sanity's sake, and she’d even asked Harry if they could go visit her flat so she could get a few decorations as Niall had suggested. He’d promised her they would soon but hadn’t gotten around to it yet because. . .well, actually, Y/N doesn’t know why. 

Harry had been acting a little weird around her lately. Or, at least what feels weird for how he’s presented himself to her so far; she guesses she hasn’t known him long enough to know all the idiosyncrasies of his personality yet. But he had definitely been acting a bit different for about a week now, ever since she had tried drinking from him the first time. He’d rushed off to grab her the books he’d spoken about, and then he wasn’t even the one to bring them to her (Christopher did), which left her a little confused. When she saw him again two days later, he was in a pissy mood, and that same pissy mood had somewhat been lingering beneath the surface each time he came to visit. It surpassed his standard displeased, teasing manner. Maybe something was happening above her head, in the vampiric world that she wasn’t all that privy to yet, but still, she doesn’t see why she’s receiving the brunt of his anger. 

And he’s barely done any sort of training with her. He’d spoken about reintroducing herself to the sun relatively soon but they’d made no move to do it – they hadn’t left the house either for a forest game. Y/N wanted to question why progress had been halted all of a sudden, but Harry didn’t strike her as someone who would willingly give that information up. Maybe she could ask Niall, who always seemed to know more about Harry than Harry would care to admit. Or Christopher, who was giving him a knowing gaze right now that she had a feeling was pissing Harry right off. Either was bound to give her a more accurate answer than him. 

Harry returned to her bed, dropping one of her nicer-looking sweatshirts (her university’s emblem on it in an applique untarnished by the washer yet) and jeans down on the bed, “You don’t have many clothes I deem suitable for a first meeting, but these will do.” 

Her brows still knitted, she pulls the sweater over to her, running her palm over the lavender fabric and noting how much softer it feels somehow. This (new? She doesn’t know if it counted as new) body just made things look and feel different – better. Even when her skin still feels jittery and itchy like she needed to crawl out of it when she’s able to look past that, the sheets feel more like silk, the air is buzzing alive around her, and her clothes feel like they’d been spun with the finest fabrics. She hadn’t gotten to the part of the books that describes that – she doesn’t even know if there is a part that describes that – they’ve mostly just been history lessons up to this point. 

“I have more nice clothes,” she argued while she crawled out of the bed, “You just didn’t bring any when you first went.” 

“And you know what, I don’t remember hearing any gratitude for me having to go sift through all your shit the other week either.” 

This is what she meant – he’d been so much more irascible lately and it was getting a bit frustrating. She’d thought they had at least made some progress through the time he spent teaching her, but they’ve only gone back to square one. . .God, maybe even before that! He’s being tetchier than he had from the start, for sure. And the only thing that she could think of that had changed between then and his sudden change in attitude was her drinking his blood. Is that what would happen to her? Would anyone she drinks from suddenly become a huge, quick-tempered asshole? If that was the case then she didn’t want to drink from anyone at all!

“What’s your problem with me lately?” She gathered the outfit he laid out for her regardless, bundling it up in her arms with a frown, “You’ve been really rude, and –” you’re hurting my feelings, is the bit that she kept to herself. Isn’t a mentor supposed to be the person who’s meant to make you feel good, more at ease, and less nervous? For a second that’s what he had been – when he’d show up at her door, worries and anxieties that had clustered throughout their time apart would settle some. Not extinguished, but the fire of them would puff and smoke out, just burning embers for her to deal with later. Now she’s worried any little thing she could say or do might set him off. 

“My problem is –” 

“He needs to eat,” Christopher cuts in from his spot on the chair, and he’s so good at melding into the background she’d almost forgotten he was there, “Harry’s always been more touchy when he’s hungry. Sharing with you a week ago has made it a necessity that he eats again sooner but he’s being stubborn for some reason.” 

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, “Have you ever heard of keeping your thoughts to yourself?” 

“So you’re mad at me because you’re hungry?” Y/N reiterates, “Shouldn’t you have eaten more if you knew you were gonna feed me too? Just eat again so you can stop being such an ass.” 

He sighed, low and slow, the defensive shoulders he’d had squared out now slumping with his exhale and his eyes fluttered shut. It was the same look he’d given her when he started feeling guilty about being so blunt with her when she’d first changed, his gaze softened like he might actually be considering her feelings for once. Y/N would have started to think that empathy was something you lost over time, but Mitch would discredit that as a possibility. Harry’s ability to empathize comes and goes like the ebbing of a tide; she wondered if he was this insufferable as a human too. 

“It isn’t. . .that simple. You wouldn’t understand this yet,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry for being a dick, okay? I’m not good at this. . .mentoring thing all of the time, that’s why I’m shocked Mitch keeps pushing it on me.” He opened his eyes again with much less rage than what had been present before, now he just looked worn down. . .hungry, “But you do need to meet the others. I already told them you’d watch a movie in the den tonight and they know not to bombard you with too many questions. Plus Niall is there too, and he scares all of them so if they start getting too nosy, he’ll shoo them away.” 

Y/N swallows, nodding gently, and also taking a step back, “Alright,” she answered, “I will. I don’t – I can practice biting with someone else if you –” 

“No,” he answered pretty quickly, and Y/N stuttered and fumbled over whatever the rest of her sentence was going to be, “You will not. We’ll practice again tomorrow, okay? Before bed.” 

He pivoted on his heel and stalked out of the room, Christopher pressed up from the chair to follow suit, “Don’t let his mood swings get you too worked up,” he told her.

“Okay,” she worried her nail into the pad of her thumb, “It just feels like – it sucks to have a mentor that doesn’t like you a lot.” 

He snorted, “You don’t have to worry about that, Babe. I can guarantee he likes you – you’d definitely know if he didn’t.” 

If this is how Harry treated people he liked then she really didn’t want to know how he treated someone he didn’t. 

                                                           .                          .                         .

Meeting with the others isn’t so bad. 

She meets them the day after, rather than yesterday, when Harry is irate and pushy. The movie night that they had scheduled got pushed off because. . .Christopher said something about someone named Matthew not getting back from his own excretion into the human world until too late. So they rescheduled, and Y/N was glad to have more time to mentally prepare.

The den is rather big, but there are only a handful of people in there; Naomi (who she’d bumped into in the hall, tried to pay her for the cat paw seater, and promised she would come out of her room soon) and Vivianna are two of them. They greet her just as warmly as they had the first time, offering her the seat beside them. There’s Matthew, who is nice enough and introduces himself to her with a fist bump, and Theodore and Samuel who lounge near the fire, wave and smile brightly at her. There’s a woman named Delphine who is relatively quiet but gives her a small nod to acknowledge her existence, and Saskia, who has her leg kicked up over Delphine’s thighs, is the one who grins and almost immediately inquires how she ended up there.  

“So a big shot producer bit you, huh? Was it Jason Blum? I wouldn’t be surprised, that fucker seems like he has plenty of secrets.” 

Y/N’s confused at first until she remembered that Harry had lied to them from the start, “Oh, that’s – Harry was joking about that,” she shook her head, “I’m not an up-and-coming anything, I’m a computer engineer.” 

“Computer engineer? Jesus Christ –” 

“I told you guys Harry was a lying fucker!” Samuel, who has brown hair and freckles smattered over his cheeks, exclaimed from his spot, “Remember when he said Niall was the drummer of some garage band? I’m starting to think he’s just making shit up that he would’ve done if he were human.” 

“To be fair, we should’ve known he was lying about that one. Niall can barely pour blood into a mug without making it all messy.” Naomi noted from Y/N’s left, and Vivianna murmured her assent before Samuel pressed some more. 

“Well, what happened then, really? How did you get changed?” 

“I reckon it isn’t polite to just ask people that outright,” Vivianna suggested, but she still seemed to be curious, turned toward Y/N, and awaiting her response. Y/N does open her mouth – she’s going to tell them that she doesn’t really remember, then apologize that it’s a lackluster story, not one of a rising star, of betrayal, of heartache. Instead, it’s a tale of lost memories, and. . .well, there’s not a whole lot you could do with that but theorize. 

Theorizing why she was out with someone. Theorizing if she was actually on a date or not. Theorizing if she was trying to put herself out there after what happened because being stuck on an unrequited crush is embarrassing and shit for teenagers, not adults. Theorizing if she could go through the mental gymnastics of blaming him for the situation she was in now. Theorizing why she couldn’t have just forgotten about him instead of the night she was changed. 

“Enough,” Niall sliced through the air, his presence heavy in a way that Y/N knew Harry had been telling the truth – they were scared of him, “Leave her be, she’ll tell you when she’s ready unless each one of you would like to share the grueling details of how you were nearly murdered.” 

Saskia frowned, pink lips pouted, and Y/N knew she was upset but couldn’t help thinking she probably belonged on the cover of an album; something riddled with candy-coated high school angst.  A CD Y/N’s older cousin would have had in the middle console of her car junior year when she drove her to the mall after school one day (she promptly lost track of Y/N talking to a pretty cashier, and her mall bonding privileges had been revoked by Y/N’s parents), “You’re no fun,” she grumbled at him, but still, Y/N can tell they were all willing to give up quizzing her. 

Niall makes himself comfortable in the space beside Y/N’s legs, his shoulder against her knee. Y/N can’t help but wonder just how unruly he’d been at the start to get that sort of response. She makes a note to ask Christopher later, who comes ambling in with a mug that she knew was radiating heat through his palms. He hands it to Niall, who Y/N understands is now the second youngest. The others still eat from the baggies, but not as often as Y/N and Niall need them, so she typically doesn’t see anybody nursing the mugs between their palms. 

Y/N was a little jealous, her mouth watering at the sight, at the smell, and it was kind of hard to rip her gaze away from it but she managed. Normally, by this time, Y/N had drunk at least a couple of mugs by now but Christopher had to break it to her that Harry told him to cut that in half so she could feed from him adequately. She didn’t really get it, but then again she didn’t get most of this vampire shit, so she didn’t question them either – only reluctantly resigned to the fact that it would feel like her insides were burning from the hunger making her twist up. 

As if he could read her mind (or feel her gaze), Niall held it out to her, “Have a sip.” 

“Harry said –” 

“Do you think I give a fuck what that prat says?” Niall’s brows raised, and it was too close to not be tempting – Y/N leaned in, took the lip of the mug between her lips, and took a small drink. It soothes the growing ache in her throat, even just a little, and she withdraws before she can get greedy and take anymore. Niall seems pleased, before settling back in his spot and commenting that if they pick a shitty movie, he’ll drain them all of their prior meals. 

Niall has always been kind to her, in his own way. Y/N wondered why that was because he seems to dislike almost all the others, or at least that’s the vibe he gives off. Though he tolerated Christopher, Y/N was sure that was because he provided him with food. Maybe he was just a grumpy sod to begin with, or maybe she had just narrowly avoided his initial tirade so he doesn’t have any sour, fresh vampire memories of her to make him angry. The very fact that he started to dislike Harry because he was similar to an ex-boyfriend was proof enough that he could hold an impressive grudge. 

Y/N halfway pays attention to the movie, halfway pays attention to the group dynamics; how the group molds together, the spots they fill, who likes who, who tolerates who. It seemed like everyone was already split off into the pairs of the person they felt most comfortable with – Delphine and Saskia, Samuel and Theodore, Naomi and Vivianna. She thinks maybe Niall was supposed to be Matthew’s person, but Matthew seems content to just float around the room, picking spots to flop his body, bothering someone new (though he steers clear of the angry blonde on the floor beside her). 

It was nice, not too scary, and they didn’t make her feel weird or new. Y/N talked some but wasn’t forced to speak a lot, and she could tell that she’d get along well with Naomi, Vivianna, and probably Theodore the most. Niall surprisingly doesn’t mind them talking during the movie, which is a surprise, but he seems happy as long as they aren’t talking to him. 

By the time the movie was finished, Y/N was tired and hungry. She wondered how long her body would be at constant war with itself if she wasn’t lying down with her eyes closed or moseying around her room with her belly full. And she didn’t want to ask about it anymore because everyone always seemed about three seconds from cooing at her like she was a baby (her body was surely acting like she was one). Plus, she could smell Harry, and she didn’t know if he was actually home or if her brain was hallucinating a potential food source, like she’d been left in the desert, seeing a mirage of an oasis. 

Nobody attempted to make her linger, but she thinks that’s mostly because Niall stood up, cracked his knuckles and his back then motioned for her, “Come on.” Y/N is grateful for the easy escape, waving at everyone, and telling them it was nice to meet them. Part of her thinks that Niall just noticed she was over the socializing, and part of her thinks he wants to treat her as a new recruit to instill additional fear in their other roommates. Whatever the reason, she decided she wouldn’t investigate any further. 

“You did well,” Niall spoke to her when they were further from them, much like he would a conscript, “Those nosy fucks always want to know the nitty-gritty details before they deserve it. Nobody deserves anything from you on the first meeting.”

Niall dropped her off at her door, Y/N thanked him, and he was gone in the blink of an eye – not to his room. Y/N doesn’t know where he goes when he isn’t in his room because he isn’t necessarily allowed to leave the house alone yet. If she asked, Y/N knew he would tell her, but she didn't. It feels like maybe there aren’t a lot of things you could keep private in a place like this, with vampires who have keen noses and an uncanny ability to read between the lines when you’re lying. She figured if Niall could fool at least one person, and keep them in the dark, then she’d let it be her for now. 

The closer they had made it to Y/N’s room, the more potent Harry’s smell had become, so she didn’t know why she was so shocked to open the door and see him waiting for her there. He’s on the gifted cat paw pillow, but whereas both Niall and Christopher can sit on it without looking too out of place, Harry is a comical sight. His legs are outstretched wide like he’s hoping to trip someone passing by, and his nape rests on the ridge of the cat paw at the top of the chair, on the little toe pads. He looks exasperated and dramatic, his arms are hanging off the sides and his fingers absently twist at the fibers of the rug laid out, tugging. If she hadn’t just spent the last hour and a half with Niall, she would have thought that Harry's just spent five minutes with him. 

He noticed her presence before she could open her mouth, whining, “Christ, what did you guys watch Lord of the Rings? You were gone forever.” 

“When did you get here?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he pulled his legs back in, sitting up straighter, “You’re hungry aren’t you? I ate enough for the both of us – honestly, I ate too much,” he rests his hand on his belly, but Y/N knows from the books he’d had her read that, that’s not where you feel it when you gorge. It’s more heady, like floating, there’s a fullness in your stomach immediately after but that quickly dissipates as the body rapidly absorbs it. At least that’s what she’d read happened, “And you’ll tell me if you feel. . .different, after, okay? Any sort of difference, I want to know about it.” 

Y/N blinked at him, nodding, “Okay?” She closed the door behind her softly, and when she saw he was making no move to get up from the cat chair, Y/N lowered to the floor beside him. Harry’s holding his arm out, so she scoots close, her mouth already watering at the prospect of getting to eat properly after he’s ordered Christopher to starve her. She takes his wrist in her hands and brings it to her throat, but he scoffs, tugging it out of her grip. 

“Where’d your manners go?” He chastised her and Y/N frowned, “That’s one way to get kicked out of a feeder’s booth, I’ll tell you that much. You don’t just go biting when and where you want.” 

She understood though that didn’t make him setting her up to do it any less annoying. Y/N placed her hands in her lap, waiting patiently, albeit irritated as he held his wrist back out, “Alright, you walk into a booth and I’m the feeder, how do you think you start?” 

Brows furrowed, she guessed, “Can I drink from you, please?” 

Harry sighed, “Have you ever heard of asking someone how their day is?” 

Y/N huffed out a breath – was this really necessary? She probably wouldn’t be able to even be around humans for the next month or so, let alone in a booth with a human willing to let her bite them, so why were they getting the script down now? When she’s so hungry that she feels like she could wither away? Maybe it was dramatic, but it felt like her stomach had hollowed itself out, desperately gnawing at itself to find some form of food. The sip from Niall’s mug did little to satiate her, honestly, she thinks it only made her hungrier than she had been. 

“You feel like you’re starving, don’t you?” Harry inquired like he could read it on her face, in her posture, the way her muscles were pole rigid and wrung tight. She nodded, feeling pitiful, and seconds away from doing something embarrassing like whining or begging him to let her eat, “What we’re learning today, is how to stop even when you feel desperate like this. I’ll set a timer for three minutes, and then you have to quit feeding. It’ll be hard, but it’s best to learn early, okay?” 

“Will –” she cleared her throat, shifting in her spot and the floorboards creaked slightly, “Can I still eat afterward? Will you – can I –” 

“I’m not going to let you starve,” he cut her off, clicking his tongue, using one hand to get the timer ready while his other was still held out toward her, “We are just going to practice starting and stopping, okay? Now come on, you can eat – I’ll pretend you greeted me and complimented me first.” 

Y/N tentatively grabs his arm, simultaneously scoots herself closer, and pulls him toward her. Despite how animalistic it makes her feel, she pushes past the embarrassment that swells through her when she shoves her nose against his wrist. She breathes in the steady thump and drum of the blood swimming through his veins, her mind a constant whirring, her skin sizzles, and her gums are sore with anticipation. 

She bites into him, a moan slithers from her throat and she’d have half the mind to feel embarrassed if she wasn’t so thirsty. Harry is a little quieter today, not rattling on as he had before, but he does coo a little at her. His other hand finds her head and he pets her like she’s a puppy; murmuring soft encouragement. It goes down easy, as it always does, and Y/N still wonders if she should be concerned that there is no mental block between her and eating from someone but that inquiry fizzles away just as fast. 

The alarm must have rung but Y/N hadn’t heard it. She only heard Harry telling her to stop, but even that sounded muffled like she’s got her head in a tank, “I know it’s hard,” she hears distantly, “But if I were a human you could risk killing me. You don’t want to do that, do you?” 

She doesn’t – she really, really doesn’t, but it’s so hard to stop drinking. With her eyes scrunched tight, she has to sneak her own finger between her mouth and his arm. It’s enough to at least break the seal she’d created, suctioned to his arm, and with that, she can at least pop off. She doesn’t pull away, but she does breathe wet and raggedly, her fingers dug into his forearm in a way that would hurt if he wasn’t what he was. He’s still petting the top of her head, cooing at her, praising her – she hates how much the praise makes her bristle, bringing her down from the blood-driven high she’d been smothered in. 

“That was good for the first attempt,” he said gently, “This is an important skill, I teach all the people I mentor early on because it’s better learned early on – like teaching someone a second language when they’re still learning their first. Human feeders are kind to give you a part of them, and to allow you to do something that is scary for them. Each time they let you feed they’re putting their life on the line,” his hand leaves her head, sliding down to her nape where his thumb strokes carefully, “Sometimes they need to stop in the middle, whether it be because they feel lightheaded, they need to use the bathroom, or they just want to stop – it is your responsibility to stop yourself. You don’t want to be the monster everyone thinks we are, right?” 

Y/N swallows thickly, “Mhm,” is the only reply she’s able to give, and Harry chuckles warmly. 

“Okay, three more minutes then we’ll stop again. If you do as well then the next time I’ll let you eat until you’re full.” 

She nods, her lips fix back around the tiny holes she created and she starts to drink again. Any embarrassing noises that she might want to make don’t manage to slither from her throat this time, but she feels something deep and low in her gut, curling. It’s something she hasn’t felt since she’s changed – red hot and twinkling, burning. Was it arousal? She wasn’t sure, honestly, she just knows she feels so fucking good right now she can’t be bothered to decipher how she was feeling, or why. 

The alarm rings again, echoing in her ears and Y/N does a little better this time. Harry still has to coax her off of him, but she doesn’t have to tear herself from him as forcefully as before. Within thirty seconds of the alarm ringing, she pulls her mouth away from his skin, hovering, panting, and now she realizes that she’s undeniably wet, which is. . .new. She didn’t even know her body could still do that. 

“Good job,” Harry’s voice sounds strained, “It’ll get easier, as time goes on.” 

Y/N’s breathless as she replies, “Isn’t that what you guys always say? With everything?” 

Harry chuckled, and once again he used his free hand to pet her head like she was a greedy, starving, hungry little animal that he was helping from the kindness of his heart, “Yeah, it sure is,” he scritches her head with his nails, and alright, does he really think she’s an animal, “Go ahead, you can finish until you’re full.” 

She doesn’t have to be told twice; she ignores the flames sizzling low in her belly in favor of drinking him down, her eyes fluttering closed, her brain full of cotton and wool. Harry doesn’t stop her again, he just lets her eat, and eventually, she feels full, the growl in her belly satiated, and she feels like she could fall asleep like this. Despite his cold body, Harry feels so warm beside her but she’s sure that’s just the warmth of the blood in her belly. 

Y/N doesn’t think about it when her forehead rests against his bicep. Harry doesn’t seem all too concerned about it either, humming a sound in between fond and teasingly exasperated, “Ah, you’re much better like this, aren’t you?” He murmured, “Niall is too – all you baby vampires are so much better behaved when you’ve eaten. All docile and sweet.” Her mouth opens to tell him to shut up but a content sigh leaves her lips instead. 

She’s too sleepy to fight him, too sleepy to move from his arm, too sleepy to ask him why feeding from him made her so wet. 

Her mind slips away and she falls asleep. 

                                                            .                         .                       .

The days grow shorter and colder, and Y/N develops an oral fixation that is increasingly hard to kick. 

It feels like, with all of this vampire shit, she takes two steps forward and one step back. She thought practicing biting would relieve the tension in her gums – that it would settle her increasing, almost obligatory need to sink her teeth into something. For a second it did, after feeding from Harry, using them to their intended purpose, that desire had settled easily. She goes to sleep without worrying Christopher would wake her up and find the corner of her pillow in her mouth. 

Then suddenly, Y/N senses that familiar itch between her teeth and her hand finds its way between them, gnawing mindlessly at the pads of her fingers. She’s chewing on the collar of her shirt, the straw of a small cup of juice she’s drinking (she doesn’t need it, and it tastes less sweet than it used to on her tongue, but it was important to practice enjoying it for social situations – at least, that’s what Christopher said, so he had her reintegrate some other liquids back in her diet), the corner of unsuspecting pillows. 

She’s all chewy and drooly and when she realizes that she’s doing it, she wants to crawl out of her skin. Especially when she does it in front of the others, who apparently have a weekly movie night, so she’s been trying to make an effort to attend. Niall always came with her and sat protectively in front of her or at her side, and Y/N typically sat near Naomi and Vivianna. That night in particular, she had the throw pillow in her lap, arms locked around the center, and the corner of it tucked in between her teeth without even thinking about it. 

Maybe nobody would have noticed too, if not for a small little laugh – not a derisive one; the only thing she could compare it to is watching a child do something you used to do when you were little. Fond, nostalgic – “Ah, I remember when I was like that,” Theodore’s words don’t suggest he’s speaking about anything other than the movie, but somehow Y/N knew he was talking about her before he could even continue, body stiffened and the mindless chewing ceasing, “The first couple of months are so – ugh, I just wanted something between my teeth so badly. I’d never felt more sorry for teething babies and puppies in my life.” 

Y/N’s sure that he wasn’t trying to tease her. The tone of his voice suggested he was giving her an opportunity to share this with them, her experience so far because that’s what this was. Living with them was supposed to eradicate feelings like this; they’d all been through it, so why should she be embarrassed? A built-in support system of people who knew exactly what she was going through should make a situation like this far less humiliating. 

Yet Y/N is still mortified, dropping the corner of the pillow from her mouth and grimacing, “Sorry,” she replied sheepishly, and before Theodore could say anything else – defend his stance, tell her not to apologize, explain why he mentioned it knowing that everyone would turn from the telly to look at her – Niall speaks up. 

“If you don’t stop looking at her, I’ll make seeing difficult for you.” 

Everyone is quick to turn their attention back to the movie, Y/N’s gaze falls on Niall who seems unbothered and unfazed, watching the movie as if nothing happened. She’s thankful, and slightly scared of him, but mostly thankful. 

Harry only laughs at her when she brings it up to him; he teases her, threatens to bring her dog toys or teething rings and a leash, and makes Y/N regret bringing it up to him at all. 

The wind is cold – she feels it on her skin, but the chill doesn’t run bone deep as it used to. It rustles through the remaining leaves still clinging to the branches, cutting around thick trunks, creating a hum that fills the space around them when they stand outside. Everything is much louder now, it can be overstimulating, just as the scents are, but Harry works with her almost daily to differentiate all the information her brain is receiving at once. How to center her attention on the sounds of one particular thing. Ignoring the whine of the wind to hear a squirrel snap a twig 20 meters away. 

“It’ll make transitioning back into the human world easier,” he’d explained to her, “Focusing on one human talking to you proves to be increasingly difficult when you can hear everyone else’s conversation in the cafe, plus the dog barking in an apartment building down the road. Normally mentors wait to introduce shit like this later on, while you’re still curbing your appetite, but I reckon it’s better to prey on that hunger as a means to learn quicker. That’s why – albeit a pain – Niall is so well practiced in this. Honestly, if he were filled with less unbridled rage he would probably be able to go out and about as he pleased – don’t tell him that though.” 

Y/N peered up at the sky above them, wondering if it’d always been so cloudy where they lived during winter. They hang full and heavy with rain, unshed, or maybe ice; the weather certainly calls for a snowstorm soon, and she’s merely waiting for it. She wondered if it would hurt the same when it landed on her skin, or if the epidermis had toughened enough yet. Her skin felt less raw than it did a month ago, at the very least, like her nerve endings had finally recovered themselves and her cells had settled into place, familiar with the new blood that circulates through her vessels. 

“Who else mentors, other than you?” She inquired as they waited for Niall to come outside. Harry told him the time to be here, and Niall liked to not listen, but he also respected Y/N’s time just as much as he disrespected Harry’s. So he makes sure to be late, but not late enough that Y/N can’t get back to what she’s doing (like sleeping, and eating, and wondering why drinking from Harry makes her feel like she needs something inside of her. . .but that’s neither here nor there). 

Harry is wearing short sleeves today, not even pretending to feel the icy winds and Y/N has come to learn it means he hasn’t been out of the house yet. He sticks around more these days than he did at the start, like he wants to be readily available or he just has nothing else to do when the weather is like this. From what she has gathered, she knows that Harry likes to entertain himself by being out with humans, at least that’s what Christopher told her one day in the kitchen. Human activity slows in the cold, there’s much less to do and there’s much less people out until closer to Christmas. So Harry’s resigned himself to spending his days nearby, helping her adjust to this life – probably what he should have been doing in the first place. 

“Why? Are you thinking about getting a different one?” 

“Would love to know my options if that’s ever the case.” 

He narrowed his eyes on her, but answered anyway, “Most of them aren’t in house like I am, so you wouldn’t know them even if I did give you their names. Mitch sometimes takes someone under his wing, but he’s always so busy he rarely has time to give the attention a newbie needs.” 

Y/N hums, “Were any of the others mentored by you?” 

“Apart from Niall?” Harry raised up two fingers, “Naomi and Matthew. Matthew started out with someone different but that fell through, so I took over.” 

“Who was someone different?” 

“You wouldn’t know if I told you.” 

A huff leaves her mouth, breath creating a plume of smoke around her face. She thinks it may snow soon, and she doesn’t know if she’s happy or sad about that; early snow means an early winter, and usually, she’s pretty stressed about it. Driving to work in bad weather, fighting past the morning chill to pump gas, walking in and out of stores, and suffering thirty seconds of a brutal draft. Now that she was a vampire, those things probably wouldn’t matter, would they? 

“Christopher told me you’ve been having nightmares,” Harry mentioned and Y/N fit a knuckle between her teeth, “Did you want to talk about them?” 

She shrugged, “I – don’t really know what they’re about, is the thing. I think it has something to do with the night I changed but everything is unclear. . .foggy.” 

Harry regards her with eyes that slice through her physical form like he’s digging into her brain for answers. There was a twist in her stomach from how hard he was staring, and she wondered how much of it was innate anxiety from being in the sight of a predator, and how much was just. . .that weird thing that’s been happening. Y/N has fed from Harry a total of three times, the third being just the other day, where instead of making her practice starting and stopping he just let her have at it for eight minutes. Four times, if she counts when they first met, and the last two times she’s been left horny and confused. So now she’s been stuck wondering if she just thought Harry was attractive or if it was something deeper than that – she isn’t sure, and bringing it up to Harry is out of the question unless she wants to be ruthlessly teased. Who could she ask though? Was it in one of the books he’d gotten her? 

“Adam found you in an alleyway,” Harry explained, and Y/N’s brows raised, “From what I’ve seen of your closet, your style isn’t to my taste, but even I could say that you were in something too nice to just be strolling the park alone.” 

She nodded, “Yeah I feel like – I’m pretty sure I’d been on a date.” Y/N explained, “Where was the alleyway?” 

“In the city,” he explained to her, “Not the dangerous part; just out of reach where it wouldn’t make sense for it to be some random, petty act of violence. Crime can happen anywhere, I suppose. There’s a lot of popular dinner spots in that area though, the whole strip is widely known for its date night possibilities.” Harry’s gaze is undeviating, she feels more exposed under it right now than if he’d walked in on her naked, she’s sure of it, “A date, hm? Trying to get out there after this mystery boy you refuse to speak about.”

Y/N sets her face in a frown, “Why’d you never tell me he found me in an alley?” 

“You never asked,” Harry replied, “It never seemed very important. Doesn’t change anything.” 

Y/N could get mad at him, but he’s right. What would it change if she knew who did it? What was she going to do, hunt him down? Kill him? What good would that do for her but make her an actual monster? Even if she killed the monster that changed her? 

Besides, she isn’t even angry at him. In her dreams, he always seemed so remorseful, so scared – Y/N knows how hard it was to curb her appetite, she could only imagine being near a human. Someone so warm, full of blood, the smell enticing – could she blame him? She wasn’t so sure, now. 

“Won’t you tell me about this mystery man? I’m so curious,” Harry pouted his lip, “You always change the subject when I bring him up.” 

“It’s almost like I’m dropping a hint.” 

Harry brought it up once at least every four days, and once every four days Y/N ignored him. The whole mess of it is something she wants to forget; thinking about it only makes her sad. Leaves her insides feeling cold and the bitter taste of unresolved feelings on her tongue. She’d moved away for a reason – she wanted to pretend that it never happened. And becoming a vampire did certainly help erase memories like that, but if a certain curly-haired prick didn’t stop bringing them up, then she had no chance of blowing it off as a silly human experience. 

The lasers he’d been boring into her are replaced with something soft, gentle. It’s the same look he gets when she’s drinking from him, and Y/N much prefers it to how he’d been stripping away layers of flesh with his gaze prior. He opens his mouth, soft and pink, but before he can speak Niall appears quick as ever, quiet as a field mouse, “You’re a nosy fuck aren’t you?” Y/N has always wondered what Niall’s range of hearing was – he always seems to know exactly the conversation being had before he’s entered a room. It’s making Y/N wonder how fair today’s practice is going to be. 

“You give me plenty of time to be nosy when you’re late to every single thing I schedule with you,” Harry rolled his eyes, his tone more than exasperated, “What could you possibly be doing? You can’t even leave the house yet, so I know you aren’t busy.” 

“Jerking off to the thought of you breaking an ankle.” 

Harry sighed, knuckled his eyes, and stood up, “Alright,” he pointed out into the woods, “Friendly competition always makes things a bit fun, doesn’t it? I’m going to go six kilometers out and make different sounds and say different things, whoever gets the most right wins.” 

That sounded easy enough, but as soon as the timer went off (Harry said it would only take him two minutes to get that far, and then he’d start repeating the same 4 things), Y/N tried to focus on what he was saying – she was absolutely hopeless. The wind is too loud, the leaves, the grass, the telly playing in the house, the sound of Theodore complaining about Matthew using his sweater and getting a stain on it. She tries – really hard, she tries, but she hears a squirrel she thinks, scurrying up a tree, and then she thinks she hears him. 

“Cat.” 

And then it’s gone again, she can’t hear him. Was he fucking whispering? Surely he hadn’t said cat. 

Harry returned before Y/N could ask Niall what he’d heard, and Niall was, surprisingly, very willing to follow the rules of the game which was frustrating. “What did you hear Y/N?” 

“I only heard “cat”,” she replied, “Isn’t it a little unfair, to have me paired up against someone so far in advance.” 

“What fun would it be pairing you with someone new? That wouldn’t give you any drive to succeed.” Harry looked at Niall, “What’d you hear?” 

“Leaf, Cat, you blew a raspberry with your mouth, then asked Y/N to share her secrets – you annoying fuck.” Y/N pouted, and Niall turned to look at her, “Sorry, Babe,” Y/N was surprised by the pet name – Niall usually doesn’t do those, but he seems to be in a semi-good mood, all things considered. A better mood than she’d ever seen him in at least, “Normally I would throw the game and let you win, but when the reward is digging my teeth into this guy and stealing from him, I can’t refuse.” 

Harry frowned, “I know this was my idea, but I’m regretting it a little when he says it like that,” he held out his arm, “Don’t be too pouty, hm? This will make you work extra hard next time.” 

Y/N is able to look past the jeering taunt laced between his words and heavy in his tone because an idea sparks in her head. It would be harder for Niall to hide it if he was aroused by drinking from Harry, wouldn’t it? There’d be something pretty obvious in his jeans; not that Y/N wanted to look at her new vampire friend’s stiffy for fun. It would just be helpful to know if Y/N was alone in this weird sense of arousal it comes from drinking from Harry, or if it was a natural part of it. Then, if there was an elephant in the room (because no way would Harry let Niall getting hard go undiscussed), Y/N could broach the subject. Gently prod if it was a common occurrence for vampires to be turned on and if humans were the same. 

She tries not to be too voyeuristic about it, but it’s kind of hard not to when she’s watching so closely. Y/N hopes Harry just accredits her behavior to wanting the blood for herself. And to be honest, even without her own problem she’s seeking the answer for, Y/N thinks she’d be interested in it still. It was her first time watching someone else feed – it was different to see what it looked like from an outside perspective. 

Like, Y/N finds that Harry is nowhere near as tender with Niall as he is with her. He holds his wrist out for him and bleats and complains the whole time Niall drinks, instead of the soft-spoken words he usually gives her. There was no gentle head-petting or cooing, and Niall certainly wasn’t pressing himself any closer to Harry than necessary, as she did. Maybe this was just what it was like when someone practiced feeds; Y/N was still new to it, so it would make sense that she was still a little clunky and Harry was kinder to her. Also, she’s watching Harry and Niall of all people, so sure the moment won’t be too soft. 

But that’s not what concerns her. That’s nice to know, sure, that it’s different how each person feeds and how Niall – for all he said about sinking his teeth into Harry and hurting him – is very gentle about the entire thing. He bites a bit too hard, sure, but he drinks carefully, and only uses one hand to hold Harry’s wrist to his mouth. Y/N understood now why Harry thinks Niall could probably go out and be among humans, if not for his rage. The whole situation is very calm, and the least bit animalistic. Still, if it was something in Harry’s blood or in the process in general of feeding from another body, that would happen to everyone, no? 

YN tries not to stare at his crotch so openly, especially when she spots Harry watching her, but from what she can tell – Niall doesn’t seem the least bit affected. The most she gets of a reaction from him eating is the slight flush to his cheeks, the once pale skin a little pink when he pulls away from Harry’s arm. His lips are slick with spit and tinged red, and there’s a healthier glean to him but there’s nothing. No shift in scent, no obvious swell in his bottoms, not even the most minor indication that Niall might have gotten aroused from it. 

Hm. What the hell is wrong with her then? 

Harry gives her a few pointers for next time and Niall tries to help as well (though his help consists of finding the drive to listen and differentiate through anger) before they break away. Once Y/N’s certain she’s alone, she thumbs through three of the books, her eyes scanning across the Table of Contents, then scanning across the pages but she comes up short. Even in the book with an extensive guide to feeding, there’s nothing hidden in the subtext, and no secret pages adhered together that would have made her miss it before. 

She had just shoved the book back onto her bedside table when there was a knock on her door. She could smell that it was Harry and the knob turned slowly as he already decided he would be coming in. Y/N was confused to see him – usually after their practices, she won’t see him for at least a couple of hours, if not just the next day entirely. They still did these teaching sessions early in the morning, when the sun would just be glittering from beneath the tree line had the clouds not covered it (he told her eventually they would start doing them at night, but they would hold off until she was learning how to better fine-tune her eyesight), so she figured he was going to sleep. Or doing whatever he did while everyone else was asleep. 

There he was, however, standing in her room after closing the door with a gentle click, “I normally don’t do this,” he began, shaking off his jacket, and walking toward the bed, “Because the whole point is to learn that you need to try hard and you’ll be rewarded for your efforts. However, you were being a very good sport about not winning and not getting to have some, and I feel like that should be rewarded as well.” 

Y/N’s eyes were wide as he lowered to sit, making himself comfortable on the mattress. He leans up against all the pillows and holds out the opposite arm that Niall had bitten earlier, “But, won’t you be hungry?” Y/N inquired, though she had already begun to salivate. She’s able to last longer without eating now that she’s been feeding from Harry, though she still gets mugs in between feeds. Though she could last longer, it just meant when she was hungry – she was hungry. She probably could have lasted a day or two more before it became a problem, but with it being offered to her like this – well, Y/N wouldn’t say no. 

“I went out and ate a little more to replace what he took,” Harry explained, “They’re going to start calling me greedy, even knowing I need to feed you too. I have to feed off two to get enough for me and you.” He raises his wrists, and leaves it just under her nose, “Go on, have a bite, I promise this isn’t a trick. It’s a genuine reward.” 

Y/N breathed out in a small, wet gust over his wrist, swallowing thickly. There was a knowing twirl in her lower belly, she was starting to wonder if her body had just been Pavlov'd into this response at this point. If it was something to do with feeding from Harry, or if Y/N’s own unbidden desires had started this. Harry was attractive, she’d always known that, and putting her mouth on someone attractive had always worked her up a little. She loved kissing, nipping, licking, and biting – biting. . .maybe that’s why she was always chewing on everything. 

“Plus, watching you chew on your knuckles like you’re teething is a little pitiful. The feeling will go away the more you use them.” Y/N couldn’t even care about his teasing when she slid her teeth into the skin, pulling them out and a gush of blood poured into her mouth. God, it’s so good, she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to it. How good it tastes, how she has to stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head, how her body goes haywire from happiness and desire while one of her basic needs is fulfilled. She knows she’ll feel full and content in a way she isn’t with the blood baggies Christopher feeds to her, no matter how many he gives her in a day, it will never compare to the satiated feeling of eating from Harry. 

Harry laughs a little, and as always, his hand comes to rest on her head, then slips down to the nape of her neck where he squeezes gently, “You’d think I starve you, from how you react every time,” he murmured, threading his fingers through the hair they rest on, rubbing at her scalp, “Fill up all you want, baby, until you want to stop.” 

Baby? Baby – baby. Something glittery and warm twists down her spine at the pet name, and a full-body shiver traces through her. Was he being mean? Calling her a baby to tease her, be cruel, and make her feel silly for being so messy in how she gulps him down? Or was he being sweet? Tender in the way he is when he feeds her, soft and loving, like he’s just happy to provide for her. Y/N wondered if she looked up would she see the same tender smile Christopher gave her when he handed her a mug of blood and watched her drink it? What’s up with vampires and feeding others that made them seem so pleased? God, she needs a whole book on just the feeding! That surely exists, right? 

Y/N isn’t sure how long she drinks, but she does drink until she’s full. She stops herself this time, with a little more ease than she had before only because her belly was content with the amount inside of it. Still, Harry praises her for not having to be pried off his arm, and the hand at the nape of her neck slides down to the center of her back. Y/N feels like all she’d have to do is press her heel to her slit and rock against it twice before cumming, but she ignored that. Her eyes blink open, sticky and slow, “Thank you,” she breathed out, and Harry laughed, and he looks. . .really nice right now. Not just in appearance, but in demeanor – the way a mentor should always appear, she’d say. Right now Y/N feels like she could ask him anything – like she could bring this up and him not be weird or cruel about it, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Hm?” He leaned his head back against the headboard, eyes on her, and the question ‘why do I get so wet when I’m feeding from you’ fizzle away on her tongue. 

“I want to go to my flat,” she said instead, “To pick up some things. I need my computer so I can start getting some work done again. And one of my soft blankets.” 

Harry hums again like he’s considering it, “Feels a little early to take you out in public. Maybe with a leash?” 

Her brows drop to a scowl, “Nevermind, I’ll –” 

“Oh, shh, I’m just kidding,” Harry seems to be in a really good mood, actually, and Y/N’s feeling a little suspicious. He looked all hazy and blissed out like he was the one who’d just eaten, but before Y/N could question him on it, he nodded, “Sure, I’ll take you to your flat. There will be some rules though, so you don’t fuck up and eat one of your neighbors.” 

That seems fair enough. 

                                                                   .                    .                   .

Going to Y/N’s flat at night is imperative. 

Harry explained to her that when he’d gone the first time, it’d been during the day, and there were so many people walking around that had he been a weaker vampire, it would’ve been a feeding ground. He inquired how she was ever able to get anything done with the number of doors opening and closing, people wandering around, and how loud some of her neighbors were. Honestly, Y/N doesn’t even remember how it was before she changed – she wondered if it was only loud because Harry’s senses were exemplary or if it really was just loud. 

Y/N hadn’t looked at many flats before she’d chosen this one; it was the only building that wasn’t requiring over a thousand in rent each month and didn’t look like three broken windows from being condemned so she signed her year lease relatively easily. She really just wanted a place to sleep, she could decorate the inside to be as cozy as she needed, the outside appearance nor her neighbors really mattered to her. It was suitable for her first flat, in a new area, with a new job – everything being new was good for her. She needed a new start, something refreshing. 

The drive felt long, but that’s probably because she hadn’t been in a car for so long. She’d forgotten how it felt, for her body to be still but for the world moving around her, and how the blur of the trees could make her dizzy if she stared at it too long. It was weird, but familiar, and very human – for some reason, riding in a car felt very human. She liked that it hadn’t changed too much, only that the world was brighter around her in a way that it’d never been before, even though it was a winter night. She was more than okay with it. 

Once Harry pulled up to the parking lot, a heavy sigh on his lips, “It’s just depressing here,” he murmured, “Surely you won’t come back once you’re able to handle being around humans alone, right?” 

“I signed a lease.” 

“You’re a vampire now,” he reminded her, “If you want to break it you can either eat the landlord or bewitch them – you know, we’re a very persuasive people, right?” 

She ignored him as he keyed the car off, and took her own deep breath before stepping out of the car. Harry is at her side in the blink of an eye, his arm looping around hers. When she startled and tried to pull away, he only tightened her hold, “I think you’re forgetting you haven’t been around full humans in over a month,” his voice is low, just above a whisper, and he doesn’t really need to speak into her ear for her to hear him but he does anyway – his breath warm over the side of her face, “I’ll hold onto you just in case.” 

Y/N swallowed thickly, nodding – she could already smell everyone inside, and it was a little overwhelming, but she’d just eaten. Her belly was still full from him, and he’d had Christopher make her a mug for extra protection, so she was stuffed, well and truly. So she doesn’t feel hungry, but it’s the same sensation she might have gotten as a human. When she’s full, but smells something sweet, the way it still makes her mouth water and she contemplates stuffing herself with just one more bite. 

But Harry’s grip on her is firm, and she thinks if she tried anything at all he could muscle her back to his side. 

“Breathe through your mouth,” he guided as they started toward the door, “It’s better that way; easier. One day the need to breathe will be eradicated entirely but until then, this will be good for you.” 

When he isn’t being the worst, Harry does have good advice. It’s in moments like these where he’s calm and patient with her that Y/N understands why Mitch keeps making him a mentor. She breathes through her mouth, tastes nothing but the cold air on her tongue and the tension in her muscles slowly eases. Harry opened the door for them, they slid inside — the front desk is always uninhabited so Y/N didn’t have to worry about being accosted by a well-meaning staff member. They take the elevator up to the fourth floor, it’s rickety and makes a lot of noise. The whole way up, Harry’s looking at her with something akin to horror, “You work with computers do you not? Surely, you could afford a safer environment.”

“What do you do for a living?” Y/N asks because it’s much easier to try and focus on whatever Harry’s saying rather than every single telly and conversation happening on the floor, behind each door, and the hum of the fluorescent lights above them. 

Harry holds her closer – she wonders what he heard for him to do that – and he more leads her than she leads him to her door, “I work with a lot of fashion designers,” he replied, “I’ll model sometimes.” 

“That makes sense. You’re always dressed really nice.” 

“I’ll take you shopping soon then,” he promised, “And help you find something worth wearing–” 

“Y/N?” 

She freezes; Harry stops too, but he’s less abrupt, more practiced like he had known she was behind them in the first place. Maybe Y/N would have known too if she could focus on anything other than Harry’s voice, everything else buzzing and humming in the background. It’s hard – this is harder than she thought it would be. She understood why it was important that she be shut off from all other life for the first few months. If this is how she felt for a month, she couldn’t even imagine how she would have felt when she first changed. 

Y/N turned to the voice, seeing her neighbor. She was another younger woman, around Y/N’s age – her name was Maisie and she told Y/N when she first moved in that sometimes she had loud parties and she was sorry in advance. Y/N didn’t know they were past the stage of friendly greetings even yet, for her to say her name like she did, face dribbled with concern, “I haven’t heard you on the other side of the wall in a while, and usually we’ve bumped into each other in the elevator a couple of times a week. I was starting to get worried. Was like, a week away from doing a wellness check.” 

She tries to smile – she thinks she probably looks crazy because it isn’t reaching her eyes, but she’s putting on the best show she could, “Oh, yes, I – I’m okay,” she nodded, “I just haven’t been home a lot. I’ve been staying with. . .” 

Maisie’s gaze flickers to Harry, and Y/N is struggling not to focus on the sound of her heart pumping and the way her pulse visibly drums in her throat. Y/N could dig her teeth there – could drink, and drink, and drink –

Harry’s grip on her tightens once more, “I’m sorry I’ve stolen your neighbor from you,” his voice is dripping with charm, alluring in only a way he could be, in his knee-long petticoat, and his bright pretty eyes, “I’m just always convincing her to spend the night at mine.” His arm looped around hers, loosened only so that he could seek out her hand. Their fingers slot together and he squeezes, and Y/N looks at how his palm swallows hers up, her heart thudding hard into her sternum, rattling her rib cage with each beat. 

Maisie’s eyebrows raise, “Oh? I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” 

Because I don’t – Y/N bites her tongue, as Harry turns to look at her with a gentle scoff, “Ahh, you’re too reserved about our relationship, Baby! I’m going to start thinking you don’t want to be with me at all.” 

“I’m sorry,” she tried to play the part convincingly, “I guess it just never came up.” 

“I find ways to input you in every conversation I have. Seriously, my coworkers and neighbors alike are probably tired of me.” Harry is oozing charisma, a spell cast over Maisie in the way she smiles like she’s viewing a relationship she’d want to be a part of. Y/N’s seen the kind of men Maisie brings home in passing, and she could promise none of them were telling her coworkers and neighbors about her, even if this was an elaborate lie to hide the fact Y/N had recently been changed into a vampire. One that was struggling to look at Maisie’s face instead of her throat, or her wrist, the tender insides of her bicep where her brachial artery lies. 

If Harry were a human man, every single word he’d be saying would seem more like a glaringly obvious red flag. A boyfriend that she’s never mentioned, showing up with her at her flat that she hadn’t been at in a month, and Y/N has the demeanor of a kidnapped person. Anyone could see that this was just the making of a horrendous thriller, where everyone is yelling at the neighbor character for not realizing something is wrong. 

Harry’s a vampire though. Glamorous and mesmerizing; captivating in a way that you would believe every word he said, just because he said it. If Y/N was trying to get away from Harry because he kidnapped her, then she’d be cussing Maisie out in her head about now. Thankfully, Y/N is doing the opposite of trying to get away from Harry – actually, she’s trying to melt herself into Harry’s side so that she doesn’t lunge for Maisie and tear into her. 

“Ah, well good for you. I had a party the other week that would’ve surely made you call a noise complaint on me,” she laughed, good-naturedly (Maisie is nice enough but she really is kind of a shitty neighbor), “I’ll see you later.” 

Once they make it behind her door, Y/N takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and thuds her head against the door. Harry flips the light on, “All things considered, that could’ve gone way worse.” He murmured, “Your neighbor sucks though, you were definitely giving off kidnapped victim vibes.” 

It’s weird to be back in her flat after so long not being inside of it. Things seem to be exactly as she left it, messy, a bit cluttered – but it smells like home. She smells herself over everything, her heart full, overwhelmed, and she thinks she’s stuck between wanting to cry and wanting to press her face into her bed and smile. The last time she was in her living room, Y/N hadn’t known her life was going to take such a drastic turn. That it would completely change, shift into something she’d been certain only happened in stories and movies. 

The last time she was here she was human, living, and normal. Her life. . .maybe it wasn’t thrilling, or dazzling, but it was hers. 

“C’mon,” Harry’s voice is attentive like he understood what she was going through, even if he himself hadn’t in hundreds of years, “What all do you want to bring? I’ll help you.” 

Y/N picks some more blankets and pillows from her room and crams some more clothes in her spare duffle. She took Niall’s advice and took some of her lights, two of her posters, and a couple of pictures of her friends and family back home. Harry is diligent in helping her and doesn’t rush her when she stops and stares off, feeling fuzzy, a sense of longing for her old life swallowing her whole. By the time they leave, Y/N has Harry loaded up with things to bring to the car. He complains a little, in the Harry way that he does, but not to actually make her feel bad – just to whine. 

They take the stairs down because the exit leads right outside (they could leave that way but couldn’t enter that way unless they wanted alarms to start ringing), fill the car up and Y/N climbs into the front seat. Harry followed closely behind her, and Y/N was slightly shocked to feel his hand on her thigh, warm and comforting, he squeezed, “I know it’s a lot,” he sympathized, “But you did very well. This whole experience couldn’t have gone better, honestly.” 

“Thank you,” she murmured, and then his hand is off of her thigh, and onto her face – which is just as surprising to her as it is to feel him swipe a tear away from her cheek, “Oh, shit, sorry I didn’t –” 

“It’s okay to cry,” he told her, “It’s alright to feel things about changing. Nobody expects you to be pleased with this change, or even overjoyed – we all just want you to be able to accept it, and to live comfortably, and at least semi-happily. Even if this isn’t necessarily ideal.” Y/N swallows, “I cried so much when I first changed, even Mitch was over me.” 

“You’ve known Mitch since you were changed?” Y/N pressed. Harry shifts the car into reverse, pulling out of the spot he’d fit them in near the door. He drives with the ease of someone who’s been doing it since cars were invented. 

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, of course I have,” he answered, eyes twinkling where the street lamp slid through the laminated glass windows, “Mitch was the one who found me, all cold and bloodied just outside the forest.” 

Harry had never bothered explaining how he was changed to her, but he does so now. He said he grew up in a small village away from the big city (what was now Manchester) and ran away from home when he was about 18, worried he’d be drafted for war. He managed to evade all forms of law enforcement and officials, and forge exemption papers when he was far enough from home that nobody would recognize him. He was no man-made to fight a senseless war, especially one he knew he’d be fighting on the wrong side of. 

It was a lonely life. Harry moved from place to place, rather the nomad, until he finally settled in a quiet village off the coastline of Scotland. There, at 22, he met someone demure and kind named Eilidh who had stolen his heart in the blink of an eye. “She was beautiful,” he reminisced, plucking at his bottom lip, “Nobody ever paid much attention to me, ‘cos I was quiet and scrawny and frail, just as pale as I am now. Back then, men who looked like they were ailing were not sought after how they are now – it looked like I couldn’t provide for myself, let alone a family, so nobody wanted anything to do with me. But she did, pretty as she was, and I didn’t question it. Just thought that a god, or the universe had finally taken pity on me.” 

He didn’t question a thing. Not when this stupendously beautiful woman called to him from across the market when he was bartering for a lower price on grain. Nor when she told him to meet her that night, just outside the mouth of the forest alone. And he didn’t bother to worry when she emphasized alone, because he was young, and a virgin, and was more than willing to get his dick wet outside by some pretty stranger (his words, not Y/N’s). 

Harry said he remembered leaving his dilapidated little shack, the moon casting a cool white glow over the sleeping village. He remembered meeting her at the mouth of the forest, her pulling him closer to her body, deeper behind the trees, smiling with bright, white, sharp teeth.  

“I woke up in Mitch’s care, cried and blubbered for about a month about how my life was unfair, ran away from him, and tore through cities and villages because I was hungry and I was convinced he was trying to starve me.” He made a discontented sound, “God, I was annoying. Honestly, I have no clue why he even bothered to find me again, I was such an entitled little snot.” 

“So that’s why you listen to him?” Y/N filled in the gaps, a distinct memory of Mitch accrediting Harry doing as he says because of 600 years on this Earth, “Because he saved you?” 

“That sounds too cheesy,” he complained, “I listen to him ‘cos he’s annoying and acts like a disrespected grandfather when I don’t.” Y/N can tell though, that beneath Harry’s petulant protests was someone who cared deeply for what Mitch thought and said. It was cute to her, how he denied it. 

There were still thirty minutes of the drive left when Y/N decided that if they were going to start sharing stories with one another, that she’d share a sliver of one. She wouldn’t go into it because she didn’t want to go into it, but she’d always believed a story for a story was something everyone should abide by. If someone’s going to open up to her about their life, and she feels safe enough to do the same, then why wouldn’t she reciprocate, at least to some degree? 

“The guy in my photos – the one you’re always asking about,” Y/N confided, and Harry made no secret of his interest, cranking the radio all the way down, “He was my roommate, and my best friend, and my fuck buddy for a while.” She shrugged her shoulders, “Then he got a girlfriend, and I was attached already and. . .you know how that goes.” 

There’s more to it than that. She knows it, Harry knows it, but he lets it go, just pleased to have a little bit of the mystery unraveled. 

“Chances are you were too good for him anyway,” he opined, “Consider yourself lucky.” 

                                                          .                           .                         .

Most things Y/N feels nowadays, she attributed to the many changes her body experienced turning into a vampire. A headache? A muscle spasm? A discomfort in her left hip? She thinks she could explain it away as a symptom of vampirism with her eyes closed and someone screaming into her ear. Wasn’t everything she experienced a symptom? Any time she brought something up to Harry, Christopher, Naomi, or Niall, it was always the same response – you’ll get used to it, it’s easier over time, yeah that happened to be when I first changed. Why keep asking if she knew what the response would be? 

So she ignored it when her boobs were sore and tender, because why wouldn’t they be? Surely her breast tissue just found out she was a vampire as well and was settling into itself once again. They hurt when she walks up the stairs when she lays on them weirdly, and if someone accidentally brushes past them. They're sensitive and swollen, but easy to ignore. She feels like she could eat a small army of men, draining them of their blood until they were empty husks, but that’s just standard for new vampires, isn’t it? And she hadn’t fed from Harry’s wrist in a couple of weeks, so of course she would be feeling a little more hungry than usual. She’d been a little more emotional lately too, but she’s been relatively emotional ever since she visited her flat, and that was just a longing for the normalcy of human life, but that would eventually go. 

The others have been. . .different, lately. They’re always pretty friendly, but everyone's a little overly friendly and has been for the past week and a half. The next movie night she spends with them, Delphine and Saski try to flank her sides – two people whom she’d not gotten past friendly greetings with – pressed close, sandwiching her between them. Niall was irate by the seating arrangement but sat between her legs on the floor and seemed pleased enough with that. Naomi comes to her room for the first time, helps her string up the lantern lights to make it homier, and sits on the cat chair she brought in for two hours just chatting idly with her, about pop culture, skin care (even though Y/N’s fairly sure they don’t have to worry about acne anymore), about her first venture outside alone coming up soon. Naomi has always been nice and has wanted to hang out one-on-one (or two-on-one with Vivianna) for a while now, but Y/N was unsure what had finally pressed her into doing it now. 

Hell, it seemed like nobody in the house really understood why they wanted to be around her. Even Christopher lingers with her mugs now, no matter the time of day he’s delivering them to her. Harry (who, Y/N now understands disappears for a couple of days at a time to keep up appearances as far as working is concerned – those trips to Italy were more than just leisure vacations), who Y/N would say rarely spends more than the necessary amount of time with her, was in her room for three hours on Monday. 

That was her first clue that something was up. Her second clue was when she woke up to use the restroom, and what felt like a flood leaked into her panties. Y/N made her way to the bathroom, peeled her underwear down, and when she saw blood, her brain took a moment to reboot itself. 

Oh. 

Oh? 

Honestly, Y/N didn’t consider what being a vampire did to her period. She thinks she would have assumed that that would have just stopped, because why would a vampire need to bleed monthly? Y/N recalled reading in one of the books that they couldn’t reproduce, so the whole providing nutrients to the lining of the uterus for egg implantation kind of seemed like a moot point. But here she was, confused and bleeding, a scene similar to that of her in her preteen years, slightly alarmed alone in her bathroom. 

Y/N messages Naomi (who had been so upset they hadn’t exchanged contact information yet, even though they both lived in the same house and also never left this very house) and gets a response almost immediately. 

OMG

That makes so much sense 

Not that u were acting different

I just wanted to be around u like soooo bad, i had no clue why

Make sm sense

Do you need a pad? 

Naomi delivers them quickly, a whole package of them, and then explains through the crack in the door, “Yeah, the periods kind of just taper out, they don’t stop cold turkey how anybody would think they would. But that doesn’t mean your reproductive system is trying to reproduce, the vampiric uterus is uninhabitable for anything to start growing, so you can fuck without a condom at your leisure.” 

“Naomi, who would I be sleeping with at this current point and time?” 

“Wait, you and Niall aren’t sleeping together?” 

All the symptoms in the last few days seem so obvious to her now that she feels like an idiot for missing them. They were the typical pre-period symptoms that always tore through her body, but it was easy to ignore that, with everything else that was happening to her. And now she’s stuck feeling a little why too, that everyone can smell it, that they all must be engrossed enough with it that they want to be around her. 

She cramps a bit, but it isn’t horrible, and is how she can tell this is different from a regular period. Human her would be in the fetal position, incapacitated by the severity of her uterus contracting. Now, the cramping is mildly irritating – nothing more than annoying. The general malaise and fatigue that used to find her during this time of the month was nowhere to be found as well, so Y/N wasn’t too concerned about it. Naomi told her she’d crave more blood, not because she was necessarily losing any that was stored in her body, but because it replaced the craving for solid foods and chocolates. 

So when Harry appeared at her door a day later, just before she was about to close her curtains for the morning, to tell her it was time to practice feeding again – Y/N’s mouth was already watering. He wore something Y/N is sure she saw on a model when she was scrolling through Instagram; wide-legged pants made of silk velvet and a lavalliere top, both dark in color.

“Do you try to dress like a vampire?” He inquired, “Or is that just something that happens by accident.” 

“I dress to be alluring,” he sets his wallet down on the dresser and closes the door with his foot. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by Y/N bleeding if he even realizes it,  “Christopher told me you’ve been drowning yourself in far too many baggies and accused me of not feeding you well enough. He’d offer up his neck to you, I’m sure – if he could.” Y/N might have questioned why he couldn’t if Harry had given her enough time to, but he doesn’t, “Speaking of, you seem to be doing well feeding from my wrist, so we’ll go a step farther and you’ll feed from my throat.” 

Y/N swallowed thickly, her own throat feeling dry, the mention of her hunger only making it worse, “Is there a difference?” 

“A great one,” Harry doesn’t ask before he places himself on the bed, “The blood is much sweeter from the throat because it is closer to the heart. You get more in fewer sucks, but it is much harder to stop. Most humans prefer you to feed from their throat because they get the endorphins from the bite far quicker than when you bite somewhere else.”

He scooted himself up to the headboard, making himself comfortable among the mountain of pillows she now has since she brought more from home. Y/N shuffles in place, swallowing hard again as she zeroes in on his neck, “We’ll do how we practiced with the wrist, only this time I’ll let you feed for two minutes before I stop you, okay?” 

Y/N stares at him, looking at how he’s sitting, with his legs loosely crossed – at some point, he’d discarded his shoes on the way to her bed, thank god – and finds trouble in how she’s supposed to sit. When she fed from his wrist, she merely pulled his arm to her mouth. To feed from his neck, she would have to – 

“Just sit in my lap,” he instructed, so casually that if Y/N made a fuss about it, she knew somehow it would be her making it weird,  “The angle to bite will be easier.” 

Y/N raised up on her knees, wobbling from side to side until she hovered over him. Carefully, she lowered so she was more or less straddling his left leg, her hands resting on the pillows on either side of his body, “Do I just – I just go ahead and bite, right?” 

He groaned, rolling his eyes, “No you lick it,” he uttered impassively, “Of course you bite! What have we been doing this whole time?” 

“Shut up,” she grumbled, leaning forward, her eye on his pulse, “It’s just different.” 

“Bite where it smells the best,” he directed. Y/N listens. She presses close to his throat, stuffs her nose against his skin and the pulse, and inhales, trying not to drool on his neck lest he call her a greedy puppy like he used to.

 It’s easier than she thought, to give way to instinct. To smell his blood, running through his vessels and to know precisely where to sink her teeth into the skin. How smoothly she can remove the canines from his throat, latch her lips around the puncture wounds, and suck how she’d been practicing on his wrist. It’s different this way for her too – it feels far more intimate than anything she had experienced prior. Like she was leaving a hickey on his neck rather than drinking her fill of his blood. Her fingers dig into the pillows beside her, mind somewhere fuzzy and floaty – he was right, it is much sweeter here. It satisfies a craving that Y/N was unaware even existed until now; she just knows that this is good, that he tastes good, that she feels good. 

Harry rests his palm on the back of her head again, “See?” He murmured, “Doesn’t it taste better?” 

Y/N moans against his neck. She guesses, something else she hadn’t considered, was how horny she used to get on her period. How easy it was for something to set her off and keep her worked up, even if it was as simple as the way someone’s fingers fit around a pen. If feeding from Harry’s wrist made the insides of her thighs sticky, she could only imagine what this would do to her. She already feels the arousal coil and curls low in her belly, begging to be indulged. 

The timer rings and Y/N whines, long and low against his throat. Harry chuckles as he always does, his hand running up and down her back, “I know,” his voice is sweet toward her, “It’s even harder this way, isn’t it? But I’m a human when we do this, remember? How bad would you feel if you sucked them dry?” 

It’s hard, it’s always so hard to stop, and sometimes Harry has to dig his nails into her skin wherever his hand lies to ground her. But eventually, she does – she pulls away, gasping wetly, barely pulling more than a breath away from his neck, “Please,” she whined, wet and needy – embarrassing. God, she was so embarrassed, but the shame was a small little seed at the pit of her belly, being smothered by the blood warming her insides. At some point, her hands had moved from the pillow to Harry’s arms, her fingers digging into the flesh of his bicep, “Hungry.” 

“I know you are, greedy little pup,” he held his palm at the small of her back, and Y/N would recoil at him referring to her as a dog again if he didn’t smell so good, “You did well stopping. We’ll try for two minutes again.”

Y/N doesn’t have to be told twice, latching to his throat, drinking greedily. The sounds she’s making are mortifying, moaning, whining, grunting, “You’re noisy tonight,” he remarked, “What’s gotten into you?”

You need to, she wants to say, I need something inside me or I’m going to scream.

This time when the alarm rings, Harry is quiet. She’s confused and at first, she doesn’t give a single shit why he hasn’t said anything. If Harry just wants to let her drink until she’s finished, she will take and take, until her brain is fuzzy and her craving is satiated. 

But then she feels Harry’s hands, cradling the back of her head or her lower back, but pressed to her hips. His touch was rougher than it had ever been with her, strong, like he was trying to still them, and oh my god, was she – “Ah, ah,” he murmured, and Y/N stopped sucking, “You really are a greedy pup, humping my thigh like that. Are you going to explain?” 

It takes all the strength she has in her to pull away from his neck, not just because she doesn’t want to stop drinking from him. The thought of having to look him in the eye after moaning against his throat and humping his leg is absolutely mortifying. This was not the sort of situation she’d imagined when she would bring up to Harry any of this – how feeding from him makes her feel, how she’s on her period, how it’s an amalgamation of both that is making her feel like this. 

Y/N contemplates if getting whatever rashy sun situation would really be that horrible if it meant avoiding this conversation at all costs, but the grip Harry has on her softens. He circles his thumbs over her sweatpants like he’s trying to coax it out of her, letting her know that it was okay, to be honest. 

The skin of his neck is stained pink and two droplets of blood run down the side of his throat, looking and smelling delicious. Y/N wants nothing more than to flatten her tongue and lick it right up before it stains the silk shirt. She’d just be helping him, wouldn’t she? Even if he’d probably just buy another one if this got ruined, or take it to a vampire dry cleaning specialist who knows all about getting blood stains out of clothes. 

“Y/N,” he says her name, a bit more serious this time, more stern, “Explain.” 

“Sorry,” her voice was more timid than she meant for it to be, frowning, and she wondered if her lips were stained red, “I’m sorry, I’ve been – I’ve wanted to ask about this for a while but I never really knew how to. And I tried to find it in the books, the ones you got me, but it just. . nothing really explained it.” Y/N ran her tongue over her mouth, “But every time I drink from you, I feel – like, I just get really worked up.” 

“Worked up how?” 

“You know how,” she bleats, grimacing at the sound of her own voice, “You know. And I’m on my period, so it was harder to ignore I guess.” 

Something lights up in his eyes, “You’re on your period?” Y/N nodded, watching as his gaze flickered down between them, where she rests against his thigh, “Fuck.” 

She blinked owlishly, “Fuck? What, is this bad?” Y/N lowered her hand to her belly, “I just didn’t know if it was something that was wrong with me or not, and I only ever feed from you so I wouldn’t know for sure. But it didn’t look like Niall got hard when he drank from you, so maybe it’s just me? Should we – should I feed from someone else to see if –” 

“Fuck no,” he shook his head, dragging her closer to his body with a strength that Y/N hadn’t been expecting – he rarely exercised it with her, “No, you only need to feed from me.” 

“Is there something wrong with me?” 

“No, of course not,” he squeezed her, “This little pussy getting wet for me is nothing to worry about.” 

Y/N wasn’t sure what the reaction she was expecting out of Harry was, but it certainly hadn’t been this. She’d expected him to question her a little, to discuss it more in-depth, probably explain something scientific that neither of them really understood but just accept that it was a fact. Or maybe for him to tease her more; taunt her for wanting him so badly, then leave her to take care of it alone. 

But Harry tilts his thigh up, Y/N slides against his leg and gasps, “Harry – what – what do you –” 

Her heart is racing, and Harry squeezes her hips again, “We don’t have to do anything,” he tells her, “I can leave and you can take care of it yourself, or I can let you finish eating and let you rock against my thigh, or,” his pupils are blown, and he looks so desperate. Y/N wondered if this was what he looked like when he was hungry – she’d never seen him look anything less than composed, “Or I can eat this little pussy until you cum, hm?” 

The way her pussy clenches around nothing is something fierce, she feels herself dripping, “You really want to?” Y/N sits up on her knees, Harry’s hands slipping to her waist, “Even if I’m on my period?” 

Harry looks at her like she’s an idiot, “Baby, do you even hear yourself?” He presses her shirt up, the fabric bunching up, “Does a vampire want to eat your pussy on your period? I don’t think anything would make me happier.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she nodded, “I – yeah, I really haven’t gotten off since all of this started, but I didn’t know how to bring this all up.” 

He urges her onto her back, letting her flop against the mattress and she bounces with the springs as Harry crawls over the top of her. Harry shoves the fabric of her shirt up, just beneath the swell of her breast before he works on the button of her pants, “You want me to clean you up, baby? Take care of you? Make you cum on my tongue?” 

Y/N has always thought Harry was attractive. From the moment she had laid her eyes on him, she’d known he was beautiful, but for some reason in this context, she thinks he’s even more beautiful. Even when he’s complaining, whining, or taunting her he’s always so poised and possesses an air of control and self-discipline in his demeanor. Graceful in how he walks, talks, and interacts with the people around him, always having a response to a statement, an answer to a question – he’s cocky and full of himself, but for a reason. 

Right now, however, Harry is at his most instinctive; acting off something unlearned and unconscious. A want, a need – there’s no need to be practiced and poised when he’s deftly working open the knot in the ties of her waistband. His mouth is unfiltered filth, slipping from his lips the moment the thought graces his brain. Y/N thought she was the one pent up and needy, but Harry seemed just as bad, if not more. Like he’d been thinking about it – had he? 

“Thought it was only me,” he murmured, wiggling her pants down her legs, “I’ve fed so many vampires from my veins, and yet I feed you and I’m stone hard as soon as you slide your teeth in me. Then I thought maybe I was a pervert, getting off on you drinking from me – it’s a bit twisted, my cock getting hard because my blood is on your tongue.” Y/N doesn’t even have time to be shy about her underwear, the thin pad sticking to the inside because Harry seems to show little care for it at all. He peels them down her legs, “Started wearing bigger pants to obscure it, so you could just focus on feeding, but I guess this greedy hole wanted to be filled up the whole time?” 

Harry lowered himself so his stomach was pressed to the blankets, pulling her thighs so they sat on his shoulders, bracketing his head, “Drinking from my throat, rubbing this horny little cunt up against my thigh, dripping for me, all this time and hiding it. I should punish you for that – should make it so you don’t cum at all –” 

“No, you – don’t do that,” she bleated, frowning down at him, “Don’t be cruel, I just told you I haven’t done anything in a month, don’t I deserve it? Aren’t I good?” 

Harry bites into her thigh, a sharp canine nicking the skin, and a droplet of blood trickles down the slope of it. He licked it up, “You’re so good,” he murmured, and she didn’t know if he was talking about her blood, or her but she can hardly pay attention to how his warm breath washed over her slit, “A fucking brat, but you’re a good pup, aren’t you? Always eager to learn? Eager to please?” 

Y/N knocked her heel between his shoulder blades at the nickname. Harry laughed, wrapped his plump lips around her swollen clit, and sucked hard. The moan she muffled into her palm was startled and throaty; she wasn’t expecting him to start slurping and licking at the neglected bud so fervently. It’d had no attention in so long, and she feels things so much stronger now. Every sensation has maximized tenfold since she’s turned, and this is no different, as he lathers her with his tongue. 

The wet muscle licks between her lips, cleaning up whatever had trickled out from when she was sitting on top of him, rocking her hips. And when he’d thoroughly sluiced her with his spit, tongue rolling up and down until her hips were unintentionally rocking so his nose rubbed into her clit, he licked inside of her. Slides himself as far as his mouth would allow him, fucking into her with his tongue. 

“Sloppy, messy little pussy,” he noted, and Y/N’s face feels hot, she’s sure the blood she’d just consumed from him was warming them, “I’ll keep cleaning it up for you.” 

It’s filthy, how he does it. He devours her like it’s been on his mind for a while, and maybe it has. He’d admitted that he was hard too, when she was eating from him, so it must be something between them – something in their blood. She’s sure there’s an explanation that surpasses their caveman-level thinking of ‘Horny? Fuck.’ but she’ll let Harry find it. Right now, she was just enjoying the way his tongue felt against her. How he flickered her clit with the tip of it, rolling circles around the button before sucking it back into his mouth. 

His arms curled around her thighs, holding her in place. Even if she wanted to wriggle and squirm away she couldn’t he was so fucking strong, and his biceps bulged in this position, not with the effort to keep her still, but because they were so big they just looked like that. There are no breaks to take in a breath, Harry doesn’t need them, so it’s non-stop stimulation, an endless cycle of her getting wetter, him cleaning her up, and her getting wet again from that. 

All of it feels so fucking good, and when he uses his fingers to spread her open and flutter his tongue over the engorged bud Y/N cums so hard she thinks she might have blacked out for a second. It was all so much, too much in the best way; her orgasm splintered through her like lightning slicing through wood. She pulses rhythmically, and Harry replaces his tongue with his thumb before sliding back down, fucking himself back into her hole. Like he needed to feel her squeeze around his tongue, his eyes closed, blissed out. 

When the fire withers and settles, Harry is still content to lick and clean her up. She was sensitive, still twitching and jolting with every roll of his mouth against hers but she kept relatively still. Even when one hand slipped up the soft fabric of her shirt, twisting her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her breasts are still so sore and tender, that it makes her whine again, and Harry laughs into her. It vibrates through her lower body,  The sensitivity gives way to something pleasurable again, the more he works his tongue, lapping at the soft petals until he is satisfied that she is clean enough. Not before a second orgasm, which builds only slightly quicker than the last but is way less intense – still, her whole body curls around it, pumping around nothing until her empty hole is filled back up with his tongue. 

“Okay, okay,” she pats at his head, “Need a break.” 

Harry pulled away, lulling his tongue over his lips – it was not the bloodied mess she’d expected to see on his face, lips just barely tinged red by it. He leans his head on her thigh, his hand grazing down from her chest to her stomach, rubbing mindless circles into the soft skin. “Can’t believe you were getting horny when you ate, and you never said anything,” she fluttered her eyes down to him, finding his gaze already set on her, “Didn’t I tell you to notify me of everything out of the ordinary you’re feeling, hm? Or did you used to get wet when you ate porridge too?” 

He went right back to scolding her. Y/N guesses that isn’t a surprise. 

“Your age is showing old man, just say oatmeal.” she retorted, “And you didn’t say anything about you getting hard each time either.” 

“I’m your mentor, I don’t have to report to you.”

“Did you mention it to Mitch, then?” He turned his face, nipping at her thigh and this time he didn’t draw blood, “That’s a no then.” 

Harry presses up from his spot snuggled between her legs, “Well, when it was just me, it wasn’t a problem. If both of us feel it, then it’s something worth investigating.” He slid his palm down to her hip again, patting her gently, “You know what else is worth investigating? How being embarrassed is what pulled you from my neck the second time – maybe just tell the humans you drink from to humiliate you when they need you to stop, and you’ll pull right off. I wouldn’t suggest humping their leg though, there’s an upcharge for that.” 

Y/N whined, picking up her leg and swinging it at him from the side but Harry caught it easily, “You’re being annoying,” she whined, “I liked it better when your mouth was preoccupied.” 

Harry gasps, mockingly abashed. 

“All you’ve ever wanted me for is my blood and my mouth. You’re just filthy.”  

                                                                    .                          .                       .

Harry is shocked by himself. 

He’s typically much more. . .poised. He can demonstrate a ridiculous amount of self-constraint when it comes to all vices in life, whether it be blood or sex, Harry could turn his head from it if necessary. If it wouldn’t benefit either party for more than a quick romp to get the edge off. Sometimes senseless pleasure was nice, but Harry can’t just go around giving his cock out to this person and that – he likes to be a bit selective. Likes to work toward it, even, with a lot of edging on both sides. Teasing and taunting and days and days of mental foreplay.

But with Y/N, he didn’t even have a chance to think. Not about what it meant for both of them to be getting horny when one fed from the other, and not about the possessive clench in his chest when she suggested feeding from someone else to see if the reaction was the same. He couldn’t think of anything, his mind swimming from the heady feeling of getting his blood sucked from his throat. The only thought that graced his brain was getting his tongue on her, licking deep inside of her, drinking her up, eating her whole. Harry probably could have stayed between her thighs and worked six more orgasms out of her and been completely content with the sweet, heady taste on his tongue. 

Plus, when he really considers it, there was a benefit to this – they were getting closer by the day. Y/N should trust Harry with all things, whether that be making sure she’s fed or an orgasm to help her when she’s pent up. Sure, that’s different than what he offered to his other mentored vampires but Y/N was just different too, so that’s why.  Harry found her cute and she made him hard when she drank from him, and those are two responses Harry typically doesn’t have to those he’s training. This is better than him being unreasonably angry with her because he doesn't understand why he's so worked up after she drinks his blood though -- that was getting them nowhere.

Harry is concerned though. There's a bit of a problem, if you ask him, besides the obvious one.

Because when Y/N emerges from the bathroom, after taking a shower since she was complaining about feeling sticky (“You didn’t mind it when I was tongue fucking you.” “Shut up!”), she was in a different pair of sweatpants and a soft-looking sweatshirt. The colors were mismatched and cozy, and Harry wanted to stay in her bed, lie on the opposite side she usually chose, and talk to her until she finally succumbed to sleep. He wouldn’t even mind snuggling close to her, letting her lay in his arms, and falling asleep with her head on his chest. Honestly, he was not even sure why he hadn't left her room yet, just waiting patiently for her to return, under the guise of checking her bed to make sure they hadn't made a mess on it.

When the hell did he start feeling so affectionate toward her? 

That’s the problem. 

[hrrysafterglow]

IM OBSESSED IM OBSESSEDDDD

Harry rolled his eyes, “Oh great, another Brat – you know, after Niall, I was hoping to get a sweet little vampire who just listens and is grateful.” 

Y/N is about to tell him that maybe she would have been a “sweet little vampire” if he hadn’t come barging in already seeming pissed off, but she doesn’t get the chance to. Another man appears in the blink of an eye, his head wrapping around the doorframe before he steps inside, and Y/N might have screamed from his sudden arrival if she hadn’t gotten ahold of herself – she certainly does jump though, “Keep my name out of your rotten mouth.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Harry sighed, “It’s improper to enter a woman’s room without asking Niall.”

Niall narrowed his eyes, “It sounded like you did it just a couple of seconds ago.” 

“I have special privileges, I’m her mentor.” 

“God help her.” 

or

Y/N wakes up craving blood and Harry's there to help (reluctantly)

i.

Y/N’s throat burns. 

The comparison is to that of a dry heat like being dropped in a desert sinkhole and swallowing mouthfuls of sand; the insides of her esophagus feel scraped raw by millions of tiny grains and pebbles. The feeling of it is scorching, wrapping around her neck, suffocating her, making it impossible to breathe. Each small gasp of air she sucks in brings no relief, only the reminder that her lungs flare and smolder every time she tries to take a breath. Her skin feels wrong, hypersensitive, buzzing, sizzling –  each cell is vibrating uncontrollably against itself, unsure and uneasy like it isn’t sure it’s supposed to be hers. Everything feels like it’s too much. Everything feels wrong.

She doesn’t know where she is, what time of day it is, or what is surrounding her. Y/N can barely open her eyes without it feeling like something is trying to pierce through her skull, an ache unlike anything she’s experienced succumbing to her temple and spreading outward. The most she can tell is that she’s lying down; her body is stretched out over something lumpy and hard, and her wrists are bound behind her back. If she pulls, the material that binds her cuts deep into the tender skin, so roughly that she wonders if she’s bleeding. 

Bleeding. . .if she’s bleeding. Thick, rivulets scarlet as they cascade down her forearm, pooling in the crevices of her palms, down the slots between her fingers. Isn’t it being wasted like that? 

What? 

How had she ended up here? Y/N is trying to search through a haze of caliginous memories to find some idea – to find anything at all, that might explain whatever situation she’s in. Maybe then she could calm the rabbit-like heart thudding in her chest. But it is hard to think of anything when her throat feels like this. If she could just have something to drink, she’d feel much better, she knew it. Something warm and thick like honey, coating the insides of her throat and heating up the hollowed feel of her belly. Her poor stomach, which grumbles of hunger echoes off the empty walls, begging her to feed it, but she can’t eat if she doesn’t know where she is. 

Fuck, she must be going crazy. How could she even care about eating when she doesn’t even know the situation? She could have been kidnapped! A deranged murderer could be waiting for her outside of wherever this dark, lumpy place is, planning how to carve her bones into a walking stick or something equally horrific, and she’s wondering where her next meal is going to come from. Y/N’s priorities have never been the most straight, but this was an entirely different kind of screwed up. 

But she’s just so hungry, she can’t stop thinking about it. Had she been knocked unconscious? In a coma, wherever this freak (she’s taking the angle of being kidnapped, she’d decided) had her locked up and stored? Maybe it’s been weeks since she’s had a proper meal because that’s how she’s felt – her mouth waters at the thought of eating anything right now. A burger, chicken, steak – she doesn’t even really eat meat that often, but she’d tear through it if someone placed it in front of her. No hands needed; like an animal, she would eat with just her mouth, her teeth, her lips, and if she could just have something to drink with it. Something warm, and hot, gliding down her throat. Something syrupy, and slow – something. . .something. . .

A sound on the other side of the door makes her stiffen. Y/N hadn’t realized she’d been writhing and tugging until she stopped, holding her breath, biting down hard on her lip to stop the small sounds and noises she’d been whimpering out. 

“Have you ever considered asking before signing me up for these little projects of yours?” A voice says. Goosebumps ripple up her spine, and her cheek digs against something – what she was sure was a wall, but the ridges of it feel different – like a door, “I was supposed to go to Italy tomorrow.” 

“You go to Italy every other week,” a different voice counters, “What am I supposed to do, let her bleed out on the side of the road? Burn up in the sun? I called Mitch first anyway, he told me to contact you, so take your grievances up with him.” 

The floorboards shift beneath their weight as they walk closer, Y/N thinks even her heart has stilled in an effort not to give away her spot, though she’s certain they already know where she is. How couldn’t they? They were the ones who took her, most likely, she might as well be thrashing and screaming and demanding answers right now, but she can’t move. Can’t speak, can’t breathe – can’t do anything but listen and tremble. 

“Don’t be dramatic, the most she would have gotten is a rash. Our biggest problem would have been her waking up hungry,” the first voice sighs, “You humans and your endless empathy. It’s irksome, truly – next time leave me out of it.” 

Before she could gather her bearings, whatever she was leaning on moved and Y/N fell forward in a heap. Since her wrists are bound, she can’t catch herself, so her body thuds to the ground. She blinks rapidly, adjusting to the sudden flush of light hitting her face – from the window, the sun glitters through drawn curtains just enough that she can barely make out her surroundings. She’s in a bedroom, that’s all she can tell, from the mattress on the floor and the posters on the wall, but it isn’t her bedroom. 

“Keep the light off,” the first voice ordered, “Her eyes are still sensitive.” 

Y/N opened her mouth – she wanted to ask questions. Wanted to order them to tell her what was going on this instant, but all she had the energy to do was roll herself onto her back, and even that took every ounce of power she could muster. She swallows hard, reminded of the sandpaper feeling in her throat when her eyes lock with the man hovering above her. He looks like something cut from marble; his skin, from what she could make out, is smooth and blemish-free, and his lips pale in a straight line as he observes her. The bone structure of his face is something from a statue, with a jaw cut sharp and cheekbones that flatter him. There’s a small crinkle between his brows from how he furrowed them, but she could tell if he relaxed the muscles there would be no weathering – no wrinkles or divots from time. His hair is pulled from his face by a pair of sunglasses and it is truly the only non-porcelain thing about him, unruly and wild, like he’d not bothered to get it cut in a while but she’s sure under the light it was probably healthy and soft. 

This man looked unreal. 

He didn’t look human. 

A dark-colored sweater drapes over his torso; he presses the sleeves up to his elbows and crouches down. Y/N isn’t quick enough to jerk away from his hand that comes to take her jaw, the pad of his thumb pressing into her bottom lip until she opens her mouth. 

“What a pitiful thing.” Y/N wondered if he meant to be as derisive as he sounded, inspecting her teeth, “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?” 

Something lights up in her head; a flash, a spark, the same way it does when she’s in public and hears her name unexpectedly. She is hungry – she’s so hungry. The feeling of being validated almost makes it feel worse, makes her even more ravenous, and suddenly she’s nodding – she’s nodding, and nodding, and nodding like it’s the only thing she remembered how to do. Mirth swims in the man’s eyes for half a second, instead of the boredom that had been there before. He helps rearrange her – moves her like she’s a doll. 

“These newbies are always so cute when they’re starving,” he talks about her like she isn’t there, reaching to his left wrist and unclipping the thick banded watch that sat on it. He lets it rest on the curve of his thigh while he continues to balance on his toes, “Like hungry little birds. I know the blood makes you squeamish, Adam, I’d reckon you look away.” 

Y/N had forgotten someone else was in there, and at the mention of his name she would probably have turned to look at him, but she didn’t. Her gaze is trained on the man’s pale wrist, and her mouth – so dry – suddenly begins to salivate. It felt like she could drool like someone had dropped something so deliciously sweet that the scent alone was enough to make her glands activate. 

She needed that. . .she needed it. 

“I was gluttonous last time, so you can take what you need,” he’s finally speaking to her but Y/N can’t really focus, “Be mindful of your teeth.” 

The man digs into the flesh of his wrist with the opposite hand, his nails cutting into the skin; it’s a visual that might have made Y/N go dizzy and pass out in a normal situation but not today. Today, her mouth waters, the buzzing in her ears quiets, and the frenetic thoughts darting around in her brain settle into one, steady, repetitive thought of hungry, hungry, hungry. The blood welts up from the cut, oozing out and threatening to drip on the floor – to be wasted on the carpet, where it would soak into the fibers and the taste would be lost. For the first time since she woke up, a spurt of energy shuddered through her, enough that she could move her muscles to lean forward. The rope binding her cuts into her wrist as she tries to pry them apart – she wants to hold him to her mouth, to keep him there, to keep him steady, to make it less messy. 

But she can’t do any of those things, and she can barely think past latching her mouth to his skin. This is fucked up – this is so fucked up, why is she drinking his blood? Why does she fix her lips around his wrist and lull her tongue over the mess, tasting the metallic and trembling? Why does she start to suck it down, warm in her belly as it finally fills her, leaving her less hollowed out, completing her, shushing all the panicked thoughts that had been bursting in her mind like balloons filled with too much air? 

It’s so good – it tastes so good and it feels so good. Her eyes flutter closed, she thinks she even moans, muffled against his wrist, but she can’t even find it in herself to be embarrassed. Not when she feels so good – when she feels so full. Y/N thinks she’d be content to stay here forever, latched onto his wrist, warming the insides of her belly with this stranger – this nice, kind, amazing stranger. He’s so nice, isn’t he? Letting her do this? Letting her have this, to grant her this pleasure, to be so full after being so hungry. 

She probably would have kept going, but the man used his free hand and pressed against her cheeks, making her lips pop off his wrist before wedging a finger between her teeth and pushing down on her jaw. He removed his arm from her, chuckling as she tried to follow after it when he pulled it away, “Messy eater,” he chided, wiping her mouth with his palm, “Now that you aren’t so hungry, are you able to listen to me?” 

Y/N nodded, though her head felt full of cotton. She isn’t quite sure she’s in her body right now – she’s somewhere just above them, floating around, her mind quiet, her belly full, her heart a slowed, gentle beat rather than rapid thudding. Really, she feels like she could sleep for a decade. No matter that she doesn’t know where she is, or that the rope stings where it digs into her skin, or that she was trapped in a closet and an odd man let her out, cut himself, then fed her his blood – she just wanted to lie her head on the bed in the corner and sleep. 

“You were bit by a vampire,” he told her, “And for whatever reason they didn’t finish the job and kill you so they left you on the street. Adam is the stupid human that found you, brought you here, and then got me involved because he hates me and doesn’t want me to have a good time in Italy.” 

“Harry.” The other man – Adam – scolded.

The man before her, Harry, rolled his eyes, “You’ll come with me, and I’ll take you someplace that. . deals with your situation.” 

“That’s. . .wrong,” Y/N cleared her throat, wriggling uncomfortably in her position – with her hunger satiated, she was able to focus on all the other things making her uncomfortable, like the crick in her neck, and the ache in her bum, and she’s sure the skin of her wrists have rubbed away from the rough twine, “Those aren’t – that doesn’t exist. Vampires don’t exist.” 

He stares at her, unimpressed, “Okay,” it clearly wasn’t the right thing to say, because he looks more annoyed than he did a second ago, “Then you’re a psychopath who just drank my blood for no good reason. Is that more digestible to you?” 

“Can’t you be more gentle with her?” Adam’s voice comes from the corner again, only this time he walks closer – he seems hesitant, even though he’s defending her, he is looking at her like she’ll snap at the sight of him. . .like he’s scared of her. Y/N’s mind starts racing again, for a different reason, “This is a lot for anyone to stomach, won’t you show some compassion?” 

“It wasn’t hard for her to stomach drinking my blood, now was it?” Harry sighed, then turned back to her, “Listen, believe what you want,” he raised his wrist – the one that she had drunk from, and there was no longer a wound there – the flesh was unmarred, but there was blood smeared and pink on the skin. How had he healed so quickly? He wasn’t – he didn’t look human, but was he actually – and he had a point, she had just drank his blood. His blood! What the fuck is wrong with her? How could she drink someone’s blood and be happy about it? Had she lost her mind? What was wrong with her? “But I’m telling you the truth. Now you can either be a good little vampire and come with me where you’ll be safe, or you can run the streets, eat innocent humans, and probably get captured by a few huntsmen while you’re at it. Which sounds better to you?” 

Y/N can’t fight the scowl that pulls over her face – she wishes he wouldn’t be so blunt about it. She’s so confused, and she’s scared, and he’s not being tender with her, even a little bit! No wonder he wasn’t human, because he sure didn’t fucking act like it at all. She’d much rather chance it with this Adam guy. 

But the cold reality is, if she stayed with this Adam, she might hurt him. She might hurt him, because for some reason she wants blood now, and her skin buzzes and itches, her gums hurt, and her head still aches just behind her temples. The world feels too loud like she’s receiving information from every particle and molecule in the air around them. That’s why she’s tied up, right? For his safety. . .because now, Y/N – who could barely kill a bug without feeling intense fear and guilt course through her – was someone who people needed to be protected from. 

Because she was a vampire. Allegedly. 

“I’m sorry to speak so plainly about it,” Harry finally says, after some time of silence, and her going back and forth in her head. For a moment, something caring flits through his gaze – understanding and empathetic, in the same way that he’d scolded Adam for, “But there’s no other way to say it. This is your life now, whether you like it or not.” 

The area around her mouth feels sticky, from his blood, no doubt, and her spit. She tucks her face down and rubs it against her shoulder, soiling the fabric of her shirt but at least she feels a little less disgusting this way. She finally looks over to Adam, who looms near the door – he doesn’t look scared of her but he does seem wary of the situation before him. Y/N looks back toward Harry, staring at her, waiting patiently for her response despite his earlier disposition. 

“You aren’t going to kill me, right?” Y/N inquired, shuffling in her spot, “This isn’t some elaborate ploy to lure me into the woods and murder me?” 

Harry stares at her as if he has never heard anything stupider in his life, however long that life has been, “Oh god,” he presses himself to a stand, fits his hand beneath her armpit, and raises her with him like she weighs nothing more than a phone, “If I wanted you dead, I would have done it by now. I’m not one to play with my food.” 

“I’ll go with you,” she winces – his grip is tight, “I will, but can I – will you untie me? It’s hurting my wrists.” 

He twists her around to face the closet again, where she’d been stored before this. His hands deftly work at the knot on the ropes, as Adam adds just slightly uneasy, “Are you sure this is a good idea? Shouldn’t we keep her tied up at least until the car?” 

Harry makes a sound in his throat, one of disagreement, “Nah, she’ll be fine,” he replies, and Y/N feels the binds loosen from around her skin, “She’s full right now, there’ll be nothing to want. What? Are you scared she’s gonna try to eat you?” 

Trepidation fills her body when the words come out of his mouth; Y/N is still not entirely sure this wasn’t some hyperrealistic dream, but this feeling makes it all too veridical. Adam is scared of her – being around her makes him anxious, swallowed with worry, and it’s horrible. Y/N wondered why he even bothered to save her if he was this scared of her. Wouldn’t have it been easier to let her get all rashy in the sun? Let her wake up and be found by a. . .a huntsman? Or whatever it was Harry called them? 

“It’s not that,” Adam answered quickly, “When Niall first turned, you didn’t bother to have him tied up at all and he tried to kill us both.” 

Harry winces at the memory, “Well, this one has a much better temperament than that one. Look at her,” he motioned to where Y/N stood, motionlessly, looking at her wrists and wondering how the skin was healing so rapidly before her eyes, “She won’t be a problem.” 

He sounds confident in the assessment. 

For all of their sakes, Y/N hopes he’s right. 

                                                           .                                .                              .

Y/N doesn’t know where they are headed exactly, but she does know they were in the car for a while. The windows are tinted, limiting the amount of sunlight that is cutting through the glass, which she’s thankful for. The brief amount of time that she had been exposed to the sun on their way to the car left her skin irritated and itchy, burning like she’d rubbed poison oak into open wounds all over her skin. 

Adam was staying behind at his flat because it wasn’t necessary for him to come with – at least that’s what Harry tells them. Adam looked relieved like he was waiting for someone to relieve him of his part in this – he’d saved her, but he wanted nothing to do with the consequences of it. She didn’t blame him, she would probably want no part in it either. Especially if what Harry says is true. 

Harry gives her a quick debriefing while they’re on their way to. . wherever they are headed. They would meet a man called Mitch who Harry has known for a very long time, and he would explain everything that needed to be explained. When Y/N wondered aloud why Harry wouldn’t be able to tell her, he sighed, “It’s such a mouthful,” he told her, “And very boring. I’ll let him explain it.” 

Her brows furrow but she doesn’t fight him on it. She feels. . .uncomfortable, not with him, but in her own skin. Weird and out of place. None of this seems to be sinking in nor making any sense, and Y/N can’t even begin to fathom how she was going to continue on with life even relatively normally. What about her job? Her family? Her friends? Would she be allowed to be near them again? Or would she just want to eat everyone around her all of the time? Would they keep her locked in a cage? How is she even certain that this wasn’t some drug-induced hallucination? That Harry wasn’t some deranged man looking to kill her? 

Then there’s the fact that she had drunk this strange man’s blood. Gulped it down like it was the best thing she had ever tasted (and it really, it had been), while he talked about her like she was a hungry baby. It was humiliating – all of this felt so humiliating. Even more so when she couldn’t even find it in herself to be disgusted by what she’d done, because she was getting hungry again, already. 

“You’re hungry again, aren’t you?” Harry said it like he had read her mind, and Y/N’s head darted toward him. How did he – “You’re wiggling around,” he noted, “And your stomach growled.” 

She rests a hand over her belly, “I didn’t know that it still could,” she replied, her voice still sounding unrecognizable to her. 

“You haven’t escaped all human-like aspects yet,” Harry clicked the blinker, taking them off an exit to an area that seemed thick with forestry. The trees stand high and tall, the colors too bright as they change, shifting into reds, yellows, and oranges, like a fire that matches the one wreaking havoc through her body. Vampires were supposed to be cold, were they not? So why did it feel like her insides were burning? “You’ll have to wait before you can eat again, though. I didn’t have enough to sustain the two of us for two meals.” A whine unintentionally peels from her throat, and if that isn’t mortifying enough, Harry chuckles, “Ahh, cute. You newbies are so needy, it’s adorable.” 

Y/N doesn’t think there’s anything adorable about being hungry for blood, but she doesn’t really know him well enough to fuss at him. She’s putting a lot of trust and faith into this man, with yummy blood and an uncanny ability to rapidly heal his wounds. She didn’t deem it wise to get on his bad side so early on. 

Eventually, after a couple of winding roads that make her feel a little uneasy when she looks over the edge and sees a deep slope (A sort of drop that would lead to broken bones, deep cuts, scrapes, and scratches – would any of that happen to her anymore? She wanted to ask but it felt like a silly question, and this Harry guy doesn’t seem to enjoy handling new. . .whatever she is. Maybe she could save that for Mitch), they come to a house.  

Mitch lives in an impressively large house. The outside looks old but well taken care of, like a small, preserved castle. It wasn’t big enough to be a castle, but the vibes were the same, with the stone-colored brick and the walls rounded at the front on the right side in the shape of a tower. There had to be multiple rooms in here, and she wondered if that meant there were multiple people. Part of her wishes that there were, so she wasn’t alone with just Mitch and maybe this Harry if he decided to stay around, but a larger part of her wishes that there was nobody. She feels so open and new – vulnerable and exposed. How do newborn babies deal with hundreds of visitors within the first week of life? She could only imagine they’d feel like this if they were capable of it. 

The driveway is a circle surrounding carefully trimmed hedges. Harry pulls up right behind one of the cars already parked there, and there’s a man standing outside, at the foot of the steps leading to the door. He’s got brunette hair and a cigarette fit between his lips, waiting beneath the shade of an oak tree that still clings to its leaves. Evidence of the branches shedding them lay around his feet and almost all of the stairs, in the same bright hues that decorate the trees they passed on the way here. 

Harry gets out first – Y/N doesn’t realize he’s out of the car until he’s hovering outside of her door with an umbrella. When he pulls her door open, he hangs it over her, blocking out the sun, “Honestly, she’s faring quite well,” Harry is speaking to the man who approaches the car – she could only assume he was the Mitch everyone kept speaking about. 

“For now,” he nodded his head in agreement, “He fed you, right?” His question is directed toward Y/N, who swallows thickly. 

“Ah, yes, but – but I feel hungry again.” 

His lips twitch, like he means to smile but the information just doesn’t reach his muscles quite fully. 

“That just won’t do, now will it?” 

                                                          .                          .                         .

Y/N nurses a mug of blood between her hands while he introduces himself and the situation that she’s in. 

It’s weird, but Y/N’s brain, sense of self, or remaining humanity isn’t allowing her to be disgusted with herself just yet. Her body drives her off-base instincts – she’s not concerned with what she’s eating, just that her basic needs are met, sort of like a baby, how Harry had described her. Hungry and rooting, she felt like crying if her stomach even felt a little empty. Mitch, this man who looks not much older than she or Harry, tells her that this would be normal for the first couple of months as her body transitioned. 

She is trying to follow everything he says, but it’s kind of difficult. To no fault of his own – Mitch has a soft, measured voice and he speaks nice and calmly, explaining things in great detail, and is far more patient than Harry had been with her. Y/N can tell he must do this often and that sends a wave of unease through her, which she guesses is misplaced now – she’s the thing to be uneasy about. She is the thing that is feared, so why was she scared?

“The first few months are difficult but there are ways to make it bearable. That’s why I suggest that you stay at least the first couple of weeks to the first couple of months here, in this house, where you have a support system that you can rely on. It’s inconvenient and demanding to rework the way you live your life with a change that was thrust upon you unwillingly. I was in a situation much similar to yours when I was changed, but unlike you, I wasn’t lucky enough to be found before I woke up.” His voice is heavy, swollen with guilt as he continues, “I tore my way through villages and towns with little consideration to life until I met someone who took pity on me. He showed me a different way, much better than what I was living – one much more comfortable than being hunted and killing innocent people because I felt like I was starving. The regret of it consumes me daily, what I’ve done. For that, I want to help anyone who could possibly suffer the same fate and guide them down a path of comfort and calm that I wasn’t given.” 

It made enough sense to her, and it stirred her curiosity about how Harry had ended up in the situation that he was in, but she bit her tongue. 

The house had several people living in it; some come and go (like Harry), some stay here (like Mitch and Christopher. . .whoever that is), and some are new, just like her, with their gums still sensitive from new pointy teeth and their bellies screaming to be fed something they shouldn’t want (like this troublesome Niall everyone keeps mentioning). It was big enough that they could house ten people at a time and everyone would still have their own rooms, which Y/N thinks is pretty nice – things could be worse, really. She could be sleeping on the forest floor, covered in blood and writhing in pain from an arrow wound in the calf – that’s how Mitch said he was found by his mentor. So her own room, in a house full of people going through something similar to, or who have gone through something similar. . .she thinks that’s kind of nice in comparison. Even if it was a house of bloodthirsty monsters. 

Mitch highlighted some things that she would have to “look forward to” in the upcoming weeks. Her body feels weird right now and it will continue to; sometimes it will feel like her skin is sizzling, popping like grease on a burning skillet and she’ll have to do her best to ignore it. Going out in the sun isn’t impossible, it’s just heavily discouraged while she’s gaining strength. She won’t burn up or burst into flames but a horrible, painful rash will break out along the surface that doesn’t go away without a supposedly equally painful bath with a special serum or something. Whatever it was, Y/N wanted no part in it, so she made a mental note to stay out of the sun, and if it were necessary she went out for any reason, to aim for a cloudy day and shady spots. 

Unlike Twilight, her strength will pale in comparison to that of even her human self to start. She will be fatigued – close to exhaustion, some days, so she will sleep a lot and her body will work itself out with time. Each day she will get stronger and stronger, that much is promised, and she will have strength beyond the capability of man. . .but for now, she’s to treat her bones and muscles like they’re fresh and tender. All new life has a stage of weakness, and this is considered a new life, overriding her current one. 

Her gums will fill tender where the new teeth had sharpened and sliced through, though they appear to be just little pointed tips right now, mistakable for normal canines. They elongate just a little bit when she’s feeding, at least that’s what Mitch says, and the first few times that’s uncomfortable, feeling them shift beneath the muscle is weird, but she’ll “get used to it”. That’s what he tells her – she’ll get used to that just as she’ll get used to the blood. 

The blood. . .he tells her that her hunger will be the most prominent change to her, and the most annoying. She will be hungry constantly, even when she’s full, she’ll have an itch in the back of her mind that begs to be satiated. He tells her it’s the vampiric urge to drain prey of all their worth – he explained some science behind it, she thinks, about living in secret, and for some, it was important to have enough blood to sustain them for a couple of months before they could kill again. To avoid rousing suspicion, they had to be critical of who they drank and how often they did it. 

Y/N had a hard time focusing on the history lesson because Mitch had also told her that, while she was getting used to this change, she could drink from blood baggies. It would be easier to handle, by the time her brain started to click into place and she realized just what her food of choice was now, if she could just drink it warm out of a mug of some kind. But she couldn’t always do that – she would need to practice feeding from a human, so if there were ever a reason she couldn’t have a blood baggy she wouldn’t starve. 

And starving for a vampire doesn’t mean withering away. It means slowly descending into madness, turning to debauchery, taking blood from the unwilling, and.. . .there’s not a lot of things Y/N understood about this whole thing, but she knew she didn’t want to do that. She wanted absolutely no part in that, and the very thought of it threatened to make her stomach twist. 

There were humans who offered themselves up for it – Y/N must make a face that states her confusion before she can because Mitch quickly explained that they get paid well and are blessed with thousands of endorphins once the teeth sink into their neck. It was like getting high, pleasant, and floaty, sprinkled with arousal but nothing too crazy that they would feel the need to act on it if they didn’t want to. Eventually, they would work up to that, and Y/N could learn with them, but she would need to practice first, and Mitch doesn’t necessarily go into the details on what practicing would entail.

“Of course, all of this you could say no to,” he ended it by saying, “Even if you decide to leave, I will be a support to you the best that I can.” 

“I’ll stay,” she tells him quickly, because what would she do if she didn’t? She had no way to get blood besides the potentially violent alternative, and no understanding of this world beyond the one she’d been living in. Y/N needed some guidance, at the very least! She’d never been one who could just go with the flow – the thought of winging this made her want to scream, “I – I’d like to stay.” 

Mitch seems relieved, a small, knowing smile on his mouth, “That’s good,” he praised her, “That’s a very good decision, thank you. Typically, I like to unofficially appoint you a buddy – someone who can help you with everything, since I’m not always available. I think you and Harry would be a good pair.” 

She grimaced, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she told him, looking around the kitchen, making sure he wasn’t lingering nearby and listening, “I reckon he doesn’t like me much,” she explained, “Or – I dunno, I get this feeling that he doesn’t want to waste his time teaching me how to do shit. He wants to go to Italy.” 

“He’s in Italy every other week,” Mitch countered, “He’s a piece of work, I’ll admit, but he is more patient than he lets on, and flippant enough that things don’t feel too heavy. I have my own opinions on his. . .methods. . .but they work. He’s a good person to have at your side. Plus, even if he doesn’t want to, he'll do it – he always does what I tell him to.” 

“Why is that?” Y/N inquired because Harry doesn’t really strike her as someone who lets himself be bossed around by anyone. Honestly, from his attitude when they first met she was surprised that he took her here as he was directed rather than ditching her and taking off for Venice, like he’d intended. Did Mitch have something on Harry? Blackmail? Do vampires still deal with blackmail? Or the law, for that matter? 

Mitch only shrugs some, “600 years on this earth gets people to listen to you.” 

                                                             .                       .                      .

Harry doesn’t seem to be too enthused about being Y/N’s buddy. 

Her first night was. . .odd; Mitch had someone named Christopher show her to the room she would be staying in while she was there. He’s on the shorter side, maybe just an inch or so above her as far as height is concerned, and his hair is short and curly, not unlike Harry. He’s pale too, but there’s still a healthy flush to his cheeks that Y/N hadn’t seen from Harry or Mitch. He’s nice enough as he shows her things like where the extra blankets are, where the towels are kept, and how to turn the shower knob for hot water – but Y/N is having a hard time focusing on anything that isn’t the smell of him. It’s different. . .not bad, just different, and she feels like she’s smelling something that she’s never smelled before – like it wasn’t his clothes or even his skin, but it was something – 

“It’s my blood,” he’d cut her off from her train of thought, a small smile on his mouth, “You’re smelling my blood, that’s why it’s hard to pay attention right?” 

Her brows hard furrowed, and her face felt warm from being caught, but she was more confused than anything. “Why would I be smelling your blood so clearly?” She asked, “I don’t smell any of the others like that.” 

“That’s because I’m only half.” 

“Oh.”

She blinked at him, and he blinked at her. They were quiet for a moment before he spoke again, “Aren’t you going to ask me why?” 

Y/N pushed the hair from her face, still unused to the feeling of touching her own skin, every graze of her fingertips like pop rocks dancing across it, “I – um, figured that wasn’t my business.” Of course, Y/N wanted to know why, but she didn’t know Christopher well, and she honestly didn’t know if she could handle any more lore added to the situation right now. Plus, would it not be rude to quiz someone why they smell a certain way? 

Christopher regarded her for a moment, his eyes danced all across her face like he was trying to read behind her words. He grinned at her, “You’re funny,” he told her, “I like you.”

She didn’t get the explanation and at the time, she was more than grateful to have a break. All this new information felt more than overwhelming when she was still just trying to come to terms with the fact that vampires exist, let alone the additional fact that she was one herself. She still isn’t sure how it happened, why it happened, or how life would be from here on out. She wasn’t sure what she’d do about her job, the master’s degree she’d been working on, or her rent. She wasn’t sure what she would tell her family or her friends, about why she’d just suddenly up and disappeared.  

She wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t going to figure any of that out the first night, she’d decided. Y/N is usually greedy for answers when it comes to things like this – begging to get to the route of a problem, especially if it concerns her life. 

But she was tired, and somehow, even after just finishing two mugs worth of blood, she felt like she was getting hungry again. So it would be best to sleep, she thought, before it got too bad. 

That night, Y/N didn't dream. She wakes up several times throughout, to gentle knocks on the door, and Christopher popping in with another mug of blood for her to drink before she goes right back to bed. The house seemed more lively in the night than it had when Mitch was talking to her during the day, and Y/N guesses some of the stories about vampires are correct. There are people moving around, opening and closing doors, and chatting in the hallway. A couple of times the voices taper off and she can hear the footsteps pause in front of her door, Y/N holds her breath as if that would help at all. She didn’t want to meet anyone new right now, just wanted to exist in this bed that smelled like fabric softener with sheets so smooth and silky there was barely any friction when she moved around in them. 

The footsteps always pick back up though, curiosity satiated with a couple of sniffs she guessed. The only time the footsteps stop and then come barreling in is when it’s Harry, who is frowning, his brows pinched inward and his arms are full, “You’ve got a lot of shit, did you know that?” 

Y/N is confused, pushing herself from the bed and trying to ignore the way her stomach growls in favor of looking at all the things Harry has brought in. He drops what Y/N now realizes is her duffle bag on the ground, then rolls in two of her suitcases behind him. It must be early morning – that’s what Y/N could guess from the amount of sun sneaking through the blinds and curtains, and when her bleary eyes could finally make out the numbers on the clock it read 6:04 in red. 

“What?”

“What?” Harry mocked her, and it only served to make her brows furrow deeper, eyes narrowing at the man across from her, “Since you had to go and get turned into a vampire, instead of getting a blowie from a nice Italian human, I have to play servant.” He told her spitefully, nudging her belongings closer to her, “Mitch had me go get your shit so you could be more comfortable. You really need to clean the place up, it was a mess.” 

She kicked her feet over the side of the mattress, “Sorry I wasn’t planning on almost being eaten by a vampire and didn’t have time to clean up for a guest,” she lowered onto her knees to the floor, walking on them to the first suitcase – she would be happy to get out of these clothes, that she’s pretty sure still have Harry’s blood on them from when he’d fed her (Christopher offered her a new set of clothes but she’d declined – her shirt and pants were the only things that smelled like her and it brought her a lot of comfort that she wasn’t willing to let go of), “How did you even get inside? Don’t you have to be invited in?” 

Harry rolled his eyes, “Oh great, another Brat – you know, after Niall, I was hoping to get a sweet little vampire who just listens and is grateful.” 

Y/N is about to tell him that maybe she would have been a “sweet little vampire” if he hadn’t come barging in already seeming pissed off, but she doesn’t get the chance to. Another man appears in the blink of an eye, his head wrapping around the doorframe before he steps inside, and Y/N might have screamed from his sudden arrival if she hadn’t gotten ahold of herself – she certainly does jump though, “Keep my name out of your rotten mouth.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Harry sighed, “It’s improper to enter a woman’s room without asking Niall.”

Niall narrowed his eyes, “It sounded like you did it just a couple of seconds ago.” 

“I have special privileges, I’m her mentor.” 

“God help her.” 

“That’s enough out of you,”  Harry turned back to Y/N, “If you end up like him, I’ll contemplate going rogue and eating humans like they’re snack cakes. Shower and get dressed.” 

Niall sidestepped Harry to go further into Y/N’s room, standing over her duffle and looking down at her, “We’re room neighbors,” he explained to her, “And you’re the youngest vamp after me now, finally. You know how annoying they are about you being the youngest? In human years, I’m older than this fucker,” he jammed his thumb in Harry’s direction, “But they treat me like an insolent child.” 

“It’s because you act like one.” 

“What I’m getting at,” Niall ignored him entirely, “If you need something and he’s being a dick, I don’t mind helping you.” 

Y/N cleared her throat, pleasantly surprised – how everyone had been describing Niall, she thought he might be a huge asshole with a violent streak, but he seemed nice enough. At least right now, from this angle, how he held out his hand for her to shake it. His skin was cold but smooth, like marble, and his grip was a little too tight, like someone who wasn’t sure of their strength yet; the way a child pets an animal. But still, it was nice enough. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Y/N smiled gently, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Great, amazing, you’ll be the best of friends,” Harry reached down, sliding his arm beneath Y/N’s armpit much like how he did the first time they met, and pulled her up to a stand, “Go and get washed up, we need to discuss some things.” 

Y/N doesn’t know how much more discussing they could possibly do with her, or what else there is to say that hasn’t been said. Mitch told her that things would become clearer and she would learn more with time, that shoving her brain full of facts and information about this new life would be useless because chances are she wasn’t going to keep any of it in her head. It would be easier for her to just live it, and ask questions along the way. 

But she doesn’t argue and she doesn’t fuss, because she gets the inkling that this doesn’t work for Harry at all. She feels too tired to make a big deal out of anything, really, still in a haze, wondering if this was a hyper-realistic dream or an in-depth, two-day-long hallucination. It felt too surreal to be true, this life, even when she was sipping blood out of a mug and was talking to people who looked too perfect to be real. Especially when she’s feeling very. . .not perfect. 

The shower feels good though – it feels like waking up, in a way. It thaws her frozen insides and makes her lungs feel like they’re moving again, stretching with air, and deflating with each heavy exhale she lets out in a gust of wind. Blood moves through her vessels again, as it had slowed to a still in the cold, but as the hot water pelts her skin it starts to work through her body again, feeding her organs, her muscles, her cells, her bones; the longer she’s in the shower the more fluid she feels like each movement she makes isn’t stiff and miscalculated. The world feels less bleary, and even in the steam that surrounds her, things feel clearer, just slightly less disorienting. She feels human-ish, again, even though she isn’t anymore. 

So maybe the shower was a good idea, she would thank Harry for that when she saw him. 

There are several things packed neatly in her suitcase, which she finds humor in – with how Harry was acting, she would have guessed he’d haphazardly thrown things into the bags, hurried and impatient. Instead, every shirt, sweater, jeans, or trouser is folded meticulously as they belong on the shelves in a store. And in lieu of digging through her underwear drawer, there were a handful of new pairs in a small pink paper bag folded into the side netting. Y/N’s brows raise but on it is a hastily written note: 

The woman at the boutique picked these out, you owe me 50 quid. 

Despite his apparent disapproval of the situation, and of her, he did well in choosing what clothes she might want. She wiggles into one of her bigger, softer shirts and revels in the smell of her flat; warm and familiar and inviting. There were sweatpants tucked at the bottom and she grabbed for those because she didn’t think she’d be leaving the house at all, and she had a soft pair of socks pulled over her feet (apparently, even as a vampire you can feel how cold the hardwood flooring is). Her phone is sitting charging on her bedside table, and she thinks he must have done that when she’d gone to shower as he instructed her to. She had a few missed calls, and a couple of messages – one of them was from her coworker, a frowny face, and well wishes – Y/N guessed they’d already contacted her job about her absence.

She’s a little nervous to leave her room, but there’s some comfort in knowing that it is early into the day. If what they say about vampires is true, then most people in the house should be asleep by now, no? It was the equivalent of a roommate coming to tell you there’s a house meeting, but the only two in attendance are you and them, and it’s 2 AM. It should just be them in the kitchen, at the very least, and maybe Christopher who seems to be up at all hours to prepare blood for her. 

Y/N opened the door and padded out into the hallway, unsure steps creaking the floorboards as she recalled the path from her room to the kitchen. She was on the third floor, so it took her a while to get there – across a balcony that looked over a sitting area on the second floor, down two flights of stairs into another living room with a huge telly fixed on the wall above a fireplace. She gets a little lost here because she could either follow the hallway down the right or the one to the left, but she picks up the irritated keen of Harry’s voice from the left. She could smell him too, actually, or at least the cologne he was wearing and either it was so potent it left a trail behind him as he walked, or she could smell things further than she could before. 

On the far left end of the hall, surpassing multiple doors (whether they lead to bedrooms or different living areas she doesn’t know), there’s an archway that leads to the kitchen. It was big, like that of a sorority house, and in size the kind you would expect to see a private chef inhabiting. The tile was a deep, marbled grey that managed not to clash with the black wooden cabinets (all of which were big enough that she wondered how anyone ever reached the top shelf without crawling onto the counter), and everything looked cleaned and polished, almost like nobody was ever in there. She supposes nobody ever has to be in there if they don’t need human food to survive, which makes the point of having a kitchen almost mute, save for the microwave (or however they warmed up the blood). 

Harry is sitting at the island, his legs long enough that they don’t swing back and forth from the height of the barstool. He has one stretched out in front of him, the other bent at the knee and his foot resting on the leg of the stool. His face was set in a sullen frown and she wondered if he was able to do anything different when she remembered how he looked at her while she drank from his wrist, fond and entertained. It was possible, he was just mad that she was actually his problem now – she hoped he got over that. 

“She could warm up her own blood, you know,” Harry is grumbling at Christopher, who shuffles around the kitchen on light feet, pulling what looks to be a blood baggy from what Y/N could only describe as a bottle warmer and she really is starting to feel like a glorified, oversized vampire baby, “She ought to learn how to do it.” 

“Give her time to adjust, Harry,” Christopher chided him gently, “I don’t mind warming it for her, it takes no time at all.” 

Y/N cleared her throat a little and Harry all but jumped out of his skin – she’d thought he was being a prick, speaking about her like he hadn’t known she was right there, but she thinks she legitimately did startle him, “Fuck me,” he rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “You’re light on your damn feet. I don’t need another Niall in my life, one is enough to tire me out.” 

She frowned at him, and Christopher smiled gently at her, pointing at the spot across from where Harry was sitting, “Shouldn’t you be able to hear me? I thought your senses were like. . .greater than any other thing on the planet.” 

“They are, but you are abnormally quiet on your feet. Just like Niall, you just – appear, it’s my least favorite trait for either of you,” he sighed, knuckled his closed eyes and though he didn’t look like this whole thing was exhausting him, he was surely acting like it was, “I know Mitch gave you the synopsis of what’s going on and how you’ll be staying here,” he explained carefully, “And probably told you I would be your buddy, yeah? Well, I am, because I tried to say no about eight separate times because Niall is his own handful, but that didn’t work, so here we are.” Christopher settled the mug in front of her, and Y/N thanked him, not even waiting for it to cool down before she tipped the brim to her mouth and drank greedily. 

Harry continued, unfazed by her, “I’ll let you take the first couple of days to settle into your skin, but after that, there will be some things we’re going to have to figure out. Like your new sensitivities to the sun, your heightened senses, being around humans, how to use your teeth – we might have you practice with a bag first, then  properly drinking from a body rather than a bag,” he motioned toward her – she caught sight of his flannel shirt; it looked soft and big and warm, and entirely too cozy for someone coming off so prickly, “The most I can say, is if you waste my time, I won’t be happy about it so do your best to be a good student.” 

“If I’m a good student will you start being nice to me?” 

“If you’re a good student, I’ll start paying you, how’s that?” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Please, Niall has worn me down to the bone. I swore I’d never do this again after him.” 

Y/N can be a good student – she’s always been a good student, so she knew it wouldn’t be a problem. Because even if she’s changed now, fundamentally she can’t be different, right? “Okay, I’ll be good,” she assured him, though she believed that she would be, she wasn’t sure how much she could promise – she’d never had to be taught how to be a different species before, so the outcome may be different than when she was studying for a degree in website development. She guessed the easiest way to go about this was to have an overarching goal in mind; where before it had been graduating UNI and getting a job, now it was to be able to live comfortably as something she’d thought only existed in stories and movies. 

She’d always lived a life driven by goals, from the moment she was born. To eat, to walk, to talk, to learn her ABCs, how to write, how to spell. To understand basic principles of math with bright colored blocks, what shapes were, and how to partially stay in the lines when coloring. It was to pass primary school, then secondary – it was to get into UNI, to get a degree. It was to get a job, to get a flat. It was to. . well, after she’d succeeded all of that, she really hadn’t figured out another goal to strive for at the moment – she felt a bit stagnant, wondering what she wanted now that she got everything she’d been aiming for, for so long. 

That’s why she’d been out that night, just on a walk after her date. . .her date? Wait, that’s right, she’d been on a date the night she must have been attacked, right? 

“This upcoming Wednesday, we’ll practice going outside for a little while. In the meantime, you need to start responding to the people in your life and pretending that you’re okay. We contacted your job about needing time off for a fractured femur so you don’t need to worry about that. As far as your friends, it isn’t safe for you to be around any humans, so you’ll need to come up with a story – say you’re out of town to recover or something.” She nodded, and just as her stomach began to slightly grumble about being hungry again (just one half-full mug wasn’t doing it for her anymore), Christopher set another one down in front of her. She smiles politely and thanks him like he’s her waiter, before pulling it back to her mouth. Harry sighs as she drinks it again, this time a little slower, “You’re a hungry one, aren’t you? That’s normal for now – your body needs it to recover from the turmoil it’s just gone through, but eventually, you’ll have to stop being so greedy. It’s unbecoming as a baby vampire.” 

She huffed out through her nose, “Okay,” she agreed, setting the mug down on the counter again – she’s felt a little bit self-conscious over this newfound appetite, and how much she indulges without a second thought; to hear that she was being greedy formed a small pit in her gut, ugly and dark. She shouldn’t want blood as much as she does – it’s against her very nature, or at least it used to be. She should be repulsed by now, about how much she craves it, about how good it tastes, how nice it feels sliding down her throat, but she isn’t. Maybe this was Harry’s way of letting her know that this was an odd response – that she was actually somehow a bad person, who’d secretly wanted to drink blood even as a human. And what would that mean for her? Did she want to drink blood as a human? She doesn’t remember having any particular feelings toward blood before now, but maybe she hadn’t even realized how much she wanted it until – 

“I said it’s normal for now,” Harry’s voice slices through her inner turmoil, and he’s leaning over the counter, pushing the mug closer to her hand, “Try not to be messy. Drink.” 

“But you just said –” 

“I said, drink,” he ordered, nodding toward Christopher, “It makes him happy to see you newbies well-fed, yeah?” 

Y/N turned to look at Christopher, who merely smiled gently toward her before busying himself with the running faucet. She reaches for the mug again, gripping the handle before pulling it to her mouth and drinking carefully from it. Y/N doesn’t want to look deranged with blood all over her face, even if she’s surrounded by people who drink the same thing. 

“I may be a prick but I am a resource to you,” he reminded her, “So don’t hesitate to ask me questions. I already added myself to your contacts so if I’m not here, just message me. . .or call if you really need to, but I really don’t like calls so messaging will do.” Y/N tries not to deflate any because she actually prefers to call (she used to hate it, but she’s found ever since UNI that calling means getting answers quicker and it soothes any anxiety that might be nibbling at the edges of her brain), but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Our main objective is to work up until you’re able to be around humans without wanting to kill them. Your temperament seems mild enough that I don’t think it’ll be as big of an issue as it is for Niall.” 

The hair raises on the back of Y/N’s neck, goosebumps pimple up her skin, and before she can realize why, Niall is suddenly at Harry’s side, “You love slinging my name through the gutter, don’t you?” 

Harry startles, a hand to his chest. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ, stop that!” 

                                                         .                            .                            .

Y/N spends four days in her room. 

Not entirely, but for the most part, she only leaves briefly, in small doses, and normally during the day. All the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn to protect her from the sun’s rays before she’s had a chance to develop any sort of. . .immunity (was that the right word for it?) to it. That’s just to explore a bit though, look around the house, typically going to the library, and steal books from Mitch’s endless amount so that she could mindlessly thumb through the pages. Other than that she finds a den where she presumes a lot of people spend time when everyone is awake, a dining room that seems more like an inside joke than a utilized portion of the home, an endless hallway of rooms that she knew everyone was asleep in. It felt eerie, a place being so silent during the day but everyone being home. 

On the third day of her creeping around the house when the sun is up, she runs into Harry, and a small part of her hates that she feels relieved by his presence. Being confined to her room made her feel like an overly hormonal teenager, scrolling through her phone, and lying to her family about how she was doing. The only people who really needed the fractured femur story were her coworkers and boss; her family lived far enough away that it wasn’t convenient for someone to just randomly drop in on her, and her friends (the few that she has) think she’s home visiting her family for a while. As she’s lying to everyone, it halfway feels like she’s being indoctrinated into a cult and being forced to leave her old life behind. In a sense it’s kind of like that, she guesses. 

Harry was standing around the corner from the kitchen when she slammed into him, not paying much attention to where she was walking. Instead of a theatric gasp like she’d imagined, he merely grunted at her. He regarded her with furrowed brows, “What are you doing?” He inquired. 

“I was just. . .” being nosy? Creepy? Loitering the halls because sometimes the ringing silence in her room is maddening? Walking around because my legs feel restless all of a sudden like I need to run laps like an overexcited cat in the middle of the night? “. . .looking around?” 

He stared at her with an unimpressed glean in his gaze, and she could tell he would like for her to tell him what she was actually doing but he didn’t push. Y/N takes a chance to look at him – he must have just come from outside. . .he smells like outside, but not in a way like the outside used to smell to her. He just smelled like fresh air, warm like the sun, and something else. . something that’s just him? She isn’t sure.

(Her scent was the first sense that she could tell was improving, and she couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing. She could even smell when Christopher was warming the blood down in the kitchen for her – she knew ten minutes in advance before he would knock on her door.)

“You haven’t been coming out to meet the others,” Harry reported to her, “You should try. It’ll be good for you.” 

“I’m asleep when they’re all awake.” Y/N made an excuse for herself, and she was fairly certain that might at least get him off her back but he only shook his head. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he replied softly, “It’s just more people like you, isn’t it? Going through the same shit, it would be beneficial to this whole. . .process, if you tried.” 

Y/N has noticed in their few interactions that Harry has moments where he is much more. . .tentative with her. He snaps at her, sure, and he can be kind of rough when he’s being plain and blunt with her, but laced between all of that is something softer. Something sweeter than she’d expected from him. 

“I’m just. . .not ready yet, I don't think,” she answered him honestly, “I’d like a couple more days.” 

He hums, his eyes darting all around her face like he’s looking for something but he doesn’t comment on what. Harry shrugged his shoulders, “Suit yourself,” he replied in a noncommittal way, “Try and make it soon though, I’m tired of answering questions about you that I don’t even know, so I’ve just been making shit up. Half of them think you’re an aspiring actor who got bitten by a producer of the next big film – they’re angry on your behalf for not getting the role.” 

Once Harry continued the route he was taking (toward the main entrance, Y/N had figured out when she heard the front door open and click shut), she couldn’t help but feel this distant yank at her chest. There was comfort in a familiar face throughout all of this, even if it was just the familiar face who had offered her his blood for the very first time. As soon as he’s out of her sight, she feels lonely again, downtrodden almost, wishing he would come back even if it was just to scold her a little bit. 

On the third day, she spends the entire thing in her room and is even up through most of the night without feeling too tired. Y/N finally hears women’s voices too, which brings her some ease – at this point, she’d only met Mitch, Harry, Niall, and Christopher so it was feeling a bit like a cockfest. There was a lilt to them, soft and pretty, and Y/N could tell that every bit of them was meant to be as alluring as the guys were. That’s what she’s noticed at least, is that everyone’s voice sounds honeyed and melodied in a way that’s hard to describe. It was pleasant on the ears, no matter what they were saying – even Harry’s complaints were like listening to something charming and agreeable. Was her voice like that now? She wanted to know but she didn’t know how to ask. 

Still, she doesn’t go out to meet them. She stays cooped up, swaddled in her blankets, and in her clothes, trying to watch a show on her phone. Y/N really needs her computer – not just for a bigger screen to watch dramas on, but because she’s going to need to do some work from home eventually. One of her bosses emailed her the approval for time off and the apps to download to her personal laptop so that she could work from home until she was better healed. She’d rather start now than later so that she doesn’t get too far behind if she was honest, but she doesn’t want to ask Harry to go out of his way to her flat again. Y/N’s really not even sure how far away they are from it. 

The fourth day is Wednesday; Christopher stops by her room with two mugs today, filled to the brim around 7 AM – he doesn’t have to feed her as frequently anymore, but the amount has certainly gotten bigger. Y/N always thanks him for them, but today she asked him what else he did besides bringing mugs of blood to people all day and night. 

“Wait until it’s time to give people more to drink.” He jokes, then laughs harder when Y/N doesn’t find it very funny. 

Harry turned up not too long after that when Y/N had just put thick knitted socks on and one of her soft, blue jumpers, prepared to stand outside. When he finds her and sees what she’s wearing, he breathes a laugh through his nose, “Cute,” he comments, and Y/N’s face feels warm, “You don’t really need any of that, but I guess it’s good to practice keeping up appearances.” 

She looks down at herself – how the sleeves swallow her hands and the sweatpants are baggy around the legs. This is how she would dress in this temperature on a normal day. Then she looks at Harry, who sports short sleeves and linen trousers that could not be doing much to shield him from any type of wind. Maybe she hadn’t considered that vampires don’t feel the change in seasons, which makes her. . .sad, almost. She’d like to still feel that. She’s worried that at some point she won’t be able to feel much at all, and that’s really shitty – she likes feeling things, even the sensations that are unpleasant. 

There’s a room that branches off from the kitchen. Y/N had always thought it was a laundry room so she never bothered to explore in there, but it turns out it’s a vestibule. The door there leads to the backyard, and Harry opens it very anticlimactically, or at least what she thinks is anticlimactically for how much she’s been building it up in her head. The entire night prior she’d spent rolling around in bed, wondering if the sun would sear her skin off or if the wind would feel like pinpricks on open nerves to her abnormally sensitive skin. Even the shower sometimes hurts after a little while, the way it pelts at her – she’d asked Christopher how long that takes to go away and he shrugged. 

She could ask Harry but asking Harry questions just seems. . .scary, for some reason. Y/N doesn’t want him to think that she’s stupid and then go tell all the other new vampires how stupid she is for a laugh before she’s even gotten a chance to meet them and declare herself. In the back of her mind, she knows Harry isn’t some demented high school bully, but he makes her nervous like one – the dichotomy between wanting to be near him because he’s been familiar from the start of this and wanting to be nowhere near him because he makes her skin cells tingle and vibrate, is just hard to bare sometimes. 

Plus, she thought him being a mentor might mean he came around more but apart from the one time she ran into him accidentally, the fucker really doesn’t come around much at all! Not even to check on her or anything! 

“Hurry up,” he tore her from her head, his hand flattened on the inside of the door, keeping it held open, “You’re not meeting a King, you’re standing outside.” 

She frowns at him but steps forward, “Shut up,” she declares and Harry’s brows raise but she walks past him before he can comment. 

It really isn’t as scary as she had built it up to be. The early morning sun had barely made it passed the horizon, so the sky was just a gentle, hazy blue glow that Y/N felt like she was seeing for the first time again. The world looked brighter than it did as a human; the trees in the backyard booming with such impressive, fiery hues, even more, prominent to her gaze than any of the trees they had passed on their way here a week ago. Leaves speckled the grass still bright green, but most of it was raked into nice little piles, and the imagery of a vampire raking leaves was enough to bring a smile to her mouth. 

They step out onto a deck, stained a dark brown relatively recently, or at least Y/N could still smell the faint chemically dusting of it flutter past her nose. Though that scent is nearly completely drowned out by the world – the air is crisp; Y/N feels the coolness of it against her cheeks but she doesn’t feel cold. She smells the grass, the trees, and the soil – she smells the wood of the house, a fire that must be lit pretty far away, from where the smoke rises above the trees in the distance.  There’s no fence around the yard but there’s no need for it, because they were encased in a shield of trees like a clearing nature had made just for this house to be built in it. 

It feels like smelling, seeing, and feeling for the first time; all of her previous worries are snuffed out when the wind blows and whips through her hair. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Y/N had almost forgotten Harry was there, looking out at the trees, passed the branches, and spotting a small bunny that couldn’t be any less than 15 meters ahead of her. She can see it, she can smell it. . smell its blood. She turned to look at Harry, blinking at him several times before her cheeks pulled into a smile – she’d been scared that she would want to eat live animals. . .scared that she would want to eat anything with a humming, drumming vein – but she doesn’t. Maybe it’s because she’s full, but that’s better than wanting to eat them all the time, right? Because she loves animals – she’s always wanted a cat but had never gotten around to adopting one. She probably still could, right? It could be like her familiar or something. . .or was that witches? “It’s a lot of information to hit you at once. Most people kind of freak out a bit before they settle into it, but I’m guessing you like the outdoors?” 

“Yeah, a bit,” she agreed, feeling breathless even though she was almost certain it was a phantom feeling rather than a real one, “I like being outside when the weather is nice and the animals are out, like. . .I really like early mornings like this, before the world is awake. It’s peaceful.” 

“Hmm, if anybody else said that I might think it’s pretentious,” he countered, “But from you, it sounds cute. You’re an introvert?” 

Y/N doesn’t know if she should be offended or not, so she steps out further onto the deck, walking toward the railings so that she can see how high off the ground they are, “Uh, yeah, I guess?” 

“I can tell. You’re pretty insecure.” He opines and Y/N scoffs, her face twisting as she turns to look at him again. 

“Not – not all introverts are insecure.” She refuted. 

Harry looked a little too haughty, hands in his pockets as he ambled over to her, “Yeah, I know not all of them are, just you.” She opens her mouth to argue but he talks over her, “I don’t think you were always like this though, were you? You moved here recently for your job and you’re having trouble making friends.” 

She narrowed her eyes, “Are you – what, did you stalk me?” 

“What kind of shitty mentor would I be if I didn’t do a thorough background check?” He leans on the railing, his forearms resting on the banister as he interlocks his hands, his bum popping out as he looks over toward her. In the daylight, Harry looks different – more unreal. His skin glistens, smooth like he’s a glass figure, and his eyes sea glass marbles that stare into the depths of her inner self. His hair is the only part that suggests he might not be a hyper-realistic statue; soft and unruly like he’d just washed it and let it air dry. The wind blows through it, brushing it over his forehead until he takes his sunglasses and uses them like a headband. 

“You could have just asked me!” 

Harry jeered, “Like you would have told me anything. Don’t feel special about this either, I did the same with Niall – you know he almost failed an art course in his tenth year? How do you fail art? Just color in the lines.” He runs the pad of his thumb over his eyebrow, “Anyway, I noticed that you used to have a ton of pictures with this guy, and suddenly he got engaged, and now no more pictures. What’s that about?” 

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Y/N refused and Harry whines – he actually whines and pouted his mouth like she’d snatched a treat from him. 

“Come on, please? I haven’t had any good gossip since reading through Niall’s high school journal. Don’t tell him I have that by the way.” 

Y/N turned away from him, “You’re horrible.” 

She could feel his eyes still boring holes into the side of her head, but she ignored him – she looked over the side rail and wondered if her new vampire legs would withstand the fall or if she’d just actually fractured her femur. 

Harry exhales, long and dramatically, “Fine, you’re still sensitive about it, that’s okay, I can wait – or find out a different way,” really, jumping off the side seemed really appealing, “Anyway I wasn’t trying to bring anything up to torture you. I was just going to say now you don’t have to be scared of making friends because if anyone tries to reject you, you can eat them. Then you’ve had a snack and no lingering failed attempt at friendship to embarrass you. Problem solved.” 

Y/N cannot believe for even a second she found him comforting. 

                                                         .                     .                     .

Harry comes over at least every day or two now to take Y/N outside. She does kind of feel like a dog, waiting for him by the door during the early mornings when he messages her that he’s on his way, but she tries not to worry about that too much. It feels nice to go outside, even if it’s just for a little while, she feels less trapped that way, and like the world isn’t as far away as it felt when she was in her room, where they’re just a little out of reach from the sun. 

Plus, the interaction is nice. Harry is horrible, and he teases her more than he doesn’t, and he tries to poke and prod into the aspects of her life that are harder to look up on the internet. . .but it’s still nice. 

Y/N meets Naomi and Vivianna one morning when they emerge from the woods just as she and Harry step out of the house. They’re very pretty, and glamorous in the same way everyone else in the house is; Naomi’s hair is long, black, and looks like it’s made of silk as it flows behind her, moving in waves every time she turns her head and Vivianna is a blonde with a short bob. Their eyes are striking, bright, and a little hard to look into but they’re very friendly. Naomi brings Y/N into a hug like they’d known each other for years, before squeezing her shoulders, “I promise all of this gets more. . .palatable, yeah? I’m still learning myself, but I feel loads better than when I was first changed.” 

“Yeah, we swear,” Vivianna holds her pinky out in a promise, “Come out of your room more, please! The more women the better in there, because somehow being nearly murdered and turned into a vampire doesn’t change the way men act at all.” They glance over to Harry who raises his hands up. 

“Don’t group me in with them,” he insists, “I’ve got at least 200 years on them all, I passed my douchey frat-boy stage in the 1800s.” 

They don’t just lounge around outside, though Y/N would be content doing just that. Three days in, Harry starts playing little games with her – the goal was to help her pick out scents, to smell when something’s off. It’s to protect herself in the long run, from other vampires, from hunters, from “dastardly humans” as Harry had put it. First, he starts with fruits – ones with more pungent smells like oranges and lemons, then things a little harder to pick out like different berries. He’ll put one of them in the forest, sometimes close, sometimes far, and he’ll ask her to tell him what fruit it was from where she was sitting. It’s hard at first, battling all the smells, and not focusing on all the other sensory inputs to concentrate on one tiny fruit. 

Y/N questions Mitch’s concept of patience a few times, because if he considers Harry patient then she thinks he’s never met a patient person in his life. He starts out pretty calm with her, but if Y/N doesn’t get it within three guesses he starts getting a little exasperated. It’ll start with a small huff at the first wrong guess, the second he’ll stare at her blankly with a steady, “Try again, really try,” and if the third one is wrong he tilted his head back and groaned, “Okay, I said try, not give it even less effort!” 

But when she does get it right, you would have thought Y/N had won the lottery and told him she would split the profits. A grin breaks out on his mouth, and every time Y/N sees his dimples she’s shocked at the reminder that the skin of his face can dent – that he really wasn’t the marble statue she’d made him in her head. Once she even got a high five for how well she did. 

Niall stayed outside with them once on a particularly dreary day while she was doing it, but he kept giving her the answers if she didn’t get them right, and Harry threatened to muzzle him. That day he almost sent him inside like an unruly child, but an idea sparked that made him let Niall stay. 

“I want you to be able to find me,” he tells her, “If we ever go out together and get separated, and for whatever reason you need to find me, I want you to be able to pick my scent out even if it’s covered by something fetid, like Niall for example.” Niall moves fast as lightning to hit him but Harry easily evades the hit, “So we’re going to do something. If you can find me over him, I’ll even give you a reward, baby vampire. How’s that sound?” 

Y/N doesn’t know what kind of treat Harry could provide her but she thinks a challenge would be fun. And it was useful too, being able to find him in a crowded room would be beneficial, she thinks.  So she agrees relatively easily and finds herself standing at the edge of the forest, waiting until the timer goes off that indicates she could come to try to find them. When the 5 minutes is up, she sniffs at the air and tries to not feel like a tracking dog as she steps into the forest. 

At first, when she gets the scent of both of them, she kind of has trouble differentiating who is where. Their different smells intermix, mingling together; despite Harry’s insults, Niall doesn’t smell bad – he smells like clean linen and sage which is what Y/N gathers from her left, while she smells more of Harry’s lavender fabric softener from the right. And she almost falls for it too, pivoting on her heel toward the lavender when the wind blows and she picks up that underlying, just Harry scent. In the same way, it’s hard to describe what the autumn air or a summer breeze smells like; it’s just him, and it’s good.

So Y/N follows the trail of that, finding Harry wearing Niall’s clothes (that look almost comically small on him in some places, like the legs, and he’s a little broader around the shoulders so the fabric is stretched tight), and he’s smiling proudly, “That’s a good puppy,” he taunts, “Are you ready for your treat?” 

Y/N is about to flip him off and tell him that she isn’t a dog, and she doesn’t need a fucking treat – but then Harry claws at his forearm. A line of blood welts up immediately, scarlet and bright on his pale arm, and Y/N’s mouth instantly waters. The feeling that rushes to her head is different, more dizzying as she watches it cascade down his arm – he holds it up tantalizingly toward her, the wind blows the scent of it straight across her face – she feels like she could pass out from wanting it so badly. 

The mugs of blood are good, and when she thinks of them her stomach growls and she feels hungry, but this is a new sensation. Her whole body buzzes and thrums with the desire to taste him – she remembered how good it tasted that first day when he’d fed her in Adam’s room. How it warmed her throat, soothed her pain, satiated that gnawing need to be fed, even if it was just briefly. 

“Don’t be wasteful,” Harry chided her, “If you don’t want it, then I’ll have Niall come –” 

“No!” She stepped forward, shaking her head, “No, no, please no, I want. . .” She felt like she could drool. Swallowing thickly, she uses tentative hands to grip his arm, his skin cold beneath her fingertips – she really doesn’t touch him a whole lot, from how often they’re with each other, “Can I?” 

Harry’s gaze softens to something fond like he is staring at a needy animal, but she doesn’t find it in her to be mad about it right now. Not when he nods his head, “I already said you could.” 

Her mouth fixes around the wound and she sucks, eyes fluttering when the metallic taste of Harry’s blood hits her tongue. She wonders if she’s holding him too tight, if she’s being too much as her body presses closer to him, but he doesn’t seem concerned. His other hand rests on the back of her head, petting her like the greedy street cat he seems to think she is. When Y/N swallows, she makes a pleased little sound in her throat but right now she’s so content she couldn’t even be mortified how she knew she would be later, “Ah, is it that good, Pup?” He murmured, and Y/N nodded as much as she could, “Better than the bagged stuff, isn’t it? It just doesn’t taste the same when it’s reheated.” 

Y/N’s whole body is flushed warm in a way it hasn’t been since she’d changed. From the tips of her toes to the top of her head, like a cloak of sun gently fanned over the top of her. She shivers, pressing impossibly closer while Harry coos and murmurs at her, saying something about her being so good, and eating so well, but her ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton so she’s not really sure. 

Y/N isn’t sure how long she’d been drinking from him, or if she would have even stopped if not for his fingers curling up in her hair and prying her away. She swallows what was left in her mouth, blinking rapidly as she reorientated with where they were – in the forest, surrounded by trees, and a potentially nearby Irish man who most likely wouldn’t be pleased about missing the snack. Y/N doesn’t think she took a single breath in the time she was drinking from him, but she doesn’t feel breathless in the way she might have in the past. She feels good – she’s buzzing and thrumming; her body feels as alive as it has ever felt. 

A lot of things seem to annoy Harry about new vampires, but their feeding doesn’t seem to be one of them. It makes now the past two times of her feeding off him that he almost looks endeared by the way she so desperately wants it; almost as if he’s reliving his past, remembering the newfound, all-consuming yearning for blood that now weighs on her daily. It almost seems funny to him, like something that would make him murmur cute at her, how he does frequently, in a tone that’s just a little derisive. The wound is already healing, but the skin is stained pink from where it dribbled and Y/N’s sure her face isn’t faring much better. 

“We’ll start practicing that more,” Harry tells her, before using his thumb to swipe messily over her mouth, gathering the blood that had still been smeared over her lips. He plops them in between them and Y/N doesn’t think twice before she’s lulling her tongue over it, taking the rest. She doesn’t have time to overthink the interaction before Harry’s hand withdraws, “Yeah? I’ll show you how to bite so I don’t have to keep clawing at myself.” 

“Shouldn’t I practice biting with the baggies first?” She asked, wiping at her mouth again with the back of her hand, “I thought you wanted to do that.” 

Harry breathed out a laugh, “That’s how I had to teach Niall because he was too much of a hazard to just let near my body with those new teeth,” he explained, motioning for her to follow him once he started walking as he began to amble back toward the house, “I reckon I can trust you a bit more. Have you been feeling bitey, lately?” 

Bitey is one way to put it, she guesses, because she has been chewing on things. It didn’t help the animal comparisons she’d been making in her head or even the ones that Harry so often liked to make – she’d chew at the corner of her pillow, at the collar of her shirt, mindlessly at her sleeves or fingers. It was embarrassing enough that Y/N was not telling anyone it was happening (who would want to admit they were teething in their 20s?) and she figured she could probably get away with not bringing it up at all. 

Until right now. Until she’s taken long enough ruminating over the fact that she has, in fact, been bitey, that even if she said she hasn’t been Harry wouldn’t likely believe her. So she admits to it with a timid nod of her head. Harry makes a knowing sound in his throat, “Mm, yeah, we’ll skip biting from bags and go straight to the good stuff then. You liked that much better, didn’t you? It’ll make you feel fuller for longer too.” He must realize that she’s feeling some sort of shame from it, finally, because he pats at her hip in a way she thinks is supposed to be comforting, “Don’t be shy, hm? This is normal. . .at least, normal for what we are. Are puppies shy to piss in public?” 

“I’m not a puppy,” she grumbled at him, but it only made him laugh, and he stood just a bit closer to her – enough that their arms bumped with each step they took. 

“You’re a teething pup, if I’ve ever seen one.” 

                                                                 .                        .                        .

As embarrassing as it all is, it gets even worse when Christopher walks in on her biting at her hand mindlessly. She must have missed his knock over her phone’s speakers being on the side of too loud, and she told him if she ever didn’t answer she might be asleep so he could always come in (she could typically smell him, so if she was ever in the middle of something she’d have time to stop).  He doesn’t mention it, because he’s ten times nicer than Harry when it comes to things like this, only shows her the two mugs and walks them in to sit on the nightstand. 

“It’s not as good as feeding from Harry, but I hope it’ll still satisfy you a little.” 

Y/N wants the ground to open up and swallow her whole. 

                                                        .                                .                                    .

Niall doesn’t bother her much unless Harry’s there to irritate as well, so she’s surprised when she comes back into her room from the bathroom and finds Niall lounging mindlessly on a cat-shaped bean bag. She’s confused not only because she certainly didn’t leave Niall in here when she left to have a wee and then brush her teeth, and she’s never had a cat-shaped bean bag in her life. When he sees her enter the room, he greets her with a halfhearted wave. 

“Only having the bed in here is super depressing,” he tells her, “You should ask Harry to bring some of your decorations from home, it’ll make you feel more human.” 

“Is this – did you bring this in here?” 

Niall nodded, “Yeah, but it’s a gift from Naomi as a way to lure you from your room tomorrow night.” He locks his phone, sliding it into his front pocket, and twists to face her as she walks to her bed, plopping down on it, “We’re room neighbors and the two newest, so I figured we should probably get to know each other better. And if we’re friends, then that’ll grate Harry’s nerves, which is always a win for me.” 

Y/N smiled, “Is that what you do all day? Sit and conjure up different plans on how you can make Harry miserable?”

“I try my best to.” 

“Why?” Y/N inquired, tilting her head and Niall snorted. 

“He reminds me of this guy I dated  – he was a real dick, and he had curly brown hair and green eyes, they seriously might be related in some way. He was also the one who fucked me over and left me at a bar deep in the city, where I had to walk home all alone, prone to getting snatched and bitten by creepy crawlers.” 

She blinked at him, the admission registering in her head, “Oh. That’s how you changed?” 

“Mhm,” he sighed, hands interlaced, resting on his stomach, “Fucking dick. Then imagine my surprise when a curly-haired, green-eyed prat is the one bossing me around and telling me what to do. I’ve never been more livid – and Mitch won’t let me go kill the guy, so I have to exact my revenge this way.” He smiles a little devilishly, and Y/N is both endeared and frightened by him and understands why Harry treats him like an annoying younger brother, “I was wondering about how you changed too. if you’re willing to share.” 

The part that’s shit is that Y/N still doesn’t really know? Her memories from that day are all foggy like there’s a mist that envelopes her mind every time she tries to decipher what happened. It makes it murky, spotted — she’d remembered she had been on a date but that’s the only thing that even remotely came to mind. Otherwise, it gets hazy again.  

“I’m not. . .really sure,” Y/N answered him honestly, frowning, “I think I was on a date but that’s all I remember.” She shrugged her shoulders. 

Niall frowns with her, “That’s shit but not abnormal – y’know some people after they’re changed don’t remember a thing leading up to it or after the fact, they just remember waking up different and being so thirsty it was all they could think about. I think I only remember my whole situation out of sheer spite and anger alone.” 

It makes her feel a bit better that she isn’t alone in this, but she would still like to know. Who had she been on a date with? Had they met online or had it been a coworker? Were they the person who changed her, or was it a completely separate entity that was involved in the whole scenario? She’d have to figure it out later, she thinks – the only reason that it isn’t driving her up the wall not knowing about it now was the fact that it didn’t seem to change anything. Whoever changed her had left her for dead, that was horrible, but what was she going to do about it? Unlike Niall, she never really had a thing for revenge. 

“Has Christopher told you about his situation yet?” Y/N shook her head, “Hm, I’ll let him explain it to you then when he’s ready. How about Harry?” She shook her head again, “Wow, you really don’t ask a lot of questions, do you? How have you even made it this far?” 

Y/N’s brows knit toward the center of her forehead, she’s got her arms crossed over her chest and is about to complain about him coming into her room and fussing at her, but she pauses. She smells Harry before he even steps foot through the front door, and an excited sizzle stutters through her bones. Today was the day Harry told her they would practice biting, so she hadn’t had one of her 3 AM mugs of blood to save up for it. It left her hungry – or is it thirsty? Her stomach growls and rumbles like it’s angry with her and Niall chuckles. 

“It’s fun learning how to bite,” he tells her, “It makes your teeth feel a little less tender. My gums were always so sore when I first came.” 

Y/N reaches up to press over where her gums lie beneath her face – they usually are pretty sore, and when she’s gnawing at something it brings some relief to them. She makes a mental note not to scold puppies and kittens when they’re nipping and biting at her – who is she to tell them not to if it alleviates their pain? “Yeah, I – they’ve been really sore. I feel crazy with how much I wanna nip at stuff, it feels –” 

“Animalistic?” Y/N nodded in agreement when she turned to him, “Yeah, It still kind of feels that way for me too. Not as bad at the start though. If Harry teases you for it, bite him real hard, that’s what I did and he kept those remarks to himself.” 

“Stop trying to mentor my pupil.” Harry chastises him as he pushes the door open, “I stopped calling you a puppy because you’re nowhere near as cute as one. You resemble a naked mole rat or a lamprey – hey!” Harry catches what Y/N now sees is a vase, one that is usually sitting on the dresser at the opposite end of the room. His reflexes are as quick as Niall getting up in the blink of an eye, darting to grab the vase and throwing it at him without even being seen. Would she be fast that one day? “Don’t break her things!” 

“That’s not mine, technically,” Y/N replied and Harry took the vase by the neck, setting it down on the floor. 

“Okay, well don’t break me, I’m her meal for the night.” Y/N swallows thickly, “Go on then, you can come to bother her later, we have learning to do.” 

Niall rolled his eyes, “Fuck off,” he patted Y/N’s shoulder, “Good luck, remember to bite him hard.” 

He ambles out instead of disappearing like he usually does and leaves Y/N and Harry alone in the room. Harry has a loose button-up on today, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. He smells good, like always, plus a hint of a different body spray he must have used. “I could smell you before you came.” She says before she can think about how creepy it sounds, and her face falls as she realizes who she said it to, “I mean –” 

“Weirdo,” he murmured, pulling out his phone and motioning toward her bed, “You must be really hungry, aren’t you? Do you mind if I get on it with you?” Y/N shook her head and shuffled over, making room for him. She peers over at the screen and sees he’s pulled up a five-minute timer, setting his phone on his knee, “Our main objective is to learn how to use your teeth,” he explained, “You bite down where you want it, but you don’t keep your teeth in the flesh – you slide them out and press her lips against the spot like you’re sucking a hickey. The teeth just help you puncture.” He presses at his wrist, “All have you drink here tonight. When you hear the timer, I’ll tell you to stop, we’ll see how good you are at listening.” 

Her brows are furrowed, “Are you sure I just – I can just bite?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” He holds out his arm for her, “It’s best to practice on me, I won’t bruise or grimace or make you feel bad. I’m tough as nails.” 

His artery drums in his wrist, Y/N can hear it, and she can smell it, and her eyes go blurry from it, “It just feels weird to do it,” she admits, “I don’t want – what if I hurt you?” 

“You think you could hurt me?” He tilted his head, amused, “That’s cute, Pet, now eat up.” 

Y/N doesn’t have to be told again. Her teeth buzz when she lets them drag across the skin of his wrist, breathing out a soft, damp gust against him. She had kind of been worried that there would be a mental block that wouldn’t let her bite and eat from someone, even if it was Harry. But that doesn’t seem to be an issue when she’s hungry and he’s this close to her – she bites down like she was biting into a slice of fruit. It feels weird, after not eating anything solid for so long, to even kind of use her teeth, but the whole process feels like second nature. She felt her teeth slide into his skin, breaking past the wall of his vessel and it felt so good to bite before she pulled them out. Her lips fix around the skin and she gives an experimental suck, feeling the blood rush into her mouth just as it had in the forest. 

Harry sighs, leaning his head against the headboard and his hand finds its place at the back of her head, where he pets reassuringly. She wondered absently if he did this with Niall. 

“I don’t necessarily get the mechanics of it,” he speaks, his voice a low, gentle murmur, “You’ll have to ask Mitch about it, how our body processes the blood that we drink and feeds the vessels and organs. I reckon it’s the same as the nutrients in foods, y’know. But when I drink more, I’m able to give you more without feeling like I need to eat, so whether it’s the blood from who I fed from, or my body's own blood, I’m not sure. I never really cared to figure it out either.” He hummed, clicking his tongue, “Mitch loves explaining shit like that though. If you asked him he’d get a kick out of it.” 

Y/N is only half listening, humming, and murmuring as he speaks. The blood is warm and sweet and Harry – it’s so good, her whole body feels like it’s sizzling as she fills her belly. It is weirdly intimate, this whole thing – she wondered how many people Harry had done this with. She feels closer to him than she ever has up to this point; like she could curl up on top of his body and sleep there, her head to his chest. She would sleep through the whole day like that. 

“Drinking from a human is much better,” he promises her, “It’s warmer, more filling, way harder to stop. We’ll get you prepared for that though.” 

The alarm rings out way quicker than she wants it to, and Y/N whines against his wrist. He moves his arm but Y/N just follows after him, holding his forearm to her mouth and keeping him pressed to her. “Mm,” he laughs through his nose, “Alright, alright, one more minute.” 

Harry gives her one more minute, and Y/N revels in it until he does as he did the first time they met, pressing against her cheeks to pop her lips open before he pulls away. It was less messy than she’s been in the past, a lot cleaner, and Y/N wondered if that much showed on her mouth too. She didn’t feel as sticky around the mouth as she usually does, and she felt full, and content, her whole body sparkling and fizzy. Y/N feels good. . .she feels really, really good. 

“Good job,” he tells her, “You learn quickly. We’ll keep practicing that and we’ll start working on your speed next, so you can dodge Niall-level attacks as proficiently as I can.” He shifts, rolling his sleeves down and Y/N notices that the two little puncture wounds have already begun sealing over, two small bruises left in their place, “How’d you like it.” 

“It was good, really good,” she told him truthfully, swallowing, “It was yummy. I – better than the bags.” 

“Told you,” he patted her thigh, “Give me a second, I’ll be back with some books you should probably read – about the history and all that.” 

Harry does what Y/N almost would call rushing out of the room, though he typically meanders from place to place with a practiced ease. She’s surprised, wondering if the books were really that important to get to her – maybe he was supposed to grab them from the library way before this morning and he was worried they’d already be taken for the day. Or maybe they weren’t from the library and he had to grab them from Mitch, who would be going to bed relatively soon she thinks – maybe he had to get to him before he did. 

Whatever the reason, Y/N didn’t care too much. She was happy and full, feeling more satiated than she thought she ever had, just from those five minutes. 

Harry was good to her, in his own way.  

                                                 .                            .                        .

Harry’s heart is racing. 

His heart is racing and his cock is hard, and he’s confused. So confused, because letting someone feed from him had never made him feel this way before, to the point that he had to mindlessly chatter about the mechanics of the body (which he doesn’t even know) so that he didn’t cum in his pants. Why was he so hot and bothered? Arousal curls low in his belly, it makes him throb, and twitch, precum wets the inside of his briefs and if he doesn’t get a hand on himself soon, he’s sure the slightest brush against his pants will make him soil them. 

What the fuck. 

What was with this girl?

[hrrysafterglow]

Harry feels his is much less visually pleasing than hers – he’s only dressed how most princes are in ballets, with a white suit jacket that’s emblazoned by gold, sparkling threads, and equally dazzling jewels. A crown is fitted among his hair, styled and slicked in a way opposite to his usual unruly curls. Y/N, in all her sweet, innocent woodland nymph gear, points at his crotch and tells him, in all sincerity, “Your horse is out, you should put that away.” 

He feels his face redden, “What’re you, twelve?” But Y/N only giggles and lets her eyes dance over the rest of him. 

“You really could be a prince, probably. You sure look like one,” she finally says, “As far as your temperament, maybe a vindictive one with a taste for human flesh! Should we tell make-up to add a little blood dribble at the corner of your mouth?” 

“Enough,” he rolled his eyes as one of the artists ushered him into his seat, and he has to bite down a smile so she doesn’t see how amused he actually is, “Go get your make-up done, and hush.” 

She pouted her lip, “Ugh, you’re no fun.” 

or

Harry and Y/N are over hating each other, so they try something different

part 1

part 2

(20K+ words) 

Keep reading

[hrrysafterglow]

Wembley (6/17)

[hrrysafterglow]

“You lot fight like an old married couple,” Niall cleared his throat after sucking down his Pepsi through the straw stuck in the can, “Honestly, at this point I think you’re more frenemies than enemies, right? Adam, am I right?” 

Adam nods, “Yeah, I can see that,” he pointed at them both with his index and middle finger, “You still talk the same to each other but there is like…an underlying fondness, you know what I mean? It’s sweet.” 

“Ew.” They both reply at the same time, and Y/N ducks her face down, twirling her fork around the noodles, and stuffing them into her mouth, “Harry would rather spit on me than be even remotely fond.” 

“You get smarter every day,” Harry replied.

or 

Harry and Y/N still hate each other, but it’s getting kind of tiring, isn’t it? 

part 1 

Keep reading

[hrrysafterglow]

[hrrysafterglow]

“Hey, maybe it will do you both some good! You especially –” 

“Niall.” 

“– it might help your obsession with her.” 

“Niall,” Harry repeats, a warning this time, “I’m not obsessed with her, I can’t fucking stand her. This is not going to work,” he shook his head, “There’s no way we’ll be able to stomach each other for more than ten minutes at a time, how the hell are we supposed to practice together?” 

Niall shrugged, “Have you ever considered, I don’t know, not being a dick to her?” 

or 

Harry and Y/N are in the same ballet class, and they hate each other 

Keep reading

[hrrysafterglow]

when you hear somebody talking about one of your interests

[hrrysafterglow]

And Harry sounds calm so Y/N feels calm, reading off the lax state of his body and the syrupy sound of his voice. By the time he says goodbye, he must have known she was awake, because his hand moves from where it was tucked around her waist to pat at her hip gently, “Go back to bed, baby,” he tells her, but just as he’s about to peel his arm away from her entirely, she grabs him. She was surprised that she could move that quickly after just waking up – Harry must be too if the startled noise that left him is anything to go by – and she slowly pulled his arm back around her body, “Oh?” 

“Shut up,” she presses her face into the pillow like she’s hiding from his gaze even though she’s faced away from him, “Don’t move.” 

“Gosh, you’re bossy,” he countered but his arm stays fixed around her waist, and he even brings her closer to his body. Y/N makes a pleased sound in the back of her throat, relaxing back into his hold, “Goodnight, Pet.” 

or 

Harry shares a secret and Y/N just feels so safe with him

part 1

part 2

part 3

Keep reading

[hrrysafterglow]

[hrrysafterglow]

The Death Toll of the Earthquake that hit Turkey and Syria may have reached 20,000 people, and that’s outside of all those who are injured and lost.

If you could donate PLEASE do!!!

Here’s a post full of charities you could donate to, but I’ll add my own trustworthy ones here:

Islamic Relief:  teams are on the ground right now providing emergency food assistance, shelter, medical supplies to hospitals and clinics, as well as blankets and tents for those made homeless by the quake in Turkey and Syria

Molham: The team at Molham are currently on the ground helping displaced families in Turkey and Syria who have been affected by the earthquake   

Turkish Red Crescent: The team are distributing essential aid to those affected by the earthquake across Turkey.

The White Helmets: The team are on the ground in Northwest Syria searching for survivors and removing the dead from the rubble.

Turkey Mozaik Foundation: Attempting to provide immediate relief and medium to long term recovery to survivors of the earthquake. 

MSF: remaining in close contact with the local authorities in northwestern Syria and with the authorities in Turkey to extend their support where it’s needed. They’re providing essential life kits to displaced people in the region

Turkey Emergency Earthquake Relief

please PLEASE reblog. Syria and Turkiye need our help!!!

[hrrysafterglow]

i’m actually getting really heated over the responses to harry saying “this doesn’t happen to people like me” over winning his album of the year grammy. because it wasn’t racist or anti-black of him to say. and it’s a weird way to spin it in the first place. it’s something he says it to his crowds every single night of tour. sometimes with tears in his eyes. and he’s right. he was a random little teenage boy just plucked from his home and put into what would become the biggest selling boy band of all time. and now he’s a solo artist winning his first album of the year. so no this doesn’t happen to people like him because he sees himself as just that normal guy who happened to make it big. there was no malicious intent or secret double racist meaning in that statement at all. y’all are just deeply miserable

[hrrysafterglow]

Weird

Part 1 of the vampire Harry series! I hope you all enjoy <3

...

Y/N really wasn't one to judge.

She swears! She really isn't, sure there's things she finds a bit odd but never to the extent of spending more than a few minutes thinking about it.

But Harry was straight up weird. He visits the book/coffee store she works at almost every day because he's friends with Mitch, who owns the store.

He'd come in every day around 6pm, an hour before close, and he'd buy the same tea every day, lemon and ginger, while he looks around for very odd books.

Most of them she hadn't really heard of and they were always extremely old. He was nice, reserved, a bit intimidating and he wasn't awfully chatty, but he'd speak back to her if she spoke to him, sometimes he'd smile and that's really all a person could ask for.

But the man was so strange! He'd wear flared pants and flowy tops with trench coats over his clothes almost always, even if it was blistering hot outside, he was pale and spoke very...old fashioned?

He'd sometimes come into the store with paint on his hands making Y/N question if he was an artist, sometimes she thought it was nail polish since his nails were always painted pretty colours and sometimes he'd come in with a vinyl in hand, (which wasn't that odd if he just bought it) he rarely drives, she's only seen him get out of a car twice in the four months she'd been working there. He looked the same age as her, maybe a few years older but he was very mature and reminded her of a grandpa in some ways.

And he would always tip extremely well. He was just a bit odd. And Y/N knows she shouldn't really dwell on it but it was hard when he'd ask the strangest questions she's ever heard (One time he'd asked Y/N if she was locking her windows at night which freaked her out for weeks after). Mitch says he's just not very well versed with people and how to speak to them, that he's only friends with him because they'd known each other for a very long time. He would never specify how long though, which Y/N found odd but it was whatever. He would always give Y/N compliments though and they always sounded so sincere that they made her blush.

So while he was weird, Y/N had a massive crush on him.

Niall was sat on a stool behind the counter next to Y/N as she served what was hopefully the last customer of the day as they close in 15 minutes, Harry hadn't been in today which was odd but Y/N didn't care enough to ask Mitch about it.

Niall is Y/N's best friend, they go to the same Uni and had shared a flat during their first year, they hit it off pretty great and they've been best friends since, despite not living together for very long.

The bell on the door jingles and Y/N looks over to see Harry walk in, today he was wearing a white blouse, blush pink velvet flares and a black coat, the most normal thing about his outfit was probably the vans on his feet and the large rings adorning his fingers.

He's got a tote slung over his shoulder which is new, he's never had one with him before, he didn't say anything when he walked in, going straight to the books as Y/N turns back to Niall who gives her a weird look and mouths "Is that Harry?" to her, she'd spoken about him a couple of times and Niall was dying to meet him but was never around when he was there.

Y/N nods and clears her throat, "Anyway, we've got to submit the psychology paper by Tuesday so do you want to come over on Saturday when I get off to start them?" Y/N asks, "I can't, I'm going to play footie with Zayn on Saturday and then I've got a date," Niall says, "Guess I'll have to do it by myself then," Y/N sighs.

Harry walks up to the front desk with a book in his hand and Y/N smiles at him, he smells like Lavender just like always and he gives her a tight lipped smile, "Hello," He says, his voice was quite deep and smooth and a bit intimidating most of the time, Y/N loved it and she loved it even more when there's a bit of a rasp to it.

"Hi Harry," She says, "You look very pretty today, your hair is smooth," He says and Y/N finds a blush creeping up her neck at the very odd but very sweet compliment, "Thanks, I like your shirt," She says, "Thank you," Harry says back.

"Can I get lemon and ginger tea also please," He asks making Y/N nod, "Course, Niall can you take care of that please," Y/N asks and Niall nods, "Oh, are you new?" Harry asks, "No, I'm just helping," Niall grins and Harry nods.

"Is that a new bag?" Y/N asks and Harry looks at his bag and back at Y/N, "Yes I read on the line that they help the planet, so I got one," Harry says, his face is hard to read, he holds his usual stony expression and Y/N hears Niall try to hold back a laugh.

"I like it!" Y/N smiles, taking the tea from Niall, "That's £11 please," She says and Harry nods pulling out two twenties, passing them to Y/N, "Thank you for serving me, that is your tip. Make sure you lock your doors before sleeping," Harry says, picking up his items and leaving the store silently.

"Jeez, he's a bit intense and creepy," Niall says in surprise, "He's sweet though isn't he?" Y/N says, "He said your hair was smooth and tipped you £29, yes he's sweet but he's weird as fuck!" Niall says.

"He called online 'on the line' and told you to lock your doors, how do you fancy this guy," Niall sighs and Y/N rolls her eyes, "He's just a bit odd, he's harmless," She assures and Niall nods but doesn't look convinced.

...

Harry doesn't know what this odd feeling in his tummy is but he fears it has something to do with Y/N.

Harry had been visiting the book store for years, it had a lot of his favorite books and it was a good way to see Mitch, he used to visit once every couple of weeks since he was rather busy with his own work and he has a library at home so it wasn't necessary to visit.

Then around four months ago he walked in and saw a beautiful girl behind the counter fumbling with the coffee machine. She was gorgeous and she smelled so lovely, she was quite clumsy and she had a pretty smile.

So Harry found himself walking to the book store every single day.

It was ridiculously stupid. Harry, a one hundred and ninety two year old vampire, is fond of the cute girl that works at his best friend's book store and is shit at making lemon and ginger tea but even worse at anything else so he buys it anyway, so she talks to him for a little longer.

He has odd feelings about a human which is basically unheard of in his world. Most of his kind can't stand humans unless they're snacking on them and Harry felt pretty much the same besides a few. Then he meets Y/N who's just so lovely and smells like coconut and actually makes him smile which is a very difficult thing to do most of the time.

Mitch had even caught on and had told Sarah and the two of them had been teasing him relentlessly for it because she made him shy and he said weird shit to her like 'lock your doors' or 'your cheeks are pink' because she made him all melty and his mouth was moving before his brain could even register it.

He felt extremely protective over her and he wanted to be with her all the time, he didn't even want to bite her because he was scared he'd hurt her which is like the least vampiric thing ever!

And the fact he felt shy and mushy over a human really pissed him off. He tried staying away from the store but every single time his feet start moving and he's there without thinking.

He really doesn't know what the hell is happening to him but he wants it to stop.

...

Y/N shouldn't be walking to her grocery store at one in the morning. It's stupid and she knows it's a bad idea. But she never claimed to not be stupid.

It's Saturday night and while everyone else she knows are out on dates or at a club or a frat party, Y/N was writing her goddamn psychology paper. But she got hungry half way through and she didn't have anything good in her cupboard so she decided to go to the store.

She was in the sweet aisle trying to choose between gummy bears or cola bottles when someone rests a hand on her shoulder making her jump and turn around.

"Jesus Christ! You scared the crap out of me!" Y/N sighs, Harry looking at her with furrowed eyebrows, "Why are you out at this time of the night?" He asks and Y/N is surprised at the tone of his voice, he sounds almost mad?

She laughs it off and turns back around to look at the shelves, "I'm writing a paper and I wanted snacks," She shrugs, deciding on cola bottles, "It is much too late to be out, do you even know the dangers you face? It is one in the morning! You could be attacked!" He scolds, Y/N feels like a child being scolded for running away from her parents and she shrinks into herself a little.

"I just wanted some sweets! And you're out too!" She protests, crossing her arms and looking at her feet, "That is very much different, I do my shopping at this time and I can defend myself," Harry scoffs making Y/N furrow her eyebrows.

"So can I? And anyway, I don't owe you an explanation about why I'm out, that's not even your business," She tells him turning to walk away but Harry grabs onto her wrist, "Do not walk away from me," He says sharply, looking into her eyes and Y/N freezes, suddenly not wanting to walk away anymore.

"You're being a dick. Why do you even care that I'm out? You barely know me. I just wanted food!" Y/N groans, rubbing her hands over her face in frustration, "I am trying to keep you safe!" Harry exclaims a bit too loudly and Y/N jumps in surprise at how mean he sounds, "Piss off, I can keep myself safe you fucking prick!"

"You are a stupid little human, you never appreciate anything I do to keep you safe," Harry seethes before storming off leaving a very angry and confused Y/N behind him.

Harry was weirder than she had thought. And not as nice as she had assumed.

...

Harry screwed up. He screwed up so incredibly bad and he didn't know how he was going to fix it.

He let his vampiric possessive side come out and he regretted it a hell of a lot.

He definitely pissed her off, he could have scared her, he knew being angry was supposed to scare humans 100X more when you're a vampire because of the intimidating aura so God knows what she was feeling.

He felt horrible.

So he did the one thing he thought would make it better...

He made cookies and picked her some flowers that he'd spent time growing in his own garden and brought them to the shop the next day. But she wasn't there.

"Where is Y/N?" He asks Mitch who looks up at the sound of his voice and narrows his eyes.

"Are you insane Harry!?" Mitch asks, "Well I like to think not but it probably depends on who you ask," He jokes but Mitch looks less than impressed.

"Y/N quit. She called this morning and said she couldn't work here anymore because you are crazy and weird and you make her extremely uncomfortable." He explains making Harry look at him in surprise.

"Humans are so bloody sensitive! You get into one spat with a person and suddenly you're insane! God I just tried to look out for her. I hate humans. Give me her address," Harry rants, "I am not letting you interrogate her at her own home. Besides she's been talking about how she has to move out for a few weeks now so I'm not even sure if she lives in the address I have anymore." Mitch sighs.

"I just want to apologize, just tell me the address you have and I'm sure whoever is living there now will know where she is if she isn't there." Harry asks him.

"Fine. What did you say to her anyway?" Mitch sighs rolling his eyes, "Nothing important. I merely warned her." Harry scoffs.

"I'm sure." Mitch says sarcastically, "You know you fucked up the only good employee I've ever had. The rest of them are too nosy and stick their nose in where it doesn't belong, Y/N just keeps to herself, only questioned me about your odd compliments once," Mitch sighs, "Well, hopefully I can convince her to come back then. You may not think it but I feel incredibly guilty about what I did. And I'm vampire royalty so I don't feel guilty about very much." Harry tells him matter of factly.

"Have you ever considered that Y/N may be your bonded?" Mitch says, not realising what he's said until he's said it, making his eyes widen and his full body freeze.

"I assure you Mitchell, I am not bonded to a puny helpless human who can't take a single piece of advice without rushing off without a care. Do not ever suggest such a thing again or I will ensure you know not to. It seems you've forgotten your place and you must step back into it immediately." Harry says sharply, glaring at him threateningly. Mitch immediately bows his head and nods.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry," He answers quickly, handing Harry the piece of paper with Y/N's address on it, keeping his eyes down until he hears the door bell ring, letting him know Harry's left.

He lets out a sigh of relief at the lack of angry vampire prince energy in the room. Harry can be awfully scary when he's mad, especially since he's one of their ruler's, he was usually much worse with anyone else, Mitch just got lucky that he and Harry became best friends.

The question still stays in Mitch's head though despite Harry chastising him. He has a strong feeling that Y/N and Harry are soulmates, he'd just have to keep it to himself.

...

Hiii my sexy babies!!!! This is part 1 of the vampire Harry series!!!! What's everyone's thoughts??

[hrrysafterglow]

“I’ve never considered stopping before,” he explained to her, finally turning back to face her, and his eyes seem brighter – greener – even with the dull grey sky above them, “But I believe, knowing it is you will make me stop when you ask.” 

“Really?” 

Harry nodded, “We are friends,” he liked to remind her, “Friends don’t make other friends pass out from blood loss – at least they don’t in the ocean, I can’t speak for you humans.” 

or

Y/N has good ideas and Harry just wants to be around her all the time

part 1

part 2

Keep reading

[hrrysafterglow]

ppl post this sort of positivity that’s like “bi ppl w a preference for women are valid bi ppl w a preference for men are valid” and yeah sure but also, hyperanalyzing your bisexuality is not necessary. the fact that you’ve dated or liked or slept w more men or more women doesn’t have to say anything abt your bisexuality. your bisexuality does not have to be measured and counted and have a pie diagram showing gender percentages. you can just be bisexual

[hrrysafterglow]

i’m getting the feeling that matilda is about 1d!reader, and i already know that it’s gonna break me

Building Harry's House: Matilda

A/N: Sorry this took forever to post but uni work is choking me without a sea view rn so tysm for being patient lovies 💚

SUMMARY: With the world knowing of their once secret relationship, Harry and YN navigate life together as an official couple and everything that comes with it. (9.6k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!reader, famous!yn

WARNING: mention of abuse (yn gets slapped), excessive drinking, mention of drugs

Previous Song Here!🍷// Building Harry's House masterlist // SINCE 2010 masterlist

SIDE-NOTE: italicized is voice over commentary (I wrote this kind of like the Behind the Album documentary) bold are things Harry actually said irl

Consistency is something that has always been a part of the spine in YN’s storybook. No matter how many years go by, Penny remains a burst of sunshine with a kaleidoscope of colors—Harry can see how YN came to have her own golden light.

Harry turns the wheel of the car with the palm of his hand and parks into the gravel driveway of Penny’s house. When YN finally saved up enough money to take her mum out of the rickety house she grew up in, she made sure to tell Penny that she could have any place she wanted—it didn’t even have to be in London anymore if that’s what she truly desired. Of course, her stepmum opted for a cottage in the countryside along with a forest for a backyard and greenery as far as the eyes can see. Colorful, homemade pottery, wind chimes, and furniture scatter the front porch, adding Penelope’s psychedelic touch to every little thing that YN’s seen since she was little. 

Harry’s been aware of how quiet his love’s been during their travels. After the unexpected phone call from her father in Italy, he didn’t hesitate to pack their things when she said she wanted to see her stepmum. He immediately called his private pilot and made plans to head to Doncaster as soon as possible. 

He watches as she exits the car without so much of a peep out of her mouth. He follows behind her as they make their way up the stone walkway that leads to the front of the house covered in greenery, much like YN’s home back in LA. He sees how YN pushes her fingers against the glass windchimes on the front porch before twisting the handle on the front door and walking in. 

He sees her stepmum round the hallway corner in a tank top that showcases the few tattoos she has scattered along her arms and tracksuit pants, her face bare and glowing. Her bare feet pad across the tiled floor as she readjusts her long black hair in a ponytail. When she kisses her stepdaughter’s cheek in greeting, Harry notices the yoga mat farther into the small living room. 

The place screams Penny: bohemian rugs, funky lamp shades and handmade paintings hung on every space the wall can fit.

After receiving the warmest welcome and being served tea out of her mismatched colorful mugs, the seal in YN’s silent mask finally cracks and it has her pacing across the kitchen floor. As he watches his love spill out everything on her mind that she’s kept in for the past two days and he can do nothing but lean against the doorframe of the kitchen and listen.

“Like, what could he possibly want from me? Money? Fame? A relationship with his daughter after eleven fookin’ years?” YN huffs out a laugh at the thought of her last suggestion with her hands on her hips. “Dunno how this bloke even got me personal number. That’s some hacker shite right there. And now I gotta change my number again and make sure that—”

“I gave him your number.” Penny blurts out from her seat at the table, making YN stop her pacing in the middle of the room. Her breathing stops altogether and the room goes silent with a faint sound of the glass windchimes from outside. Even Harry’s eyebrows furrow from his spot leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Whot? Wha—why the hell would you do that, Penny?” YN shakes her head as she tries to wrap her head around the fact that her step mum gave the one person she never wants to see again a leeway into her life.

“Look, I don’t support what he did or how he raised you—”

“He didn’t fookin’ raise me.”

“But he’s changed.”

“That’s like, the most bullshit reasoning anyone has ever given. And how would you even know that? Have you been talking to him?”

Penny fidgets with a strand of her long black hair and twists the ends as she mumbles out, “He’s reached out once or twice.”

“What the ‘ell? Whose side are you even on?”

With a hand on his hip, his other rubs against the stubble on his cheek as he watches the two women dispute back and forth. He doesn’t know if he should leave to give them some privacy or stay in case anything gets out of hand. 

He hates to see his love this way, pacing with frustrated fingers twisting the rings on her fingers so much that they’re sure to leave red marks on her skin. The crease between her eyebrows begging to be soothed out by his lips and the harsh nails raking through her hair demands to be switched with his gentle ones—the kind that has her falling asleep almost instantly.

“I was in the hippie scene, YN! I was young and naive and I fell in love with this bloke. I didn’t know what I wanted or what was right or what was wrong. But the one thing I knew for fooking sure was wanting you to be in me life.” Penny sighs out as she composes herself. “Look, you know I would never do anything to hurt yeh. He first reached out months ago; s’not like he called yesterday and I gave him yeh number willy nilly.”

“So what are yeh saying? That I actually go pay this man a little visit?” Before Penny could even begin her suggestion, YN scoffs and immediately shakes her head. “No.”

“YN—”

“No, not happening. No way.”

When Harry sees her stepmum let out a deep sigh and rubs a smoothing hand over her forehead, he thinks now might be a time for him to step in.

“YN, maybe you should listen to yeh mum—”

“Stay out of this, Harry!” YN snaps at him without so much as a second thought. “This is none of yeh damn business.”

“YN!” Penny scolds her stepdaughter but it’s no use as YN storms off to the backyard. It’s a rare thing for either one of them to snap at each other but when one does, it can be quite scary. Their last big argument was well over a year ago during the making of Harry’s last album and they’ve made it a habit not to revert back to their shitty way of communication. He almost lost her then and he’s sure as hell not going to let her go now. 

Penelope turns to Harry with a sorrowful expression, “Yeh did nothing wrong, Harry. She’s just stu—”

“Stubborn. Yeah, I know.” With a shrug of his shoulder and a sad smile, he says, “S’unfortunately, one of the things I love about her.” 

...

After walking off some of the steam around the massive yard, YN stumbles upon the garage she helped her stepmum convert into an art studio. Canvases the size of her line up against the wall (a painting in the works up on an easel), buckets of paints and brushes scattered every which way, and a pottery wheel in the center of the room. 

With her arms wrapped around herself, she walks along the shelving filled with miscellaneous items: Penny’s homemade ceramic creations, funky decor pieces, plants, books and the picture they used for the Story of My Life music video framed and displayed front and center.

She runs her finger across the array of books on the shelves, stopping and pulling out a particular book.

“Find anything yeh like?” YN looks up and gives her stepmum a small smile.

“Yeh still have this?” YN waves her old copy of Matilda. The pages were so well loved that one wrong blow of the wind could have the cover fall off of its spine.

“Of course, yeh wouldn’t let that thing go.” Penny takes a cautious step towards her stepdaughter and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder, “But there are some things that you just have let go, right?”

Penny’s ready for the young woman to blow up again, sigh out in frustration, and even walk out of the room. But it’s safe to say that she wasn’t expecting for her to look at her with glossy eyes and a trembling bottom lip.

“I'm scared, mum.” YN whispers out and Penny wastes no time pulling her into her arms.

“It’s okay to be scared, baby.” She reassures her stepdaughter. “But yeh don’t have to be. You have to choose whether or not you want him to have that power over yeh. You are so strong, so courageous. M’sorry that I didn’t warn you beforehand.”

“S’okay,” YN pulls back as she wipes at her cheeks. “If yeh would have warned me I would just keep avoiding him. I think it's a sign, right?"

“Follow yeh heart, baby. You know what to do." Penny brushes the strands of hair away from her daughter's face in a comforting way. "Have yeh told him about what happened?” She doesn't need to say his name for YN to know who she's referring to.

“Does he need to know?” Even YN cringes her face up at her words, already knowing the answer to her question. She blindly points to the general direction of the backyard. "M'gonna go talk to him."

Harry can’t help but think of how much Penny’s house reminds him of his mum’s place he bought for her all those years ago. Like YN’s stepmum, she didn’t want anything too grand in the busy life of London but a cozy cottage with a massive yard. He remembers hearing a lot about how the two mums bonded over gardening and wonders if the sunflowers growing off in the corner of the yard was his mum’s doing.

He gets pulled away from his thoughts on one of the patio couches when he hears the sliding back door open and he’s met with his love.

“Hi,” she breathes out.

“Hey.”

“M’sorry I snapped at you. Yeh did nothing wrong.” YN sighs as she keeps her gaze to her fidgety hands, her thumb twisting the ring on her index finger. “Yeh been nothing but supportive and you didn’t deserve that. M’sorry. Can you forgive me?”

He wordlessly pats the seat next to him and she’s quick to climb up close to him. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently holds the side of her head and presses a kiss to her temple. He’d forgive her for anything in a heartbeat; that’s how deep his love is for her. 

“S’alright,” Harry mumbles against her skin and feels her shoulders relax against him. “I forgive you.”

“Good. That would have been awkward if yeh didn’t,” YN huffs out a laugh through her nose in an attempt to ease the mood and he can’t hold back the small smile of his face. 

They stay like this for a bit, wrapped up in one another as they look out into the giant, forest-like backyard before them. As much as he’d like to pretend that everything’s alright and move on, he knows that it’s not healthy to. That’s all they’ve ever done during these past couple of years since the band started: suppressing thoughts and feelings in hopes they would disappear and everything would resolve itself on its own. In a perfect world, maybe, but they’ve wasted so much time doing that that they both see what they’ve been missing out on.

As much as he doesn’t want to pop the bubble they’ve created, he knows this needs to be done—or at least try to.

“YN?” When she hums in response, he puts a reassuring hand over hers and is rewarded with the eyes that make him weak in the knees. “Do you feel comfortable telling me about your dad?”

“He’s not me dad,” YN shakes her head instantly. “He didn’t—doesn’t deserve that name. He isn’t me dad. He’s my father and the only reason he even gets that much is because we share the same DNA.” 

YN lets out a deep sigh and avoids her boyfriend’s gaze to look out to the trees scattered around the backyard. She’s never talked to Harry or any of the boys about her father, nor has she ever wanted to. When topics of her family came up during interviews, music video projects, or even group dinners, Penny was only mentioned and brought along. Out of respect, nobody tried to pry her open for any other information about if she had a dad, any other siblings or relatives she was close with. It was only Penny and the Tomlinsons—no one else.

“I don’t want to talk about my father,” As Harry’s head runs around with unfulfilled questions a thousand miles a minute, ready to close the conversation and reassure her that she can when she’s ready, she manages to mumble out, “But I do feel comfortable with you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes and I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’m never going to want to talk about me father but since I plan to spend the rest of me life with you, I need to tell you about this part of my life.”

When Harry turns his body towards her to give her his full attention, her nerves begin to spike up again. But with his hand in hers, it grounds her and makes her feel an overwhelming sense of safety. So with that, she takes in a deep breath before lowering down the wall of her past that she’s kept hidden from the world for years. 

YN, Louis, and some of her other friends ride their bikes down the streets of Doncaster after getting out of school. It was a particularly cold day this time of year and they were all wrapped up in thick coats and scarves. Now, YN isn’t big on birthdays. She never celebrated them in her own household but the Tomlinson’s never failed to give her a cake, collectively sing her the infamous song, and give her a present or two. But this year is different. This year, YN turns 16 and Penny nearly jumped up and down in excitement when her stepdaughter asked if she could bring some friends over for a little party. 

Nobody has ever really been to her house, even Louis—her best friend since she was five years old—doesn’t spend too much time over there either. He was already so used to her suggesting to go over to his house instead that he began to question if she was feeling alright when she told him her plans.

The only reason why she’s even inviting everyone over is because her father said he’d be out late at work and won’t be back until the late hours of the night. Not that she wasn’t used to him not being home, it’s just when he was, he was accompanied by a beer bottle and bitter comments.

The group drops their bikes on the small yard in front of her house before trekking up the short, creaky steps of the porch as they chat and laugh lively amongst themselves. There’s a sense of relief not seeing anyone in the small living room once she pushed and twisted her key in the lock. Her eyebrows furrow for a second when her step mum isn’t there. She did her car in the driveway but brushes it off before turning to the group.

“Alright lads, yeh guys can just leave yeh stuff in here and I can go get us something to eat from the kitchen.” YN smiles at her small group of friends as they all happily agree. Too embarrassed to admit it to herself but she’s actually excited about her little get-together. She’s never hosted a party before and Jay and Penelope pre-made some snacks for her to pass around.

“Let me help yeh with tha—” Louis says as he begins to shrug off his puffer coat when Penny hurriedly comes into the living room. 

“YN,” The young girl furrows her eyebrows for the millionth time at the way her stepmum’s voice shakes and at the fake smile plastered on her face. “‘ello everyone, welcome. Hun, um can I talk with yeh for a second? Ah—Lou, stay there babe. The kitchen is actually a mess from earlier.”  

Louis stops in his tracks as he feels the confusion continues to rise up. Instead of questioning it, he takes it upon himself to entertain the group for the time being as his best friend and her stepmum step off to the side.

“Penny, what’s wrong? Yeh scaring meh.”

“Baby, um,” Penny anxiously pushes her long black hair behind her ears before looking over to her small group of friends in the living room. “There was a little hiccup at your father’s work today...”

No. Please, no.

“Well, wha’s goin’ on in here?” A voice sounds from somewhere behind her and the inevitable chill runs down her spine. 

 When YN turns around, her father stands before her. She’s quick to assess the situation: dirty white shirt, beer bottle in hand, eyes pink and puffy, and the stench of his breath.

“Having a little party without meh or whot?” Samuel taunts with a sickening smile before taking a swing from the dark bottle. Her stomach drops at the sight of her friends’ eyes widening at the man before them.

“Sammy, baby.” YN sees her step mum quickly come to his side and place a hand on her husband’s chest with a gentle voice. “Come on, we were just heading out, right?” 

Please, this can’t be happening. Not now.

“Come on, let YN have her party and we can go out for dinner like we planned.”

“No,” He says sternly, shrugging his arm away from her gentle hand. “S’me house. I paid for it. Why do I ‘ave to leave?” He slurs.

“S’alright, we were just leaving.” YN tries her hardest to not make this a bigger scene than it’s already becoming. “I actually forgot I left the snacks over at yeh house, Lou. Why don’t yeh lads head over there and I’ll be over in a sec.” 

“I don’t think—”

“Louis, I’ll meet up with you guys over there.” YN smiles reassuringly but her eyes tell a different story. He can tell that she’s just begging him to take the group away next door and let her deal with her father in the privacy of the worn down walls of the house. 

She feels ashamed and embarrassed by the way her friends awkwardly gather their things and shuffle out of the house. 

“Hanging around with that Louis bloke again?” Samuel provokes as soon as she closes the door behind the group. YN wouldn’t usually give in to one of his verbal pokes and digs, but whenever he brings up her best friend, it makes the fire in her chest burn hotter. 

“Got fired again?” She retaliates in a bored tone.

“Yeh being smart with meh? Yeh just think you’re so smart, huh?”

“Well I did skip a grade so what do you think?” YN tries to brush past her tispy father over to the kitchen to grab the pre-made snacks but it’s easier said than done. He immediately blocks her from walking any further.

“Do you think you’re better than me?” Her father yells in her face and the smell of alcohol washes over her stronger than before. It makes her scrunch her up nose up at the scent and she keeps her gaze on his dirty shirt than his eyes. “Yeh think yeh can do whatever yeh want and invite people over? Just like that? Yeh can’t just do anythin’ yeh want, Marilyn!” 

This wasn’t the first time Samuel has called YN by her mother’s name, drunk or not. Marilyn left her father when YN was merely four years old, too fed up by her husband to deal with him for another day and too selfish to bring her daughter to her new life. YN remembers the yelling from downstairs and loud shut of the front door. 

She remembers the bright blue and red lights from the police car flashing from her backyard later on in the night, and the two officers saying something about a car accident. She also remembers how it was the first time she ever saw her father cry. 

She doesn’t remember a lot about her mother. When she was older, she found a few pictures of her that her father kept away and needless to say, she was shocked. She almost thought they were pictures of her until she saw a younger version of her father next to her.

“Yeah, and you know what? I wish I was her.” YN bites back through her clenched teeth, finally having the strength to look up and meet his eyes. “I wish I was her so that I can fookin’ leave you like she did!”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she feels a hot sting on her cheek. The strong impact startles her, her body reacting on its own from the unexpected action that her hands have to catch herself before her face can hit the ground.

“Samuel!”

She hears her step-mum yell, but it sounds muffled. Everything around her fades into a high ringing noise. It wasn’t uncommon for YN and her father to have some heated, verbal arguments. The both of them get red in the face and nasty words are exchanged that should never be said between a daughter and a father. As much they both had the urge to do so, never, never has he ever laid a hand on her until now. 

YN puts a hand on her burning cheek and whips her head around to look up at her father. His chest is heaving in anger, eyebrows deeply furrowed and she can practically see the steam radiating off of him.

As she picks herself off the floor and Penny is quick to her side but YN pushes the woman away from her while keeping her stern gaze on her father. 

Without another word, she marches towards the door. She thinks she hears Penny calling out after her, maybe even her father, but she doesn’t care. She swings the door open and makes headway towards her discarded bike.

She pushes her feet quickly against the pedals, her legs burn at how fast she’s going but continues on. She doesn’t even spare a glance at Louis’ house when she rides past it—her surroundings just all become a big moving blur. The tears on her cheeks feel ice cold as the wind whips at her face, but it simultaneously soothes the fresh marks on her skin. 

“I used to think that if I pedaled hard enough, I would fly away. Like some blue bird in fookin’ Snow White or something.” YN wraps her arms around her legs as she brings them to her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she continues to keep her gaze on Harry’s hand in hers. She hasn’t been able to look him in the eyes since she started to share her truth.

“Where did you go?” Harry asks softly.

“Well I wanted to run away, but I literally had nothing on me. So after circling around Donny for a bit, I sneaked into Louis’s room that night. Penny found me easily,” YN lets out a watery chuckle and wipes under her nose with her sleeve. “Was the first place she looked but I um, I didn’t come back home for about a month. Pen brought me clothes from home and stuff; she knew I didn’t want to go back there.”

“And your father?”

YN looks out to the orange sun set that peaks through the trees of the spacious yard and shrugs. “That was the last time I ever saw or spoke to him. Pen still stayed with him, I stayed at Jay’s and when the summer came around I went back when he wasn’t there. Two months later I had me XFactor audition and I never came back home.”

“M’so sorry, YN.” Harry’s index finger nudges under his nose to help keep his tears at bay.

YN shakes her head and kisses her teeth. “Don’t be. Y’know I hate it when people give me pity and all that. Makes me feel like I can’t hold me own. If anything, I just felt bad for me mum. Like I just left her there to go on tour with the band for two years before I could come up with the money to buy her a decent place of her own.”

“Baby, you don’t have to feel guilty for any of that, you know that right? You should never apologize for simply growing up and trying to move on, YN. Hey, look at me,” Harry gently nudges his hand under her chin to turn her gaze to him. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you can handle yourself. I mean, look how much you had to deal with and are still here; your golden light shining through the darkest of times. But you don’t have to do this on your own anymore.”

When he pulls her further into his arms, he hears her sniffle back her tears and snuggles further into his chest. His heart breaks at the sound and he feels so helpless, like he could have done something to ease her pain. She was hurting right under his nose and he didn’t do anything. But he’s reminded that this isn’t about him, it’s about her. He can’t imagine going through what she did for so many years. He doesn’t even want to humor the idea of something like that happening to his own mum.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised by her response muffled into his chest.

“Can you um...do you mind coming with me to see him next week?”

...

The day to go meet up with her father for afternoon tea came around sooner than YN expected. She barely slept the night before, tossing and turning every which way to release the pain in her temples. If it bothered Harry so much, he did a good job at hiding it because with every wiggle and frustrated sigh, he adjusted their position along with her. He peppered loving kisses to anywhere her skin was near his mouth at the time and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, encouraging her to relax. 

It wasn’t until Harry tugged her on top of him, tucked her head into the crook of his neck and massaged his blunt fingers into her scalp and back that she was finally able to succumb to sleep when the sun began to peek through the sheer curtains. 

After a few phone calls from Jeff and work related matters, Harry walks back into the master bedroom of his home in London with his eyes on the phone in his hand. 

“Darling, wanna start heading o—?” He stops when he sees YN still in her pajamas and her hair messily clipped to the back of her head. She sits criss-cross on the floor with plastic packaging and cardboard all around her. “Baby? What are you doing? Why aren’t you dressed yet?”

“Look, I finally framed my ABBA poster. It’s been rolled up and stuck in that closet since forever and I found these fancy frames I ordered a while ago but never put them to use. I think I’m actually going to order more and just redo all my posters and stuff.” YN rambles on with her hands on her hips as she looks around at the items surrounding her.

“Baby—”

“Oh! And I have to show you this viral TikTok I saw earlier.” YN scrambles to her feet, moving around Harry and swipes her phone from the dresser behind him. “It’s a life hack on how we can maximize space under the bathroom cabinets because as much as I hate to admit it, we both have loads of skin care stuff and this way we can stay organized! And then—”

“YN,” Harry grabs a hold of her shoulders. When he sees her wide eyes look up at him, he gently takes her jaw in his hands. “S’okay to feel nervous. We don't have to go to your home if you don’t want to, lovie. You did nothing wrong and if you don’t want to go, there’s no harm in that.”

He sees the way her wide, tired eyes soften as he can practically see her working the gears in her head. 

“No. No, you’re right.” YN lets out a deep sigh before kissing her teeth. “I hate it when you’re right. Bruises me ego.” 

Harry huffs out a chuckle and presses a loving kiss to her forehead before heading towards the connected bathroom.

“Come on, I’ll even get the shower going for y—” Once Harry opens the glass door of the shower stall, he eyebrows knit together at the balled up pieces of clothing on the floor banded together by rubber bands. YN gives him a sheepish smile. 

“I learned how to tie-dye.”

...

It’s hard not to notice the way YN’s knee keeps bouncing and her hands fidget with the rings on her fingers. He doesn’t point out the way she keeps moving the dials for the AC or how she tweaks the volume of the music every other minute. 

He licks his lips before giving her thigh under his hand a loving squeeze and saying, “Baby, do you mind grabbing me that chapstick I put in yeh bag?”

YN rummages her purse in search of the tiny tube. Harry glances at his love and finds that while one hand is shoved sifting through her bag, the other one holds an abundance of items: her keys, her wallet, a snack-size bag of Haribos she bought at the airport and their two passports.

“I can’t bloody find this stupid, little—”

“Hey, hey. S’alright, forget about it yeah?” Harry takes the items in her hands and tosses them in the spacious footwell of the car. He intertwines his fingers with hers and brings their hands to his mouth. “Thought it would take your mind off of things but I guess it only made you more upset.” Harry chuckles, trying to lighten her anxiety by pressing kisses to each of her knuckles. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Fook.” YN brings the heel of her other hand to her forehead and closes her eyes. Harry can feel the frustration radiating off of her. It’s heavy and bleak, and not like his YN at all. He’s suddenly thinking of making a “wrong” turn to the airport to go back to Sunny California where her golden smile shined the most. Or even pulling over at the side of the road to say how there’s a suspicious noise coming from the engine and how they need to wait it out before they continue. “I know m’being a bother. I just can’t stay still. I feel so silly—”

“You are not silly for feeling the way you feel. This is a huge step for you and I just want to thank you for allowing me to be with you during this time. I never want yeh to go through this alone, I know you wouldn’t let me go through this thing alone if it was the other way around. And if this turns out bad, I got a few—” Harry pinches his index finger and thumb together and brings it to his lips. “—back home we can do after.” 

“Yeh could have told me that before we left?”

He laughs at her disappointed tone before making a turn onto the designated property. “I didn’t think we’d make a good impression on your father if we showed up stoned.”

“Holy shit,” YN ducks over to Harry’s driver’s side window at the mansion driveway they pull into. “Are you sure this is the right address?”

“You’re the one who put it into the GPS.”

Like second nature, Harry opens her car door and intertwines his hands with hers before making their way up the driveway.

“Now I feel fookin’ underdressed.” YN adjusts the cardigan that keeps falling off of her shoulder. 

“You look fucking gorgeous.” Harry leans down to plant a kiss to her cheek. 

“Oh, no.” YN cracks a smile and pinches at his lips with her knuckles. “I’ve been a bad influence on you, haven’t I?” 

“Wha’ do yeh fookin’ mean?” She giggles as Harry micks her Yorkshire accent. Him and the boys would like to make fun of her accent throughout the years but Harry’s always done it to defuse her anger, to bring a smile on her face and ease her bundle of nerves. “This is how I bloody talk and shit, innt?”

“Is it now?” 

“Aces, man.” Harry smiles brightly at the way she covers her laugh with the back of her hand as he reaches over to push the doorbell. “Just buzzin’ in excitement, aren’t yeh? Oh bloody ‘ell, bloody ‘ell.”

YN and Harry’s laughter gets cut off by the front door opening. There stands an older woman, probably in her late fifties. Her blonde hair looks like it was freshly done at the salon and looks like a fluffy yellow cloud on her head. The woman’s sparkly cocktail dress and matching red lip are way too fancy for an afternoon tea, and if it wasn’t already for the massive size of their house, YN might have been surprised at her attire. 

“Hello there. We were just expecting you both.” The woman’s American accent rings through YN’s ears. As the woman extends her manicured hand to greet the couple, YN’s eyes immediately go to the sparkly rock on her finger. “My name is Della and you beautiful young lady must be—”

“YN.” A voice continues from behind the pristine woman, the same voice that runs a chill down her spine as it did when she was a kid. 

A man appears at the doorway, his eyes widening like he almost expected her to not come at the last minute. 

She doesn’t know who this man in front of her is, but it certainly isn’t the man she remembers. There’s no beer bottle in his hand but a gold wedding band on his ring finger. Instead of his stained shirt, a freshly pressed white button-up and a sweater vest covers his chest. Her nose doesn’t burn from the stench of alcohol but of minty freshness. 

But even though his eyes aren’t surrounded by pinky, puffiness, she can tell that those are her father’s eyes.

“Hello, Samuel,” YN utters out the words with as much professionalism as she can, almost as if she were interviewing him for a prestigious job. 

“I’m—I’m so glad you were able to make it.” The older man huffs out a laugh of disbelief as he runs a nervous hand over his thinning hair; his clean, combed and styled hair. 

When Harry sees his love swallow thickly from uncomfortableness, he extends an outreached hand, “Hello, m’Harry. It’s nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Barlowe.”

YN just stands with her hand still clasped in his as the older couple shakes her boyfriend’s hand. 

“Please, please come inside.” Della steps aside and opens the door wider. 

YN can feel her skin tingle by the feel of her father’s eyes on her and she hates the way she’s having trouble meeting his eyes.

It’s an uncomfortable experience walking through the spacious house, everything clean and neat that it almost looks like no one has ever lived in it before. The couches and decorative carpets are white and aesthetically minimal, grand chandeliers hanging in every room they pass and a kitchen that looks like it’s never been used. She almost feels the need to take off her shoes in fear of leaving a mark on the perfectly clean titles. 

As YN looks around the museum-like house, she quickly looks down at the feeling of Harry giving their intertwined hands a reassuring squeeze. Even if he can’t do anything about her situation, she appreciates the fact that he’s letting her know that he’s here with her for any support she needs. 

Once the group sits down on the patio outside, YN almost jumps in her seat when two women with white aprons come out with trays ready for their tea. 

Della and Samuel move in sync with one another as they drink their tea. They might as well be robots, lifting their white tea cups with such delicateness and gently dabbing their cloth napkin around their lips precisely three times. It’s borderline scary, like a jumpscare out of a horror movie was bound to pop out any minute. 

But she has to admit, Della isn’t a stuck up monster as she initially thought upon meeting her at the front door. She’s actually a very sweet woman who smiles at her husband with so much love in her eyes.

YN’s learned that her father was working as a janitor at a law firm company shortly after she and Penny left his life. There, he was inspired to go to law school and with some help from some people in the company, he was able to attend. He soon worked his way up to become a partner at the firm and the small company became bigger than anyone ever expected. He met Della in 2015 when she was working as the firm’s secretary and married a couple months into dating. 

“He would always stop by my desk and take from the lollipop bowl I had there. He would always ask me to go out with him and I kept telling him no—I honestly think it was because he liked my accent and I was playing hard to get.” Della whispers not so quietly and it makes a chuckle bubble out from YN’s throat. It puts a smile on Harry’s face to see his love more relaxed, not totally letting her guard down but enough for her shoulders to come down from their pinched position. 

“What made you change your mind?” YN questions with a sincere smile and takes a sip of her honey-induced tea.

“This guy—” Della playfully slaps her husband's chest. “Got in front of the whole office, guitar in hand and sang to me. Oh the name of the song is slipping from my mind...how did it go again?” Della snaps her fingers as she racks her brain. “Um... don't care if it hurts, I wanna have control...”

“I want a perfect body,” Samuel says along.

“I want a perfect soul,” YN finishes and looks down at her lap. “That's um, that’s Creep by Radiohead.”

“If m’not mistaken, that was one of the first songs I taught you how to play on the guitar.” Her father smiles and sits up straighter in his seat. 

“Yeah, you let me use your old Lancaster.” Harry sees the way her smile falters at the mention of the memory. YN was in middle school when her father showed an uncommon amount of kindness one day. It was the day she rummaged through the garage and found the pictures of her mum along with his old eclectic guitar. Instead of scolding her to not look through his old things, he sat down with her and showed her the simple cords to the song (thanks to the years of practice from Penny, she was able to pick up the melody pretty quickly). They smiled, laughed, and bonded. But like many things in her life, consistency crept its way back in.

Samuel saw sight of a picture of his deceased wife peeking out from YN’s hoodie pocket and a switch flicked inside him. He suddenly snatched the beautiful guitar and smashed it against the ground. After three swings, the base completely disconnected from the neck. He walked out without so much as another word and left YN panting, frozen in a state of fear and shock.

“I loved that guitar,” YN says softly and she’s back at avoiding his gaze. 

“I did, too. S’a shame I don’t have it anymore. Sold it to an old buddy of mine back in the day.” Samuel sighs out in disappointment and YN’s eyebrows quickly knit together. When she looks up at him in confusion, he sees him shake his head in reminiscence.

“Hey, maybe you should treat yourself and buy a new one, huh?” Della puts a hand on her husband’s arm with an encouraging smile. “There’s got to be a store somewhere that sells some.”

“Reckon’ you’re right, D.” Samuel smiles. While he leans over to give her a kiss on the cheek, Harry too leans over to his love. “That’s a great idea.”

“Baby, y’alright? Wha’s wrong?” Harry whispers.

“S’just that—”

“Okay, so I would hate to have you both feel uncomfortable about this and Sam warned me not to bring it up,” Della chuckles. “But before you two leave, would you guys mind signing a CD for my kids? They just love both of your music and they would absolutely die if they knew you guys were here without a little something.”

“You have children?” YN raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Two girls,” Della smiles brightly. “Sydney just got back from college—oh sorry, uni—last month and our little Abigail just turned the big 16 last week. We had a little surprise party for her and we invited all of her friends over. Oh, it was so much fun. And the cake was just so delicious—”

“Della, honey.” Samuel puts a gentle hand on his wife’s. “I think we’ve heard enough about the party—”

“I would actually love to hear more about it.” YN speaks up, straightening up her back and turning her full attention towards the older woman. 

“YN,” Harry whispers gently into his girlfriend and puts a comforting hand on the back of her chair.

Della nervously chuckles. "Oh, I don't know-"

“Please. Please, go on." YN insists. "Did you bake the cake yourselves? Did you spend all night the day before preparing little snacks for all of her friends, too? Did you guys buy her a sentimental gift? Samuel?”

YN gives her father an expected look, patiently waiting for his answer as he squirms in his seat. He nervously coughs into his hands before saying, “Um, we uh...well she just got her license not too long ago so we um...we put some money together to buy her a car.”

Della shifts her gaze back and forth between her husband and his daughter as the tension begins to build up. She sees the way YN purses her lips together and nods. 

“She had been asking for one for so long and since it was a special occasion, Samuel wanted to do something nice.” Della reasons with a wavering smile. “I’m sure that Sam here did something just as special for you when you turned her age. What did he give you?”

Harry—all of them really—can see the way Della tries her best to lighten the mood but right now he knows that she should just stop talking altogether. 

“A slap across the face.” YN nods nonchalantly, not at all bothered by the horrific look on the older woman's face. “Yeh know, the kind where yeh least expect it and the force of it is just so strong that it actually knocks yeh off your feet. Makes you hear a little ringing sound, too. Isn't that right, Samuel?”

Della looks over to her husband as he furrows his eyebrows and as much as Harry hates to admit it, the resemblance she has with her father’s current expression is undeniable. 

“I’m sorry,” Samuel shakes his head as he clears his throat. “I actually have no idea what you are referring to.”

The wind immediately gets knocked out from YN’s chest and if it wasn’t for Harry’s hand on her back, she’d think she was dreaming.

“M’sorry whot?” She scoffs. “So you’re telling me that you don’t remember the reason I left home?”

“Yeh went on to become a world famous singer. I always knew you would someday.” 

Harry can feel the anger radiating off her body as her father lies right through his teeth. Till this day, she can still hear his drunken words slurred to her:

You’re a waste of space.

Yeh think you’re gonna make it as a singer? You’re pathetic. 

You’re not worth it.

Just as Harry mentally (and almost physically) prepares himself from standing in between his girlfriend and her father when she goes off on him, he’s taken back when she lets out a laugh. She’s laughing. Her eyes squeezed shut with one hand over her stomach and the other over her mouth.

“Why is that funny?” Della looks around at the people surrounding the table.

“Sorry, m’sorry,” YN says in between giggles. “But that’s the biggest load of shit v’ever heard. So you’re saying that yeh don’t remember all of those years of yelling at me? Yelling at Penny? Drinking excessively? Breaking things violently in front of me? Hitting me?”

“Enough!” The loud bang to the table and the movement of the fine china startles everyone as Samuel’s voice booms throughout the patio space. “I invite you into me house to try to rekindle our past, to heal wounds and move on yet you bring up with shite?”

“Rekindle our past? Dunno how you expected to do that when you can’t even be honest about what yeh did to me! And heal wounds? Hate to break it to yeh Samuel, but those wounds aren't wounds anymore. They’re scars now. Already patched up and healed with no help from you.” YN lets out a small chuckle to herself before shaking her head. “I don’t know why I even came here. Della, you seem like a smart woman so I would advise yeh to have a little chat with your husband because he clearly isn’t the man that you know. Thank you for the tea.” And with that, YN’s chair screeches against the pavement before standing up.

“So that’s it?” Samuel spits. “And you? Harry, you’ve barely spoken a word since yeh got here.”

“How believe me, I have plenty to say,” Harry bites back as he stands up and puts a protective hand on YN’s back. “But out of respect for the love of my life, all m’gonna say is that you’re a piece of shit, man.” 

“Get the hell out of me house!” Samuel yells as he abruptly stands from his seat, the metal chair falling loudly to the ground behind him and he points towards the door.

“Glady.” YN scoffs and once Harry intertwines his hand with hers, they make their way out of the house. 

It’s a known fact that throughout the years of the two being in the public eye, they’ve been media trained to be the sweetest people they can be towards anyone they meet. Harry has been portrayed for years as a ‘bad boy’ who's never done anything bad and YN the ‘good girl’ with permanent innocence. It’s been rumored around the fandom since the band started that as sweet and soft spoken as they come off for their jobs, when they get mad—they get furious. So while many fans think it’s one of the many delusion based fandom-facts, no one has truly seen how scary the two can become when they get angry. 

“Wait!” The couple turns around to find Della quickly making her way over to their car but the two ignore her calling as Harry proceeds to open her door. “YN, please!”

With an annoyed look to her love and a sigh, YN relecutaly turns around, “Whot?”

“I’m so, so sorry about what happened back there. I had no idea he had done those awful things to you. If-if I would have known...”

It doesn’t take long for it to all click in YN’s head. Her expression softens as she recognizes the look in the woman’s eyes from a mile away. 

“You don’t know about me past.” She tilts her head to find Della’s eyes. “But you have experienced it, haven’t you?”

Harry’s surprised by the bold assumption, but when he flicks his gaze over to the prestigious woman, his heart strings pull greater than they have ever before.

“I don’t know what happened.” The older woman brings a shaky hand to her mouth as her eyes begin to water. “It first started shortly after we got married all those years ago. He was nothing like that when we met.”

“What I said back there is true. You are a smart woman. You know what to do. Think about your girls. They deserve the world, not this. Don’t let them go through what we did.” She surprises herself by wrapping her arms around the older woman, Della is quick to reciprocate. The hug doesn’t last longer than a couple of seconds,

but it was somehow something they both needed. So as she watches the couple drive away, Della is left with a truth she pushed back facing years in the making.

...

No matter how many years they’ve been working together, writing songs together and making music side by side, Harry still manages to get nervous showing her his work. But this isn’t any kind of love song he’s written about her in the past. This was on a deeper level of intimacy between them. This isn’t just about himself or his feelings of longing and loving towards her, but of her past.

He taps his leather journal in his open palm, gathers his tin container and with a deep breath in, he makes his way over to her where she’s seated in his backyard. In the middle of his closed-off yard, she’s sitting on a blanket he put out earlier, a guitar in her hands as she mindlessly plucks pretty melodies from the wired strings.

He leans down to press a kiss on her exposed shoulder before lifting the spaghetti strap of her dress back up and plopping down next to her. She easily flicks open the lid from the container and she smiles at the sight of a lighter and the familiar rolled up substances. 

“Romantic dinner for two, Mr. Styles?” She pauses her movements when he puts a hand on top of hers and she looks up at him expectantly.

“I uh, before we get into it, I actually wanted to share something with you first.” YN notices the familiar journal in his lap and gives him a cheeky smile.

“Another love song about meh? M’starting to think you fancy me.” When she notices his knowing look, she gives him a closed lipped smile. “Sorry, go ahead.”

When she sets down her guitar, he reaches out and takes into his lap instead. She’s pleasantly surprised by his actions. He usually writes on piano as his choice of instrument and feels the butterflies start to flap their wings in anticipation of what’s to come.

He leans over himself to make sure his fingers are placed correctly over the strings and right as he’s about to begin, he stops, “Don’t make fun of me, alright? M’still practicing.”

She laughs and grabs a hold of his chin as she plants a sweet kiss to his lips, “Promise I’ll keep my opinions to myself.” Her giggle is muffled when he pulls her back in for another kiss but sits back and patiently waits until he’s ready. 

With a final deep breath in, his fingers begin to pluck beautifully. He still needs a little finer tuning on his part but he’s doing a wonderful job so far. 

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal"

And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels.

YN tilts her head at the lyrics but lets him continue on.

Nothing 'bout the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now.

So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal.

It’s been a few days after the visit to go see her father and after crying and venting to her mum about what happened, the couple hasn’t brought the topic up since. 

You don't have to be sorry for leavin' and growin' up, mmhm

There’s still so much she’s holding onto, so much still sitting on her chest that she's still unable to let go of. But Harry knows her more than anyone and understands her love language right down to the T: music.

Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright

YN lets out a watery chuckle at the book reference, the one she loved so dearly as a child.

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead insidе.

You showed me a power that is strong еnough to bring sun to the darkest days.

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind.

“This song was inspired by an experience YN and I had with a mutual friend—a person who we disguised as Matilda by Roald Dahl.” Harry explains from his interview chair for the Harry’s House documentary. The couple agreed without a doubt that they wouldn’t fully explain that the song was about YN. They usually never do but the song speaks for itself. “I played it to a couple of friends and all of them cried. So I was like, ‘Okay, I think this is something to pay attention to.’”

You don't have to be sorry for doin' it on your own.

It shocks YN to realize that while she went through this part of her life by herself, she wasn’t alone. Ten years ago, YN gained brothers, a family consisting of the boys, her managers, tour and production crew, and the fans. She had a family by her side this entire time and she didn’t even register in her mind. 

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry, no

As soon as he plays the last note, YN quickly shuffles on her knees over to him and wraps him up in her arms. She digs her face into the crook of his neck as he grips onto her shoulder blades, pulling her incredibly closer to him as he can. 

“People have so much guilt with things that they don't necessarily need to have guilt with sometimes. I think it's your right to protect the space around you and be protective of yourself and look after yourself.” 

“I’m sorry you went home to that.”

YN shakes her head reassuringly and takes his face in her hands. She’s been crying so much lately that she’s surprised that she hasn’t run out by now. She has so much love for the man in front of her. She was serious about before: she’s never felt this way about anyone ever before. YN presses her lips lovingly to his. “You are my home, Harry.”

Her favorite dimpled smile appears on his face and she presses her forehead to his. 

“You are my home, YN.” He says before pulling her back into him for more kisses.

“I think this song is going to touch a lot of people. It speaks to so many who’ve gone through toxic family members in their lives, people who weren’t loved in the way that they should have been loved,” YN gives the interview camera a sad smile. “S’a powerful one, this one.”

Back in the studio, YN can be seen in the recording room sitting in front of a Casio piano. With her chunky studio headphones on she plays along to Harry’s voice singing in her ears. 

Oh, there's a long way to go,

I don't believe that time will change your mind.

She can’t help but tuck in her lips in an attempt to hold back the tears that threaten to escape. 

In other words

I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go.

YN takes in a shaky breath and closes her eyes as her fingers continues to press on the keys.

You can let it go.

In a cathartic way, she finally releases the bands that she kept from her past. She lets go of her abusive father and the power he held over her for all of those years. She lets go of her biological mother’s name and accepts that she was never her, she’s her own person. She lets go of the guilt of leaving home, of leaving Penny—of leaving her mum there with her father for two more years and lets gratefulness seep in for the fact that her mum isn’t in that position anymore. 

But most importantly, she lets go of the nasty feeling her father soaked her in. 

She’s not pathetic, she’s brave. She’s not worthless, but worthy. She’s not a waste of space, she lights up the room with her golden light.

“It’s a weird one, because with something like this, it’s like, ‘I want to give you something, I want to support you in some way, but it’s not necessarily my place to make it about me because it’s not my experience.’” Sometimes it’s just about listening.” Harry sneaks a discreet peek at his teary-eyed girlfriend from her seat somewhere behind the camera. “I hope that’s what I did here. If nothing else, it just says, ‘I was listening to you.’”

Taglist:

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[hrrysafterglow]

Cant Live This Life Without You

Prompt: YN runs into a rogue wolf in the woods

Warnings: violence, blood, abo!

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-

YN knew despite how much Harry acted like he hated it, she enjoyed hiding in the woods and having him hunt her down.

His scenting skills, hunting skills were impeccable as the alpha of his pack, especially when it came to finding his mate who radiated honey and berries.

He was in town for a meeting with the mayor, it was not anything out of the usual but Harry offered their small city security from other packs.

YN knew he would be on his way home soon and she hasn’t pissed him off in a few days and that was just downright unacceptable.

She knew if she told Niall or Liam that she was going into the woods, they would have prohibited it and told Harry on her - so she manages to sneak out the back door when they’re distracted.

It was cool, middle of fall, and she was dressed in just a sweatshirt, leggings, and sneakers as she enters into the forest surrounding their estate.

She enjoyed to read by a stream about half a mile in, there were usually little animals like squirrels and chipmunks scurrying around to keep her company.

YN also had a book tucked under her arm, half of this was playing keep away from her mate but the other was she actually enjoyed reading in the woods.

Harry would find her quickly, maybe if she was lucky he wouldn’t be against having some fun while they’re out there either.

She gets engrossed quickly in her book, sitting in the grass near the trickling water - it was nice to be in nature away from the sound of cars and people.

Until YN hears footfall behind her, leaves crunching under the weight of a body, and a deep growl that was low and vibrating.

That didn’t take long, she thinks.

When YN closes her book and turns to look over her shoulder, she isn’t met with the wolf she was expecting.

Harry was massive in were form, his fur was chestnut brown, shiny, and curled at the ends - he had ears that stood straight up in alert and forest green eyes.

This wasn’t him.

And it wasn’t a wolf from their pack.

It was scraggly but still bigger than an an average human, skinny and their fur looked matted - like they didn’t take care of themselves or that they were sick.

It’s eyes were yellowish-grey, fur colored a dirty tan, and it’s rotting teeth were bared at her in threat because this wasn’t a member of their family.

There shouldn’t be any other wolves for hundreds of miles, for that matter, that weren’t part of The Styles’ Tribe, and for the animal to be in such close contact to the leader’s omega was horrifying.

YN’s frozen in fear for a moment, she doesn’t know whether she should scream or stay quiet to not upset the beast further.

Her heartbeat has risen above anything normal for her, Harry should be able to detect it for miles, along with the anxious scent she’s surely given off and that’s all reliant on whether he’s home yet.

The creature begins to stalk forward, drool hanging from their canines, and tongue lolling out to the side of its filthy mouth.

She reaches for her heavy book, chucking it at the wolf’s head in hopes to get a head start as she scrambles from the forest floor, and starts sprinting in the direction of their home.

YN isn’t fast enough and the distraction doesn’t work because she feels teeth sink into her calf - shooting, intense pain making her tumble to the ground with a loud cry.

She knew she was hurt and that this wasn’t looking good as the tan wolf let’s out howl that rocks the trees - it was going to go in for the kill.

It’s only a moment after that, that there’s a stampede through the forest and the ever familiar brown wolf is tackling the rouge one to the ground.

YN has to look away as her mate bites into the wolf’s neck and tears out his jugular vein, obliterating the creature quickly before he’s ripping the rest of his throat and chest to shreds.

She squeezes her eyes shut as she hears the tan wolf’s squeals and yelps for mercy as Harry’s roars override and he continues until there’s no more noise coming from the rouge enemy.

Niall, Liam, Mitch, and Zayn are surrounding YN as the others disperse into the forest to make sure there aren’t any others.

YN’s leg is on fire, she knows she’s bleeding and that there’s a lot it because she’s starting to feel woozy and like she may pass out.

As they circle her, Harry must have finished with the outsider, he has blood dripping from his jaws and it’s matting his fur with red.

He’s furious but so fucking worried - more so than ever before, YN can physically feel it through their bond as he nudges harshly at her with his snout to display her wound, a rumble steady in his chest.

Harry only evaluates it for a moment before he’s making eye contact with his subordinates- speaking between themselves before Niall is stepping forward and picking YN with his teeth by her sweater.

YN begins to protest, her leg was in such pain right now she didn’t want to move but Harry barks at her to settle down which she follows her alpha’s command.

Niall uses the grip on her to set her atop Harry’s back, where she nestled her fists tightly in the fur as he takes off back towards the estate - galloping faster than any animal in the wild.

When they’re in front of the mansion, Niall steps in to once again - take her by her sweater and help her off of Harry’s back.

The moment that’s happens, Harry is shifting back into human form, bare but unbothered because it’s their normal as the others will wait until YN leaves to shift back.

“I cannot fuckin’ belief this,” Is the first thing out of his mouth as he scoops her up off the grass and storms into the house, up the stairs towards their room, “Do you not realize you could have gotten fucking killed?”

YN couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t scare right now, he’d never ever raised his voice at her like this, especially when using his alpha tone - it was echoing through the halls and his eyes were nearly black.

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” She tries in her softest tone, she was looking up at him but he wouldn’t meet her gaze as he snarled at her words.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Harry bites back angrily as he kicks open their door and doesn’t acknowledge when it nearly splinters because of it, “Not when I nearly almost just lost my mate. It’s not fuckin’ good enough.”

There’s silent tears streaming down her cheeks at this point, Harry was rarely truly angry at her - he was always in a state of grumpiness but never true rage like this.

Harry moves past their bed into the bathroom to set her down on the countertop before he’s rummaging through their linens closet until he pulls out a first aid kit.

His facial expression is stone as he demands, “Lift your hips,” so he can shimmy off her torn up leggings after taking off her shoes.

Then he’s kneeling down, turning her leg to view the damage, it wasn’t bleeding as furiously now but it was still on his hands.

“You’re lucky he didn’t rip off your fuckin’ leg,” Harry tells her through a continuous unhappy growl, he wipes the bite down with an antiseptic, “He got you good.”

“It hurts,” YN mumbles as the wipe stings, she knows Harry’s going to clean it then heal it himself but the bite has been deep.

“It wouldn’t have happened if you just listen to me,” Harry’s voice is raised again and his hands are actually shaking with his emotion, “Do you not realize that you were almost fucking killed? Do you? What would have happened if I wasn’t pulling in the driveway when I scented you - three miles into the god damn woods.”

YN honestly hadn’t realized she had went three miles deep into forest to that stream - she always got distracted by flowers, animals, anything really.

“Get out of my car to hear you yelp like an injured pup,” Harry’s gravely voice cracks on the word injured as he scrubs at her wound - the teeth marks were like many different punctures into her skin.

“H,” YN tries because she doesn’t really know what to do in this situation as his breathes come out in agitated pants - like he’s trying not to shift out of pure rage.

“Stop. Stop talking,” He dismisses with a shake of his head, making YN startle when he throws the kit across the room - all the items scattering every which way.

YN doesn’t think she’s ever listen as quickly as she did know, his scent was radiating pure anxiety and irritation.

He’s then tugging the sweatshirt over her head, then her sports bra, and underwear until she’s bare because her clothes smell like that tan wolf.

Harry doesn’t even gaze over her body, instead he’s kneeling back down, gripping her leg, and begins to lick at the wound.

Werewolf’s have healing properties in their saliva but it’s only compatible to heal their mates and their pups, it protects against infections or disease.

It’s painful, despite it healing her, it burns as her body accommodates her mate’s efforts to close the wounds.

He doesn’t try to soothe her when she wriggles but instead huffs out, “Be still, for Christ’s sake. I need to take care of this.”

YN holds her body stiff for the rest of the time, worried about making him angrier as he continues fo radiate negativity.

As the skin starts to regenerate, he’s covered every surface of the abrasion, he pulls back to check his work before he’s also starting to undress.

It’s methodically as he moves her to their shower, shuffling her under the hot water to wash every trace of the incident away.

He scrubs her harshly with the washcloth, every bit of her body before he’s throughly washing her hair too.

Harry’s completely in alpha mode, take care of his omega, do what he needs to do to make sure she is taken care of.

He’s cleaned her, bathed her, and then when they’re done he’s dressing her in his clothes of a cotton tee and soft joggers before navigating her to the bed.

All of this done without even a word spoken.

It takes her back to a time when they were younger, fifteen to be exact.

~

“You should have listen to me!” Harry scolds angrily as he rips one of the sleeves off his shirt and begins to wrap it around her forearm where is bleeding.

YN’s eyes are watering from the pain, it wasn’t a bad cut or anything, she just messed up a skateboard trip and her forearm caught her fall against the asphalt.

Harry had been at football practice, on their school’s field while YN and their friends bikes and skateboard in the parking lot.

When YN had fallen, she must have helped because Harry was automatically pulling out of the drill that he was doing despite the coach yelling at him to charge off the field towards the parking lot.

Her friends scattered away from pure fear of the alpha as he made his way over to where YN was on the ground.

His telltale sign of anger - his clenched jaw and the stoney stare as he puffed up his chest and straighten his shoulders.

“This is why I said not to ride these bloody things,” Harry hisses as he yanks her up, examine her arm before ripping his undershirt to bandage it.

“It was accident, I’m fine,” YN mumbles back annoyed but she doesn’t move as he aides to her wound.

“You’re bleeding. You’re not fine,” He raises his voice, he was coming into his alpha voice - deep and sharp, making anyone know he’s in charge.

YN can’t be too mad because she knows her grumpy best friend means well and he only acts like this with her.

“I’m sorry,” YN says when the shirt is secured and he steps back, he takes a step towards her - leaning in to brush his nose against her neck before he dies actually step back.

It was a claim, it was possessive, no other kids at the school did it but him.

But no one was going to chastise him because after his father, he’s next in line to lead, and not even an adult will challenge the teen.

YN flicks his ear to make his growl, it works, and then he orders her to sit on the bleachers for the rest of practice so he can make sure she’s safe.

~

After she’s dressed, he flips down their comforter, ushers her into their plush bed, and pulls the covers up around her.

It’s dark by now, Harry flicks on a lamp, and stands up straight again - his shoulders still tensed and his back ramrod straight.

“Sleep,” He tells her but it’s bordering on a snarl because of his heightened senses - he was never this short with her.

“I want to you to lay with me,” YN requests quietly, her fingers anxiously messing with a loose string in their duvet, “Please.”

“No,” Harry replies bluntly, “I have to go make sure there’s not anymore of those nasty cunts in the woods lurking, with the pack. For the love of god, don’t move from this fuckin’ bed until I get back.”

And with that, he’s out of the room.

-

Niall frowns when he sees Harry stalking towards where they’re standing at the edge of the forest, he’s already tearing off his shirt to shift.

“Alpha, I told you we got this,” Liam shakes his head, the whole pack can feel the negative, unsettling emotions swirling around their leader and it makes them just as uncomfortable.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job, beta,” Harry roars with an emphasis on the last word, “I’m your alpha and all of you will shut the fuck up and do as I say. Am I clear?”

The all nods with their heads bowed in submission as Harry’s body contorts into wolf form and he’s loping into the woods with all the others on his flank.

Harry forces the pack out for hours, scouring every inch of the acreage for even a scent of a rouge wolf - miles and miles from the estate.

It’s nearly midnight when Harry calls it off, they’re all exhausted and ready to pass out by the time they make it back to their property.

Niall, who arguably has the best rapport with the alpha pulls him aside after they’re back in their human form.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Niall murmurs with a sincere look as Harry glowers nastily at him, teeth bared, “She wasn’t trying to get herself hurt and you know that.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Harry growls stubbornly, “She nearly got herself killed. My mate. What would I do without her? She’s been mine since we were children. I can’t live without her.”

“For being literally the biggest prick of earth, it’s sickening how gone you are for that mouthy omega,” Niall chuckles, “Go see her. I know she’s missing you.”

-

YN couldn’t sleep, she didn’t even bother to turn off the light, she was a crying mess with her face messy from tears as she sat up waiting for her alpha to come back to her.

When the door finally opens, at nearly quarter to one, Harry is surprised to see his mate still sitting up in bed where he’d left her.

“Let-Let me dra-draw you a bath,” YN sniffles, wiping her eyes and trying to get out of bed, whimpering when she puts pressure on her injured leg.

“Whoa, puppy,” Harry rushes over to her side, pushing her back onto the bed until she’s sitting in the edge, “Be careful.”

“I need to take care of you. I’ve been such a bad omega and I can b-be better please,” YN cries softly as she grasp at his shirt, burying her face in his hard stomach.

He felt like shit because he shouldn’t have left her like this, vulnerable and still shaken from her near death experience.

Harry pulls back until she’s blinking up at him tearfully, he doesn’t know how to express himself, and so he leans down, biting her hard on their bond scar.

She squeaks in the sharp pain that melds into connection as all of his emotions flow into her and assure her that she is perfect for him.

When he’s done, staring down at her, his voice is still harsher than he’d like as he says, “What would I do without you? I cannot live in a world that you’re not. I am sorry I was sharp with you. I-I love you with whole being and my only job is to keep you safe.”

YN tugs him down to kiss him, their lips parting as he gives into her warm, sugary aroma - she was so sweet but so fucking feisty.

“I’m sorry, baby,” YN speaks against his lips as he presses his forehead to hers, his eyes dark and moody as he looks at her - anyone else would have to gaze down from the pure power he held, not her, never her.

-

“I’m not just going to bow down to you, you big stupid alpha!” Seventeen year old YN shouts at him, chucking her high heel in his direction, “You just ruined my night!”

Harry is following behind her, on the dimly lit sidewalk toward their houses, away from the school, keeping his distance.

“I didn’t ruin anything,” He growls in frustration, “He was trying to touch you and make you uncomfortable so I stepped in!”

“But you caused a whole scene and no boys like me in this school because of the way you claim me!” YN wails dramatically, making Harry roll his eyes, holding both of her heels now that have been thrown at him.

Harry’s alpha preens at the comment, good - he thinks possessively but keeps that thought to himself.

“It’s not my fault they’re intimidated,” Harry shrugs casually which he knows will make her even more irate.

YN spins around, stomping up to him, and poking her finger in his chest, “It’s because you’re a Styles’. Everyone knows you’re the next leader of this community. Everyone fears you and you don’t try to make it better by growling at every boy who glances my way!”

“It’s my job to protect you. You can get mad all you want,” Harry tells her with no negotiation in his tone, his nostrils flaring as her sweet honeyed scent radiates off her warm body.

“Fuck you,” YN snarls as she turns to walk away once again with him on her tail, stomping away like a spoiled princess.

“You want me to find another omega to protect? Leave you alone then?” He challenges because he’s know the answer, he knows if a low blow, and he it’s not even true.

Biologically, she’s it for him. It’s how he’s programmed, there is no other option for him but she didn’t necessarily know that.

YN’s body freezes at that, like the thought was physically painful to her to think about and it pains her.

“I know the answer,” Harry murmurs more carefully walking up and gripping her neck gently, “So lose the attitude and let’s go back to my place and watch that dumbass show you like.”

“Grey’s Anatomy is not dumb,” YN grumbles but her hand intertwines with his and lets him to pull her along.

-

“I give you orders to keep you safe. Never to restrict or control you,” He reminds her, his throat not feeling as tight anymore - he can breathe better again.

“I know,” She replies as she nudges up his shirt and noses at the sharp cut of his hip where his ferns are inked, “Just like riling you up so you get all angry and turned on.”

“Don’t have to risk you life for that,” He scolds, willing himself not to get hard as she nips at the thin skin of his hipbone, “I’ve never ever refused you anything you’ve wanted from me. I’ve never not given you my knot.”

A zip of arousal floods through her at the mere mention, especially because he smells so good right now - the adrenaline only making his cinnamon scent even more tangible and spiced on her tongue.

When she doesn’t respond instantly, he tilts her chin up, “Right, puppy?”

“Mm,” She agrees, licking a trail to the thin line of hair leading into his jeans, watching the wet path it leaves behind, “Alpha.”

It makes Harry’s jaw clench when she uses that needy, reproachful tone with him - she’s so fucking spoiled.

“Absolutely not, you need to rest,” Harry replies firmly, stepping away before her mouth moves any lower.

“You just said you never turn me down,” YN huffs rudely as Harry rearranged her gingerly on the bed back into her spot.

“Tomorrow. You need time to heal this wound, it takes time,” He thumbs at her lip, he knows she’s tired, “You need sleep.”

“Don’t,” She pouts just to argue but Harry listens to her heartbeat the whole time he’s in the shower, not even five minutes after going into the bathroom - he can hear the slowed, steady pace of his omega’s sleeping heart.