JAWLLINES MASTERLIST

Harry is smitten with a human, and Y/N hates cranberry juice (a lot)

From the moment she walked in, Y/N was aware she didn't belong.
Club scenes were really not her thing in the first place, but Niall was equip with a fake ID and a need for a drink so she got drug out from her comfortable, warm dorm room, into this sweaty hot bar. There was lots of grinding, lots of her bass that she could feel thumping in her bones, and lots of terribly gorgeous people who looked far too rich and glowy skinned to be at a place like this. She would expect to find them at some sort of gala in the high streets of London or something like it, than in a buggy old neon lighted joint in a more than seedy part of town.
Y/N didn't dress for the night either, considering this was a rather abrupt development in her nightly plans. So instead of something skin tight that made her somewhat desirable, she was in a Hocus Pocus sweatshirt and jeans rolled up at the ankles, showing off polka dotted socks that went farther up the length of her shin. Her hair was pulled away from her face, that held a very grumpy expression, and she figures that's the reason why nobody had bothered talking to her in the beginning and she doesn't mind it either. Niall had latched onto the hips of some brunette with blue lipstick and big boobs soon after they'd stepped through the doors, so for the past few hours she'd been drinking alone, shots bought by Niall (from the other side of the bar she guesses, since she doesn't see him) as an apology for ditching her she presumes.
And Y/N drank, even though she didn't feel like it. First to relieve the tension in her body, then to try and ignore how unnaturally gorgeous a good majority of these people are...it took a few more than just a shot to get rid of that though. So she's now been resorted to bubbly giggles at guy who really wasn't that funny, but his jawline was sharp and could probably cut through glass, and a smile that nearly blinded her.
Though he eventually made his way to the bathroom, and Y/N got bored again. Huffing heavily through her nose, she decides that she wanted to go home, but in order to do that she'd have to find Niall, because he was the one with an Uber account and money for fare. Sliding from the barstool on wobbly legs, reaching out to steady herself on the bar and with a small laugh she straightens out. Pushes past the mass of bodies, eyes scouting for tasseled blond hair and ears perked for his telltale laugh. She'd managed to get in the middle of the crowd without any sight of him and she was growing rather annoyed with all the bodies getting shoved against her – so with as much strength as her wobbly arms can muster she shoves back. Shoves and shoves and shoves until there is a clearing, but before she even gets a chance to appreciate it, she trips over a rope meant to keep her from accessing it.
Y/N had effectively tumbled over onto the other side of the rope, grumbling as she situated herself back up right. Apparently her grand entrance went unnoticed by everybody though, granted there was no security guard and it appeared everybody was on the top floor. Despite the lacking of a security guard though, nobody even attempted to get (fall) through as she had. Like an invisible gate of some sorts, everybody stopping at least four feet away from the black barrier, sectioning off the nicer portion of the club. It had dark carpets and nice white couches, though they were unpreoccupied. A bar lining the wall furthest from it and from the looks of it, if she were to go up the white stairs there would be another bar there too.
Two bars within a mere stairway between each other sounded exactly like somewhere Niall would be, especially if he was trying to show off to a pretty girl.
So Y/N gathers her bearings before setting off to get up the stairs, looking over to where the platform of floor came out with a sturdy half wall surrounding it, what Y/N presumes to prevent accidental falls. She'd only caught glimpses of the people up there beforehand, and could see few staring down at the crowd below them as if they were better (which she guesses they were if they got VIP), some kissing and grabbing, but not too many bodies. If Niall wasn't there Y/N was going to look like a fool, so she crosses her fingers and hopes for the best.
When she gets to the top step, Y/N sees thick curtains drawn back to show couches hidden behind them (some curtains were closed though she could still make out shadows on them), and low lit purple lighting. There was an unoccupied ottoman too, in the center, and the carpet matches the carpet downstairs, accompanied with the white leather. Someone tends the bar smoothly to the people sat at it, having the drink ready for them before they even ask of it, and it was all something out of a movie, she's sure of it.
However, while she stood gawking she'd caught some attention. People glance over to her, looking up and down, wondering why she was there most likely, and she was beginning to wonder too. Caught off and in awe by the opulence of this side, Y/N had nearly forgotten her quest was to find Niall.
"Who are you?" A voice startles her, and she practically jumps out of her skin, reaching out to clutch onto the wall to keep from falling. There was a boy peering at her, eyes an icy blue that sends a shiver down her spine, and all the sudden she wants nothing more than to flee down the stairs. It looked like he had a suit on, minus the jacket, and the tie around his neck had loosened considerably, but he still looked put together enough to make Y/N scold her outfit decisions for the 78th time that night.
Her mind takes a minute to process his question, choking on the beginning of her sentence before being able to get the rest out, "I – um, I'm looking for my friend? I couldn't find him downstairs."
"What makes you think he'll be up here?" He questions her, voice harsh, "You've got some nerve just wandering up –"
"Leave her be, Louis." A deeper voice notes, making her jump again and she chastises herself for being so god damn skittish. Her gaze moves from the boy in front of her (Louis) to the one who just spoke – he was taller than the first, leaning against the wall, his eyes not as striking but she figures it's because they aren't that close to each other. From what she can make out they're a lighter color, which compliments his skin – his impeccably smooth looking skin, and his nice, structured jaw and amaranth pink lips that are being wetted by an equally pink tongue, "What's your name?"
She hadn't realized how long she'd been staring until he'd spoken again. A flush runs up her body, "Y/N."
He presses himself up from the wall, taking his hands from his pockets and making way closer to her, holding out his hand, "Come."
Y/N starts saying "Wha–" as Louis grumbles a, "Harry, what the fuc–" but he – Harry, she guesses – shuts them both up by repeating himself more firmly.
"Come."
And Y/N doesn't know what's so compelling about him – why she settles her hand into his palm, which is cold from a drink she thinks. Y/N shivers again and she wonders if there is something wrong with the heater in this place, because the amount of jitters she's been having is ridiculous.
In the ends, she decides to blame it on the amount of alcohol she'd consumed, as Y/N follows him easily. Even holds tightly to his hand to keep from stumbling too much, while he leads her back to one of the vacant couches, pressed away from most of the people there. It should make her nervous – it really should – but his presences warms her to the core, despite his chilly skin. He seems like he'd be good at cuddling, or at least his body is one she wouldn't mind much snuggling up against. Long, lean, and gangly...Y/N wonders if he would play with her hair or not. She sure loves when people do.
He sits her down, taking the seat beside her but not too close to where she would be uncomfortable. Tilting his body so he faced her, "You came with a friend?"
"Yeah," she nods, "Niall – he left me at the bar because some girl wanted to dance with him, but he was buying me drinks from wherever he was."
Harry's brows furrowed deeply, fingers that had been plucking at his lips stalling in the air, "He left you alone?" His voice had risen – sounding more gruff and dangerous than he had before and it makes the hair on the back of Y/N's neck stand up, "What kind of friend – this is not some place to be alone."
"He –" she didn't know what to say, the words catching in her throat as she looks away, "I'm sorry, I didn't –"
"It's not your fault." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Your friend – Niall was it? He's blond yes?" Y/N hums her response, "I saw him, yeah. He went home with Tara, so he's in good hands."
Y/N's mouth falls open, "That prick!" She exclaims, "He promised not to leave me this time! Said he'd make sure I got home, I swear to god once I get my hand on his balls I'm gonna pull them of–" Beginning to stand as if she were going to scout him out right then, a strong hand grips her wrist, stalling her movements.
"I'll make sure you get home." He tells her, "Sit back down, please."
She sits, eventually. It seems like her muscles and her brain weren't communicating properly with each other, like some neurons were askew. Which Y/N wouldn't be surprised about, given he was staring into her eyes though, and she notices they're like opal marbles, a green that she doesn't think she's seen before but his gaze is so intense it makes her dizzy.
And Y/N feels weird then, her mouth moving without her thinking about it, "You're pretty."
He grins, "Thank you." Was his first response, before continuing on to say, "May I bite you?"
"Bite me?" She questions, and her head is swimming, suddenly. What club was she at again?
Harry nods firmly, hand on her unrelenting, and he was a stranger technically, but he was cute and Niall – the fucking prick – always told her to release her inhibitions every once and a while. Let loose with a cute boy who probably won't call her back the next day, but "who needs a relationship in college?" was Niall's motto that he stuck by adamantly.
"That's a little kinky," she reaches up to rub at her eye, "But sure, I guess. Where do you – oh!"
In the blink of an eye he had her in his lap, and Y/N wonders not only how he'd gone and done it so damn fast, but how he lifted her so easily, and how impossibly nice his lap felt. Thighs strong and a nice thickness to them, his button wasn't digging into her back as she would expect, and his front pressed to her back was warming with their proximity though it'd been chilly at first. He slides his hand over hers, holding it loose enough that she could slip it away from him if she'd wanted but she didn't think she wanted to. Even though it was sort of an unconventional way to hold hands, Y/N hadn't had her hand held in a long while besides tonight and she liked it too much.
He slides the hair from her ponytail away from her neck. Sitting up straight as a board, he was holding her close to his body with his other arm slung around her waist. Leaning forward and pressing a tentative kiss to a portion of her throat, before he opens her mouth and what she braces herself for was completely different than what she got.
Y/N was waiting for a gentle nibble of some sorts, but instead she got a full on bite that pierced her skin and made her shuffle and whine slightly, but the once loose grip on her hand tightens considerably. Then she feels him sucking, and she thinks this must be the most hardcore hickey she's ever experienced in her life, but something alights the burner in her belly and sends sparkle shooting to all angles and crevices of her body. A noise she doesn't think she's ever made before filters from her mouth, and she feels his sturdy, business-like composure crack for a moment as he ruts up into her body.
It probably went on for only a few seconds, but to Y/N it felt like hours until he drew away, and she whines again, having not realized that her nails were digging into his forearm. She lets go, turning in his lap to face him and she sees him licking at his lips. Her head is foggy, and her body feels like Jell-O, and she giggles at the thought of having Jell-O legs before leaning her head against his shoulder.
"You need to drink cranberry juice."
His voice sounds far away.
Y/N passes out.
Harry knows that he's fucked up before, but this might be worse than the others.
He shouldn't have even gotten involved in the first place – Louis was handling it – but the girl...she smelled so good. Intoxicating, really, and the moment she'd stepped foot into the VIP section, cleared of the sweat and musk of every other body in their, her scent shot straight to his nose and clouded his brain. He'd gotten up so suddenly that Kristie fell from his lap in a bit of a puddle on the ground, angry and grumbling, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Following the scent to where a tipsy girl was trying to talk to a not so friendly Louis, and it didn't help she was cute either. Or at least he thought she was – who wears a Hocus Pocus sweatshirt to an elite club as that one?
Not only did he get involved, but he took her with him. Sat her down and got her in his lap and he bit her and he fed...god, did he feed. Harry had been around for a long damn time and he doesn't think he's ever tasted blood like hers before. It shook him to the core, how good it was, and the little moan she'd made had him a little twitchy – he broke for a minute, which he thinks is understandable.
And he fed a second too long, so she was wobbly and sleepy and she passed out.
What makes this worse than the other girls, is that he took her home.
Not to do anything to her – Harry may be a monster but he's not a monster – she was just soft and sweet, snuggled in his arms. So he picked her up, beckoned Louis to get his car, buckled her up and took her home. Laid her on the bed, but she started huffing and puffing quietly trying to wriggle out of her pants still very much asleep, so he slides them down for her. Leaves them by the side of the bed (he later throws him in the washer upon noticing a red stain at her knee; normally he isn't a messy biter, but she'd gotten him a little worked up) as he gets her in the middle, letting her sleep on top of the big cover in favor of pulling the slightly thinner blanket he had folded at the bottom of the bed.
He was respectful though. Slept on the couch in his room and everything, even though he didn't really fall asleep asleep, too anxious with this girl in his room. He sure as hell didn't know how he was going to explain himself to her, but he'd better figure something out.
As of now though, he was cooking her breakfast. Thought that after drinking as much as he had from her, it was the least he could do.
"Looks like you've found yourself a blood whore." He hears someone spit from behind him, but he knows who it is.
Rolling his eyes as he begins whisking the scrambled eggs around the pan with a fork, he responds, "Kristie, how many times must I say not to come into my house without invitation."
"And how many times do I have to ask you not to fuck around with useless girls." She grunts at him, "She's a fucking human, Harry."
"Considering I bit into her, I know that," he seethes, "I think you're being far too cocky right now. This doesn't concern you."
"Doesn't concern me?" She guffaws, and he can hear her standing up from the chair but before she could continue he pivots on his heal.
He does the thing he'd been taught to do by his father, when someone steps out of bounds, "You forget who is in charge often, Kristie, and unlike Louis, you don't know when to stop." He glowers, "And I'd be careful calling people blood whores, when you've been asking me to bite into you since the day we met. Know your place."
Kristie huffs, pouting at him.
Harry turns back to the eggs.
. . .
Y/N wakes up in a palace, she's a hundred percent sure of it.
When she'd blinked her eyes open this morning, she noticed straight off the bat that whatever mattress she was on must've been crafted by angels out of clouds. The comforter she was on top of was a deep red, that was so puffy it was almost insane how much it elevated over her head, and the amount of pillows behind her and even the one's she'd cuddled into are ridiculous. Not to mention the size of this thing – it was huge, she felt like it surpassed a king size and went on to something much higher, she just isn't sure what.
The glamor didn't stop at the bed, however, with slick black veneered dressers, a TV set up straight across from the bed, a door leading to a bathroom that looked suitable for an emperor that she couldn't even begin to explain. A closet that's door was left open, leading in to what looked like a completely different room and...holy fuck, were there stairs in there? There were lights strung around for a dim glow, he had a Japanese divider for decoration in the corner, the lamps looked almost intimidatingly fierce, and a large couch was on the other side – Y/N had never witnessed a bedroom so large.
Now, while Y/N was in awe, she was also pretty startled by the fact she wasn't in her nor Niall's bed, which are the only two beds she really should've ended up in. Can't remember much of last night beyond sitting alone at the bar and hoping the night would end as soon as it'd begun. There's a blanket covering her, but she seems to still be wearing her Hocus Pocus sweatshirt and when she kicks herself out of the bed, she tries looking for her pants but can't find them. Counts her lucky stars that'd she'd gotten a size that pooled over her bum so it was sufficiently hidden, but she still felt odd and super cold in this castle like mansion.
She opened the door she'd guessed would lead her to a hallway as quietly as she could, as if to not rouse suspicion or let anyone know she's awake. If it turns out that she didn't end up with Prince Harry or something, somehow, then she needs to have the element of surprise and run out of there. Though the hallway was huge too, with high ceilings and sparkly, chandelier looking lights paving the way down. She can hear two voices, granted neither seems very happy, but she makes her way towards them anyway.
"....Know your place." Y/N felt that ring through her body, the voice low and menacing, and she'd hate to be on the receiving end of that she knows. Couldn't imagine if it'd intimidated her, how the other person was holding up.
Easing her way on surprisingly not squeaky floor boards was easy, as long as her bones didn't start popping (she slept weird, so when she wakes up in the morning all her bones crackle to life like a fire). Sneaking up to the overly large doorframe, peaking her head around it and seeing a man hovering over the stove and a woman glaring at the back of his head. She didn't exactly want to disrupt what looked like marital troubles so she decides to make her way back to the room to see if she could find her phone, but in one motion her ankle bone pops and her stomach growls, meaning two heads snapping to look in her direction.
Then Y/N remembers, when the man looks into her eyes, and her hand lifts up to her neck. He was the real kinky one, but they didn't do anything besides that did they? Y/N feels like if anymore happened she'd smell like regret and her thighs might feel a bit sticky from sweat still, but she felt relatively good this morning.
"Good Morning," Harry – she remembers his name – says, only it's not the dark voice she'd heard earlier. This one had a light to it, something sweeter and gentler, "I've made breakfast. Do you like waffles?"
"Love waffles," she answers, "Hey, um...where are my pants?" She motions down to her bare legs, not very shy at all. They're just legs, really, and her panties aren't showing so there's no problem, Y/N would just rather have pants on in a house like this.
Harry hums lightly, gaze trailing up her legs for such a quick moment that Y/N thinks she might have imagined it. Why would he be looking at her when there was a damn super model a few close feet away, still glaring, but this time it'd turned to her, "Put them through the wash, Love. Had a stain."
Y/N nods slow, "So did we – I...I don't remember a lot of last night. Only meeting you and you giving me a hickey, but that's the extent of it." Her hand reaches up towards the spot on her neck, but he tuts his tongue at her.
"It'll be sore for a little while, don't irritate it."
Her hand falls short, dropping back to her side, and he continues talking.
"You passed out after the hickey. Didn't know where you lived so I brought you here and you slept in my bed, but mind you I was on the couch so nothing happened," he turns back to the breakfast, beginning to plate everything like a proper chef, "Thought you might like some breakfast before I took you home."
"Oh," Y/N answers, "Okie Dokie then."
It's weird, kind of, as she makes her way to the table and hikes herself up to sit on the tall stool. She decides her best bet is to not sit next to the angry looking woman, however no matter the distance she put between the two of them, she twists in her seat to look at her, "That candle smells really good, what is it? Cinnamon?"
"What family are you from?"
Brows furrowing, Y/N cocks her head to the side, "Huh?"
A plate is set gently in front of her, "Never mind that question, Kristie just likes being involved in business that's not hers. Now if you'll excuse us, Kristie, please make your way out."
"Harry –" she begins, but he's quick to cut her off.
"Now."
Y/N's body makes a subtle quiver, that she thought was unnoticeable until a gentle hand is laying on her shoulder. A thumb stroking over once to soothe her, or at least she thinks that was the intention because it worked.
The woman – Kristie – stands up, striding out though it was obvious she was irked. Y/N hadn't wanted to get on her bad side but Harry made that sort of impossible now, so she accepts her fate and hopes to never see her again.
"Sorry about that," he murmurs, giving her a reassuring squeeze before retracting and setting his plate across from her, "Gets a bit jealous, she does. Doesn't like when I talk to girls. 'specially when they're pretty."
Her cheeks heat up at his statement, but she chooses to ignore it than ask him to elaborate their relationship and why he thinks that she's pretty, when he had someone was a hair color short of Aphrodite. Instead she shoves a forkful of the eggs in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully and digging her fork into more of it greedily – they were good, better than any eggs she's had before, she needs to ask him his recipe.
After she swallows, decides to say, "M'sorry for ruining your night," she looks up to find him staring at her, and she doesn't know if he had been the whole time or if it was just after she'd spoken, "I – um – didn't mean to pass out on you. Hadn't thought I'd drank that many drinks, but I guess it all caught up to me pretty fast."
Harry looks like he's considering something, before looking back down and grabbing a knife to cut into his waffles, "You didn't ruin my night." He answers swiftly, "And the candle is Cinnamon Doughnut."
They leave it at that.
. . .
After Harry takes her home, he comes to terms with two things.
1: She thought he gave her a hickey, and passed out because of her drinks.
2: She had no idea he was what he was, which means she didn't know the club she was at last night, which means that he got to her before one of the less than competent underlings got her, and he's grateful.
Harry isn't sure what it is about this girl, but he feels oddly protective, and terribly possessive. Last night he'd accidentally scented her, which should keep others away considering that means she's his, and Harry is as close to royalty as it gets in their sector. He's been around for a long, long while, son of Des, nobody questions him, nobody messes with him, and nobody – nobody – would dare touch one of his toys. If he should even call her that.
It's safe to say, he isn't positive what he's going to do with her quite yet.
. . .
Niall shows up at Y/N's door with 12 cake donuts, a vanilla milkshake, and stuffed bear.
"I'm bear-y sorry." He grins, holding the bear out to her. Y/N takes it and begins to shut the door wordlessly, but Niall shoves his foot through the crack and slips in, "Listen –"
"You left me again, you jackass!" She grumbles at him, reaching for the donuts and snatching them out of his hands, taking one from in the middle, "I went home with some married man, I'm pretty sure, who gave me a gnarly hickey." Tugging at her collar, she shows off the purplish tint and Niall hisses in phantom pain, "But he made me breakfast, even though he made me drink cranberry juice. I hate cranberry juice."
Niall pouts, "C'mon Muffin," he nudges her, before twiddling his fingers at her sides, "Was he cute at least? You met someone."
"He's married!" She all but shouts, flopping down on the couch, legs lifting in the air, "At least I think, I dunno', he called me pretty."
He gasps, "A married man? I didn't think you had it in you."
"I didn't fuck him! He let me sleep in his bed, apparently, I passed out in his lap."
"We should start calling you trollop now."
"Hush!" She grumps at him, tearing a piece off the donut and shoving it into his mouth to get him to stop talking. Though it wasn't that smart of an idea – Niall's never been opposed to talking with a mouth full of food so she doesn't think he would start now.
He does shut up though, nudging her with his foot, "S'alright.'." He tells her and he doesn't elaborate really on what, but it makes her feel better. One of the best things about Niall is that he can tell when she's sad, but he doesn't have to necessarily dive into specifics to sort through and decode the root of the problem. Just a simple "it'll be okay" does just fine with her, and goes very far.
. . .
Harry can't stop thinking about her.
It's ridiculous, really. As Kristie so insolently noted, Y/N was a human girl – a cute one, but a human nonetheless and this could get him into some trouble. Speaking in reason, Harry was a vampire and she should appear to be nothing but a walking talking source of sustenance and refuel. Although the thought of biting her excites him, the thought of pressing her off to the side like she was useless both disgusts and rattles him to the core.
He hadn't seen her since that night. Doesn't know where the fuck he would see her, considering they're practically on two different worlds considering they might as well be two different species. Where she was fragile and soft, Harry was strong and stony, and where she wore Hocus Pocus sweatshirts to feeder clubs and places of business, Harry wore his nice Armani suits.
And the thing that gets to him most...that nearly offends him, rather...is her scent.
She smells like warmth, cookies, and cozy nights in.
It pisses him off.
"Oi, why're you drawn up so tight?" Louis wonders aloud, nodding towards where Harry is crinkling up the receipt for the insane amount of candles he just bought. This human girl had been weighing on him so heavily he started buying things compulsively – which isn't good at all. He's more or less the leader of his group, he needs to show self-restraint, stability, and cautiousness, but he'd gone and bought damn near twenty candles just because she liked the smell of one he'd had lit.
Harry shakes his head, "I'm fine." Now, Harry is all for coming to terms with things and realizing his actions when they're a little bit careless, but he's all about denial now. No way would he admit to Louis that she was the reason he'd gone and blown $240 on candles. Not like it would affect his bank account much, but the thought of it is enough to make any respectable vampire shudder.
Louis knows better than to push him, but he also knows better than to think Harry is telling the truth, so he tip toes around it, "Didn't know you were into candles so much." He murmurs.
"Yeah, well it's kind of my thing now." Harry grumbles, shuffling his bags so each arm had three on it – the other four Louis held.
Kissing his teeth, Louis presses just a little, "Is that why you got two of each and a fancy little holder? This wouldn't happen to be about that girl from –"
"I need you to stop asking questions, Louis."
Harry knows he'd just basically given himself up, but Louis stops talking then. Like Harry had said to Kristie, Louis knows when to shut his mouth, because nobody really wants to make Harry angry. Though most have only ever seen him in his hard, stony state – the only person whose seen him frazzled at all is Louis, who keeps it to himself and treats it as water under the bridge. Just because he sees parts of Harry nobody else does, he doesn't use that as leverage to talk to Harry how he wants. Louis may be many things, but Harry knows for a fact he isn't stupid.
So he puts his hands up defensively, "Alright, alright," he relents, "I need to head out though. Promised I'd take the Missus out for dinner."
"Yeah, you have fun."
. . .
Things have been...well, weird, in the coming days since Y/N had left Harry's house.
First, she got ten candles delivered to her dorm with nothing short of a note or a sender or even a carrier who sent it. They were in the original plaid blue store bags like whoever bought them took them directly here. When she'd released them from the beige protective paper she notices that most of these scents are her favorite, which had her assuming Niall had bought them but then reality sets in for that one. Niall may spend leisurely, but ten three wicked candles is not a leisure buy – that's something you do to impress someone, but Y/N doesn't know who in the world could want to impress her.
And now it often feels like someone is watching her. Sometimes it's a comforting presence, like they're just making sure that she's safe; like if anything went wrong they would swoop in and save the day – it feels like they care for her. Yet other times it's a darker feeling, one that leaves her feeling cold and unhappy; one that watches her like a hawk but not in worry of her safety. No, it feels like they're watching for when she has her defenses down...when they could jump in and attack, or something.
All in all, both make her feel a bit uneasy, so she double locks her dorm windows and wishes for once that she had a dorm mate other than her cat.
It'd passed her mind who the non intruding, intruders might be, but none of them seem particularly reasonable. Like for one, at first she'd thought it was Niall trying to freak her out when a shadowy figure would be in her peripherals but then she'd look and it was gone. Then she realized that there was no way in hell Niall could move that fast, that quietly, and that smoothly. Then she thought it might be Harry, but he seemed like he was a busy man with better things to do than casually stalk a college student. That left either her old art professor who used to stare a little too long (not in a terribly creepy way; he liked to memorize all the faces of his students and given he was an art professor, that meant every line, curve, and freckle), or this one girl she'd accidentally tripped on the way to her lecture last year.
Although, she might just be being paranoid. Or at least she tells herself to chill out, because who would honestly take time out of their day to watch her do such mundane things. Maybe if she were wild, or went to parties regularly, but really she'd been staying at home recently. Studying, baking cookies, and doing homework, simultaneously watching How to Get Away With Murder – pretty boring, honestly. Whatever eyes she could feel on her must think she's a pansy or something too, if they saw how she reacted to a bug on her wall.
So maybe with these feelings she should be more cautious; tip toe around in the daylight rather than walking to the store in the depths of night. A stupid idea, sure, but Y/N had a sweet tooth and no more cookies, and it was a Friday night so she had no excuse just to fall asleep. It was still fairly earlier – around 9PM – but given the area cooling into autumn, since the nights started earlier it felt like it might as well have been 12. There were few cars here and there as Y/N trekked to the 24 hour Walgreens, but there were long periods where there was nothing. That's when she'd get a bit nervous, looking over her shoulder more often, not trusting her dark profile made by the dim, yellow glow of the street lamp.
When she'd thought to release a sigh of relief at seeing the Walgreens in the distance, a noise in particular almost had her stall. Dark and sort of growly, like a creature prowling behind her finally decided to make it's existence known. There's no way in hell she's going to look behind her to confirm her premonition. She's picking up speed a bit despite what sounded like footsteps behind her, and she's moments away from breaking out into a run when a hand reaches from shadows and tugs her in. Something cupping over her mouth so she doesn't scream, and Y/N's gearing up to ram her elbow into the assailant's gut, but a deep voice stops her.
"Shh, s'just me, Petal. Harry." He murmurs low, and suddenly, now that she's held tighter to him, his body feels familiar against hers. Solid and sinewy, at first touch cold, "Need you to stay quiet for me." He adds when she ies to talk against his hand, and she feels him looking around, eying something that passes them, before his grip on her lessens just enough so that she could spin around to face him.
She's not sure if she should speak or not yet, so she knits her brows together, looking at him expectantly. Barely can she make out his face in this lighting, but she's close enough to see the gleam in his eye as he looks back down towards her, "It's dangerous to be out here at night," he speaks with his tone flinty, body still poised vigilant, "You can't do this again."
"Why're you hiding in an alleyway? And was someone following me? Were you following me? Also I know walking at night is dangerous but I wanted Halloween candy."
Shaking his head, Harry chuckles warmly; the sound was like tepid syrup dripping in her ears, "I can't answer all those questions right here, or you might freeze. Too chilly for you to be wearing so little fabric." He thumbs at the sleeve of her flimsy jacket, and she pouts at him.
"Your wearing short sleeves!" She grumps at him, pointing at his attire.
Harry hums, "M'not shivering though, now am I?" Y/N hadn't noticed she was shivering until he'd said so, another wisp of wind attacking her so goose pimples erupt on the parts of her body uncovered (or with only a thin fabric shield), "This conversation would be better suited some place warm. I'll take you to my house. We can talk there."
Y/N isn't sure why he can't just answer these questions quickly, but she agrees nonetheless. Allowing him to pull her out from the alleyway and back into the street, "Wait," she stops him, holding him in place and he looks back towards her, "Can we stop by the store? I really want these candy corn M&M's."
Again, he laughs at her, rolling his eyes and switching direction, "Alright."
. . .
Mouth full of M&M's, Y/N sits patiently on one of Harry's huge couches in his den, trying not to get distracted by the music he'd set to play lowly in the background (granted it was her own music, he let her hook up her phone to these surround speakers Bluetooth, or what have you). Harry had left, saying he'd be back in a tick and to make herself at home. Which was fairly easy to do, despite not knowing luxury like this before, Y/N sinks into the cushions and lets the smell of Harry deluge her. There was something so reassuring and calming about his scent, she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
She bites her lip tender, body relaxed but mind still reeling. Whatever was following her was enough to make Harry worry, and how he happened to be in the right place at the right time was suspicious. Could she have been right before? Was he watching her?
"Stop thinking so hard," Harry startles her into sitting up straighter, but his fingers press gentle on her shoulder, "It's just me."
"Hi," she settles down, as Harry sits across from her on the edge of his coffee table, "So, do you wanna answer those questions?"
"I was following you." He begins, with little to no preamble, not at all looking sheepish as she would if she had professed the same thing, "Something about you makes me...worry. You're sort of a magnet for dark things, I've noticed, which isn't good. Things follow you in the night all the time, it's...well, it's not good, really." Harry's elbows touch his knees, slotting his fingers between each other and resting his chin on his hands, "So sometimes I watch you."
Y/N feels unsettled, yet oddly endeared. It makes sense though – that warm feeling she gets, as noted before.
"I don't know what was following you, but whatever it smelled putrid...like rot."
Her face scrunches, "I didn't smell anything though? What is it like some scary movie thing?"
He nods slow, "You could say that," he leans back a little, "I can't tell you everything – there is a world around you quite like a scary movie, actually." A hand lies down on her knee...his hand covers the entirety of it, giving her a squeeze, "But I'll keep you safe. Swear it."
"This is...okay," she decides not to question it. Y/N's confused, and a little overwhelmed by the thought of something dark following her, and by Harry more or less just admitted to a world like a scary movie, and that he could see the dark thing, smell it too, but she couldn't. She could hear it, surely, but no other senses chipped in but that. There's something about Harry that makes her trust him. It would make sense Harry was something other than normal though, if the feelings associated with her being near him were anything to go by, she'd think he might be far from human.
But what was he, then?
"Now that that's over," Harry nods mostly to himself, reaching behind his back to retrieve a glass of red liquid that makes her pout, "Drink up, Petal."
"Harry I hate cranberry juice," she grumps at him, refusing to take it from his hands, "It reminds me of UTI's and giving blood."
Tutting his tongue, he persists, "It's cold season, you need it to build up your immunity."
Hesitantly does she take the glass, but makes no motion towards her lips. Harry's phone vibrates so as he busies himself with that, she allows herself a few moments to stare at him. Y/N would like to know more about Harry, both physically and mentally. Physically in a way where she lets her school girl desires wonder what his ample, pillowy looking mouth felt like against hers, or what the solidness of his body was like pressing down into hers, or what it might feel like to bite him, and leave her mark on his throat. Mentally in a way where she'd like to know his secrets; he seems like a man with many that he keeps to himself, but she wants to poke and prod them out. She wants to know his favorite bread, the way he prefers his showers, how he felt about the government – anything and everything in his brain, would be nice to find out.
Suddenly her throat is dry, a lump of venereal thoughts needing to be swallowed down so she throws back three gulps of the juice. Face scrunching up at the bitter after taste, lips sticky and no doubt stained red, "See, not so bad." Harry tells her and she hadn't even known he'd been watching, shooting him a glare.
"It was terrible!" She whines, shoving the glass back into his hands as he laughed warmly.
"You can spend the night here," he told her, "I'd feel better if you did."
"What about your wife? Will she mind?" Y/N asks warily, remembering the piercing glare she received the first time she'd spent the night here.
Harry's face draws up confused, "My wife?" Before realization dawns on him in a flood, "Oh! Oh, Kristie isn't my wife, Darling. Just a friend."
Y/N nods, thumbing away at a sticky droplet on the corner of her mouth, "Oh good." She tells him, "Don't feel like getting my hair pulled out tonight."
. . .
Harry didn't know what the fuck had been following Y/N, but it wreaked of evil, sordid magic that only someone like him could produce. It worried him, the thing was a black, wrinkly decrepit mass that he could've blown away with a puff of his lips, but he'd snatched Y/N out from it's path and it dissipated like smoke in the night. Either it was blind and lost her scent with his smothering it, or it felt the dominance of his presence and scurried away out of fear of him. He didn't care – as long as it was gone...as long as Y/N was here with him, safe.
Though the situation at hand doesn't help how possessive and protective he felt; it ignited a need in him to scent her once more. Bury her in it so that he didn't have to worry when he wasn't around. And in order to do that he'd have to bite her again, but upon finding out that she didn't know she was being bitten, Harry was hesitant to do it. Felt weird biting her without her knowing what was actually happening, though he figures one day she might, given as much as he'd told her tonight. Something about her makes his lips a little looser, saying things he shouldn't, and he knows his secret will come out eventually. How she'll react, he doesn't know, but with the somewhat calm she'd shown with the knowledge of him following her (though he felt her become a bit nervous, which was weird – sure he feels things from humans, that's why they're so easy to manipulate, but the strength in which he felt hers was unheard of), he doesn't imagine she'd be all too distressed.
He won't bite, but god, does he want to. Lips against an inviting, smooth throat, with his purplish mark still prevalent on her skin. It took everything in him not to jump her, sniff up the side of her neck and sink his teeth back in, because ever since the first bite, whenever he grew thirsty all he could think about was her taste. The sweetness of it on his tongue, her body tensing before falling into him trustingly, limply, falling asleep in his arms. He's fairly certain if she drinks more cranberry juice she won't pass out, but with the intensity of his bite he can only imagine the poor thing will always be a little loopy after he feeds from her.
And the desire that accompanies the bite is something else entirely. A longing of carnal yearning, along with the uncharacteristic need to know anything and everything going on in her head. That first bite made him want to hold onto her so tight that not even a piece of paper could separate the two.
Now she lay sleeping beside him, and the soft, fresh faced state she was in only made him more attentive. All he wanted was for her to be safe, which is not a normal thought to have, and he figures he should pass it by an expert or something to understand the meaning of this. Of why this human was having such an affect on him, when no others had come near to it.
She'd fallen asleep prattling about how huge his bed was, how soft the covers are, how it felt like being surrounded by puffy garnet colored clouds. How nice it felt being around Harry, because, "My skin is always so warm for some reason, even when I'm not hot. Like I radiate heat sometimes, it feels like, but your skin is cool and it has a nice aura with it, like it's blue or somethin' and it cools me down too, I think." Reaching out a hand, she fearlessly gripped his arms – something not even his closest friend would think of doing, "S'nice."
The descent into her losing consciousness was kind of cute, Harry finds. Twitches, shivers, eyes fighting to stay open until they droop closed entirely – she was just damn adorable, really. He thinks he could watch her forever and never be unentertained. Harry's watched humans all his life; hell at some point, he'd thought he qualified as one. It was different though, after years upon years of treating them as disposable, that he could look at one and feel such an overwhelming need to protect hem. Never had he bit into one, and felt sheer jealousy at the thought of somebody else biting into their neck. Sure, Vampires are relatively possessive creatures, but if anything humans were more of a play thing than companions, so they'd pass them around if the blood was good.
Looking at her trusting, sleeping form – well, Harry could never.
"What are you doing?" A voice breaks through the room, startling Harry though he doesn't show it. It was a voice and a tone he knew all too well; one that only over a hundred years of friendship would allow.
Liam was a good 20 to 30 years older than Harry – he used to watch Harry when he was still young, and his parents and Gemma would disappear for weeks at a time, sending him off with a small little suitcase. He never really minded it, because it was like he was going to hang out with his instinctively paternal older brother who always had his favorite snacks and the best games. Taught Harry how to cook, clean up after himself, and match his clothes at least somewhat properly. Liam was even the one to tell Harry what he was, when he'd started presenting at age 22 and life was confusing.
"Listen here, Sport," he'd started out (Harry thinks he got the Sport thing from the milkman), "You know like in the stories? Dracula and all that? That's what you are and that's what I am. Difference is, both of your parents are vampires and you were born from them so you're purebred, while I was changed. Means your higher in the hierarchy, stuff like that – it's a whole lotta mumbo jumbo that doesn't make much sense, Des will go into specifics. Now do you want pizza from the parlor down the street, or we could make one of our own?"
Of course Des went into further detail afterwards, but the fact Liam was the one to start it off always left him in a special spot in Harry's heart.
"Sleeping." Harry murmurs lowly, trying his hand in avoiding looking at Liam but Liam is the sort of person who demands to be noticed.
"With what – why does she smell like...like that?" He leans in, inhaling deeper before his eyes widen considerably, "Is she a – what the fuck Harry! Is she a human?"
"Don't ask questions you know the answers to Liam," he utters, beginning to shift but Y/N grumbles a complaint and her hand darts to hold onto him, scrunching up in his shirt as if to stop him from leaving, "She's in danger, I fear. Because of me." He his hand atop of hers, giving her a sure squeeze before lessening her grip on him. Not wanting to wake her, he motions for Liam to follow him out to the hall.
Liam doesn't seem happy with his answer, by the time the door clicks shut and he's had time to stew, he erupts, "Who gives a bloody fuck then? If anybody – if anyone knew how familiar you were getting with a human they'd lose respect for you."
Gritting his teeth, Harry answers, "Then let them. Its not like I'm bedding her with my child, Liam, nor am I marrying her. I was walking home and something was following her and I didn't trust it wouldn't follow her find her home so I brought her here." He decides leaving out the "I was watching her, because I have this weird connection to her and her blood, it's confusing" part might be best.
"Your scent is all over her."
"That was an accident," he replies easily, leaning up against the wall, "Her blood is divine, Liam, and I'd bit into her at the club."
Liam's brows are furrowed, "Okay...okay, so is it like some blood lust thing?" His anger is diminishing, though disapproval is still evident. He's trying to understand, at the very least.
Harry runs a hand through his already mussed hair, "Listen, don't worry about it, yeah? Nothing is happening between me and the girl; she was in danger and I have a heart Liam, like you do. Dare I bring up Sophia –"
If anybody would accept Harry's odd desire for this girl then it should be Liam. Harry won't ever forget the woman who used to come around every so often, watching the despair in Liam's eyes because he couldn't have her for a variety of reasons (one being the obvious, and two she was engaged) yet he'd still nurse her hangovers after a long night out with her groom to be, who would leave her at the club. He'd cook her meals, draw her baths, stay a safe distance away but close enough that he could reach out his arm and touch her if he so desired.
It was the closest Harry had seen Liam to love, and Harry figures Liam fears he might meet the same fate. Liam told Sophia what he was; proved it with documents and even going on as to show her his retractable teeth, but she got scared and ran. Des said they took care of her – Harry didn't know if that meant she was dead or not but, like Liam, he decided not to think about it.
"You daren't." He replies gruffly.
"Then let's drop it." Harry's voice is darker than he intended, but it soon lightens as he continues, "Why'd you come originally?"
Liam sighs heavily, "Can't I just come see my favorite guy?" He tries, but Harry stares pointedly at him, "Des wants to see you."
"So your his carrier pigeon now?"
"Harry," Liam chides him, "He just wants to run by some things with you about the business he's building up. Says things are going real good and he wants you to be apart of it."
With a roll of his eyes, Harry's about to tell Liam to shove the invitation up his ass, but he hears a shuffle from behind him. Prays that Y/N is just shifting in her sleep, but of course he couldn't be so lucky. "Harry?" Her voice is croaky, sleep thick and it makes his heart flutter, that she calls his name after waking up probably slightly disoriented. He waits for Liam to part ways, but he stays – an ostentatious fellow, he is. So Harry pushes the door open and reveals a rumpled looking Y/N knuckling at her eyes. Blinking them open to see Harry at the doorway, with Liam right behind him, "Oh, hi, am I interrupting something?" She asks, "If that's the case I can pretend I'm asleep again."
Harry snorts, shaking his head, "No, no, he was just about to leave anyways. Weren't you Liam?"
Liam nods, lifting a hand up to her and producing one of the fakest smiles he's ever seen, before leaning over to whisper in Harry's ears, "If Des asks, I do not know about nor do I condone this. See you later, and please try the muffins I left on the counter, they're really good."
Then he's gone down the hallway. Harry watches him leave before turning back in towards the room, preparing himself from a bombardment of questions as to why he had a visitor at 2AM, but Y/N doesn't seem bothered by that. "Sorry for falling asleep."
"It's no problem," he tells her, climbing back up into bed, "You need to sleep some more though. It's only just after two."
Y/N looks like she's about to fight it, but a yawn overcomes her body in the form of a bellowed kind of noise and a stretch, so she flops down on the pillow with a soft thud. She blinks up at him blearily, like she'd been asleep the whole time anyways, "Don't leave, okay?"
Even if he could, Harry wouldn't dream of it.
. . .
Y/N positively hates midterms. With a living, breathing, fiery passion does she hate midterms, especially when it feels like something is looking down her neck 100% of the time while she's studying. It almost seemed asinine to sit in her dorm and study like nothing was wrong, when just a few nights ago she'd been pulled out of the way of something growling behind her, then feeling like maybe Harry wasn't as human as he ought to be.
She tries not to dwell on that too much. Harry looks at her with a kind gaze and touches her with gentle hands like she's made of glass, and promises protection against something unknown and scary. Plus he was nice on the eyes, which really didn't hurt anybody either. Whatever he was, he wasn't looking to hurt her, and she figures that's all that mattered.
Then there's also the possibility she's been looking into it way deeper than it is, and she's read one too many books in her days that have some sort of heroic nonhuman person. Though Harry fits a lot of those traits, Y/N could be drawing connections where there are none, which she's done many times in the past. That's why Niall asked Griffin out for lattes because she was almost a million percent sure that Griffin had been staring ta him, making heart eyes but was too shy to say anything.
Turns out Griffin was actually Niall's second cousin and he was staring so hard trying to age Niall up 9 years, since the last he saw him they were 10.
So perhaps her gut feelings shouldn't always be followed. However, she doesn't discredit them any, just pushes them to the back of her mind for a later, rainy, too much caffeine inside her, kind of day. One where she has nothing to think about besides the world's endless possibilities of things, from creatures, to plants, to colors, really anything that she can ponder over while her fingers are jittery around a coffee mug and she's avoiding doing coursework.
Speaking of which, she really needs to study, but gosh she's early anyways. They don't officially start until a week and a few days, but she likes to get the jump on it before they swing at her full force. Though she just can't seem to get her head into it, and she is beginning to realize that for the last thirty minutes she'd been staring blankly at the 5th page of notes and this really wasn't going anywhere.
The vibration of her phone startles her, the noise a terrible clatter against the coffee table she'd been hovering over. Upon seeing that it's a message from Harry (he gave her his phone number in case of emergencies, so that she could get ahold of him if something were to go bad, but Y/N likes to pretend that he just wanted to be able to message her at all hours of the night), in all his punctuated glory.
Are you well? - H
Y/N snorts; he types like such an old man.
Trying to study and so NOT succeeding. In desperate of strawberry white chocolate chip cookies, but have none, my crops are dying I am SUFFERING.
He responds quickly, almost as if he'd anticipated what she'd say.
So not so great, huh? - H
Why do you always end it with a signature? I know who you are!!!!
Sorry. - H
Rolling her eyes, Y/N tosses her phone down on the couch behind her and groaning deeply. All she needs to do is just write down a few more bullet points and then she'll allow herself to call it a quits. Chemistry may be seeming like the devil's reincarnation – and it is – but she needs a good grade or she'll drive herself batty, so she picks her pen back up and tries her best to work as diligently as she could.
Although, when she's woken up by a knock on the door, it's safe to say that it was far from diligent. Groggy with a crick in her neck from falling asleep face down on her notes, Y/N blinks blearily and stretches when her phone vibrates besides her and there's another knock. She picks herself up as quick as she could with sleep thick bones, stumbling from standing up too fast as she heads to the door and peeks through the peep hole. Upon seeing Harry through the glass, she flips the lock and opens it up for him, and once she's standing face to face she sees he has a box of strawberry white chocolate chip cookies in his hands.
Her mouth drops open, "Hi Pet–" he's cut off by her wrapping her arms around his throat, still a little dizzy from sleep but ultimately clinging onto him because this was a very sweet gesture and he's great for it. It should feel weird – they don't know each other very well at all, but being in his arms feels like every cliché teenage romance...so right, and she feels safe. The moments of worry, like something is breathing down her neck diminish when he's got her in his arms, she's finding now.
"I'm in love with you." She murmurs a jest, and Harry laughs, wrapping one arm around her and pressing her close to him, hand spread wide on her back.
"Can't save your crops, but I can deliver cookies. Hope it minimizes some of the suffering."
"Oh boy, does it!" Her voice is gaining some of it's usual chirpiness to it, the more she wakes up, "My crops weren't that great anyways. Thank you so much Harry, I could kiss you right now!" Before he can respond, she takes the cookies from his hands and toddles back into her room. Setting them down on the coffee table with a quiet hum of delight, cracking the box open.
Harry follows suit, though another thing is in his hand that she hadn't noticed. A bottle. A bottle full of...
"Oh no! You bring me up just to crash me down."
"It's not that bad, Pet. Good for you it is, and it's –"
Y/N huffs at him, "Yeah, yeah, it's cold season I know." She breaks off piece of the cookie, handing it to him and as he takes it there's an itch on her neck. It reminds her of the dulling purple mark that had long sense outlasted most other hickeys, a subtle throb from it still present when she reaches up to skim her fingers against it and she can see Harry watching. He reaches out with his non cookie hand, grabbing her by the wrist and making her arm seem a bit frail in comparison to the vein in his hands.
"Say, Petal?" Harry begins after sometime, and Y/N hums in response around the cookie, plucking off another piece to plop in her mouth, "How would you feel about me biting you again?"
Her happy chewing slows some, brows drawn inward, "Like, you wanna give me another hickey?" The small shiver she gets up her spine when he nods is response enough, she thinks, but Y/N doesn't want to seem too eager. Pretends like there was a doubt in her mind at all about it, which prompts Harry to explain his reasoning.
"The – I did some research." He tells her gently, "I think it might help keep that thing away from you."
At realizing that this was more for her safety than because Harry wanted to, her initial happiness deflates a little, but not detrimentally. He wants her to be safe and in order to be safe he's got to give her another hickey, which doesn't make much sense but she doesn't much care. Nods in agreement, with a small smile.
Harry acts as quickly as he did the first time, only this round he quite literally picks her up by the hips easily and sits her in the cradle of his lap. Sat up higher than she was, working on shifting her hair to the other side of her neck, then cupping that side with his hand, fingers tight enough to exist but not to be a nuisance. Being manhandled by him tended to the burning embers in her belly, like a fire easily reawakening from a woodpile and light, glittery smoke throngs through her body in a way that makes her feel light. It was a desire of hers that she didn't much think about, especially with a limited selection of men who she would want to and who would like to in return, but with Harry it felt natural and unscripted, as he brings her hands to her front and holds them together by the wrist.
The ghost of his breath dances against her throat, placing sweet opened mouth kisses against first the juncture of her shoulder and neck, then over the fading purple mark he was about to renew, his tongue poking out just a little to lick over it almost playfully. Y/N giggles, and in response he presses another soft kiss before giving her a squeeze. She isn't sure what it meant, until she feels him bite into her again and gosh, it stung worse at the beginning than the first one, considering the skin there was already so tender and sore, but likewise as he continued it lessened. A pull of his lips, making her eyes flitter, and she feels herself pooling into him like melting wax. Fingers curling in the air, wishing for his hand to hold onto again and almost like he could read her mind he slid his up and let her tangle her fingers into his.
Y/N is feeling lighter and lighter, it feels like she's floating and Harry's the one guiding her. A small whimper leaves her mouth, eyes heavy, sort of dizzy but ultimately Harry makes her feel all gooey and mushy and there's a sense of adoration he administers to her, she finds, when she's like this. All tentative hands, sweet kisses, even the harsh sucking bites had a hint of fondness in them. She's never felt anything like this before; never felt as wanted as she does in his arms.
It's over too soon, in her opinion, him releasing her with a quiet gasp of air. Tongue lulling over the freshly made splotch on her skin that she's sure would be just as dark, if not darker than the other one.
She feels like she's in the ocean, where the tide is placid and the waves are plodding rolls not completely intent on submerging her body. Quiet sloshes of water in her ears, like soft coos and reassurances that she's safe and sound with them. Rivulets of water clinging to her skin with promises of friendship, the sea dragging her in sluggish notions, not that she minded at all. The color resembling a deep green marble instead of blue with golden drops of sun speckled in it, and when it crowded around her mouth the taste wasn't bitter nor salty but endlessly sweet. It felt like she could drink and drink and drink the whole entirety of it. In one, big, gulp...
"Hey Y/N? C'mon Petal, need you to come back to me okay? Know it's nice there, but I wanna see you." The sky splits apart; the image dwindling around her, sizzling at the edges and she blinks her eyes open slowly, seeing Harry in her direct field of view. She's confused for a minute, his hands on her cheeks, thumb stroking against it and the room around them is balmy, "Hi Sweetheart," he murmurs the pet name and it makes her smile lazily, glad she's sitting and glad that he's here with her, "Are you with me again?"
Y/N nods lethargically, "Hi Harry." Then adds as an after thought, "You're still very pretty."
Smiling, he pulls her forward, offering her to burrow into his neck. She breathes in deep, his scent potent and comforting, and his arms around her protectively. There are no eyes on her, no creepy feelings, no random chills, and no growling, prowling creatures she can't see.
It's just her and Harry.
Nice, pretty, strong, Harry.
She falls asleep easy.
. . .
Harry is comfortable holding Y/N in his arms as she rests. Pressing deep into his endearment levels, the weight and warmth of her especially as she murmurs or sighs sleepy words, and clings to bits and pieces of him. The room grows cozier around them as he watches her descend into sleep much differently than the times before. This time he focuses on ever little movement, listens close to her breathing, her heartbeat, making sure neither had slowed in response to his taking of her blood. At the moment she seems positively normal, but the thump of her heart lulls him into a tranquil state. The taste of her blood still on his tongue, sweet and taunting him for another bite, but he wouldn't – he felt a bit bad about it this time, but it was out of necessity not pleasure.
There are libraries all over town, but there's one specifically that Harry frequents. Not only because it's the oldest; walking in the smell of books both old and new flood his nose invitingly, the carpets pleasantly bland, the librarian who never truly looks up from the book she's reading for only a moment or two at a time. The thick, broad, and huge bookcases towering over him at times, little step stool like ladders in certain areas that you could place where you needed in order to reach the top shelf.
Near the encyclopedias there's an alcove, with boxes lumped together atop of each other inside it, hiding an old wooden door that nearly fades into the dusty background of the walls. To get inside, whoever is trying to has to move two boxes at the top, reach through a strategically placed crack to twist the door knob and heave themselves up on the remaining boxes so they could slip through the doorway and close it behind them. Back there, unbeknownst by most, is a collection of books regarding everything that seemed like nonsensical fantasy to humans. From rows on shelves, to piles lent against the wall, and heaps scattered along the staircase leading to a small study.
Harry isn't sure who made this place – whoever had, obviously hadn't come to take care of it in quite some time – but his father had shown him this when he was just getting into this world. What Des couldn't explain, he'd find a book to do it for him, send Harry up to the study and wouldn't allow him down until he could answer a series of questions thrown at him. It was one of the many reasons he'd grown to resent his father, but that might just be one of the smaller ones.
So Harry traveled the distance to this old library, because he wanted answers. He had wanted answers on why a black mass was following her, what the fuck it was, what it wanted. Why he'd accidentally scented her, why he wasn't seeing her as a treat, toy, or snack, why she was on his mind nearly every minute. Instead of being forced here, Harry scouted it out because these were questions he most definitely couldn't ask his father. He couldn't even begin to imagine the rage bubbling inside of the man at the thought of his boy – his heir – hanging around something so fragile and weak.
After bending open the binds of many weathered paged books on various different related topics, Harry finds that the black mass was a part of some weird sort of vampire magic he wasn't all too privy to. Had heard of it sure, but never really got into the whole dark side of it considering the horror stories accompanying the magic possessing the body of it's user or whatnot. The mass was a stalking mechanism, used to intimidate and install fear, but they were relatively harmless. He learns that they were more of an annoying tick to vampires, but brought great trembles into humans and often times lead them into deadly situations (this makes him shiver, wondering what situation had been waiting for Y/N before he came).
There are various methods of keeping them at bay: One is to kill the person who'd conjured it, two was use countering magic to cast it from this word, or three live with it. He'd felt a bit hopeless for Y/N for a moment, however as he kept reading he'd found that they reacted to more dominant presences and often fled in submission.
If he bit Y/N and she bare his mark on her throat, he is as a shadow to her then. There without being there, which means it shouldn't bother her now that a new purple bite was blossoming on her neck. Absently Harry runs the tips of his fingers over it, watching her twitch slightly, before relaxing back into him.
Harry also found a book dedicated to a relationships between vampires and other species, including humans. What he has come to understand is that accidental scenting, sweeter tasting blood, them passing out after feeding – meant he was falling down a rabbit hole of an emotion he wasn't quite familiar with. It felt almost suffocating thinking about it on his own; the mere idea that he could feel such a strong thing for another person, much less a human, didn't seem all too real nor particularly uncomplicated. He'd snapped the book shut before reading further, tucking it inside one of the drawers on the desk. It'd be too risky taking it home, especially if Liam were to see after witnessing him with a human in his bed, so it's best it stay put.
When he was with her though; when adoring arms are thrown around his neck, or a pout is on her face because of the cranberry juice (which, according to the book is pointless, but he still wants her to drink it), or when she's a melted puddle of trusting warmth in his arms...it didn't seem too scary then. Almost felt reassuring and soothing to him, actually.
There was also a portion he'd skimmed saying it's possible these feelings are also all a hoax, so he thinks that might be a possibility. Hoaxes can seem real sometimes.
Whatever it all may mean, Harry decides to let it run its course.
One thing he knows for certain though, is that Y/N is safe in his arms, with his mark, and a cat he'd never seen until now curling itself up against Harry's ankle familiarly in her cozy little dorm room.
Stroking hair from her cheek, Harry realizes this is all he needed right now.
. . .
Harry woke up like how plants flower. A slow, gradual process, blinking gentle petal eyelids open against the light streaming in from her window; the gentle golden rays of an autumn sun cascading over their bodies. Becoming aware of his surroundings, that Y/N is tucked into his body on top of him and he was smushed on a small couch with a crick in his neck, but an overwhelming endearment in his chest. In the way it was like blooming, it began unhurried, but then suddenly he's wide awake. Like when he falls asleep to the buds of wisteria flowers and the next morning they're in full bloom.
He slept good – better than he ever has before, he realizes. It was like all worries fled from him in one breath and he'd fallen into a blissful sleep, with the cutest girl, more or less drooling on his shoulder.
Fanning out his hand on her back, he lifts up gently keeping her pressed close. Standing up and lying her back down on the couch, pulling a forgotten blanket around her waist and giving her pat. He toddles to her small section of a kitchen, tucked in a corner with the painting "The Wave" on the wall besides the fridge. The decorations are small and cute, scattered around, including a salt and pepper shaker shaped like a mummy and a vampire, a small ceramic pumpkin, and the oven mitts decorated in fall leaves and towels with cats in witch hats, and it's actually quite adorable. Harry's house is never decorated for holidays, but he is starting to wish he did.
He finds the cabinet with her mugs in it, choosing two (one being a pumpkin shape, he figures she'll want that one, and he uses a simple round white mug. Puts the kettle on the stove and decides that he's just going to look around a little more. Not snoop – no, just get a feel for her better, and his surroundings. He'd let her do the same when they were at a his house, because no doubt they were going to be spending a lot more time with one another.
It's a small dorm, but it's bigger than most he supposes. Distantly does he remember her explaining that she used to have a roomie but they left and they just never matched her with another person, so she'd gotten the whole sweet to herself. Her bedroom was just a doorway away, and he steps through it, nearly tripping over the cat attempting to snuggle into his ankles again. Her bedroom wasn't huge but he could move around in it comfortably, a nice bed with a simple comforter that wasn't nearly as puffy as his (he realized why she liked his bed so much), a round furry rug even though it was on top of carpet, lights strung up overhead of her desk. A desk scattered in papers, colorful pens, a book cracked open, similar to how the coffee table looked in her living room.
The smell was – well, it was one he couldn't describe how much he liked it. Harry inhales deeply, nostrils flooding with an apple-y scent that just makes him want to burrow in her covers and envelope himself in it.
He thinks he might actually do it, if not for the yawn that he hears coming from behind him on the couch. Harry turns around to see Y/N stretching out like a kitten. Body going limp with sleep once again, when Harry stepped forward some.
And as much as he'd like for her to get her rest, Harry wants to talk to her. Wants to hear her voice and see her eyes and make her laugh, if he could.
So he crouches down besides the couch (if Liam saw him now he'd have a heart attack, kneeling for a human), swipes his fingers against her cheek, "Hey Petal," he murmurs, "S'time to wake up."
Y/N grumbles angrily, reaching at her face to bat his hands away. Harry giggles, grasping the hand batting at him with the other and she huffs through her nose, "Now, now, don' be mean."
"Don' wanna." She mumbles, trying to hide her face into the pillow, "Leave me."
"C'mon Sweetheart," he tries again, rubbing up and down her arm, "Just wanna see you. I'm making you tea."
"Noooo, Harry, I look terrible in the mornings," she tells him, though she stops trying to shuffle away from him, "You don' wanna see me."
Harry tuts his tongue, "Beg to differ. A beauty, you are."
"Stop it!" She tells him, "It's too early for you to be so sweet. G'na gimme a toothache."
. . .
Harry comes around a lot more often now, and Y/N really doesn't mind it. He's got something easy about him – something smooth and slick, where he could slip in at 6PM with dinner he'd made at home and pick up right where they had left off the previous meeting. Y/N tells herself that even though it's most likely to keep her safe from the growling creature, he also wants to see her too, at least a little bit. He times it precisely so that they'll have time alone, whether that be showing up as soon as Niall is down the hall in his room, or messaging her asking if she was studying. If the answer was no, then he'd knock a few minutes later. If the answer was yes, he'd give her an hour or so more before popping in and telling her "Too much studying will make your head hurt" and making her take a break.
His company is very much welcome. She learns quickly that Harry can be a very touchy feely guy if she did very subtle initiation of it, like scooting a little closer to him on the couch while they watched TV would prompt him to wrap an arm over her shoulder and rub her arm, or if she set her hand out next to his, he would then take it upon himself to play with her fingers. It was nice, especially when she was sleeping and his touch lulled her into unconsciousness.
The hickey would be renewed when he saw fit; whenever the color in it faded Harry would tug her into his lap, tilt her head to the left, and murmur, "G'na bite you, yeah?" Which Y/N would always respond to with a compliant, lightheaded, "'Kay" placing her wrists together in front of her body for Harry to grab hold of. The first time she'd did it on her own, he'd made a noise fused between a snicker and a moan before he licked over the spot (similar to how nurse's wipe over the spot for a shot with an alcohol pad, but Y/N decides not to bring that up) before latching his lips around it.
Each time does it throw Y/N into some pleasant scenery, whether it be a leisure moving green ocean, or soft white clouds that let her dig her fingers under like soft soil. Always a whirlwind of something nice; as if she had all the time in the world at her fingertips. And even when she came to – when Harry would coo sweet words, asking for her to come back to him, "I miss you, Petal, please?" – and Y/N feels good then too. Every part of getting a hickey with Harry was just terribly lovely, she couldn't imagine a better pastime other than spending time with him, and really, her whole life and her entire mind had been a tsunami of Harry, Harry, Harry, essay, Harry, Harry, Harry and it wasn't bad at all.
It's hard to believe she hadn't known him for very long – it feels like she could've known him for a lifetime, easily, with the amount of information she's disclosed to him. Something about him gets her talking, whether it be how eager he seems to listen, or how he asks questions without seeming as if he's prodding. Harry seems genuinely interested in her, which is mindboggling, and he doesn't even get scared or run away when she says too much. When she lets him in on secrets that make her squirmy admitting, or make her eyes cloud with tears she forces bag into her skull, Harry seems unbothered. Offers her a hand to hold if it's getting to serious, and doesn't even think she's insensitive for cracking jokes to make things not as sad (a coping mechanism that isn't so great).
Y/N is thankful for him, certainly. Although she does notice that he doesn't say much about himself. He doesn't much like his father, she learned, and she didn't try prying after Harry told her, "Just isn't a very great man." He loves his mother to bits, but rarely sees her. Louis is one of his closest friends, along with a man called Liam, that Harry says he's known most of his life. His favorite animal is a cat ("giraffes are cute too"), his favorite flowers are delphiniums, he likes How to Get Away with Murder too, he likes to read, and he used to be a baker, once upon a time.
That's not all she knows about him, however, as she's picked up on some things on her own. Harry smells like the ocean and warmth, he picks at his lip when he's thinking, he's broad and strong but whenever he touches her his fingers dance feathery light, he's cool to the touch but heats up when he holds her, and he encourages her naps yet wakes her up with whispers of missing her. Terribly cute, effortlessly funny, Harry seems to be everything she'd ever want and more.
Harry pokes at her hip, "Oi, Pumpkin, can hear your tummy growl. Eat up."
"Pumpkin?" She repeats, sliding her fork underneath the fried rice on her plate – it had chicken and egg and pepper and Harry was really good at cooking, that's another thing she's learned.
"Mhm," he hums, swallowing the bite he'd been chewing, "Or Punkin' if you want me to dig into some southern roots."
Y/N smiles, "You're big on pet names?" she questions, "Y'know, my father used to say that he only used pet names so he wouldn't mix girl's names up."
Looking appalled, Harry mockingly puts a hand to his chest, "Of course not Ann- I mean, Y/N."
An unattractive laugh leaves her loudly like a squawk, and the he wears a smug look on his face as if making her laugh like that was a mighty big accomplishment on his part. Sliding another mouthful in his mouth as she nudges him in the shoulder, "You dog!" Leftover giggles bubble from her lips, fork suspended in the air and her knees hiked up to her chest, "M'glad I know you Harry," she adds on a more sentimental note, "You're actually really great."
He's quiet. Y/N doesn't know if he's just chewing or if she ruined the whole moment.
"I'm glad I know you too, Pumpkin," Harry started, leaning in to peck a kiss at her cheek, and her face flushes. Sure, he's literally sucked on her neck but there was something so intimate about this. The way he lingered for a moment, letting her feel and process it while the action was still occurring. A sparkle twinkling in her tummy and she feels him smiling against the skin, "Your cheeks are gettin' warm, y'know?"
"Oh shut up," she grumbles at him, the glint of her fork becoming so interesting suddenly as she refuses to meet his eyes. Another thing she's learned is Harry confuses her a great deal. Sometimes things could be like this – so effortless and teen rom com-like, equip with sweet jests and promises of kisses, cuddles and soft sighs, playing with her hair or rubbing her back. Yet other times he could be a little more reserved, mostly when he first comes over. All tense muscles and solid face that soon softens when she cracks her first joke, but it takes him a good three or more hours to finally fall back into things. Y/N wasn't sure of his job nor was she sure of what he did before he came over to her house, but whatever it was left him strung up tight and left her to pluck his strings till they were worn and loose.
It left her to wonder that maybe he would be so stressed out thinking something could have happened to her while he was gone, and that's not her being egocentric. Y/N knows if their positions were flipped, every moment she was away from Harry she would be worried that something could have gone wrong, especially if any settle in the foundations of the dorm or bump in the night could be a growling orb she herself can't see. Maybe the first few hours spent are making sure he isn't possessed or something, until he's finally comfortable enough to hug her against him.
Whatever it may be, Y/N knows Harry's hiding something from her.
She feels a shudder up her spine.
. . .
Y/N wakes with a start, sweat on the back of her neck and tears clouding her eyes just as soon as they'd opened. Confused until the blunt of her subconscious flooded her with memories of her dreams. Her dreams that'd been plagued with aggressive nightmares, a dark lump following after her constantly with outreaching hands, cold and dead and dangerous. It kept touching her, grabbing her, she'd try batting it away but it'd only come back full force. Like the head of the hydra or the apical meristem of a plant, when she'd hit one away two more would swing around
and grab at her again.
Screams were suffocated in her throat, stalling just before they could make sound, and she was so scared. Kept wishing and waiting for Harry to come save her, but he didn't appear in front of her like some magical, ethereal being as she'd hoped. A figure much more terrible, drowned with malicious intentions and little sentience loomed over her. Voice distorted, but she could piece it together enough that it was shouting nonsense at her, and the fuzzy edges of her dream made it even more loud. The sentence that'd stuck out the most had been the parting one; like the creature had tore into her chest, reached in, and muddled things around, "He doesn't care about you!" It shrieked, "He left." And it echoes when it clouds around her, choking her in thick smoke and that's when she woke up.
That's when she woke up and immediately started sobbing, body racking with each one tearing through her. Distantly does she hear footsteps coming towards her bed, but she doesn't look up from where her hands are hiding her face. Harry's gone, he left and she's alone and that thing wants her dead. She could feel it when it spoke to her; the deep residing hatred it felt towards her entire existence and it frightened her to the marrow.
Finally a voice breaks through the sound of blood roaring in her ears, one familiar and benevolent, "Y/N? Jesus, what's wrong? What's happened?"
His face comes into focus, though her vision is still a little blotchy around the edges. Her throat is sore like she'd been yelling but she hadn't thought she'd been. Hands cradling her face, steadying her so that her wandering eyes continue to land on him as if to bring her back down to reality, "H-Harry?" Voice shaking, and soft, his name sounds like a prayer.
He nods, "Yes, yes it's me, Sweetheart, are you okay?"
"Thought you left," she remarks pitifully.
"Only for a moment so I could get you more toothpaste for the morning. You ran out." He tells her, motioning to the bag lying forgotten on her nightstand and the Crest label blinks at her distraught state, "What's happened?"
"I...I, uh – I think it was a nightmare? It was trying to kill me I think and it said you were gone. Why were you gone, you promised to keep me safe, why did –" her words stop as another flood of emotion attempts drowning her, more tears leaking from her eyes, but Harry doesn't look as horrified as she knows she's going to feel the next morning.
"Oh Baby," he says the pet name endearingly, climbing up onto the bed with her, "It was just a dream, I swear it. I would never leave you defenseless like that. Hell, I would never just up and leave you with no good reason, Baby, it was just a terrible nightmare." One hand slides to her neck, fingers pressing into the color on her neck and it has a mysterious way of soothing her, rendering the shaky sobbing breaths into small hiccups. His other hand still held her face, stroking her damp cheek with his thumb and she feels the noise in her head calm some.
Her hands bunch up in the covers, "Just a dream?"
Harry nods, reaffirming with a, "Yes."
Y/N stares at him – he's really close to her face and his breath is warm, dusting over her lips and she knows somewhere in the back of her head that this is entirely just her in the midst of a freak out. She probably would've leant forward completely alert as well, but with a sleep shrouded mind she leans forward the little ways, fits their lips together with a small whimper in her throat. Y/N notices the way his body tenses up, like he's on a high alert but his hands stay where they placed on her. She knows it's not ideal, with her still sniffling and her skin wet with tears, but he's not withdrawing and he's not moving much at first either, except when she begins to pull back. Then Harry puckers a bit more and kisses back tenderly.
Her whole world is soon swallowed up in him. The kiss doesn't last very long at all, and they barely move their heads, just a simple press of them together but it's more intimate than anything Y/N thinks she's ever felt. In that moment she feels more connected with Harry than anybody else in her life, even when they part with a soft noise. Harry's looking at her dotingly, moving a hand to splay out on her back as he urges her towards the pillow, "C'mon Baby, let's get you back to bed."
Brows furrowed, Y/N goes easily with him but she pouts all the while. "I want to keep kissing." She tells him bluntly, and Harry smiles gently at her.
"In the morning, Sweetheart," he negotiates, moving to sit besides her, "You're still so sleepy."
Y/N acts quick, before she could think about it too much and slings her leg around his waist, heaving herself up to sit in his lap as his back was leant against the headboard. When he opens his mouth to either scold or question her, she plugs the words with her own. Harry's eyes were wide when hers had fluttered like butterfly wings shut, her heart racing like a hummingbird's when she twists the fabric of his shirt up in her fingers, She moves earnestly and urgently, parting her lips for him and Harry slides his tongue inside of her mouth with a smooth glide. It was easy to fall back into the original kiss, only there was something about this one that was just a bit more steamy. Whether it be the way she was rocking forward into his lap, or how his hands came down and dug indentions into the skin of her hips, or even the way Harry makes something close to a moan against her when she shares another, greedy, whimper-y noise...it was laced with a desire that'd been bubbling up since the very first time he'd sucked on her throat. She can tell he is holding back – it's nothing like the way he lets go while sucking on her neck, almost filthy with the noises he makes, but he's treating her like glass; letting her have her fun.
It's when Harry's hips lurch forward that he draws back, slipping fingers into Y/N's hair to give her a gentle tug in the opposite direction that her lips would have followed, "Okay Baby," he murmurs, a little out of breath, "Naughty minx, you, we need to sleep. You need to sleep."
"Okay," Y/N's gasp-y and a little embarrassed but ultimately happy, "Sorry. Will you stay in bed with me tonight?"
"Are you g'na attack me with kisses again?" He jests and Y/N frowns at him, "Oh, I'm just playin' course I will."
Y/N goes pliant for him, letting him maneuver how she lay so she ends up lying tucked into his side, leg swung around his hip and arm flopped across his chest, her head supported by his shoulder. They feel like a proper couple when they lie like this, and Y/N likes it quite a lot. Not riddled with nerves like she might be cuddling with anybody else, just happy and snug in his arms.
"Sweet Dreams." Harry murmurs into the air around them, falling on Y/N's ears softly.
Her response is to snuggle further into him.
. . .
From the way she calmed when she saw him, to when she resorted to gentle hiccups opposed to breathless sobbing when he'd touched on his mark, or even to the fervor in which she kissed him; Harry knows that it's definitely set in stone.
He's totally, and unalterably, fucked.