Read Beautiful Enough here | ~4.1k words (perhaps I will try to write less in my updates for this one)
From Me/Warnings: some really rough self-esteem from our FMC here. But she's pretty proud of herself too (but you might not see it in this part). Also, it's probably going to be really hard but this is obviously a Harry story so as much as you want to, you can't fall in love with Niall, he's just the best friend although I once more probably made him too good. Hopefully you'll have a new ex-bf to hate with as much passion as my other ones.
Summary: “And he wasn’t absolutely turned off?”
“I told you ages ago that he was going to be good for you, darling.”
She sighed, rubbed a hand over her face. Unlike Harry, she had seen pictures of Niall’s friend. It was laughable that he was going to take her. It was perhaps too good to be true. She would still look like an idiot in front of her family. “Niall, he’s so handsome and I’m—”
“If the next word out of your mouth is anything but beautiful, darling, I’m going to pinch you when you least expect it.”
“Hi baby girl,” Harry cooed and lifted the little one out of the crib. She giggled and tucked her face into Harry’s chest as he carried her to the living room. She was a little over one and so sweet, so adorable. He sat on the sofa and held her in front of him. “Hi,” he smiled. “Hi princess,” he kissed her sweet little face along her round little cheeks, her cute tiny nose, and across her soft forehead. “Mumma, is so lucky t’have you, hmm?” He chuckled. “Mumma is so nice t’let me play with you any time I want, yeah? Can you say Uncle Harry yet? Please?”
She giggled a tiny little baby laugh and threw herself back into Harry’s chest. He kissed the top of her head, her soft hair, and rubbed her little back. “You need a diaper change,” he said knowingly.
She laughed again. As if to say oh Uncle Harry, stop it.
Niall knocked on the door and walked in. “There she is,” he greeted excitedly. “Hi, princess,” he smiled.
“Just in time, she needs her diaper changed.”
He chuckled and scooped her up. “Uncle Harry is mean, hmm? You like Uncle Niall so much more, right?”
The little one giggled again and tucked her face into Niall’s neck. “What’s Gemma up to?”
“Taking a much-needed day t’herself. And giving me some Uncle Harry time,” he grinned as the little girl popped her thumb into her mouth and snuggled against Niall’s shoulder. “Not that she’s not thrilled t’see you, but this couldn’t wait till later?”
“You remember my best friend from Uni?” He asked, rocking the little one back and forth uncaring that she needed to be changed.
“The one I never met that s’likely a figment of your imagination? M’only seventy-two percent sure she’s a person. So yeah, I remember ‘her,’” he put the pronoun in air quotes.
He rolled his eyes. “Her dumba—” he cleared his throat and shifted the little one to the other side catching himself before he swore. Gemma would kill Harry then Niall if her daughter learned a curse word before saying anything other than Mama, Dada, and baba. “Her ex-boyfriend broke up with her a few months ago. Her brother’s wedding is in a few more months and she’s panicking. Her ex is going with her cousin… because well, I’ll let you get from point A to point B on your own,” Harry frowned. If she wasn’t a figment of Niall’s imagination, that was truly horrible. “I reconnected with her a bit because she’s on Tinder… That’s how I figured it all out—she popped up while I was swiping and I called her. She’s fielding all kinds of crazy men looking for a guy to be her date, so she doesn’t feel embarrassed. And her mom is the worst, Harry. Like just… forget wicked stepmother. Her mother is so much worse. Basically, she’s not doing well and I just want to help her so… I thought maybe… you would be willing to go with her?”
Harry stared at his best friend. “She’s on Tinder looking for a wedding date? And you want me to go with her?” That seemed a little out there. Not that he blamed her. If she was as desperate as Niall claimed, he understood, he got it. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t do the same thing if he were in her position. But that was a lot. As far as Harry remembered from Niall’s imaginary best friend, she was in a serious relationship presumably with the same guy that had since then, cheated on her with her cousin for the last eight or so years from when they were in university. Of course he wanted to help her, but that was a lot of emotions to deal with, and Harry thought he was pretty good with emotions, really. He was pretty in touch with his own and liked listening to others vent so he could help them as best he could. But he didn’t really know her—given he was only eighty percent sure she was real. The last thing he wanted to do was go on a date with her to a family wedding and overstep on her feelings when she was going through some growing pains.
He was happy to help but he just wanted to make sure Niall really thought he was the best for the job.
“She’s really desperate, Harry. As soon as I realized what was happening, I tried to volunteer to go but it turns out I have a previous engagement the same day. Plus her family already knows me enough anyway to know I’m not serious about dating her.”
“Why’s this a big deal to her?” Harry asked curiously. It would be hard, but couldn’t she just go and pretend that it was fine? To Harry that seemed like a much better way to get back at her ex and her cousin.
“It’s her family,” he rolled his eyes. Harry should have known the wrench in his seemingly easy plan would have been her genetics. “Her brother is cool,” Niall said reassuringly. “But her mom, her dad… her extended family—I mean Christ her cousin stole her boyfriend,” he shook his head in disbelief. Yeah, that was fair--it was a lot more complicated than just going and pretending everything was fine. That was probably all Harry really needed to hear. “She was going to pay her Tinder date if she found a reasonable one. I’m just trying to look out for her before she gets murdered or something. I figured knowing the person she’ll go on a date with would be better.”
“Sure,” he agreed with his logic. “Why me?”
“Because you never met her, it would be perfect. Her family won’t know you and there will still be an air of getting to know one another that can’t be replicated but she’ll be able to act all lovey-dovey because in theory it will have been a couple of months. That honeymoon phase,” he grinned excitedly. “Honestly, Harry, you’re going to fall in love with her for real. So, you better be prepared. I didn’t harp so much on you not meeting because she was in a relationship with that piece of shi—shirt,” he kissed the baby’s soft hair as he self-corrected. “But in some ways, this is great news,” his voice was full of excitement.
That seemed like a lot more than Harry could put on his plate. But he wouldn’t mind helping out a friend if he could. Or a friend of a friend for that matter. Even if she was imaginary.
Harry sighed. “When is it?”
“June 27th,” and well, Harry would be an idiot to say no to a June wedding.
“What else do I have t’do?”
“I’m not sure. I can give you her number so you can chat with her. I won’t lie to you, she’s very thorough. She’s a data analyst for some medical company so she doesn’t miss a detail. She made flashcards for whoever was going to be her date so they could learn everything about her as quickly as possible so she wouldn’t look like a complete idiot in front of her family—her words not mine.”
Harry sucked his lip into his mouth. That did seem like a bit much. He wasn’t judging—not really. More so he felt his stomach clench a bit like he was upset. It seemed unfair she had to go through this.
Even though he was only eighty-four percent sure now that she existed. He tilted his head curiously. “Her family is really that—”
“It’s bad, Harry. Her brother is probably the only reason she’s agreeing to even go to the wedding.”
He ran a hand over his face. Harry was more than willing to help out Niall’s friend. How terrible could a night of dancing and eating free food on a Saturday in June really be at a pretty wedding venue? “Alright, well… sure. We can’t leave her alone, t’fend for herself, right?”
“Really?” He chirped, his eyes brighter. “Oh, that’s great. Let me text her right now,” he handed his niece back to him. “You should change her, now. You’re cute, princess, but you’re smelly,” he said knowingly with a smile and kiss to her head again before he went to the kitchen to get himself some snacks and make his phone call.
“Don’t ever date,” he warned the baby and kissed the side of her head. She giggled at him while they walked back to her bedroom to be changed. “Uncle Niall’s friend is not doing well and it’s all because she dated a meanie,” he explained. “So don’t date.”
She giggled her little one-year-old laugh once more. Again, as if to say, Oh Uncle Harry, stop it.
*
Niall was sitting on her sofa, casually scrolling through his phone. “You convinced Harry to go on a date with me?” She asked incredulously. “You told him it was going to be a crash course in getting to know me?” She was pacing. Immediately. Niall had one foot on her coffee table. Her place reminded him of her dorm room. It was cozy. A bit on the small side. Probably the only thing she could afford because since the split, she was on her own. He felt so bad for her, but since reconnecting, she didn’t even complain about that once. The only thing on her mind was not looking like an idiot in front of her family.
He chuckled. “I did.”
“And he wasn’t absolutely turned off?”
“I told you ages ago that he was going to be good for you, darling.”
She sighed, rubbed a hand over her face. Unlike Harry, she had seen pictures of Niall’s friend. It was laughable that he was going to take her. It was perhaps too good to be true. She would still look like an idiot in front of her family. “Niall, he’s so handsome and I’m—”
“If the next word out of your mouth is anything but beautiful, darling, I’m going to pinch you when you least expect it.”
She rolled her eyes, her cheeks turning pink. Despite being in a relationship for the better part of her twenties, it had been a while since someone had said she was beautiful without being dressed up or put together. As she fiddled with the items on her bookshelf as a distraction, she reminded herself she was anything but put together. Niall reaching out had been a godsend, truly. She needed someone else in her corner and for so long it felt like it was just her.
She had her coworkers and a few friends, but she longed for a partnership that—despite everything she disliked about them—her parents had. After Elijah and Mia caught up to the number of years that her mom and dad had been together perhaps, she would change her tune about her favorite couple.
Elijah was merely twenty-three, four years younger than herself, but seemed to have the whole love thing figured out. In a whirlwind, he met Mia while he studied abroad, proposed before the semester was finished, and was now getting married only a year and a half later since his proposal. “I should just not go. That would be easier.”
“You love your brother and soon to be sister-in-law,” which was true. As crazy as she thought her brother was, Mia was equally crazy about Elijah. Perhaps Mia even more so because Elijah could be a real piece of work. “Mia would be so sad not having you there,” he reminded her. It had only been a couple weeks since she reconnected with Niall but in that time he had caught himself up on all things best-friend related and he chatted with her like no time had passed at all. Naturally, he was right. Elijah and Mia didn’t deserve her absence when she was so kindly made into a bridesmaid and was sister of the groom. She sighed again and continued picking imaginary dust off the surface of her shelves. Niall let her avoid eye contact and all he said for a few minutes.
It was clear she was keeping a lot of her emotions bottled up. Niall didn’t even know they broke up until he saw her on Tinder. He knew she didn’t want to talk about it. Knew that there was stuff in her relationship she probably kept hidden for a very long time because it was easier. Because that’s all she had ever done. Niall knew all those secrets they shared while doing face masks and watching movies in his dorm room in favor of going out and partying.
Your boyfriend isn’t worried about me being friends with you? Niall had asked shortly into their friendship, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl between them. They were watching some silly movie from the eighties with terrible special effects.
He doesn’t think I’m… she had taken a deep breath, and it was the first crack in her armor that he ever saw. I would never do that to him, and he knows that.
Sure, I’m not questioning your standards, darling… but I’d be pretty worried about the guy hanging out with my pretty girlfriend.
She rolled her lips into her mouth and shrugged. Well… I don’t know if he thinks I’m all that pretty. So, I imagine he’s not worried about that aspect.
That first crack was deep. Deeper than he really thought it would be—could be. The rest fell into place from there. Niall was her best friend and nothing more. There was this understanding that she needed a best friend and of course Niall would never do anything to jeopardize her relationship, or more specifically her sweet, lovely reputation.
No matter how much he hated him.
(Plus, Niall happened to enjoy university quite a bit—especially when it came to dating and she was happy to be a wing woman for him.)
But now…
As sad as she looked, Niall noticed there was a glow about her. He always thought his best friend looked lovely, but there was something more today. Despite that sadness, he swore she seemed… lighter.
“Darling,” he said gently. It was a bit unrecognizable on his friend. That was the only reason he really noticed. “Are you… happy?”
She glanced at him, then away nervously. Like she was caught. As if she had accidentally shoplifted. Except for her, this felt so much worse. “Am I happy?”
Niall looked at her a little softer, a little more apologetic for making her feel bad about her own emotions when he never intended it. “I don’t know, it looks like…” he tilted his head at her. “When was the last time I hung out with you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. Ages. Probably a few years at least. Especially to the degree they used to hang out in university in comparison. After graduation they got busy. College friendships ebbed and flowed of course, but Niall was one of her closest friends. Seeing him again made her realize how much of her own life she had been missing.
“It looks like a weight is lifted off your shoulders. You can be sad that Spencer’s a piece of shit and you loved him anyway and there were some things that were good between you two… but you can be relieved too… that’s okay to feel that,” he hated he had to give her permission, but he knew that he was probably one of the only people in her life that would. And he believed every word. Because he knew she wasn’t told she was pretty. Worse than that, she believed that was okay. And it wasn’t. At minimum that was the worst. There was more that maybe Niall wouldn’t know about all the inner workings of her relationship and that was okay. Knowing that was bad enough. Anything more, Niall might have done something rash to her ex, and it wasn’t really his place.
Instead, she looked at him, finally. Smiled that adorable smile he liked to see on her face because he loved her like he was the sister he never had and he was so lucky he could reconnect with her. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, darling,” he winked. “Harry is a bit surprised to learn that you really exist.”
She snorted. “I think you told me he was only sixty percent sure I was real in university.”
“I think we’re up to eighty now,” he joked.
“Ooh, erring on the side of believing. Think it will be ninety when we finally meet?”
He chuckled. “I told him about your flashcards… he’s making his own for you. Probably not as elaborate as whatever this is,” he looked at the stacks of color-coded cards on her coffee table. “What do the colors mean?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly and snatched them up in an orderly fashion and moved them across the room to her kitchen counter.
“You, who matched your notebooks, pens, and folders to your classes and college, you don’t have a color-coded system for your learning-about-you-flashcards?”
“Nope,” she smiled proudly, joked with her friend like she wasn’t a total social mess.
*
Hi Harry. Niall gave me your phone number and told me to text you.
Very suspect. Back down to 76%. But if you ARE real, nice to meet you.
She snorted. Oh right. Texting over a phone call isn’t very convincing, is it?
Nope. Not at all. Your percentage is actually plummeting rapidly.
Hmm... I could… send you a picture?
That was intriguing. Harry hadn’t seen a picture of her. He didn’t want to be creepy knowing that she had a boyfriend all those years ago so he never pressed him for a picture. And honestly, he liked keeping the harmless joke alive between himself and Niall. He could vaguely place Niall saying something about how she didn’t like pictures. So it seemed rude to look her up. Like an invasion of privacy. Regardless of the publicity of her profiles online, whatever they were.
So it wouldn’t be kind to make her send a picture whether he believed in her existence or not if that was the way she felt about herself. Your honesty brings you back up to 81%. But don’t worry, I’m willing to wait to meet you "in person".
Thank you, I just got home from work, so I look and feel like shit, quite honestly. I would have hated for you to change your mind before even meeting me in person.
I won’t change my mind, love. Especially over a picture of all things. I’m happy to help you out. I like to believe I'm not that shallow too.
There was a wave of relief that washed over her as she watched the three dots pop up as a visual of him still thinking his next sentence. She felt a slight pulse of guilt for assuming someone so handsome would simply give up on her because of how she looked. Before she could apologize, his next thought vibrated in her hand.
IF you’re real, of course.
She laughed and shook her head. Right. Of course.
I’m free this weekend, if you have some time to study.
You’re sure you want to do this? I was only joking. I can find someone else to take on my madness.
That percentage went up perhaps to the highest amount to date, hovering somewhere around ninety-three percent. Based on what Niall said, she sounded a bit desperate. Harry had an older sister, a mum he adored, and a baby niece that he would set the world on fire for if something were to happen to her. There was no way he was going to let someone Niall knew and loved, set herself up for a situation that was arguably much too vulnerable for a complete stranger to take advantage of her.
I’ve heard the best kind of people are mad, bonkers, off their head.
Hmm.
Hmm what?
Nothing. Saturday at one? Do you like sugar cookies? I think it’s fun to have something to do when meeting someone for the first time. We could decorate cookies as a distraction if it’s awkward and you think I’m miserable.
Ninety-four percent. But he thought it very well could be a hundred percent.
Who doesn’t like sugar cookies?
*
There was a knock on her door, so it was now or never. She brushed her hands over the skirt of her dress. She hoped it didn’t look like she was trying too hard. Maybe she should change. Spencer would think she’s trying too hard. Like when he had friends over from work. Too dressed up, but somehow if she didn't wear a dress, she would be dressed down.
But Spencer wasn’t here. And she was trying, trying so hard to come to terms with that. If she tried too hard so what? Harry was only eighty percent sure she existed. After the wedding it could go back to zero for all she cared. There was no way someone as handsome as Harry Styles was going to care about her other than helping out his friend. There was a deadline for their fake relationship and that was fine. Let her try too hard.
The thought didn’t stop her from fluffing her hair and praying her makeup looked alright before taking a deep breath and finally opened the door.
It had been years since she saw a picture of Harry. Her job kept her busy and trying to keep her relationship alive she was pretty silent on social media. If Niall had posted a picture with Harry at any point in time since university, it was entirely possible she missed it.
Back in college, Harry was handsome in a frat-boy kind of way. Dimples that made girls at school swoon, she was sure. Hair that begged to have fingers run through it while making out with him. A gym-toned body with a litany of tattoos that may have some kind of meaning but no one cared to check because they were too engrossed with the image of Harry’s naked body in front of them (perhaps she may have ogled one photo of a shirts and skins football game he and Niall played in together back then for some undisclosed amount of time to gather such information after Niall had mentioned his friend was willing to help her.)
So of course, she knew he was going to be handsome. That kind of sexiness didn’t just disappear overnight or even within a decade.
But it was unfair. Because not only was he still handsome, aging had been downright kind to Harry. They weren’t wrinkles per se, but there was something on the outside corners of his eyes like a slight crinkle from laughing and smiling so much. It made him look utterly happy even with the smallest grin on his pretty pink lips. Like their was a memory of happiness that refused to leave his pretty skin. Those dimples seemed deeper. Was that possible? Did dimples get deeper with age? There was a sexy scruffiness to his face. Like he shaved a few days ago and it was growing back in to make him look so good it was unfair. It seemed he still went to the gym and while he was fully clothed she could only imagine how his muscles had changed--but if the stretch of his shirt over his biceps was any indication, she was sure they still existed.
Part of her thought she should have just closed the door in his face and told him that she couldn’t do this. There was no way her family would ever believe she could have captured the eye of someone so happy, so handsome. “Hey Beautiful,” he said sweetly. His voice was warm, gentle, it dripped with warm sugar, like syrup but sweeter.
And the worst part of their very first interaction was that he sounded like he meant it. That he was genuinely calling her beautiful and because of everything… she simply couldn’t believe it.
“Hi,” she said softly. “Is it a hundred?” She asked immediately.
“Pardon?” He tilted his head and leaned against the door frame. Like he was perfectly content to have their meeting here in the literal doorway and not at all offended that she hadn’t invited him in yet.
“A hundred percent? Is seeing me in person enough to prove my existence?” Almost instantly, she felt like an idiot for saying it. For continuing this stupid, dumb joke that Niall and Harry had carried on for nearly a decade of since she met Niall.
He chuckled (like he thought she really was funny).
Then he scanned her. Like full body scan. It was slow and deliberate as he took in her dress her hair, her skin, her shoes for God’s sake.
It should have made her feel uncomfortable. But he was so sexy, and he was looking at her. Really looking at her like she was beautiful. Like he really meant it, she thought. “S’pretty good,” he nodded appreciatively. “Niall’s nothing if not thorough at least if y’are a hologram from his imagination or something,” he joked.
She laughed quietly under her breath. “So not a hundred?”
“Probably like ninety-nine.”
“Well come in, I’ll see if I can scrounge up one percent when I eat my weight in sugar cookies.”
“Ninety-nine and a half,” he said over his shoulder while she closed the door behind him.
--
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Summary: “Y/N and Harry both attend Sophie’s party, and it doesn’t exactly pan out how Y/N thought it would.”
Wc: 5.6k
Tropes: boxer!harry x innocent!reader
Warnings: physical violence, verbal threats, angst, mention of SA, fluff, jealousy.
A/N: tell a friend to tell a friend… SHE’S BAAACCCKKK!!!! Hi guys, thank you for being so patient. I was literally unable to write for weeks and they were the worst weeks of my life, but I’m finally doing better and my creative juices are flowing! Pray with me that it’ll last🙏
Also THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD sorry I was just too excited to get this out🤭😋
P.S. I recommend you listen to ‘Ice Cream Man’ by RAYE. Not only does it apply to the sorry (warning: SA) but RAYE is also an incredible artist!!
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Y/N had never observed herself in the mirror for this long. She was certain that at one point she was going to start to look disfigured to herself, but she just needed to make sure that everything was right.
During her childhood, and especially her adolescent years, Y/N had always been told not to be too vain, but to always look good. There were contradictory balances that she's had to sit in the middle of for as long as she could remember, and she was good at it, until tonight.
For some reason, this burgundy dress she was wearing had to be matched perfectly with her shoes, bag and make-up, and right now she was absolutely sure that it didn't.
Instead of throwing her blow dryer at the mirror like she wanted to, Y/N took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hoping her mind would occupy her with a distraction good enough to give a refreshed perspective when she'd open her eyes again. Of course it was him that flashed through her mind the second her eyelids fluttered shut. She should not have been surprised, because wasn't that what this was all about?
Y/N hadn't been able to stop thinking about Harry since... well, actually she couldn't exactly remember since when because that's how long he's been floating around her head for. Seeing him multiple times a week wasn't helping much either, it gave her new material to think about whenever she had a second to spare. It was like a disease, spreading through her entire body, except she didn't mind and the symptoms made her feel more alive than ever.
Just the sole touch of fingers on her waist, or shoulders was worth replaying a million times in her head, as were all the times he'd say something that could even remotely be said in another, less appropriate context. Y/N felt like she had to visit a confessional or something, because it was getting out of hand. But she knew this wasn't bad, and the only thing she was doing by fighting this was stopping herself from getting something she—deep down—felt she didn't deserve.
Despite these pitiful revelations, Y/N still found herself nitpicking at every single aspect of her appearance as she got ready for Sophie's birthday party.
With only five minutes on the clock until her Uber driver would be outside, Y/N decided to accept the black heels she'd put on and the small shoulder bag she'd settled on. A final look in the mirror indeed gave her an epiphany: brown lip liner.
After darkening her lips with the pencil, at last it felt like everything had fallen into place— with the exception of the nerves dwarreling around her lower stomach of course. Even as she sat in the Uber with the nice woman who was talking about her kids as she drove her to the party didn't do one thing to take her mind off the excitement she was feeling.
Y/N tipped her driver before she got out of the car and made her way inside, where she was greeted by an elated—and perhaps already slightly intoxicated—Sophie. The long, dark green dress she wore complimented the blonde shade of her hair, and her make-up was out of this world. Y/N made sure to note that when she congratulated her friend.
It only took five seconds of scanning the room before she spotted him, standing by the bar as he—Y/N could only assume—waited to be served his drink. It felt much like being a magnet to a whiteboard, the way she was so drawn to him. Y/N knew she should've considered herself lucky that another couple came into greeting Sophie, because otherwise she wouldn't have been let off the hook so easily, but that gratefulness was far down on the list of things that took up her thoughts as she made her way to the man at the bar. And when he turned around, she may as well have punched herself then and there, because Harry looked breathtaking.
He always did, of course, but seeing him in a dark grey suit with a soft pink dress shirt, his hair pushed back and all clean shaven... it did something to her.
From the looks of it, Y/N took the guess that her appearance also threw Harry off in some kind of way, since the stutter in his greeting was too apparent to ignore.
"H— hi." He said, mouth slightly agape as his widened eyes took in Y/N. "You look beautiful."
She could have sworn her intestines were being swapped all around inside her because those nerves in her stomach tripled in size as she eyed the floor for a second while heat rose to her cheeks. Y/N had never been good at receiving compliments, mostly because she had been taught that not immediately accepting them was the only way to be worthy of them. Besides, it would make her conceited and rude to just agree.
And yet, all those rules on how to behave flew out the window the second those green eyes were on her, and she didn't care that she jeopardized her worthiness. She just wanted to soak in the words he deliberately told her, and feel good about them. So she didn't argue him on anything, and instead responded:
"Thank you. You clean up good yourself."
The lopsided smirk on Harry's face made Y/N want to jump up and down, for no other reason than that the sight of it just made her really happy. And for a moment she wondered if it couldn't just stay like this forever? Pure, sincere, and not strong enough to be soul crushingly destroyed by anyone, including her own self sabotaging tendencies.
"Oh, this old thing? Just threw it on." Harry shrugged, his eyes fixated on Y/N. She laughed at his ridiculous attempt to be cool. He leaned against the bar, his head tilting a bit. "What are you having?"
His head nodded towards the bar, and Y/N took it as an invitation to get closer to Harry. She stood next to him, just a little closer than necessary, as she hummed and thought about the hundreds of drinks she could possibly order, and totally didn't settle on the same one she always gets.
"I think I'm going to get a cosmopolitan." She answered, and surprised her smile as much as she could as she watched Harry flag down the waiter and order the drink for her. She quite liked this gentleman-like treatment.
"Very fitting, angel." He said lowly as the waiter put down the drink in front of her.
Y/N turned her head to him, a raised brow challenging him slightly. "And why is that?"
Harry moved to lean his entire back against the bar instead of just one side, and shrugged his shoulders as he observed the room before locking his eyes onto her again.
"Because you're just as sweet as that cocktail." The grin that his comment was accompanied by would have been enough to make Y/N's knees buckle right then and there, but the fact that she was holding onto a bar helped a great deal.
The sight of Oscar talking to some other colleagues of hers also helped with that. She could quite literally feel the color drain from her face as she took him in.
It wasn't like it was unexpected; she knew there was a big chance he'd be there. But between Harry, the amount of work she had to do, and all of her self-defense training, she hadn't had much time to think about hypothetical confrontations with Oscar.
"Are you okay?" Harry's gaze darted from the direction in which you were staring back to Y/N. Only when her eyes settled on him again, a part of the worry in his eyes slightly faded. She mustered a smile, nodding her head and hoping it would be enough to convince him. From the look on his face she knew that he wasn't convinced in even the slightest, but she was surprised to hear him switch the topic of the conversation.
"I want you to meet Greg." He said, and Y/N hummed in agreement, grabbing her glasses and following as Harry lead them to her colleague's boyfriend.
"I've already met Greg." She noted, still walking closely next to Harry, whose hand was ghosting over the small of her back.
"Yeah, but I want you to meet him as my best friend."
Y/N was sure that whatever was rattling in her stomach was doing cartwheels as she took in the determination on Harry's face. It didn't seem like he was shying away from what he was implying, and yet she wasn't certain. Because what if he didn't mean it like that at all? Y/N needed to be 100% sure that her suspicions were correct, because the weight of the humiliation that hung over the risk she could take was too great to bear. Besides, she didn't want to jeopardize the self-defense classes. It was a place of safety for her now, she couldn't lose it.
She didn't have much time to dwell on it given that she found herself in front of Greg. Quickly shoving her thoughts away, she conjured a smile and gave the man in front of her a hug.
"How have you been?" Greg asked, grinning widely as he waited on an answer. "Heard you've been taking self-defense classes."
The way he eyed his friend, and the manner in which Harry's eyes glared at Greg, caused a wave of of giddiness to flood over her. This had to mean something, right? Or was she just fishing now?
"Uh, yes, I have. It has helped me a lot." She answered with rosy cheeks. Greg nodded his head.
"That's great, Y/N. I mean, Harold here is a great teacher, isn't he?"
She snickered, turning to Harry. "That's your full name?"
"No, Greg just likes to be an asshole from time to time." The agonizing smile on his face told her that Harry was a bit on edge, nervous almost? Y/N focused on Greg again.
"Yes, he's amazing." She said, and could feel the blood rush to her ears as she took in her own words. Instead of throwing out a bunch of excuses and rectifications on the construction of her sentence, she zipped her mouth shut, and let the compliment hang in the air. Her heart was racing, and she didn't dare look Harry in the eye, but from the small glance that Greg threw his way, she knew that he'd had some sort of reaction to the compliment.
"Well, stick around and soon you'll be strong enough to take out any man. My Sophie could knock me the fuck out of she needed to, and I'm glad she can." Greg beamed as he mentioned his girlfriend. Y/N was filled with a warm feeling in her chest as she observed Sophie's boyfriend. Her friend was a boss of a woman and to know she was getting the love she deserved was most heartwarming.
The moment was cut short, though, when another person entered the conversation.
"Harry Styles?!" A joyous shriek—for lack of a more polite word—came from a short blonde woman to Y/N's left. The woman didn't pay any mind to Greg nor her as she headed for Harry, giving him a long, very very long hug. Y/N swallowed.
"Lindsay, I haven't seen you in ages." Harry's voice was kind, he sounded excited even. Maybe it was an old friend, or classmate, or—
"That's because the last time you saw me you broke my heart, hon." She giggled. Harry's brows raised ever so slightly.
An old girlfriend. Right, Y/N should've known that. That just made this entire situation a whole lot more awkward, and if there was one thing Y/N didn't care for it was unpleasantries like these.
So, she decided to do the one thing she was best at: escape. Downing her drink in one go, she wiggled her glass, catching Harry's attention.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom and then get another drink, see you later." Y/N's smile was sweet and full of sincerity, but her legs were heavy as she made her way to the bathroom, as if carrying an invisible ball and chain around each leg. She didn't want to be away from Harry, she wanted to snarl at that ex-girlfriend of his and tell her to back off.
But it was irrational and petty, and not to mention totally inappropriate, so she distanced herself instead. Y/N felt a headache looming, her body fighting her mind for the cowardly attitude it encouraged. She spent way longer in the bathroom than she needed to, eventually only going back after a minute long silent peptalk that she performed to herself in the mirror.
When she returned to the room she saw Harry still talking to his ex, only Greg had now left them and was dancing with Sophie and some others. Y/N thought over her options, and decided to join her friend.
She tried her hardest not to look for Harry in the crowded room, letting the music capture all of her attention. Sophie and Greg were performing all kinds of dance moves that had Y/N throw her head back in laughter, and in that moment everything felt so good.
Simple and good, that was joy. She hadn’t felt that in a long time.
After countless of songs and dance battles on the lit up floor, Y/N decided to take a break and treat herself to another drink. Sauntering over to the bar, she waited her turn order another cosmopolitan, and took a step to the side to let other people order as well.
Y/N was still looking at her fidgeting hands, lost in deep thought, when a familiar scent roamed through her nostrils and stiffened her entire body.
"A Long Island ice tea, please." Oscar's voice sounded from beside her. Y/N didn't dare to look up and stayed focused on her hands instead. She could see his hands from the corner of her eyes, they were desperately clamping onto the bar, knuckles white.
Without even touching her, Oscar had managed to put a tightening strain on Y/N's chest that felt too uncomfortable to make her move. She was glad to see her cosmopolitan arrive, and was quick to move to the other side of the bar. In the quick second that she glanced at Oscar, she noticed his eyes were following her.
When he started moving closer to where Y/N was standing, the tenseness in her body began to develop into a full-blown panic, and when a set of hands settled on her waist, she couldn't help the hasty gasp that left her mouth before she turned around.
Harry looked surprised when she met his eyes, and she let out a sigh of relief to see that it was only him. Y/N let out a breathy chuckle as she slowly shook her head.
"Gosh, you scared me." It was noticeable in the strain of her voice that the stress hadn't left her body entirely, and Harry seemed to notice that. He raised a brow.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded eagerly, not wanting to steer the conversation this way. "'M fine. What about you?"
"Frankly, I'm a bit disappointed." Harry admitted, and Y/N frowned at the confession. Her head tilted, she asked:
"Why?"
"You told me I wasn't going to get rid of you so easily the other day." He noted, the memory of your conversation brought a smile to your face. "And yet I lost you after about ten minutes."
Y/N chuckled. "I was giving you some space. I didn't want to be rude."
"Angel... in any case, when it comes to Lindsay Holloway, please be rude." The sincerity in Harry's voice made her burst out into giggle.
"I take it you weren't planning on rekindling old flames then." Y/N said, and when Harry confirmed it with a firm nod, she grimaced. "And here I thought I was being a good sport, leaving you alone with her."
"Trust me, angel. She is not the woman I would like be alone with." He leaned forward, his face way too close to Y/N for her to function normally because of it. The overwhelming urge to just— kiss him was almost too great to resist. The way his eyes took her in was so exhilarating, and it didn't make her insecure because she didn't need wonder what he was thinking; it was written all over his face.
"Oh." Was the only sound that Y/N could utter as she processed Harry's words. His eyes flicked from hers to her mouth as he softly pushed her back against the bar, grinning at how her doe-like eyes were observing his every move.
"Aren't you going to ask me who I would like to be alone with?" Harry asked, and it was clear that he was taunting her. But it didn't occur to Y/N to mind, as she immediately obeyed him.
"Who would you like to be alone with, Harry?" She posed the question, watching his jaw clench at his name falling from her lips.
"Y/N!"
Both Y/N and Harry's head whipped to the side where Sophie was standing with a slightly distressed look on her face. Almost out of instinct, it seemed, Harry took a step back. A pang boomed through Y/N's chest.
"I need to talk to you, now." She demanded, not even a hint of a questioning tone in her voice. She meant business. Y/N nodded and slid past Harry, grabbing Sophie's hand and letting her friend lead the both of them outside.
There were some other people outside, smoking cigarettes as they chatted with each other. Every person stopped to greet Sophie with a smile or another 'congratulations' as they walked more towards the alley, where there were less people. Y/N's heart was racing from both the encounter with Harry and the nervousness that had built up thinking of the possible ways that this talk with Sophie could go.
She hadn't expected Sophie to start squealing in excitement, but it was better than anything she could've imagined.
"Oh my god! You and Harry?! For how long has this been going on?" She asked, and Y/N swiftly shook her head.
"There is nothing going on." She replied, the monotony in her voice doing little to hide the frustrations about the truth of that sentence. "I mean, there might have been a start of something going on before we went outside."
Sophie winced. "I'm sorry, I cockblocked you. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you don't seem like someone who is into casual hook-ups."
Y/N's face twisted in discomfort, and Sophie panicked at the sight of it.
"Not that Harry only does hook-ups! I didn't mean it like that. I just— I hadn't heard you mention him before and I didn't realize you were so close until last week." She instantly began to rant, and Y/N grew defense from her words.
"He offered me some extra training to build more muscle." She shrugged.
“Hmm, sure he is.” Sophie hummed playfully, wiggling her eyebrows and causing a snort to fall from Y/N’s lips. It took a few moments to control their schoolgirl-like giggles, but when they’d managed to pipe down, Sophie’s face turned a bit more serious.
“I just wanted to assure you that Harry is a good guy. You can trust him, you don’t have to hold yourself back.” Her eyes were soft as Sophie spoke, both her hands wrapped around Y/N’s right one. There was a stinging sensation in Y/N’s chest at the mention of the tendencies she thought she concealed quite well, but she was far from offended by it. On the contrary; she was relieved that Sophie could see right through her regarding this topic, because without this confirmation, Y/N would’ve doubted this situation for too long, probably causing Harry to grow bored and leave.
“Soph, we’ve been looking all over for you! We need to do the Photo Booth!” Stacy, another lawyer from the firm suddenly appeared and interrupted the conversation, shrieking in excitement as she hurried over to Sophie and grabbed her arm. She barely paid any mind to Y/N, at least not until Sophie gave her a guilty glance. Stacy conjured a confused smile of her own, her mind clearly battling about the fact that she seemed to recognize Y/N, only she had no idea where from.
“I’m going to borrow her for a little while.” She said, and it was only now that Y/N realized how nasal this Stacy sounded. Sophie had complained about it a dozen times, and now she finally understood the issue.
“Go ahead, have fun, I’ll find you later Soph.” Y/N said, smiling as she watched Stacy and Sophie walk back inside. She took the moment alone outside as an opportunity to clear her mind. To assure herself, that she had the confirmation that Harry liked her as well, and to just take the leap.
“Cigarette?”
Y/N’s head snapped towards Oscar, who was standing only standing a few feet away from her. She glanced at the other people smoking outside; at least she wasn’t alone. She turned her attention back to Oscar, and shook her head.
It stayed silent between the two, and since Y/N didn’t want anything to do with Oscar, she slowly started to walk away. But then, a sentence left Oscar’s mouth that had her frozen where she stood.
“Are you going to accuse him of assaulting you too?”
Y/N lost her breath. Did he really just say that? She pressed down the immense wave of nausea that threatened her to puke all over her pretty dress, and focused on her breathing before she turned around to face him.
“What did you just say to me?” Her tone was sharp, laced with a feeling of injustice. She tried to steady herself as much as she could, but she could feel her hands trembling from the adrenaline.
“I should probably warn him. Who knows what you’ll do to his life.” He sneered, his tone smothered in resentment. Y/N hadn’t even told anyone about what Oscar had done to her, and here he was, accusing her of ruining people’s lives.
“You need to leave me alone…” She growled, balling up her fists to channel her frustration into anything else than the wall or his face.
“Or what? You’re going to tell on me? Seriously, you don’t think that two men with a stellar reputation would make for a more believable story than a self-pitying gold digger?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“What? Mad I’m right? You do only target successful men right, don’t you?” He asked. The amusement in his eyes was disgusting and it made Y/N take a step back. She was seething with rage over Oscar’s words.
“Stay the hell away from me, Oscar.” Y/N fumed, turning around to walk inside, and when she felt a hand around her wrist, she couldn’t help the instinct that caused her to plant her fist in Oscar’s face. Just the way she had been taught.
It was with way more force than she’d ever managed to do before, and she was pretty sure she heard something crack—although she couldn’t make out whether that was Oscar’s nose or his knees as he fell to the ground.
It was like she could finally breathe, seeing him lay on the floor, groaning in pain. She’d been strong enough to defend herself from danger. Pride filled her chest, although it was vague in comparison to the rage that had overtaken the rest of her body.
Y/N flinched when she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, but calmed down at the sight of Lindsay, Harry’s old girlfriend, standing beside her. She looked quite worried as Y/N let her guide her to the rest of the people who were still smoking outside. They all began to ask variations of the same questions: ‘are you okay?’ ‘Did he hurt you?’. Y/N frowned upon noticing Lindsay hurry back inside, but she didn’t pay much mind to it anymore when the guy next to her offered a cigarette. She shook her head, a bit taken aback by the timing of the action, and was just about to answer the question of the woman in front of her, when the huddled up group opened up and Harry appeared in front of her.
Crouching down, his eyes roamed over her entire body before settling on her knuckles that had already begun to turn red. His gaze met Y/N’s.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“What happened?”
It only then occurred to Y/N that Oscar was probably still laying there, and the quick glance she shot to her left was enough for Harry to know what was going on. He stood up and walked over to Oscar, who had gotten up himself and met him in the middle.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” Harry asked. His voice was stone cold, everything about him was, actually. Not one hint of emotion could be traced in his tone, posture or really anything else. It would’ve been scary, had Y/N had the ability to feel scared of Harry. But she just couldn’t; he made her feel safe.
“Listen man, you need to avoid that girl. She’s fucking crazy. She already tried to ruin my life, don’t let her threaten you to ruin yours.”
All the pent up anger that had seemed to subside slightly once having socked Oscar in the face raced back all at once as the words registered in Y/N’s brain. But before she could get back up to her feet, Harry struck a punch, bringing Oscar to the ground once again.
Leaning forward, he grabbed him by his collar and pulled him up far enough so he could hear him when he said:
“If I ever hear you talking about her like that— better yet, if you come near her again I swear to god I’ll kick out every last one of your teeth… to start with.” Harry warned before letting go of Oscar’s collar with a shove that made a couple of people take a physical step back, and even made one person behind her gasp. Harry didn’t seem to care about any of that as he turned around; he just headed straight for Y/N.
Nor did he didn’t even so much as acknowledge Lindsay, who thanked him, but Y/N made sure to send a grateful smile her way as Harry wrapped his arm around her and led her inside. He didn’t say a word as they entered the room again and walked towards Sophie and Greg.
At first, Sophie was smiling at the sight of Y/N and Harry, but upon spotting her friend’s pale face, the corners of her mouth lowered into a thin line.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Her hands were on Y/N immediately, fixing her hair and brushing her fingers against her pale cheek. Y/N knew that she probably looked like she had seen a ghost.
“I’m going to take her home.” Harry announced, and relief washed over Y/N because she didn’t really know what to say right now. Faking a smile, she tried to assure Sophie that it was alright, but her friend was already nodding before Harry had finished speaking.
Throwing her arms around her, Sophie hugged Y/N so tightly that she nearly lost her breath. When she finally let go, the look on her face was determined.
“I love you, have a good night. If you need anything, call me.” She said. Y/N nodded.
“I love you, have a great night.” She turned to Greg. “Watch her.”
The weak joke still managed to make the couple chuckle—probably out of pity—and Greg nodded dutifully, wishing her a good night with that playful wink of his. When Y/N turned back to Harry, he held out her jacket. Her face settled into a confused frown; how did he manage to get their coats so quickly. Was he a wizard or something?
Harry bid the couple farewell as well and soon they were on their way back to the car. Y/N was tense about going outside again, but her shoulders relaxed upon seeing an empty street. Oscar had left, thank god.
The car ride was mostly silent, aside from a few questions about the AC, and an attempt of Harry’s to casually ask for her address again, only to have it at the top of his search list on Google Maps. Y/N had to hold back her giggle.
The rest of it consisted of listening and moving their heads along to whatever song was on. It was mainly rap songs, and Harry knew them all, which was logical considering it was his playlist. There was something attractive about Harry knowing all these songs, it made him look a bit more… intimidating.
Y/N really needed to figure out what deep rooted issue caused her to like that.
She had to admit she was slightly disappointed when he pulled up in front of her apartment complex, so she took her time to turn her head to him, the hint of a smile on her face still. Y/N couldn’t help it; he just made her comfortable. She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned towards the middle of the vehicle, closer to Harry.
“Thank you, for dropping me off.” She said in a near whisper. The corners of Harry’s mouth tugged up, and he—in turn—closed the distance between even more, their faces only a few inches apart now. Y/N’s hands began to sweat.
“Anything for you, angel.” His voice was raspy, and despite the cockiness he radiated, there was still concern behind it.
But it was over— for Y/N it was over. Her self-control, an entity of its own, seemed to exit her body leaving her with nothing but him. All that adrenaline had channeled into a pressing urge to put her lips on his, to touch him, feel him all around. It was over.
Nothing held her back, not even her own stubborn mind, as she leaped forward and kissed Harry.
While she had expected him to maybe be surprised about her action, the way his mouth welcomed her—invited her, even—was enough proof that he had been ready for her.
Kissing Harry was like jumping off a cliff and diving deeper into the ocean. For once, she didn’t feel like to love was to drown. No, she submerged herself into the water and felt more at home than she had ever felt at the surface. Was it possible to feel at home in someone’s arms?
With a hand on her jaw, Harry lured Y/N forward further, challenging her by pulling back a bit. Needing his lips like it was her own source of oxygen, Y/N didn’t hesitate to lean further, and in all her desperation, climbed right onto his lap.
The short dress didn’t leave much restrictions for her heat as she automatically began to grind her hips. Only when Harry let out a pained groan that shot straight to her core, she’d realized what she was doing— what they were doing.
Pulling away in a flash, a gasp left Y/N. Her lips felt all puffy, much like Harry’s looked.
“S— sorry, I didn’t know what came over me.” Y/N shot in her defensive mode, but Harry only shook his head.
“Don’t say sorry, angel. I—” he cut himself off, and met her eyes. “I don’t think we should do this right now, because—”
Shit, no, shit, shit!
“Oh, yeah, no of course, no problem. I mean, you’re right.” Y/N began to rant, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How could she ever do such a stupid thing. She was quick to lean over and grab her bag. “But thank you, for bringing me home, and I’ll see you Tuesday.”
Before Harry could even get a word in, she opened the door on the driver’s seat and climbed out of the car, smashing the door shut harsher than she intended to. She winced at the sound, but kept walking. This rejection was humiliating enough as it was, she didn’t need Harry to elaborate on all the reasons he didn’t want her.
She heard the car door open, but by then, Y/N had already entered her building. In the chaos of it all, she decided to sprint up the stairs, wanting to get away from the situation as fast as possible, and in that process forgetting that she lived on the sixth floor.
She was out of breath when she finally reached her apartment, but not as out of breath as she would have been a month ago. Damn Harry, those classes were really working.
Once inside, Y/N leaned against the door, dramatically letting herself slip to the ground as she buried her head in her arms and let out a frustrated groan. Why was every next step she took on the aspect of love always destined to be her most embarrassing one yet?
She huffed, massaging her temples as she soaked in the shame and slowly felt it wither away. She knew the mortification would wane, but the sudden awareness of that ache between her legs, she knew that wouldn’t just go away. With a sigh, Y/N hoisted herself up and got ready for bed before lying down and digging into her nightstand’s drawer to grab the only thing that could cure the ache down there.
Her racing mind was a reminder that getting this out of her system wasn’t going to be done very easily…
all (y/n) ever heard growing up, was that when she’s an adult, she’s going to find her Prince Charming, there going to get married and that they are going to live happily ever after.
so when she met corey barlowe, she thought that this was her forever, but turns out, it wasn’t, and she was stuck with him until she had the guts to leave him…if she ever had the guts to.
after getting admitted to the hospital, that’s where she meets dr.harry styles, a clinical lead at the royal london hospital, where he treats her for her injuries and that’s where they both think there relationship will end.
that is until she keeps coming back, this time with a totally different injury, and that’s when he makes it his life’s mission to find out the issue and get answers out of her.
it’s also where a relationship blooms and where one runs dry.
authors note - this is my first series of the new year, and one i am so excited to write for all of you, it’s going to cover some dark topics, so if you don’t think you’ll be able to read this, then i recommend that you skip this altogether.
your mental health is better then reading a silly fan fiction. please remember that !!
⚠️ trigger warnings !! ⚠️
mentions of domestic abuse,
mentions of hospitals,
vulgar language,
sexual content,
mentions of suicidal thoughts.
if i have missed any warnings, then please let me know !!
chapter one. [ 27.01.2024. ]
in which, your a patient of doctor styles, and even though he’s supposed to be a professional, his attraction towards you blooms when he can’t seem to get you out of his head, but there’s a few problems that seem to be in his way.
chapter two. [02.03.2024.]
in which, your trying to live a normal life as much as you can, but when you bump into the handsome doctor again, and realise he’s got questions, questions that you can’t answer and thats when you realise just how much your longing for that perfect fairy tale ending.
summary: you landed your dream job as a line cook at harry styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.
words: 4.3k
warnings: nothing major in this one
Your palms were sweating as you gripped the steering wheel, driving through downtown Chicago towards your new job. You kept glancing down at the address on the printed directions, double checking that you were heading the right way. The last thing you wanted was to be late on your first day.
Ever since getting your culinary degree, you had applied to what felt like hundreds of restaurant jobs, desperate to get your foot in the door of a real professional kitchen. But very few places wanted to hire someone so fresh out of school with no actual experience.
Finally, after months of dead ends, you had landed a line cook position at Haus Kitchen - one of the hottest farm-to-table restaurants in the city. You could scarcely believe your luck when you got the call saying you were hired.
Haus was the brainchild of Harry Styles, international superstar singer turned chef. After his chart-topping solo music career, Harry had traded in artist life to pursue his lifelong passion for cooking. Using his accumulated wealth, he opened up Haus five years ago to rave reviews, quickly earning a well deserved Michelin star.
You vividly remembered watching Harry's transition from a pop idol to dashing culinary entrepreneur play out in the media. As a teenage girl, you had been obsessed with him during his One Direction days.
Your bedroom walls were plastered with Harry's posters and you had relentlessly played their songs, sighing over his tousled hair and pouty lips. Then as you got older and Harry went solo, your boyband crush evolved into more of an intense celebrity infatuation as he cultivated a cool, rebellious image.
There were countless gossipy blind items about his infamous hellraising, flings with models and socialites, and run-ins with the law. You had followed all the scandalous Harry headlines with rapt attention - from getting papped stumbling out of nightclubs with an endless parade of beautiful women to getting arrested for drug possession outside Soho clubs.
But finally in his late 20s, seemingly bored of rockstar debauchery, Harry had pivoted to reset his image as a knowledgeable culinary entrepreneur. You admired how he transformed from tabloid bad boy into a refined, successful businessman and chef.
He began studying haute cuisine under the tutelage of famous European chefs, traveling abroad to hone his skills further. While continuing to record new musical projects independently, Harry started establishing himself in the culinary world through guest stints on TV cooking shows and food/wine events.
With his brooding good looks, charming personality, and serious culinary chops, the world fell for Harry's new sophisticated image. Before long, he was the subject of breathless puff pieces in food magazines as "the sexiest Renaissance man in the kitchen." It seemed natural when Harry soon opened up his passion project Haus to capitalize on his popularity and love of food.
Now nearing your mid-20s, your teenage fannish obsession had cooled into more of an admiring celebrity crush. You had stayed aware of Harry's journey, but your priorities were focused on graduating culinary school at the top of your class and finding your own big break in the Chicago restaurant scene.
So when you landed a job at Harry's iconic Haus, it almost didn't feel real. Not only would you be working at one of the city's most exclusive spots, but under the same roof as a chef you had admired for ages.
Not that you expected to have any real personal contact with Harry himself, you reminded yourself as you merged onto the exit for downtown. He was an internationally famous mega-celebrity who had to have hundreds of staffers, not to mention being handsomely paid to just be the smiling face of the business while professional kitchen vets like Paul Thomason handled the day-to-day operations.
Still, you had to admit to yourself that a tiny part of you tingled at the mere idea of being in the same building as Harry Styles...hopefully catching a glimpse of that handsome, endlessly charming man in the flesh...
You shook your head dismissively and double checked the directions again, annoyed at getting so easily distracted. This was your big break, your first serious job in the industry. You needed to bring your A-game and focus, not dwell on silly celebrity daydreams.
It was your fantasies of becoming a respected chef that needed to take priority.
You pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant, double checking that you had the address right. The sleek, modern building had a neon "Haus Kitchen" sign glowing over opulent double-door entrances flanked by velvet ropes and cheerful outdoor seating areas.
Taking a steadying breath, you cut the engine and sat for a moment, giving yourself a pep talk. This was it. No more messing around doing coursework or labs - this was the major leagues with all the intensity of a real professional kitchen. You had to bring it all day, every day.
As you climbed out of your beat-up Honda, you smoothed down your spotless new chef's whites, making sure everything looked pressed and presentable. With your knife kit tucked under your arm, you walked towards the entrance with purpose, chin held high.
From the moment you stepped through the doors, it was like being transported into another world. The smell of simmering sauces, roasting meats, and freshly baked bread envaded your senses. Even hours before opening, the energy and hustle for dinner prep was palpable.
Off to the left was the main dining room you had studied photos of online - effortlessly cool with vaulted exposed wooden beam ceilings, brick accents, and casually modern decor. Pendant lighting glowed cozily over tables draped in white linens and rustic chandeliers hung over plush tufted leather banquettes. A lively bar area centered the space, stocked with top-shelf liquors and backed by a dazzling display of custom glassware.
In the distance ahead, you could hear the clamoring of the kitchen in full swing. Your stomach did a nervous flip - this was it. Taking another fortifying breath, you headed through the archway.
You emerged into a large, sleek open kitchen layout, all stainless steel and butcher block islands. Uniformed cooks were buzzing at their stations like a well-oiled machine under the barked commands of an older, stocky man you immediately recognized as Head Chef Paul Thomason.
Despite his gruff reputation, watching Thomason in action was nothing short of mesmerizing. He moved between stations with the easy grace of a conductor, sampling sauces, tweaking seasonings, and directing the workflow with gruff orders. There was no wasted movement or micro-expression as he continually tasted and perfected dishes, alternating between thoughtful contemplation and decisive action.
Though you had only seen Thomason in pictures and television appearances, his fierce focus and mastery were unmistakable. This was what true professional kitchen expertise looked like in the flesh.
Feeling like a mouse that had wandered into the lair of a lion, you hovered near the entrance, uncertain of what to do next. The kitchen team flowed around you in a choreographed dance, deftly ignoring your presence as they prepped and plated flawlessly.
After a few minutes of anxious loitering, the intimidating Thomason seemed to finally notice you. His grizzled features contorted as he scowled, looking you up and down through eyes squinted with decades of kitchen smoke exposure.
"You must be the new kid," he said gruffly, crossing his bulky tattooed arms over his broad chest. Even without raising his voice, Thomason had a rumbling bass that easily carried over the kitchen's clanging din. "Christ, you're shorter than I expected. Think you've got what it takes to keep up around here?"
You nervously clutched your knife kit closer while trying to not look as flustered as you felt. "Y-yes, chef!"
You swallowed hard, hyper aware of everyone around you now watching the interaction. "I, uh...I came ready to work as hard as it takes. Whatever you need from me."
Thomason grunted, squinting at you for another long moment in consideration. Then he jerked his head towards the back. "Get changed out quick and meet me back here in 5. I'll get you started on prep and we'll see what you're made of. Don't keep me waiting."
"Yes, chef!" you responded immediately, wincing at how high your voice had gone up an octave.
Without another word, Thomason turned and strode back into the controlled chaos of the line, immediately redirecting his attention to sauces and garnishes. Letting out a shaky breath, you scurried towards the changing rooms, heart jackhammering.
Well, you were officially in the thick of things now...
You hustled back out to the kitchen, trying not to look frazzled from your rushed change. A young Hispanic line cook spotted you and waved you over to his station.
"You the newbie?" he asked, not unkindly. When you nodded, he jerked his head towards the walk-in refrigerator. "Thomason wants you to start by breaking down some of the produce delivery for prep."
"Got it, thanks," you replied, eager to prove yourself. The line cook gestured you through the door into the immense chilled walk-in.
You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the cold, taking in the sights and smells of the impressive stockpile. Shelves upon shelves were stocked with an array of fresh seasonal produce - crates bursting with leafy greens, bushels of root vegetables, flats of vibrantly colored tomatoes, exotic fruits, and mushroom varieties you had only read about.
Your culinary school had humble basics for ingredients, nothing like the bounty of locally-sourced, meticulously selected provisions that Haus Kitchen demanded. You felt a thrill at getting to work with such an extraordinary pantry.
Respirating clouds puffed from your mouth as you scanned the inventory tagging system. You had been taught similar protocols in your food safety courses, but there was something exhilarating about putting that knowledge into practice in a real professional environment.
Grabbing a stack of plastic totes, you made a game plan for which items to start prepping first based on perishability levels and what would be needed for that evening's specials. Though you started out slow at first, you steadily built up a cadence of meticulously cleaning, trimming, and sorting into appropriate storage containers.
By the time Thomason stuck his head in to check on you an hour later, you had developed an efficient system and made solid progress through a mountain of deliveries.
The head chef grunted in approval as he inspected your neat stacks of prepped produce, crossing his arms as he looked you up and down with a critical eye.
"Not bad, kid," he rumbled. "Clearly know which end of a knife to use, at least. C'mon back out, got some protein fabrication for you to tackle next."
You diligently followed Thomason back out to the main kitchen, wiping some sweat from your brow with your sleeve. Despite the industrial cooling system, the heat blazing from the ovens and range tops made the open kitchen feel like a furnace.
As Thomason led you to a stainless steel butcher's block island, you couldn't help but gawk at the array of gleaming knives hanging from magnetic strips overhead. The blades were works of art - sleek, razor sharp, and clearly extremely expensive.
Gesturing you over, Thomason grabbed a boning knife and twirled it deftly before handing it to you. "Let's see how you handle breaking this down."
He gave the block a solid smack with his meaty palm, indicating for you to get started on the glistening slab of beef tenderloin before you. Taking a steadying breath, you gripped the bone-handled knife firmly and leaned over the cutting board.
"Yes chef," you murmured before carefully piercing the thick cut of meat, angling the blade with practiced precision from all your training.
Around you, the kitchen bustled with the usual rattling pans, sizzling ranges, and Thomason's occasional barked orders. But as you fell into the rhythm of deftly separating fat and sinew, the noises began to fade from your awareness.
You were completely focused on your knife work, confidently sawing through the tender flesh as you reduced the tenderloin down to portions and trimmings for other stations to further break down. It was meditative, almost hypnotic, the way you instinctively slid the blade along rendered paths of butchery.
After your initial intimidation of the intense Haus environment, you started to find your groove and calm amidst the choreographed insanity surrounding you. You were so laser-focused on the satisfaction of properly executing each slicing technique that the rest of the kitchen chaos became mere white noise.
You had no idea how long you stayed absorbed in the butchery, but eventually you became aware of a presence at your elbow. Glancing up, you nearly jumped to see Harry Styles watching you work with an unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his slim-fitting slacks.
His dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the fitted cotton fabric clung to his toned arms and chest, a few chest hairs peeking out of his slightly undone top button. A single necklace rested in the divot between his sculpted collarbones, drawing your eye to the alluring hollow of his throat as he swallowed hard.
You froze mid-slice, mesmerized by watching the tendons in Harry's wrist and forearm flex as his hands flexed restlessly in his trouser pockets. After a beat, his pillowy lips curved into an easy smile, crinkling the delicate crow's feet at the corners of his kaleidoscope green eyes.
"Afternoon," Harry said in that lazy, husky drawl that used to make millions of fans swoon. He flicked his eyes down to your handiwork before bringing them back up to your face. "Looking good there, newbie."
You blinked, not trusting your ears for a moment before realizing with a jolt that Harry was very much real and quite close. Like, unnecessarily close for your over-stimulated brain to handle.
"Uh...I-I, um...th-thank you?" you croaked out, wanting to cringe at how lame you sounded. Get it together, this wasn't the time to geek out–you instructed yourself.
But Harry didn't seem to notice your fumbling, simply giving you a dimpled half-smile before reaching around you to snag a stray piece of trimming from the butcher's block. He inspected it contemplatively before popping it into his mouth, those plump lips wrapping obscenely around the bite as he chewed and ruminated with relish.
"Perfection," he declared after swallowing, shooting you another crooked grin like you were co-conspirators sharing an inside joke. With a subtle wink, Harry pivoted on his boot heel and sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.
As he retreated, you risked a glance down at his form-fitting trousers shamelessly admiring the way the fine fabric cupped the ample curves of his pert backside. Even at his age, Harry Styles had the muscle-toned body of a man decades younger - long, lean muscles taut under golden tanned skin.
You blinked hard and shook your head, annoyed at catching yourself ogling your new boss like a drooling fangirl. Pull it together! This was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. You had zero business daydreaming about someone who gave you your paycheck, no matter how obscenely famous and heartthrob-ishly handsome they were.
Firmly re-focusing on your knife work, you determinedly put Harry from your mind and tried to re-immerse yourself in the rhythm and refuge of the butchery. But the memory of his distractingly lush mouth so close kept replaying over and over, preventing you from recapturing your previous sense of meditative flow.
Dammit, you needed to get a grip! This kind of inappropriate crush on your employer was exactly the kind of silly, immature behavior that would make you look like a unprofessional joke in a serious kitchen environment. Blowing an opportunity like this was not an option.
Later, as you untied your apron strings and joined the team in breaking down the last stations for cleaning at closing, Thomason sidled up alongside you. You braced yourself for more of his typical gruff rebukes or criticisms.
Instead, the veteran chef simply gave you a long, considered look before saying gruffly, "You did good work today, kid. I can already tell you got the stuff to handle it around here if you keep your head down."
You blinked up at him in surprise before managing a small smile. "Thank you, chef. I really appreciate that."
Thomason grunted noncommittally before wandering off, likely to oversee something else. As you tidied your workstation, you couldn't help feeling a small glow of pride. Despite the craziness of your first day, you had seemingly passed this initial trial with flying colors.
As you left through the back entrance into the quiet night air, you took a deep breath and allowed yourself a satisfied smile. Maybe, just maybe, you really did have what it took to succeed in this highly competitive environment after all. For tonight at least, you had handled the punishing pace and standards. Tomorrow was another day to prove yourself all over again.
***
Your day started before sunrise the next morning, brewing a strong coffee and reviewing the notes you had taken the previous evening about which menu items needed prepping. By the time you arrived at Haus, reinvigorated by the crisp morning air, the kitchen was already a hive of activity in preparation for lunch service.
The intense scrutiny under which you worked only amplified with the daylight. Every slice, every sauté was carried out under the watchful eyes of Chef Thomason and his steely gaze. More than once, you felt his presence looming over your shoulder, inspecting your work with the same critical eye as a diamond cutter examining a flawless gem.
"This slice is uneven," he barked, startling you. You flinched, resisting the urge to make excuses as he continued, "The portions all need to be identical for plating. Paying attention to details like that is the difference between a sloppy meal and a stellar one. Don't let it happen again."
"Yes, chef," you replied tightly, making a minor adjustment to your knife work. Though his words stung, you had to admit Thomason was completely right. In a restaurant of this caliber, any minor imperfection could spell disaster.
You redoubled your efforts, pouring all of your concentration into each preparation, each plate. By the time the end of your shift rolled around, you were drenched in sweat, your feet screaming from being on them for 12 hours straight. But you had successfully made it through day two without any major mishaps.
As the whirlwind of dinner service finally calmed to a stopping point, you stood in the kitchen obediently waiting for Thomason's inspection and inevitable critique. But to your surprise, he merely gave a curt nod of approval before waving you off.
"Not bad, newbie," he grunted. "Get a good night's rest. We'll need you back bright and early tomorrow."
Those few gruff words of acceptance warmed you more than any high praise could have. For Thomason, a man of very few words, his small nod seemed to indicate you were, for the moment, living up to his exceedingly high standards.
The high from that small victory buoyed your spirits as you made your way towards the back exit, already dreaming of the few hours of sleep you might be able to grab before starting the cycle over again. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you nearly bowled someone over coming around a corner.
"Whoa there!"
You froze, looking up into the grinning, mirthful eyes of Harry Styles himself. Up close, the force of his charm and magnetism practically crackled in the air around him like a physical force. His sweater clung distractingly to his lithe, muscular frame and his chestnut hair was casually tousled. A pair of small diamond studs glinted in each ear.
"Sorry about that, H-Harry," you stammered, resisting the urge to take a flustered step back. You were vividly aware of just how little physical space separated the two of you. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
If he noticed your frazzled state up close, Harry didn't let on. His pink lips merely curved in an easy, dimpled smile. "No need to apologize. I don't usually make a habit of lurking around blind corners, to be fair."
You laughed before you could stop yourself, surprised at how easily he was putting you at ease despite your elevated heart rate. Up close, Harry's eyes weren't just green - an entire kaleidoscope of colors ranging from jade to emerald to amber seemed to shift and dance in his gaze. It was...dazzling, frankly.
Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a subtle step backwards, putting a more professional amount of space between the two of you. The last thing you needed was to do something wildly inappropriate that would get you fired before the end of your first week.
"Still, I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings," you replied, aiming for a respectful, levelheaded tone. "It's been a really intense couple of days just trying to stay on top of everything."
Harry nodded in understanding, arching one perfectly sculpted brow. "Thomason hasn't let up on you at all, I take it?"
When you shook your head ruefully, he chuckled. "I know that seems like his permanent state - gruff, perpetually unsatisfied, and grumpy as a hibernating bear. But honestly, the fact that he hasn't fired you already is a good sign you're doing well."
You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait...really? But he critiques everything! I feel like I've gotten nothing but corrections so far."
"Exactly." Harry's dimples flashed as he grinned. "That's how you know he sees potential in you. If Thomason didn't think you had what it took, he wouldn't waste his breath giving feedback. He'd just cut you loose and hire someone else to start over."
His words were like a soothing balm on the anxiety and self-doubt you'd been carrying around for the past couple of days. You hadn't realized that Thomason's critical approach was actually a twisted form of acceptance and mentorship. The revelation caused the hard knot of tension between your shoulder blades to finally release.
"Huh," you exhaled, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips as you finally understood Thomason's tough love. "I guess I should take that as a compliment then."
"Absolutely," Harry agreed with an approving nod. Then his expression softened around the edges, growing earnest as his gaze searched yours. "Look, I know it's a huge adjustment and the pace here can be absolutely brutal starting out. But for what it's worth...I think you've got what it takes to be something really special in this kitchen."
You felt yourself flush at his unexpected praise, your stomach fluttering with a swarm of nervous butterflies. Harry held your eyes for a lingering moment before seeming to mentally collect himself.
Clearing his throat, he flashed you one more crooked grin. "But don't take my word for it - the proof will be in your work. Stay focused and trust the process. I've got faith you can handle it."
With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours in a way that made your entire body buzz with friction. As Harry sauntered off down the hallway, you couldn't stop yourself from turning to watch his retreating form - the easy, rolling gait, the tantalizing sway of his hips below the slim cut of his trousers, the tousled waves of his chestnut hair.
You let out a shaky exhale, feeling off-balance and electrified all at once. Get a grip, you scolded yourself firmly. That was your boss - your incredibly famous, wealthy, and wildly attractive boss. Daydreaming was a one-way ticket to catching inappropriate feelings and potentially torpedoing your entire career before it even started.
And yet...you couldn't quite silence the part of your brain reliving Harry's velvet tone and intense eye contact as he professed having faith in your abilities. Just the casual warmth of his voice and proximity had set your heart pounding in a way it hadn't since you were a hormonal teenager, utterly dazzled by his rock star persona.
Shaking your head, you forced yourself to turn on your heel and head for the exit. Overthinking could only lead to dangerous territory. You needed to stay laser-focused on your work - that was the only way to succeed at Haus and make your culinary dreams a reality.
As you stepped out into the fresh evening air, you paused for a moment on the deserted back stoop, closing your eyes and taking a few centering breaths. When you opened them again, you felt the last fluttering tendrils of Harry's heated presence dissipate, replaced by a familiar sense of determined calm.
This job was your priority now, not silly schoolgirl crushes or indulging fantasies about your wildly unattainable boss. You knew better than to get distracted by daydreams that could only lead to self-sabotage.
With a decisive nod, you strode towards your car with renewed focus. You would prove yourself at Haus through your skills and work ethic alone. No other agenda, no unprofessional entanglements allowed.
Your passion was cuisine, creating nourishing dishes that delighted - that had to remain your sole priority. You couldn't afford any distractions from that lest you squander this incredible opportunity. Steadying your breathing, you looked forward with fresh clarity and resolve.
Tomorrow was a new day to earn your place in Harry's formidable kitchen. And this time, you vowed, you were utterly prepared to meet the challenge with your complete and undivided focus.
tell me if you like this! this is an idea for a new series that will probably have 6 parts??? i guess. but do tell me if you like it! because there's no use in writing when nobody reads 😭😭
Summary: Amber Crosby didn't end up with the life she'd expected, but that didn't keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn't until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.
Warnings: Sexual content, teen pregnancy, physical abuse and violence, heavy drinking, talks of suicide. YOU MUST BE OVER 18 TO READ.
A/N: This fic was started way back in 2019 (I think lol). I'd had high hopes for it back then, but as usual I abandoned it. This time I plan to finish it. I think it's a great story that needs to be told. I hope you enjoy :).
“You’re not the third base coach, you know?” Layna teased Harry. “Well, you could coach people on third base, but that would be an adults only thing.”
“We have been to every single one of your nephew’s little league games this season. This is a big game, I’m paying atten-that was a ball, ump!”
“You’re going to embarrass him.”
“Plenty of other parents are-good eye, Joshy! It wouldn’t kill you to show your support.”
“Alright.” Layna clears her throat. “Down by the bay, where the watermelons grow…” the other players on the bench start singing along, and Harry rolls his eyes. “Did you even play sports growing up?”
“Of course I did.” Harry scoffs. “I played soccer, baseball, and I ran cross country.”
“Ooohh, a jock.”
“I wouldn’t put myself in that category. I didn’t do well in my classes, so I let myself be a good athlete. Oh, that call was bullshit. That’s a ball!”
Josh frowns as he comes back over to the bench, pulling his helmet off. Harry goes right over to him, and takes a knee to be at eye level.
“Hey, don’t let it get to you.” He assures the young boy. “That umpire needs better glasses. He probably knows the coach on the other team. You did great up there.”
“I should have swung. Grandpa always says to go down swinging.” Josh pouts.
“Next time you’re up to bat you can do that. Shake it off, yeah? No matter what, Auntie Layna and I are taking you for pizza and ice cream afterwards.”
“No way?! Just us three?”
“Just us three.”
“Cool!” Josh heads over to his coach and his teammates, feeling much better about his strikeout.
Harry makes his way back over to Layna and puts his arm around her shoulders. She looks up at him, grinning.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She giggles and buries her face in his chest. Harry laughs softly and curls his finger under Layna’s chin so she’ll look up at him. He shuffles them over to the side of the bleachers so they’re not front and center in everyone’s view. “It’s nothing.”
“Just tell me. Make fun of me for being like a baseball dad.”
“I wasn’t going to. I got that out of my system before.” She bites her bottom lip as she looks up at him. “You’re really part of the family.”
“I like your family. Well, not so much your parents, they’re in sane. But your brother’s kids are cool.”
“They love you.”
“I like being involved. I should volunteer next season.”
“It would take you an hour to get out of the city every day to make it here in time.”
“Meh.” He shrugs. “The coaches clearly aren’t teaching them fundamentals. They’re not boosting their confidence.” Layna giggles into his chest again. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Her arms a wrap around his neck. “I just love you.”
“I love you too. Now tell me why you’re giggling. I’m obviously doing something.”
“I was just thinking…you’re going to be a great dad someday, and I really hope it’s to my children.”
“Who else’s father would I be?”
“I don’t know. You could decide you don’t like me anymore.”
“Not possible.” He looks around before sneaking a kiss. “Let’s go have sex in the car.”
“Harry!” She squeals. “We can’t.”
“Obviously not here, we’ll drive somewhere.”
“We can’t just leave. We promised pizza and ice cream.”
“You can’t just bring up wanting me to be the father of your kids and not let me do something about it.” He pinches her hip. “That’s a paddlin’.”
“Noooo, don’t be mean to me, daddy.”
“Now you’re really gonna get it.”
“After pizza and ice cream, I’ll let you fuck me in the car before we drive home.”
“And then?”
“And then you can fuck me all night long and make the bed shake and I’ll be a good girl and take everything you give me and thank you for it.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He grins wickedly. “Consider the paddlin’ rescinded.”
a/n: hellloooooooo the fic you’ve all been waiting for is finally here. Based off these posts, you all wanted a full fic, so as per usual, first part on here, the rest on patreon. I don’t think I’ve ever written this much smut in one fic, so buckle up. I honest wasn’t sure what I wanted to name this fic. I kept calling it ‘happy himbo’ but that didn’t work. He’s sort of just like a polite dirtbag, but with an endearing twist! You’ll see the theme with “no complaints” throughout the fic. I spent way too long on this banner. I photoshopped that bottom half onto that woman and I also created that entire wall because I’m insane. ANYWAYS PLEASE REBLOG AND LEAVE NOTES AND COME TO MY ASK BOX AND JUST PLEASE GIVE ACTUAL INTERACTIONS WITH THIS PLEASE I’M SO TIRED also there are some strong sex and the city inspired vibes
Warnings: just…a ton of filthy smut, anal, public sex, dominant and submissive vibez…just…yeah
Words: 11.6K
Tumblr Masterlist I Patreon Masterlist I Ask
With the way Layna’s cheeks went bright red when she glanced at the text that just came in on her smart watch, each of her friends put down their forks and stopped paying attention to their delicious brunch food to ask her what just got sent to her, and by who.
HERE IT IS! Sorry this isn't much but it's a sneaky nonetheless!
(653 words under the cut)
When you left, Harry walked back inside his house feeling like a new man. He felt real. He felt strong and virile. He didn’t know what had come over him being so direct with you. So rapacious. But it felt natural. It was like something about you brought it out of him.
It wasn’t until he was sitting at the table with the boys eating dinner that any little inkling of guilt started to wash over him. It was then he realized he hadn’t even thought about Kit since he started making dinner. He was conjuring up images in his mind of what you would look like on Saturday in various positions. Imagined the way your eyes would widen and then squeeze close when you orgasmed. Wondered how many he could coax out of you. He’d completely blocked out that his wife would be participating.
He would need to tame himself. See how Kit responded to seeing you and him together. If she enjoyed it he could loosen up a little but he was concerned about the way you two clicked. Your dynamic was very good, Harry thought, that he would have a hard time sharing you. Plus, he wasn’t sure whether or not Kit would like to hear you calling him Daddy. And Harry really wanted to hear you call him Daddy again.
When his wife got home the twins were already in bed and Harry was in the master bedroom reading, “So how did it go?” She asked him as she plucked her heels off, placing her palm on their dresser to balance herself.
“It was good. Why don’t you get ready for bed and then we can talk about everything that happened?”
Harry had decided he’d play down what had happened between you two. He’d be honest but he wouldn’t divulge some of his innermost thoughts. The parts where he forgot all about his wife and how your soft and docile demeanor was refreshing and made him feel masculine and wide awake all of a sudden. No. He wouldn’t share that much with her.
Kit turned off the ceiling light and turned on her lamp before climbing into bed with Harry, “So, tell me how it went.”
“Yeah. It was good. She was very open. She said she wanted to join us on Saturday for sure.”
Kit nodded, “And? Did you two kiss or anything?”
Harry’s heart began to lob in his chest at the idea that he was going to tell his wife what he’d done with another woman. Kit seemed fine. She insisted she was but Harry still felt unease about how to handle this situation gracefully. Without anyone getting hurt. But he promised himself and figured he owed it to his wife that he'd tell the truth.
“Yeah, we did. Brought her into the bedroom, here so the kids didn’t see. Kissed her and then got her clothes off, fingered her,” he inhaled softly and felt his cheeks glow and his chest burn. “That was it.”
Kit grinned and slid in close to Harry, smoothing her palm under his shirt, “Yeah? I wish I could have seen it. Did she come?”
Harry puffed out a laugh of disbelief. Maybe he was fretting for nothing. Perhaps his guilt had been needless. Maybe Kit was right. Maybe this would be really good for them.
“Yes.” He looked down at where his wife’s hand was traveling.
“And did you come?”
“No. I kept all my clothes on when I was with her and then when she left I had to get dinner for the boys and I was with them until I finally got into bed a bit ago.”
Kit palmed over his crotch, “You poor man. You did so good for me today, baby.” She kissed his lips, “You deserve a treat.”
Harry sighed as his wife put her hand into his night pants and began to pump his cock slowly. Closing his eyes with a smile he realized he probably had nothing to worry about.
Harry thinks she's a princess and should be treated as such.
She has never felt the way Harry makes her feel.
Part I
Part II
...
@babegoals made the ADORABLE top divider for me 💕 I couldn’t not use it. So this will be a special little series and I will have an upper and lower one!
A/N: this has been an idea sitting in my drafts for a while. You and Harry had a brief but intense relationship as teenagers, were forced to make a serious decision then, and it’s aftereffects have lingered for the rest of your lives. It deals with some heavier topics so read with caution (alcoholism, depression, unwanted pregnancy etc). I’d describe it as sad but hopeful.
—————————————
Age 17.
It started in secret. We’d found each other on the roof of a house party. Truth be told, I saw him sneak out of the window where people were crowded around the TV watching some controversial music video I hadn’t heard about. And I’d followed.
I knew who Harry was. Had him in English, Maths, and Biology last year. He was well spoken, thoughtful, and silly. I never spoke to him once though. Only admired him from afar.
Tonight I had my first drink and then another. I was feeling buzzed and despite being painfully shy for most of the time I’d known everyone here, I was suddenly gripped by the realization that we were approaching the last year we would all be together. Why had I waited this long to pursue someone I thought was cute?
I snuck out after him, when my friends weren’t looking. I even tilted the window more closed than usual so no one would suspect anything; I had the attic room at home so I knew how to maneuver the angled roof to get comfortable.
“You need any help?” Harry’s voice is clear in the silence.
“I’m alright.” I stand up to peer at him. He’s climbed near the top.
“Sure? You don’t seem steady.”
“Oh I’m steady,” I prove it to him by climbing up to where he was. “See?”
“I’m mistaken. My bad.” He holds out a hand to help me sit beside him and the night sky flashes brighter for an instant when I grasp his hand. My stomach is in knots.
“Harry. Styles.” I don’t know why I say his full name but I was nervous.
He repeats my full name back to me. I don’t know why I’m surprised he knows it. It’s not like we went to a big school.
“What brings you out here?”
I try to be bold about it, “You?”
“Party was getting too much.” He says. I stare at him in confusion while he complains about something his friends had gotten up to.
I replay my answer and realized it sounded like I’d skipped answering his question and asked the question back. Bugger.
“You know my name.” I interrupt him, forgetting he was telling me a story. Awkward.
“Yeah? Of course I do.”
“We’ve never talked.”
“We talked. Once in Maths. We had to grade each other’s answers.”
Oh yeah. I burn when I remember the 4/10 he’d given me with a smiley face saying that maths was masochistic.
“Barely.”
“I know you though,” he says with a softness that makes my heart stutter.
“Do you?” I look to him, resting my chin on my shoulder. He gazes down at me and I swear I could taste the colours around us.
His eyes draw me deeper as he inches closer. Was he going to kiss me? Oh my god.
I look back out to the roof and he jerks away. Omg.
“I do.”
“Oh,” I don’t know what to do after that awkward moment.
“I know you’re really quiet and shy but your smile is so loud you can see it from across the room.” He says and my breath catches as he continues. “You’re yourself with your friends, you really like Harry Potter and field hockey. You would kill Mal Adams if you could get away with it and you hate Maths just as much as you love art. You’re dating Oli Graves but your smile is only ever shining half as bright when you’re around him. Can I go on?”
I stop breathing completely halfway through his declaration of knowing me. All this time I had my eye on him, I didn’t know he was watching me too.
“I didn’t ask you for your opinion on my relationship.”
“You didn’t. I didn’t give you one either.”
I glare at him. He was right. He smiles knowing he was. I’m mad that I’m not mad at him. That he was right.
“What are you doing with a guy like that?”
Oli and I had been dating for 7 months now. He was loud and fun in a way I wish I could be. That’s why I liked him so much. That’s why I was at a party like this to begin with.
“He’s a good guy.”
“That’s all?” He asks. I look over but he’s looking up at the sky. I follow his gaze and get lost in the great expanse of nighttime.
“I think you deserve someone who sees you. Don’t you?”
“Did Ally see you?” I ask with a hint of aggression I didn’t mean to have.
“Ally and I broke up during Easter. So there’s your answer.” He’s unbothered.
“Well what do you want?” I ask.
“Right now? Or in life?”
I shrug. “Both?”
“I want to explore the world and meet all kinds of people. I wanna make the world a better place by being in it. It’s cheesy as shit so if you ever said I said this I’ll deny it and you’ll look like-“
“My lips are sealed.” I turn his way to promise him that. It makes me laugh at how serious he looks saying it all and when I do his face relaxes.
“You laugh is nice too. I forgot to mention that.”
That quiets me very quickly.
“And right now,” he continues. “I’d really like to kiss you.”
My ears ring. Did I hear him right? Could you get so drunk you hallucinate? I swear the cold air had sobered me-
“Did you hear what I said?” Harry’s moved in closer to me. Did I? I don’t know.
“What d-“
“I’d like to kiss you.”
I nod, afraid to talk and realize I’d hallucinated him saying that.
The world melts away when he kisses me. It’s tender, nothing like Oli and his jagged pushy kissing. In the nighttime air it’s warm, and soft, and easy.
“I know you,” Harry says when we part. I’d nearly climbed into his lap and I try to edge away, embarrassed, but he keeps a hand firm on my thigh.
“I know you too Harry,” I breathe. He smiles and it crinkles his luscious eyes.
I think I was falling.
***
We keep it a secret after I break up with Oli. For months, until mid-August when I invite him over for dinner after my mom insists on meeting “the boy I was all doe-eyed over”. The night with my family goes so well—Harry is the picture of a courteous gentleman that even my sister is swayed by him despite saying boys were gross. I ask him to hang out, in public, the next day. He doesn’t hesitate to say yes.
That’s what I love about Harry—yes love. He’s not pushy, he lets me go at my own pace. He respects me and sees me for everything I am and loves me anyway. I wanted to spend my whole life with him.
It was so intense and relaxed at the same time. It felt like no relationship I’d been in before. I felt different being with him, even my friends noticed.
When final year started, Harry and I were official but we didn’t flaunt it. We didn’t need to. My friends knew about us and they were happy for us, they told me I was more me. Whatever that meant.
Life was phenomenal and I was living in a dusky haze. Nothing could touch us.
Until one day in February. I was out with my sister, mum didn’t want to take her out and since I recently got my driver’s license with plenty of lessons from Harry, I was driving her to the mall. She needed Valentine’s Day cards.
“I thought you said love is stupid.” I remind her on the way.
“It is.”
“So why the hell am I driving you to buy cards for a made up holiday?”
“Because!” She crosses her arms and stares out the window. I flick her arm at a red light.
“You have a crush.”
“I do not!”
“Do too. Who is it? James? Mattie? Hamid?”
“Ew! They’re freaks.” My sister continues staring out the window.
“Why do you want to buy cards so bad!?”
“I just want them! For my friends!”
“Okay then,” I didn’t believe her. But I couldn’t bring her home crying or mum would ground me.
A lot of places have slim pickings. Wandering the aisle of Waterstones I catch sight of a family friend. She was my dad’s uni friend’s daughter, a few years older than me but by the time I got to secondary she had dropped out after getting pregnant. I remember the buzz when everyone found out.
I avoid her and find an aisle to occupy myself.
Harry and I were always careful, mum had already given me the talk and he never pressured me to do anything I didn’t. I imagine Harry as a dad. He would make a good one I think.
As one thought leads to another I go cold as I realize something. My last period was during the holidays.
I feel like I’m walking in a swarm of locusts as I walk to the edge of the aisle, scanning for my sister. Maybe I can pop into a pharmacy before she’s done. Maybe…
This was crazy. It was probably just a missed period.
But if it isn’t, another voice asks. I felt it in my gut. I had to do this.
I don’t remember getting home. I don’t remember anything about the rest of that day except two faint lines, and then two faint lines again, and a third time. I fall asleep before dinner that night and shut the world out.
***
“I know something’s wrong.” Harry’s walking me home after school. It’s Valentine’s Day and he’d been nothing but sweet. He bought me chocolates, flowers, and we planned to cook dinner together after school. I had bought him chocolates too, and had written him a heartfelt note with a bunch of photos of us weeks ago. The box was in my room, waiting for tonight. “Do you not like the flowers? Or is it dinner? We can go out somewhere instead?”
“No everything’s lovely.” I’d never heard Harry this desperate before. It gets under my skin even though part of me knows that’s not really it. But having him hover over me all week trying to figure out what was wrong was too much.
I’d spent every night this week with a hand over my belly. Thinking about it. I hadn’t told anyone. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. All I can think of was Jenny and I didn’t want that life. I couldn’t. I couldn’t be a mother.
“Please. What’s the matter.” Harry asks again, tugging at my hands but I pull them away.
“I just need some space!” I shout and he flinches. “I’m sorry Harry. I just need space right now.”
“Right now like…” he scratches his head. “I don’t get you. It’s Valentine’s Day, we’ve been talking about this day for weeks what do you mean you want space?”
“I can’t do this right now. Please.”
“Are you-are we…”
“I’m not breaking up with you.” I look at Harry with tears in my eyes, I didn’t want to cry out here. But every time I look at him I remember the reality. What’s growing inside me. I can’t take it. “I just can’t do today.”
I go inside my house. Leave him without further explanation. I feel awful, I can’t hold the tears in long enough to get to my room.
***
“Hey love?” My mum and dad knock on my door at half past 5. I lay in the dark, having cried myself dry. “We’re worried about you. Can we talk.”
“I can’t.” I say, voice stuffy.
“I thought you and that boyfriend of yours had plans,” dad says. He liked Harry but he rarely called him by his name. “Did something happen?”
“No!” I wanted them to leave me alone. “I just. I had to cancel. I’m fine.”
“Don’t sound fine to me love,” I feel the mattress dip as mum sits down. Dad strokes my hair. They whisper something I can’t hear and a pair of footsteps pad out of my room.
“Mum just leave me alone.” I try again.
“I’m not.” She pushes me further into my bed and leans down, tugging my blanket down. When I finally look at her she smiles kindly and kisses my forehead. That fills me up enough to start wailing again. “Oh love, what’s wrong?”
“Everything!” I sob into my blanket. Mom lays down beside me and I let myself be cradled like a child. God, I had a child. This was so fucked.
“Talk to me. We can figure it out together.”
I don’t know how my parents would react. They were never particularly strict, especially after what happened with Jenny I remember them always being sympathetic. We even visited her in hospital with a gift.
Mum strokes my hair and whispers that it’ll be okay. Slowly my sobbing eases into light sniffles. I had to tell her. She would know what to do. And if she hated me for it, I would just have to deal with it.
“Mum don’t be mad-“
“I won’t honey I-“
“No. Mum.” I cut her off. She moves back on the pillow so she can see my whole face, moving a strand of hair so I couldn’t hide. “Something…messed up. Happened. And…I was careful. We were always careful I don’t know what happened but I-“
I watch her face changed. Like she knew. She knew what was coming but she waits patiently as I muster up the courage to say the words that felt too real once I said them.
“Mum I’m…I’m pregnant.”
Her eyes fill with tears and she bites her lip. What was she thinking? Was she crying for me or with me? Why wasn’t she saying anything!?
“Mum-“
“C’mere.” She wraps me in her embrace again and kisses the top of my head. My body feels drained and limp. I finally told somebody. It was real. This living thing inside of me was real.
“What happened?” She asks next. And I tell her what I think happened. When. How I found out. She listens, holding my hand in hers. When I’m done and it’s poured out of me she smiles supportively. “This isn’t a bad thing okay? It’s okay. Any decision you make is up to you. I’ll talk to your dad but just know you call the shots okay? I love you.”
This is what carries me. The love.
She asks me it I told Harry yet and I tell her the truth. She urges me to tell him. I tell her I wanted to so bad but I was scared.
She leaves shortly after that, I hear her talking softly outside my room. Nobody calls me for dinner until 7, a soft knock on my door. My sister would never be so soft, I assume it’s dad so I tell him to come in. I was scared to face him.
It’s Harry instead.
“Harry!” I cover my splotchy face with my blanket, why was he here? Did mum invite him? This was soo embarrassing.
My heart pounds and Harry is silent until he takes a seat where mum had previously been.
“I came over, your mum invited me. She explained.”
She did what? For a moment I feel betrayed.
“She said you weren’t doing so well. Stressed? I could make you some tea if you’d like. But I told you y/n, you’ll get into unis. You don’t have to worry so…”
I sigh. Mum had told him a half-truth. But he had come. Of course he had.
I couldn’t even think about uni right now because that lead me down a road of what if I couldn’t go because I had a baby. And that life felt so bleak it made me depressed.
“Harry.” I inch my blanket down a little and his eyes go round when he looks at me.
“You look…awful.”
“I know.” I cover my face with my hair but he brushes it away and kisses my forehead.
“No. I’m worried about you. I brought dinner-“
“Oh Harry.” I spot the bag he brought with him.
“I made it all for us. With my mum’s help but mostly me. I packed it to bring to you.”
I didn’t deserve him. And I had to tell him. And he was going to break up with me. What high school boy wanted a child?
“Harry it’s not uni.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I was carrying another living thing. It was the size of a seed but I was carrying it inside me. Like a living breathing pot. I was a potted plant.
“Then what is it?” His brows crinkle. “Is it us?”
“No!” I rush to tell him. “I…I don’t know how to say this. And I don’t know how you’re going to react but it’s okay either way.”
“What are you talking about?” His hands slide up my lap. “What is it?”
“Harry. I’m um, I’m pregnant.”
I watch him freeze and stay exactly how he is, his brows pinch ever so slightly. I knew this look. He looked still on the outside but his mind was racing. And I was scared what was racing through it.
“Pregnant?”
“Yeah. From…the holidays.”
“How did-I thought we-“
“I guess it’s not foolproof.” I whisper. Mum had told me to go on the pill, and I hadn’t listened because all my friends told me it made them gain weight. If only I had listened. Now I was gaining weight anyway.
“What are we going to do?” He asks next. And I never realized six little words could weigh the world. If I could cut those words out and surgically implant them into my heart I would. Just to remind me the equal parts relieved and comforted they made me.
I hold his face in my hands, new tears springing to my eyes. He was in this. With me.
He kisses me and pulls me into a hug. I cry into his shirt again and he holds me so tight I swear I could break.
“I don’t know if I can keep it Harry,” I finally whisper to him.
His hands fist in my shirt, he holds his breath and after a long minute he lets me go with it.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Was he really okay with all this?
“It’s…I can’t make you keep it.”
“You’d want to keep it?” I couldn’t believe it.
“It’s…” he swallows his sentence and keeps his gaze on my stomach. I tug his hand and lay it over it. When his eyes meet mine I see a hint of heartbreak. We were going to break our hearts either way I think.
Not once did I think he might want to keep it.
“It’s okay.” Harry finally says. “We’re so young right? How would we keep a baby and go to school, and do everything we always talk about?”
“Yeah I don’t…I don’t know.”
“I love you.” He says with such a sudden passion. I wrap my arms around his and return the sentiment.
Eventually we lay down and just talk about everything. Truthfully, my head was telling me not to keep the baby but everything else felt dead thinking about it.
Maybe that’s why it took me until April to finally make a decision. It was the size of a plum by then, and a tiny bump was starting to show but only when I stood naked in front of the mirror. With clothes on, nobody was the wiser. But the longer I kept it, I think the more Harry fell in love with it. The idea of it.
We have a long talk during our Easter holiday. We talked in my bedroom until the sun comes up. I tell him I was sure of my decision.
I’d gotten accepted to Cambridge by then. Harry was staying in London. We knew it wasn’t feasible. To live the life we always wanted, we had to get rid of this new life we never knew could happen.
I don’t know why but I don’t tell him the day I go to do it. I go with my mum. Mum drops my sister off at school—she didn’t know. Mum said she had a big mouth.
We drive in silence. When we park mum asks how I feel.
“Sad.” It was the truth. I knew this was right. But it felt like shite.
“Yeah.” She rubs my hands. “Want to go in?”
“I just want to sit here for a bit.” I tell her.
“Okay. I’ll go sign you in.”
She takes my purse and hers and leaves me there. I take the moment to ground myself. Say goodbye to the other future.
When mum knocks on my window I jump.
“Yn? Is everything alright?”
“Yeah yeah I’m coming in.” I open the door.
“You know you’ve been sitting here half hour?”
I pause, one leg out the door and one still in. “I…I must have got lost in my head. Sorry mum-“
“Look. Do you want to do this?”
“I don’t know…I have to.”
“There are other options love-“
“But how can I give it up and live my whole life like that?”
“We can help raise her. You can go on and live your life-“
“I’d be a horrible mother.” Mum and I had this row so many times before. It always ended in me storming away but I couldn’t here.
“You don’t need to make the decision today.”
“But I do.” I tell her. “Otherwise it’ll drive me insane.”
I tuck both feet back into the car and rest my hand on my belly. I’d allowed myself to do that only in my room, when I was alone. Doing it out here made it feel even more real. Suddenly I couldn’t imagine going through with the decision.
“I can’t do this.” I tell my mum.
She smooths my hair down and kisses my temple. My door closes and a few seconds later she climbs in beside me.
“Think about it.”
“I can’t. But I can’t keep it either.”
“Okay.” Mum pulls me into her and I think I should cry but I can’t. I’m calm, maybe I know I’d made the right decision. Or just a decision. I was going to stick to this.
“I can’t raise it. I’m just a child I…maybe someone out there wants a baby and can’t have one maybe-“
“I’ll look into it for you.” Mum promises. “You set the rules remember?”
And that’s how it goes. Mum looks into it, we decide to go for adoption. We go to the hospital on the first warm day of the year. By then I’d taken to wearing jumpers over flowy dresses and been thankful for the first time in my life that I wasn’t skinny like other girls. At most angles you couldn’t tell my belly was so perfectly round.
By then too, Harry had accepted the decision. He seemed relieved. Thinking aloud he’d said maybe he could raise it, but quickly turned around when I asked him what he’d do about uni.
“Someone out there can take care of it better than us. Someone will love the baby like we do.”
During the summer, I tell all my friends I was staying with family in midlands. And I do go up there, that’s where the couple who was adopting lived. Harry and I meet them with my mum and his. It’s awkward, we run out of conversation fast. But their house is big and they already have a 2 year old from an adoption last year. My baby was going to be loved here. And have a sibling.
“We did want to discuss one last thing,” they’d said before we left. We all listen intently. “We…find it best when it’s a no contact adoption. We’ve had a lot of friends who keep contact open and it gets messy-“
“What?” I hadn’t really thought about this until now. Hearing I’d have to give the baby up and go on like it didn’t exist felt wrong. Harry’s hand slips into mine.
“This is typical,” Harry’s mum says from his side. “Let’s hear it out.”
“Right. So just to prevent future complications, we do no contact. Of course when baby’s older and wants to seek out the real parents we can’t stop them. But until then…”
“Thank you.” My mum steps in when it goes silent. I could hardly wrap my head around what they were saying. When it gets older?
Pretty soon mum is ushering me out and Harry’s hand is still clutching mine. We don’t let go until we reach my Uncle’s where we were staying until August. The baby was due in September. I was going to miss the first week of class.
“I can’t do this.” I tell them later. “How can we just have no contact.”
“I thought you knew.” Mum says. “I explained that some parents want this when they adopt.”
She might have. Ever since I hit the third trimester like my doctor said, I’ve had a hard time listening and understanding what someone was saying after they spoke too long. I was glad school was done—for obvious reasons, but also for not having to sit in a class and learn.
“We have no other choice.” Harry says from beside me. He rubs my back and slowly, I zone back into the conversation. “We can find another family but they might want the same thing.”
“What if the baby never looks for us?” I turn to him, our heads press against the other’s. “What if we go our whole lives just wondering?”
“What’s the other option?” Harry whispers. He was right. I just didn’t want to get it.
Acceptance slowly creeps into me over the course of the summer. It was always hot carrying another person around, I was always hungry and thirsty, and very cranky. Harry came up to see me every other weekend when he could, mum stayed with me and that summer was one I could never forget.
It was September 1st, a particularly hot day. Rain fell in the afternoon and by the time the unforgiving sun set, the cool air was heavenly.
I sat by the bedroom window, moisturizing my belly like mum had shown me, talking to the baby. I wrote it a letter last week all about me, that I loved them and hoped the best for them. I told the baby about my family, how Harry and I met, and then I sealed it in an envelope with a picture of Harry and me. It was taken last Halloween when we’d both dressed up as each other. I tell mum to give it to the new parents. In case the day came the baby wondered about who we were.
As I spoke softly, I felt a gush of something wet down my leg.
“What?” I stand up, confused. “I…”
It takes me a second. I was going into labour.
“Mum!” I shout. “Mum! Come here!”
She rushes in and confirms it. It was happening.
“But it’s supposed to be next week!” I try not to panic but that’s all I can do as mum grabs our things and my aunt rushes to the car. “Does this mean something’s wrong? Is the baby o-“
I freeze as a contraction forces me to fold. I’d felt the kicking and the nausea and everything in between but these. These were a bitch.
Somehow we make it to hospital. Somehow I lay on a bed and push when the doctor tells me to. I nearly pass out. I just wanted Harry here with me. He didn’t know his kid was being born.
With a final push that felt like I was ascending my body and leaving it behind, I hear a wail and I cry. The baby was out, they cried and everything was okay.
“Okay congratulations mummy,” a nurse crouches down to me. “We’re going to clean you and baby up. She’s healthy and looks okay.”
“What?” I can barely see with my hair in my face and the nurses around me. It was a she? I had a baby girl?
We were never told the gender, so we wouldn’t get attached. But I had a baby girl. The nurse just called me mum.
I feel the tears on my cheeks, I was crying too. I try to look around me but a new nurse is talking in hushed voices to the doctor.
“…outside…call…adoption…shouldn’t or….contact-“
“What’s going on?” I can barely get the words out. “What?”
“Oh my love,” suddenly mum’s in the room and things are a bit better. A bit better.
“Mum what’s going on?”
“The baby’s born. The parents are outside they’re going to meet her soon.”
“What?” I look at mum’s face and it’s shining with tears. Why was she crying?
“Oh she’s beautiful love, she’s perfect. But your job’s done now. You should rest.”
“Mum,” I cry. “Where is she? Can’t I hold her?”
“No love,” mum moves my hair out of my face. I feel something break in half inside of me. I couldn’t even hold the baby? The baby girl? Mine and Harry’s baby girl?
“Why? Mum why? I just want to see her-“
“I’m sorry,” mum says through tears. “It’s just the way it is. She’s going to a loving home okay? She’s good. You’re okay.”
I can’t stop crying. I was going to lose her last April and I stopped that but I lost her anyway. My baby, I was never going to see her.
I remember when my sister was born. I was 5 and I was angry she’d taken the attention away. But when I saw her with her perfect toes and angel face I was obsessed with her. I even remember her first steps, she’d taken them at a park with mum and dad and me together. I was never going to know these things about my own baby. I was never going to know her.
I must pass out soon after. I remember waking up to the nurses instructing me about something. I’m half asleep and barely remember what I did when I get up. When I do wake it’s morning and there’s a figure on the chair beside me.
“You’re up.”
Harry. Relief washes over me knowing he’s here.
“Harry they took her,” I tell him.
“I know. I know yn.”
I move aside and he crawls into bed with me. I must look disgusting but he watches me with love brimming in his eyes. I can tell he’s been crying.
“I feel empty,” I whisper. Like someone had carved me out like a pumpkin. Something I’d had with me all year was gone. “How can I just move on? Start uni and all that when I…they just took her.”
“I keep thinking that.” Harry says. “Khalil invited me to a party to meet some blokes from uni and I just sat in my car the whole time. I couldn’t even go in. She…she was never going to be ours.”
“I feel awful.” I burrow into his neck as he strokes my hair. “A baby girl.”
“A baby girl,” Harry echoes.
***
I head to uni a week later. My body still feels like it fought a war and lost. It’s like it still thinks there’s a baby there. I produce milk for a few days, continue to have contractions, my belly is saggier than usual and I can’t stop crying about everything.
My dad drops me off to uni. He tells me he was proud of me, that I was always his baby girl. I cry then just like I cried at home when I said bye to mum, or when my sister hugged me which she never does. I can’t stop crying.
When I move into my dorm I feel like a completely different person than I thought I was going to be. My dormmate fills me in on everything she’s learned, complains about a boy and a party and it just feels so irrelevant to me. Did I used to care about those things? I had a baby. And now I didn’t.
By October, Harry and I are in different worlds. We hadn’t broken up but we talk weekly. Each week there’s less to talk about. When I visit home in October, being around him just makes me sad. He tries to cheer me up, make it like old times, but I know he’s hurting inside too.
I decide to do the breaking up. And at first he’s angry, insisting we could make it work. He actually refuses and walks away. We don’t talk for a whole day.
But at a house party in South where his uni mates were from, he accepts the end.
Through tears we kiss each other one final time, we whisper sweet nothings, we pour into each other all the hopes and wishes we had for each other.
When he hugs me for the last time I leave something behind. It’s similar to waking up the morning after my delivery and knowing something was gone. I really feel the shape of the loss. It sits in my sternum, a hole that grows smaller with time, but not just yet.
I fall into a depressed state for most of my first semester but my dormmate doesn’t give up on me and eventually I go to my first uni party. Eventually my brain fog clears and I actually go to all my classes. Eventually my life, on the outside, looks like it could be back to normal but inside I ache with the loss. So much that it becomes part of me. I don’t know where it ends, and I begin. It lives in me.
Age 23.
“The first of many hey?” Mal clinks his bottle to mine. I barely knew Mal but we were both friends with Khalil and therefore both at his stag.
“Before you know it we’re all going down,” one of Khalil’s friends joins in. “Stag after stag, suit after suit, it’s gonna be a blur man.”
“Let’s enjoy it while we can!” Someone cheers and everyone raises their beers. I toast with a smile; blokes loved to act like being in a relationship was the last thing they wanted when I knew most of them were mush in their girlfriend’s hands.
I also smile knowing I bought an engagement ring a few weeks back. I wanted to propose to Shannon, we met on her 22 when a friend invited me along. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the birthday girl. We’d been together since.
“Who do you think’s next?” The bets start going and nobody bets on me. Everyone always thought Shan was too good for me, they were counting on us breaking up. I was going to prove them all wrong.
The night gets sloppier until we all head back to the air bnb we’d rented for this. Tomorrow we were all supposed to go play golf like we were cosplaying old money bastards when we all knew we were just broke blokes from East. But I guaranteed they’d all be too hungover. We would get to the club and just drink the hangovers away.
And I’m right. I update Shan that I’m right when the boys stay in the dining area of the club. They decide on lunch and I step out to talk to my girlfriend.
“No birds allowed this weekend,” someone pipes in when I excuse myself.
“That’s just cuz you’re miserable Eli.” I brush past as the boys laugh. At me. And him.
I catch up with Shan. It was a bright day for September and I stay a little longer after the phone ends. Shan was in med school, she was always stressed or sleep deprived. I tried to support her the best I could—right now she needed moral support that she was going to get an internship she was applying for.
“Mummy doesn’t like when I have sweets,” a small voice says to my left. I look at a father with his daughter. He’s crouched down zipping her sweater up while she rambles on.
“Well it’s going to be our secret.” The dad says. “Sundays are for sweets aren’t they?”
“I love sweets.” She responds.
The father catches my eye and I shoot him a smile.
“Her mum’s going to hear every detail when we get home,” he says as he stands. “Can’t keep a secret to save her life.”
I laugh. The way she was rambling on, I didn’t think so. “How old’s she?”
“6.” He says, smiling down at her fondly. My heart aches.
“Almost 7.” She corrects her dad.
“Birthday’s in the spring.” He says more to me. “But almost 7 sure.”
I see them leave with one more shared smile, like we’re in on something. I imagine that’s how it would feel to be a parent. Always knowing something your kid doesn’t.
My daughter was 6. Wherever she was.
Thinking about the daughter I never had, the girl I lost always leaves me a little winded. Today’s no different.
Yn and I both made an agreement and it had been the hardest thing I’d done. Letting her go. It took me a proper year to even think about moving on.
I liked to think about yn, doing everything she wanted to do. But when I thought about the baby I spiralled into a dark pit. Sometimes when I drank too much, it pulled me in too deep to get out of. That’s what Shan liked to call my depressive drinking. She’s limited me to 3 drinks since.
Before I go in I take a minute to think about yn, where she might be. I hear from friends in high school random facts about her life. But I wonder how she’s doing. If she thinks about our baby like I do. How life would have been if I’d been here, calling her on the phone instead, asking if our baby girl was doing alright.
Age 29.
I stare at the nape of the man in front of me. It couldn’t be, but I’d memorized the back of his head—amongst other things, nearly 2 decades ago and I would bet £1000 I knew who this was. But I continue staring until the cashier rings him up.
In the same voice I remember, the one from my memories and my fantasies, I hear him say: “debit.”
I wait for him to pay before saying, “Harry?”
He turns so quickly he drops his card, wallet, and keys.
“Hi!” I laugh awkwardly and crouch down to help him pick his things up. There’s an awareness that the people in the queue behind me are witness to a moment that feels more intimate than a grocery store chat and it makes me shrink a little in my shell like a spooked turtle.
“Hi I-uh,” Harry short-circuits in front of me as the bored cashier holds his receipt out and stares at him with eyes that have worked one shift too many.
“I’ll just bag-“
“Yeah we can talk later.” I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile but it feels watery. I couldn’t believe of all the places I’d run into him, it was a grocery queue. How intense in such a mundane place.
As I watch my total rise on screen I risk a glance at Harry. His hand hovers over a white reusable bag, I wonder if that was his. Or his wife’s. If they did their weekly shop in a mismatch of bags that looked like that or they were the type of couple to have a set.
His eyes are on me though, somehow here and not here. I feel the same way.
I look back to the cashier asking me how I was paying. She glances between Harry and I. I don’t look back at him. Or the growing queue a few feet away.
I take my groceries—just some items my mum asked me to pick up, and stuff them into the tote I’m wearing. Harry waits for me by the exit.
“Hi.” He says as his eyes scan my face. I do the same, taking in all the ways time had spent with him. It must have been good—he looked good. “I can’t believe-“
“A Whole Foods of all places.” I laugh. A grin splits his face but his eyes stay on me.
“That smile, that laugh. God I’ve missed you.”
“I…missed you too.” How I could miss someone I’d known for one year and then never again for nearly two decades…I didn’t realize it was possible until now.
“Are you busy?” He asks. “Maybe we can grab a drink or?”
“I don’t…drink.” I hated that I had to announce it to people. I was still at the stage where I was figuring out how to say it confidently, or find a way around saying it.
“Oh.” Harry glances down at my belly and I realize he’d misunderstood but it’s too unspoken to correct him. “Cafe?”
“Yeah. That sounds lovely.” Honestly going anywhere with him sounded lovely right now. I wanted to cancel all my plans for the day and just sit with him. Stare at him and catch up. I couldn’t believe he was here.
We walk in a comfortable but waiting silence, like taking a cold drink out to a park with the anticipation it’s going to be good , and no desperation to open it as soon as you get it.
“Usual? Tea?” Harry asks when we step into a nearby cafe. It’s big for a cafe but has enough students working on laptops to not feel empty. I nod, unsure how to feel that Harry still knows what I order at a cafe. Or that my order hasn’t changed since 17.
I find us a booth and pretty soon he’s sliding into the seat across from me. The two of us can’t stop smiling.
“Hi,” he says again.
“Hi…”
“You look good, the same but better.”
“I was going to say the same thing about you!” I exclaim. More smiling.
“How’s…I mean, how are you? How is everything? What-“
“There’s so much to ask-“
“I don’t even know how to ask what I want to know!” Harry laughs and I’m warmed from the inside out at the sound of it.
“This shouldn’t be hard!”
“No.” He scrubs his face. “I’m really buzzing that we’ve run into each other.”
“Me too. It’s a bit unbelievable.”
“I know.” He continues gripping his cup and not taking his eyes off of me. It’s the exact way he used to look at me when we were teenagers. It nearly takes my breath away. “You look good—but I already said that. Sorry.”
“No,” I laugh. “That’s all that’s running through my head.”
“Oh—I remember hearing you were engaged a few years ago-“
“Yeah.” I turn my hand so he can see the ring. “Married now. You?”
“Yeah,” he looks down at his own hand. He had so many rings on I couldn’t tell from a glance. “Coming up to 5 years now.”
“Wow. It’s only 1.5 for me but Tatum and I—my husband, we’d been since uni.”
“Took him a while.”
“Mhm,” it had been a sore subject way back then. Harry says it casually but he studies my face. I know he wants to ask more but he’ll politely maneuver around it.
“Are you happy?”
I let out a breath. “That’s more complicated than anything else you could ask!”
“Is it?”
“Yeah I-“ I shrug. “I don’t know if I am. But I also have no idea what I could do about it. So. There’s that.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” My stomach curdles with his words. I didn’t want pity, least of all from Harry. Harry. I can’t believe he was here. “I get it though. Everyone says your 30s are even more glorious than your 20s. We’ll see soon enough if they’re right.”
I meet his eye, they always intimidated me to look too long into. Even now, I glance back down at my drink. When I look up again he has a wry smile twisting his lips. He knew.
I was sorry to hear life hadn’t been as good for him. And then I understand, it wasn’t pity he was giving me. He truly was sorry like I.
I thought about Harry often. Of course I did. I liked to imagine him living out his dreams like he always talked about. I liked to imagine him happy and thriving.
“Do you ever think about us?” I have to ask. “If we did it all differently?”
“We would have had a 12 year old with us.”
Hearing him say it feels like someone had taken a screwdriver and opened me up. Raw and exposed. But looking at him I know he thought about her as much as I had. Both of us were apparently mourning a future neither of us had fought for.
“Yeah,” I breathe but I just sound winded.
“We were trying, at one point—Shan and I.” Harry fiddles with his ring. “Did all the tests and the trials and the shite. But no kids. It put a real strain on my relationship. I think we cracked instead of bending. And I don’t think either of us know how to make it right again.”
I grasp his hand and squeeze. “I know what that’s like. It’s hard. I…a couple years ago. I lost a baby. A baby boy. I felt like it was a punishment for-“
“Don’t.”
We hold onto each other, our drinks long forgotten. He holds my hand and it feels like being known again, like I wasn’t such an awful person. That someone could see everything I’ve done and still choose to have love for me.
“I’m sorry.” He tells me.
“Me too.” I bite my lip. With a sigh I let him go and lean back. Here we’d been so excited to bump into each other but we’d both been carrying sorrow and grief. It wasn’t very hopeful.
“So I guess you’re not drinking because you’re-“
“No.” I say, surprisingly without feeling awkward. “I’m just sober right now. Trying to figure out life without a drink.”
“Sounds like torture but I respect that. Sounds hard.”
“It was at first. I like the feeling now of thinking clearly. But I miss a glass of wine I do sometimes.”
We smile at each other.
“So do you live around here?” Harry broaches talking again after both of us had lapsed into silence for a while. I blink away the fog of the past.
“Yeah. You?”
“Nah. Shan’s out of town and I was feeling lonely. Came over to visit my sister. I’m just staying with her for the week.”
“Lucky me then.” I smile.
“Lucky me too.” He smiles back. It’s soft. We’re soft. It felt impossible to me after all this time the tenderness was still the strongest thing between us.
We chat a bit more, much about nothing. What we did for a job, anyone we still kept in touch with from school. Nothing that meant a lot.
“I need to head off now,” I say when my phone buzzes for a second time. “I was on my way to my mum’s. She keeps calling me.”
“Yeah. Don’t want to keep you.” Harry says but he stays seated. So do I.
We continue just studying the other until my phone rings again and I laugh. “It was…I really loved seeing you.”
I slide out and Harry mirrors me. I still come to his chest, he still smells the same and stands the same and looks just as handsome.
“How about uhm, how about dinner some time?” Harry asks. I knew it was coming, it’s still painful saying no.
“I…can’t. I…we can’t just do dinner, can we?”
“No,” Harry bows his head. We had too much history to just do dinner. From what he said—and I knew, both our lives were too complicated to add the allure of each other into the mix. I couldn’t do that to my life as tempted as I was. Especially not sober.
“Yeah.” He stands straight again and gives me space to head to the door. “Good seeing you. Give your mum my best if she doesn’t hate me.”
“She doesn’t.” I assure him. We stand awkwardly not sure if a kiss, a hug, or a wave was appropriate. We settle for a hug.
I remember the last time I was enveloped in his arms, tucked away into his tall frame. When we said goodbye forever, agreed to live our best lives separately. We’d both been too scarred to be anything together. Too much grief.
“Maybe we’ll run into each other again.” Harry smiles at me when we part.
“Maybe,” I say knowing full well I wouldn’t do groceries on the weekend anymore.
With a final wave we both part ways again, this time it doesn’t feel as much like closure.
Age 35.
“Graduation’s graduating, what a mouthful.” I say to Andie. We sit in the parking lot of a local pub back home. Both of us had avoided reunions after going to the first one 10 years ago and being reminded of how much people liked to remind you of who you used to be. But this year Andie found out an old flame was going and single. And this is the first year I saw that Harry had checked off going. So we’d decided to go together.
I could have easily reached out to him. Asked him about meeting up there. But I didn’t want to come across any way. I remember our run-in 6 years ago. We felt the same way—we would do anything for each other, and I didn’t want any affect over him coming. Last I heard he was still in a relationship. Just cuz I was didn’t mean I had to ruin another.
“Okay. We going in?” Andie passes me her flask.
I’d taken to drinking again. Originally I stopped after a particularly bad night when I was 28. It nearly cost me my wedding back then.
I stopped to get sober. To feel what it felt like not to rely on alcohol to keep from feeling my emotions. I had a lot of grief I never processed. And unfortunately being sober, and processing the grief and depression, had ultimately cost me my marriage. But I was better for it. I knew what unconditional love and support was. I didn’t want to settle for someone who only loved me at my best.
Now I felt in control when I drank. I knew when to stop.
“Let’s go!”
“Do you think he’ll remember me?” Andie asks as we walk up to the place.
“You comment on so many of his posts. I think he does.” I tease.
“Gah. It would have saved me so much heartbreak if I just told him back 18 years ago how I felt.”
“Maybe,” I think about my confessed love 18 years ago and the heartbreak that ensued.
“Well at least I would have gotten him outta my system. Oh god I see him-“
“Hi ladies,” we’re stopped near the front and given name tags, making small talk with the girls working the booth. I vaguely remember them from a club but I have to read their name tags to pretend I remembered them at all.
Andie ditches me pretty quickly but I don’t mind. I find some friends I saw a couple times a year. Guess this was the couple time this year.
The whole time my eyes scan the room. People had brought their partners and I wondered if Harry would do the same. Deep down, I prayed he didn’t. I just wanted to see him.
I spot him halfway through the night. He’s leaning against the bar talking to Khalil. I remembered they used to be friends, he was always nice to me while Harry and I dated.
I watch him talk and drink. I lose him for a bit and then catch him leaving. Shite.
I excuse myself and rush out but nearly trip over myself slowing down. He was just outside for a smoke break.
“When did that habit start?” I ask. He nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Fu-y/n you scared me.” He shakes his face dramatically, like he’s getting something off of it. I bite back a smile, he was pretty drunk. “When did you get here? I didn’t know you came to these things?”
“I don’t.” I correct him. I couldn’t tell him I came for him. “It was just the name of this reunion, Graduation’s graduating. How could I pass it up?”
This earns a laugh. Eases the air between us. “Did you see Oli in there? He’s gotten bald.”
“He looks like his dad actually,” I remember his dad was always coming to Oli’s football matches, screaming at his son to run faster.
“Glad you didn’t end up with him?” Harry smirks.
“Oh yeah. I heard last reunion he just kept going up for the karaoke sober. If I want my bloke to embarrass me, at least give him the excuse of being drunk.”
“Shit,” Harry laughs. “I remember that! I remember! Wish I could forget!”
I laugh with him. “Harry you’re getting pretty close to drunk yourself.”
“Ah yeah. More than 3 drinks that, I’m being naughty tonight.”
I scrunch my nose, no idea what he’s talking about.
“I can’t believe you’re here tonight,” Harry says again. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again for another 12 years after our last time.”
“Thought I’d halve the time.” I watch Harry squash out the butt.
“Glad you did.” He looks at me and I’m 17 again. Why couldn’t we both be single? Why did I come here knowing I couldn’t have him.
Maybe I was as masochistic as the person who invented maths.
“Yn?” A voice calls out to me. “Oi! It is you I thought I was dreaming you up! What a sight!”
I’d been avoiding Oli all night. Not anymore.
I glance at Harry and he hides a smirk. Oli notices Harry then and his face hardens a little.
“Oli! Long time!” I go in for the hug he’s reaching for, unsure why he was so sweaty on an autumn night. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” he grins at me. “You look good! Not a day over 25.”
“Don’t flatter me Oli,” I roll my eyes. “It’s not going to get you anything.”
“I’m not looking! I swear it!” He says earnestly. “I’m just paying you a compliment. It’s good to see you. Hey, I’m actually in a good relationship. Gonna propose to her.”
“Are you? What’s she like?”
I stand in the brisk evening as Oli tells me about his girlfriend. I’m happy for him, what we had in high school wasn’t really a relationship but I never wished him bad. He was a good guy, I was glad he found his person.
I change the subject when he asks about my love life, tell him I was getting cold. We head back in and I tell him I’d catch up to him later. I’d lost Harry and wanted to find him again. I had more I wanted to talk about.
“Khalil,” I interrupt him playing pool. He goes in for a hug and I engage in polite small talk until I tire of it. “I’m looking for Harry.”
“Of course you are,” he wags a finger at me. “I saw him leaving ten minutes ago?”
“Jeez really?” I couldn’t believe I missed him! After coming here just for him. Maybe he had to get home, maybe he had a kid by now. Had to tuck him in.
“He’s not doing so well since the divorce-“
“What?” I stare at Khalil like he’s spoken gibberish. Why hadn’t I heard about that?
“Ehm yeah. He’s pretty private about it.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Yeah. He’s been separated a few years now but he just signed the papers a couple weeks ago. I dunno. He gets kinda depressed around this time of year. Probably the weather.”
It was September. It wasn’t the weather.
I had to find him.
I brush past the people I went to school with. I followed Harry outside to a roof 17 years ago and today I follow him out to find him again. We needed to talk.
I look both ways, hoping for a miracle.
I spot a figure slumped on the far end of the road. I recognize the church, it was where we went every Easter and Christmas growing up.
I walk towards the figure until I can make out the hair. It was Harry. Thank god.
“Why’d you leave?” I ask him when he looks up to my approaching footsteps.
“I drank too much,” he hangs his head again. I sit beside him.
“I heard about the divorce. I’m sorry.”
Harry shrugs. “We separated a while ago. It was coming for a long time.”
“Yeah. Still.” I say.
We sit in silence, the only sound is our breathing and the faint noises from the pub down the road.
“She’s in her last year by now.” I say without further explanation. I know he’d know.
“Our baby’s 17.”
Our baby? I feel choked up. All these years we’d been apart, built our own lives, and there was still an our even when there hadn’t been.
“It’s always been us hasn’t it?” Harry says. “Nobody understands.”
“They couldn’t. We were so young, making such a big decision.”
“Oh y/n.” He leans into me and I wrap my arm around his shoulder. He’s cold, his jacket pooled on the steps around him. I gather it to spread over his shoulder but he stops me. “How much heartbreak can you have in one lifetime?”
I sit, aching for the pain Harry was going through. Knowing it was mirrored in me.
“I’ve had enough for a lifetime. I know that.”
“Me too.” Harry sighs. “I miss you.”
“I’m right here.” I intertwine our hands. They still fit the exact same, all these years later. I examine them, but they looked the same too. I wonder if our baby girl ever looked at her hands, wondered who she inherited them from.
“D’you think she thinks about us?” Harry asks what I’m thinking.
“Maybe.” I say. “I like to think so. I just hope she doesn’t hate us for giving her up.”
“Yeah me too I think…” he hangs his head. I hear him sniffle. Seems like Harry hit the point of drinking where all you could feel is regret. I remember those days. I knew where he was.
When he doesn’t finish his sentence I fill the silence; “Me and Tatum split uh…four years ago now.” I update him. “You probably heard something about it. I remember my mum saying she ran into yours when it was happening. They probably talked all about it.”
I wait for Harry to give confirmation but he stays the way he is.
“I went sober a few years before then. Almost ruined our wedding cuz I was exactly where you were. Unprocessed grief and all I could do was drink about it. I’d given up a baby at 18, then lost a baby a decade later. It feels silly to say out loud, that something that never really came into this world—something the size of a fruit could act like the rock you push up the hill every morning. The grief you fight at your darkest times. How could we be haunted by something that didn’t even exist—not technically. But that’s just the way it was. And that’s the way it had to be when we were 18. I’m not always sure I made the right decision overall but I know it was a decision we had to make at the time. I’ve had to find my peace. So do you Harry.”
“Yeah. I-I have to. Y’know? Sometimes I wonder if I would have made her proud.” Harry sniffles. I had similar thoughts. My throat feels tight remembering. “I don’t think, right now, I would be.”
“She’s so loved. She is so loved Harry. Whatever…wherever she is.”
“I love you.” Harry turns to me. His face is raw with grief and emotion. “Never stopped loving you. But I don’t want to give you this version of me.”
“I’ll take any version of you Harry.” I reassure him. “I think we’ve seen too much of each other to be able to hide anything away.”
He tips forward slowly until his head rests on my chest. I hold him there, just like he’d done for me so many years ago. I tell him the type of thing that meant everything to me back then and I hope it helps him to hear it: “We’ll get through this Harry.”
***
“I don’t remember getting here.”
I look up from my book, Harry stands in my kitchen with a confused look on his face. It was weird seeing him here in my flat. But it was so right too.
“We walked home. I thought you sobered up.”
“Nuh-uh.” He takes a few steps towards me, hesitant.
“Coffee?”
“Maybe I’ll take a shower first?”
“First door on your right. Extra towels in the cupboard.”
“Thanks.”
We look at one another for a beat before he moves back. I make another pot of coffee and clean up from breakfast while he showers.
Next time he walks back in he looks a lot better. Smells nice too.
“Black please.” He says when I hold the coffee up.
I pour him a cup and watch him sip it.
“Thank you for last night.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell him.
“I remember what you said to me. You’re right of course. I think I knew it, I just didn’t have anyone to talk to about it with. Nobody knew about us…”
“You didn’t have to keep it a secret ‘til this day Harry.” I was surprised he had. “You didn’t even tell any of your friends?”
“The only people who knew were my family, a-and Shan. But. Year after year it didn’t mean the same thing to her. I stopped talking to her about it pretty quickly. Think it made it worse because her and I couldn’t actually…”
“Yeah.” I understood.
“But I realized. I think it was losing both of you. I feel like you were taken away too. We just went from being around each other all the time to cold turkey. That was a loss too so…”
“Yeah.” Again, I understood.
“I’m 35. I’ve gotta…get my head on straight.”
I examine him. “Looks okay to me?”
He smiles and puts his cup down.
“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce.”
“Meh that was years ago. Hard then. Fine now. For the best.”
“I agree,” Harry moves around the table to stand where I am. My heart pulses just like it always does around him. He rests a hand on my hip, dragging it up to wrap around my waist. He must feel how hard my heart’s beating. “Did I tell you? That I love you?”
“Maybe?” I feel myself growing more present. The hole that always lived inside of me growing even smaller in this moment. It allows me to settle on the floor better; less air, more weight.
“Well I do. I love you. At 17, or at 35.” He says this with a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth.
“Well. I love you.” I return the kiss, relish in the way his hand grips my tank. “At 17, or 35.”
“Sometimes I wish I held on tighter at 17. But I look at you now and I’m excited to get to know you again.”
His words pour over me like honey. It was sweet we were still on the same page.
“I’m not letting you go this time.” Harry whispers in my ear. He pulls me in tight, swaying from side to side. “I want to spend 41 and 50 with you. I want all of you, every side.”
“Perfect,” I peer up at him. “That’s exactly what I want too.”
“And maybe one day,” he continues in a hush voice. “We’ll get a call from a young girl. She’ll tell us all about her life in a town up north. About a picture she has of her mother dressed like her father and her father dressed like her mother.”
“She’ll tell us she’s had a good life, and she’s thought about the people in the picture. She’d tell us she wants to meet them.”
“We would be able to show her the love we kept for her. Our love’s like a venn diagram, the bit in the middle is just for her. She’d know why she was born in the first place.”
“Closure,” I whisper to him. “We would know closure.”
I remember the day she was taken, how the loss of not even being able to see her felt bigger than the loss of her itself back then.
I think of a 17 year old girl, with green eyes and brown hair. With my smile and Harry’s dimples. My hands, and Harry’s height. She was loved by people, families, that she didn’t even know existed yet.
They say if you love something, let it go. If it’s meant to be it’ll come back.
As Harry and I stay intertwined in the kitchen of my flat, I send out a wish into the universe for her like I did most days. That she was healthy, happy, and one day curious enough to seek us out. That one day, she would come back.
Right now I focus on the man in my arms. The one I never thought I’d get to hold again. For now this was all I needed. I’d loved him, let him go, and after so many years apart, we were back.
The nation of Panem is divided into 12 districts. Each year, two representatives from every district are chosen at random to compete in The Hunger Games. This so called game is the most brutal thing you will ever do, and only one person comes out alive. You are told to play the game and that means doing the most unthinkable things to win.
In district 1, Harry Styles is the most desired man at the moment. With his muscles and long hair, nobody knows if they want to be him or fuck him.
In district 12, Y/N L/N is the underdog. She liked that. Her kindness is her greatest gift and she’ll never let go of that.
Y/N is open with her other districts. She’s a nurturing nature when they were all training, especially for the younger kids. Harry thought she was naive and weak. He didn’t like how pure she was. He couldn’t find anything wrong with her and he couldn’t understand why. Shes from district 12, she should be mad. But she’s not. She’s smiling and giggling, and twirling around like she’s not about to enter a blood bath.
“There’s something wrong with her,” Tori murmured, picking up a gun and looking over its parts. Harry shook his head.
“Definitely. At least we know who’ll go out first,” Harry said, making Tori laugh.
Y/N smiled to herself as she overheard the two. Good. She liked that. They don’t see her as a threat.
She has a plan and if everything goes well, she’ll be the next victor of the hunger games.
After two weeks of intense training, media work and having the best meals of her life — Y/N was ready to enter the game. She felt prepared, well however prepared you could be in this game. Her mentors gave her valuable information and she hopes she’ll do them proud.
“Remember, straight for the trees. The cornucopia is no use to you as of right now, ok?” Her mentor, Lila, advised. Y/N nodded and bit her trembling lip. Her eyes filled up with water and Lila tutted.
“Save the tears for the cameras. They’re always watching. Remember who the real enemy is, Y/N,” Lila whispered, pulling her into a tight hug.
“I hope I do you proud,”
Lila smiled, “You already have,”
The speaker called out ten seconds. She had to get in her pod.
“See you on the bright side,” Y/N grinned, getting into her pod. The door closed straight away and her heart pounded, sweat pouring down her face.
“Use your gifts, Y/N,” She whispered.
Suddenly, it all felt real. There they all stood on the podiums, waiting for the canon to go off. Y/N’s hands shook as she waited for what felt like an eternity. She swallowed and let out a breath.
And then, it happened. The games began.
She ran so fast to the forest, she thought she was flying. She quickly hid behind a bush as people started filing in behind her.
“You know who I want to kill? That little snow white girl. Y/N,” Tori said, cutting branches away with her knife as they walked through the forest. Y/N swallowed and tried to stay as still as possible.
“You’ll get her. We just need to focus on shelter right now,” Harry reasoned, the other allies in his group agreeing.
The retreated into the forest and Y/N was in the clear.
“Assholes,” She murmured, wiping down her trousers. A beeping noise came from the trees. A gift. Y/N grinned. She opened it up quickly, finding a knife.
kindness is the greatest weapon of all — but here’s a little help ~ Lila.
Y/N giggled and put the knife in her pocket. She was going to be just fine.
A few days passed and Y/N had only killed two people. People she had tried to help. But she had no choice. Now she had a bow and few arrows, so she could properly hunt. She used this in her district to help out her mother, so she was pretty handy with it. After shooting a rabbit, she went back to her camp to cook it. Only to fine Harry and Tori sitting down on a log, smirking at her.
“Well, Well, Well,” Tori taunted, walking up to Y/N.
“You lasted longer than I thought you would, I’ll give you that,” Tori said, Y/N cleared her throat.
“Thanks?”
Tori hit the back of her knee, Y/N fell to the ground. She clutched her bow quickly, and shot at Tori. The arrow shot into her stomach and her face went white.
Harry yelled and ran towards Y/N.
A click stopped him.
His foot was engulfed in a bear trap. His other allies walked out of the woods with a laugh.
“It was meant for her, but if the shoe fits,” Alex, a boy from district two laughed. Harry’s face morphed from pain to anger.
“What do you mean? Get me the fuck out of here!” Harry yelled, his voice hoarse. Y/N looked between the two and noticed the guys gun at the ready. They were going to kill Harry and then Y/N.
Not on her watch.
“Oh, for fuck sake,” Y/N groaned, pulling her arrow and shooting straight for Alex’s head. He dropped immediately. Gun shots rang out, aiming at Y/N. She ducked and shot another arrow.
She didn’t miss one.
All three of them were dead and Y/N quickly ran over to Harry.
“Why are you helping me? I was going to kill you,”
in which harry and y/n are in the same friend group but don't like each other very much — until they have a one night stand, y/n gets pregnant, and— wait, now they're having a baby?
content warnings: pregnancy, baby talk, mentions of abortion
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 second 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.
in which harry is a divorce lawyer and y/n really needs his help
8.3k words
warnings: me not knowing how divorces work and partially making shit up! y/n is pregnant. mentions of domestic abuse and i think that’s it for now at least. this is just something that's been collecting dust in google docs. enjoyyy.
a/n: this wasn’t something i originally wanted to be post bc there’s too much happening in it like…but since you’ve been really patient with me….i wanted to give you something to read. i hope you like it :)
masterlist
part one
Her leg hasn't stopped shaking. She's been sitting in the office for all of ten minutes, but the nice receptionist and the neutral colored decor of the lobby did nothing to calm her nerves. In fact, the leather of the seat she was sitting on squeaked every time she moved her foot.
Only the sound of the receptionist occasionally taking phone calls keep her out of her head. (Y/N) had asked herself several times on the way here if this was real. Sure, the phone call she had the week prior was official enough, but actually being there, at the firm, made her stomach twist in a way that wasn't pleasant. When she arrived, with shaky hands and an even shakier voice, the woman at the front desk was nothing but accommodating. (Y/N) couldn't help but think she knew why she was here. It's a bit embarrassing if she's honest.
Still, she let the woman know she was here and the receptionist named Jill told her to have a seat and wait for just a few minutes for a meeting to finish up. The tissue she brought in her purse ended up being wrung several times over in her hands, now only in pieces because of her anxiousness. There was nothing else to do but stare at the sandy carpeted floor, shake her leg, and pass the unused (for now) tissue back and forth between her hands.
Anyone in this situation would be stressed. (Y/N)'s entire life is going to change in just months. It had been four, long grueling years and now she was finally on her way to freedom. Not without a little resistance you could call it, from the other side. So, she has every right to be scared and nervous and stressed. Even though stress is exactly the last thing she needs right now.
She had been through so much already, she just wants it to finally be over with. And apparently, going to a length such as this is the only way to do it.
"Miss (Y/N), you're good to back now," Jill spoke up, slightly leaning over the dark wood desk she was sitting at. Her stomach dropped. She had been waiting for several minutes, but now that it's here, she wishes she never went through with it in the first place.
But still, she gathered up every stitch of courage from every tiny place in her body and stood from the comfortable chair. She smiled at Jill before thanking her.
"No problem, sweetie. He's the last door on the left. Please, let me know if I can get you anything." (Y/N) could see the masked sympathy on her face. She had been getting quite a bit of that lately. They see her condition and the lack of ring on her finger and feel sorry for her. If anything, (Y/N) feels relieved. She guesses it's something most people don't understand.
She made her way down the long hallway with several other oak office doors. She looked over the names, despite knowing the room she needed to be in was further on down the hall. Anything to slow down the process of getting there.
Finally, she reached the door with a plaque next to it, holding the name of the man she had previously spoken on the phone with. He was nice and understanding then and she hopes he's the same way today during their very first consultation. She can't handle one more person not believing her story and thinking she's dramatic to be going this far. He's had to have seen cases like this before, it can’t be anything new.
She knocked, feeling her stomach drop all over again. She should just turn and leave and pay him for his time. She's so nervous. Adam didn't believe she would do this, but she’s tired of being treated like she's nothing and her feelings don't matter.
The door opened and what lay behind it was what she least expected. He was tall. Much taller than she assumed. He looked nothing like how she imagined in her mind, but at the same time, he was exactly what she had thought up in her head.
His hair sat perfectly on his head, his eyes were a bright green that looked very comforting despite him giving off an intimidating feel. He was dressed in navy blue trousers with a black button down on top. The sleeves were rolled up showing off the inked lines running down his arm. He looked a little unconventional, but (Y/N) doesn't care at this point. If he can do what she needs him to, nothing else matters.
And god, the rings on his fingers seemed a bit obsessive, but she liked them and they suited him. Well, what little she knew of him. There hadn't been much on Google to go off of after she spent the better half of her day researching lawyers.
Of course, he had to be good looking. He's going to see the ugliest side of her and (Y/N)'s not sure she likes that idea anymore. She hasn't said a word yet, but neither has he, and she's five seconds from bursting into to tears and running from the building.
"Hi. I'm (Y/N)." She quickly blurted out, her lips slightly trembling, causing her to roll them into her mouth. He still hadn't moved from his spot in the door way, but he quickly stuck out his hand.
"Oh, sure. Hello Miss (Y/N), I'm Harry Styles. Please, come in," He gave quite the firm hand shake and let go of her hand too quickly.
He allowed her in and shut the door after her. He quickly moved around his desk and gestured for her to sit in one of the leather chairs in front of him. She did as she was told, moving back to twiddle the tissue between her hands. (Y/N) wasn't sure she'd be able to look him in the eye again. Especially after they start to discuss what they came here to.
"Uh, wow. You didn't, um, you didn't mention you were pregnant." Her eyes immediately snapped up to meet his, just like she hadn't wanted to.
Was that going to cause a problem? Even more trouble? Of course it would, but (Y/N) was already so torn up about about calling a lawyer at all, it might have slipped her mind.
"Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't think it mattered much." Harry sat back in his chair, rubbing over his chin a time or two before speaking again.
"Miss (Y/N), we’ll start with just getting to know one another for now. You can tell me anything you want to about you and your husband,” She tried not to cringe at his word choice. He reached over and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. And then he smiled lightly, obviously noticing how fucking nervous she still was. "We'll just take an hour today. Sound good?"
(Y/N) nodded quickly, her hands starting to pick apart the tissue now. She took a deep breath before daring to think back on how it all started.
"We've been married for four years and—"
"How long were you dating before then?" (Y/N) was almost embarrassed to say.
"Six months." She knew better. Surely she had and she still ended up in the last place she ever wanted to be in. How could she have been so blind to Adam's behavior? How could she have let him have so much power over her?
"Did you know him before you began dating?" Harry was diligently writing down everything she said, maybe even more than that and that made her a bit uneasy. What was he writing so fervently? She hadn't even said anything interesting yet, but he was writing like he was a therapist instead of a lawyer.
"Um, yes. We studied at the same university, but I only met him during my sophomore year."
(Y/N)'s going to be twenty-five later this year. She might even be that age once this is all over with. Her birthday isn't until December and it's only now September, but she has a feeling that Adam isn't going to be very nice about the papers she's going to serve him in the near future.
“When and where did you get married?” She paused for a second. She hates looking back on it. She was so happy then. How could she have known she was making a terrible mistake if she was so happy? Things change, she guesses. More so people change. And Adam morphed into someone else entirely.
She told him the date and once again paused on the place. It had been such a beautiful day. It was warm and a summer rain had just touched the earth hours before they were supposed to go.
Adam insisted they eloped. And they did. Her family wasn’t a hundred percent onboard with her decision anyway. They thought she would regret it sooner than later and wanted nothing to do with her if she went through with it. But (Y/N) didn’t care. She loved Adam and he loved her and with that, nothing else mattered. Her stuck up family that couldn’t be happy for her mattered least. All they knew is that they were going to get married. And they did. In a small church on a Friday night. It was the only place they could get in in their small college town.
That night was like a dream come true. And now when she looks back, all she feels in shame. Even with a divorce on the forefront, how could (Y/N) tell her family? They might even be more disappointed that she got a divorce despite not liking Adam in the first place.
So, she named the small town where she went to school, not feeling brave enough to look up and meet Harry’s eyes.
It had been a long fucking day for him already. Before it even happened he knew it was going to be a long, torturous day. His alarm didn’t go off at the proper time, making him late on the way to work. He rushed and just barely made it. Paul, the firm owner, is a laid back guy and Harry’s never been late once, but still. He has responsibilities and he really can’t believe he slept in so late.
Lunch was another disappointment. He didn’t feel much like eating in the first place, but the sandwich from the deli two blocks down made his stomach churn in a bad way, so he didn’t even bother trying to eat it. So, he’s bloody hungry. And he’s on the clock for four more hours.
Right before a firm meeting was going to take place, he checked over his schedule for the rest of the day. He had previously had meetings over the phone with other clients even some prospective clients that he hadn’t exactly taken their cases yet.
But he had one last meeting for the day that he blocked out the rest of his schedule for. It was another divorce case, but something in the young woman’s trembling voice really stuck with Harry. She only told him bits and pieces, really just summing it up as being unhappy with her current partner and wanting out. He didn’t push, he would get all the information in time anyway.
So, last week, he set up a consultation with her at his office. She thanked him too many times for doing what he gets paid to do, but he took it as her just being nervous about the whole thing.
Divorce is scary. Harry knows that from seeing it happen to so many of his clients. They often tell him more than he’s required to know, but he spins it in a way that benefits them and their case. He’s good at what he does, what more is there to say?
Before (Y/N) showed up, he briefly went over in his head why she was coming to him. He’s seen it all. Cut-throat custody battles with the children front and center and watching their parents fight over them. One side getting the other side’s money, but totally undeserving. Most of the time the judge rules in his favor, more so who he would like to get the most benefit from the divorce, but Harry tries to remain neutral and get the trial over with. And he’s going to do the same thing here with (Y/N). But she just looks so sad and so nervous he can tell he’s going to have a tough time. Especially with her condition. It’s hard to not feel sympathy for her.
She’s a young girl who obviously made a mistake and just wants to fix it, but Harry knows how traumatic a divorce can be. This very thing could make her swear off marriage forever. But he wants to make this as painless as possible. Just as he tries to do for every other client.
“So, usually,” He spoke up after dotting an I here and crossing a T there, “We would give the judge a primary reason for divorce. An at-fault divorce would be things like adultery, desertion, force or fraud in obtaining marriage, mental or physical abuse, things like that. It makes it a bit more tense in the courtroom, but you also have the no-fault divorces like irreconcilable differences and incompatibility. So, Miss (Y/N), what will it be?”
He looked up at her, seeing her blink quickly over glossy eyes and his heart hurt. He knew that she was having a really tough time and for her to be here alone makes him wonder what exactly their dynamic was.
“Whatever the easiest reason is. I-I don’t want any trouble with him. I just want this to be over with.” He nodded, taking a second to add to his notes. Just little things he noticed about her.
“It will be a little difficult if he tries to claim any sort of custody of your unborn child, but is that something you think he’s likely to do?” She sighed, setting her chin in her hand and nodding.
“He’d do anything to keep me from doing this.” And there it is. Harry knows he’s in for more than just a tiny divorce over incompatibility.
“He’s the father, right?” (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed and she nodded like it was obvious.
“Did you think he wasn’t?” Now her arms are crossed as she watched Harry fumble around for a response. She knows he didn’t mean to offend her in any way, but she’s already on edge.
“No, no. I just have to ask. If you say he’s going to do anything he can to prevent this divorce then I just have to make sure. They’re definitely going to want to do a paternity test. Since you’re married, he has legal ties to the child even if it wasn’t his biologically. But they’ll try to push that point on his end that maybe you were unfaithful and that's your reason for wanting a divorce.”
She understands where he’s coming from, but she can’t help but be a little upset about his insinuation. Maybe she’s just being sensitive, but suddenly she’s very tired and really wants to leave.
“Fine.” She shrugged, turning her attention back to the tattered tissue in her hands.
“Chances are, Miss (Y/N), divorce will not be granted until after the child is born, so things like child support and custody can be sorted after.” (Y/N) watches as he writes more and she sits back in the chair, just wanting this to be over with.
She didn’t want to deal with a lawyer. Really, she didn’t. They’re expensive and ask for too much information. She wanted a clean break, but knowing Adam, he was going to get a lawyer and drain her of every bit of money she had. And she’s already teetering on the edge of having nothing. This lawyer is going to cost her majorly, but at least she’ll finally be away from Adam.
This consultation alone is just short of three hundred dollars. She could be sick thinking about it.
“Perfect.” She couldn’t believe she let this happen. After Adam forced her to keep the child she wasn’t even sure she wanted—especially with the way he had been acting towards her—it’s just another thing preventing her from an easy escape.
“May I ask how far along you are?” He’s trying to be gentle now and she gets it, but (Y/N)'s way past irritated with this entire thing, but she’s going to try to play nice in favor of him helping her out.
“Five months.” She hadn’t been to an appointment in two and she really didn’t want to go, but in order to look as if she’s capable of raising a child on her own, she should be taking care of herself and the baby. She can't make herself seem as if she’s unfit. That will only benefit Adam’s case. And she’s sure he’s going to have one as soon as he gets his hands on these papers.
“Are you living together now?” She rubbed her temples and shook her head, watching as Harry waited for her to elaborate.
“I don’t want to be near him anymore. I’ve been staying with a friend.” He just nodded, jotting something else down on the pad of paper.
“Is your friend male?”
“Does it matter?”
“Somewhat.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“No.” He nodded along before clearing his throat.
“If it custody does become a factor and judging by your response, it will, is there any behavior of his that would classify him as unfit to raise the child that you can think of?” She could think of a million situations where Adam was unfit. Unfit to be a boyfriend. A husband, even. So, this shouldn't be too hard. She just wasn’t sure Harry needed a list of them all. “Are you asking for sole custody?”
“Yes. He’s a fucking psychopath and if that’s not enough of a reason to deem him unfit then where should I start? You might need another sheet of paper.” (Y/N) doesn’t mean to be so snappy, but she’s tired and her feet hurt and she just really wants to settle down for a nap. She’s not so nervous anymore to be with Harry. He's been polite enough.
“Yes, I would need specific examples with proof. Because it sounds like he’s going to push back and you need some sort of evidence to back up your statements.” He’s writing again. She wants to just snatch the pad of paper from him and throw it out the window.
So, (Y/N), completely done, pulls out her phone and clicks her messages app. And then she hands it to him.
“That enough proof for you?” She watched the subtle shock that washed over Harry’s features. He scrolled down on their messages, probably seeing all the threats and the hundreds of messages he’s sends her throughout the day. It’s annoying more than anything. He’s told her he’d kill her so many times she can call his bluff by now.
“Um, Miss (Y/N), I’m quite sure you could take him to court just for these messages.” He passed the phone back to her, still looking a little pale, but she just shrugged.
“It gets a little old after four years. He wouldn’t really kill me.” She hopes. Maybe after the divorce papers are served.
“When do you plan on giving him the papers?”
“As soon as I can.”
“You might want to find somewhere else to stay, you and your friend, just until things cool down.” She knows that. She was planning on it anyway. And she assumes Harry is only saying that after reading the very explicit, descriptive text messages threatening her life. He might not have taken her seriously before, but she could see a change in his demeanor slightly. He’s the one that looks nervous now.
“Was going to.” Adam knows where her friend Lindsey lives and as soon as he gets the papers, she knows he’ll be there banging on her door. And she doesn’t want to do that to her friend who’s helped her through everything. No one deserves that.
“Those messages might be enough to win your case if he tries anything, so make sure you keep those, okay?” Once she nodded, he shut his pad of paper and clasped his hands together. “From the way that you speak of him, this is going to be rough. Is that something you can handle, Miss (Y/N)?”
“It’s (Y/N). And yes. I’m pretty sure I’m capable.” She wanted to roll her eyes at his slight condescending tone, but maybe he didn’t know he was doing it.
“Great. I really think this will rule out in your favor. We’ll keep in touch, yeah?” He shot her a smile and she just blinked at him before standing.
“You have my number.”
“We’ll get the papers together next time and you’ll have to have them sent over to your husband. Can just be through post.”
“Could you not call him that? Anything but that.” Harry nodded quickly, moving to stand as well.
“Sure, yes. Sure. Please, be safe out there and call me if you think of anything else of importance before our next meeting.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and gave him a small smile.
“Thanks. See you.” (Y/N) paid the consultation fee at the front desk with Jill who reminded her that next time she would have to pay a retainer fee. Which is nearly $3,500. (Y/N) just smiled tightly and nodded at her.
(Y/N) knows this isn’t just going to be a one and done. They’re will probably be several meetings and eventually it’s really going to put a dent in her pocket. She can’t wait until someone tells Adam they’ve seen her coming out of a law office. He’ll probably know before she gets the chance to take the paperwork to the post office. He has connections like that for some reason.
All she can do right now is hope for the best.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
(Y/N) was going grocery shopping for just a few essentials. She felt bad for staying at Lindsey's for so long and demanded to contribute somehow if she wasn't going to allow her to pay rent. So, right now, she's in the frozen section, staring down a box of ice cream sandwiches.
In the past couple of months, she's made a lot of decisions based on the baby currently growing in her uterus. And many of those have been regarding food. If she even for a second thinks of something she'd like to eat, she no longer hesitates to get it. And right now, to (Y/N), it's seeming like the baby wants these ice cream sandwiches. What kind of mother would she be to not listen to her child? She almost laughed to herself as she tossed them in the cart and kept walking.
Her last stop was to pick up another bottle of vitamins. She takes two a day right now and they go quicker than she thought they would. So, here she is gazing at a wall full of vitamins and having no idea how to reach the ones three shelves above her head. Those were the usual ones she bought, since they tasted like strawberries and she wasn't much a fan of the other variations on the lower shelves.
If she wasn't so pregnant, she may be able to use the last shelf as a step, but she wasn't willing to risk it right now. Next time she'll just have to bring Lindsey along with her and have her risk her life for (Y/N) once again. Nothing new.
Just as she was going to turn away from the vitamins in disdain, she heard a voice.
"(Y/N)?" She froze at first, not prepared for seeing anyone here. That's precisely the reason she drove to a different store and not the one closest to where she usually frequents. She just had a feeling that Adam might show up, so she drove twenty minutes out of her way just to do her normal shopping. So, hearing anyone call her name shocked her just a bit and made her jump.
She turned on her heel, seeing Harry of all people. He was dressed in his professional attire, looking a lot more relaxed this time, with a basket in his hand filled with things she couldn't really make out from here. He was just standing there, watching her, making (Y/N) quickly tighten the cardigan around her.
"Hi." She forced out, hiding herself back behind the cart. All of sudden, he's everywhere. Maybe (Y/N)'s being dramatic. She's only seen him at his office the other day and this grocery store, but it's proving too much for her.
"You live around here?" Of course. He stepped closer, she guesses because they're kind of having a conversation, but she hadn't been expecting to see him at all. How could she have? She’s dressed down even further than she was the other day. In other words, she's embarrassed.
"Oh, no. I kind of have to go out of my way to avoid certain people, if you get what I mean." She moved her eyes away from him and back to the vitamins, like she had any business still looking at them. She was just leaving.
"That's a fucking shame. I'm sorry." He shook his head, making her glance back to him. (Y/N) almost laughed at the obscenity leaving his mouth. Maybe he was more relaxed outside of the office. She can't say she heard him say anything that could be deemed inappropriate then. Well, except for asking if the baby was Adam’s. Which she assumes is a fair question considering she’s getting divorced. At the time it just kind of seemed like a dig at her. What can she say, her hormones are out of control most days. She’s not going to apologize for it.
"Don't worry about it." It wasn't like it was his fault Adam has issues. It wasn't hers either, but she had to deal with it like it was.
Resuming her previous position of staring longingly at the prenatal vitamins too high for her to reach, she sighed. She feels so helpless these days and it really sucks honestly.
"Need something up there?" Harry came even closer, sliding his basket to his forearm and raising his eyebrows. She wanted to tell him no, just for the simple fact that she didn't like asking for help, but he's really her only shot at this right now.
"Oh, um . . . I kinda need those." She pointed the best she could, standing on her tip toes for just a second before half-pouting at him, making him chuckle. He seems like he would have no problem reaching them. His arms are long, but he's not considerably taller than (Y/N) since her nose just reached his chin. But she thinks that he may have a much simpler time getting them than she would.
"The strawberry ones?" She nodded eagerly. This was easy. She moved the cart forward so he could step beside her and reach them. It was almost painful how gracefully he managed to pull them down and set them in her grasp. "Here we are."
"Oh, thank you so much. I was just going to forget about them until you came around." She set them in her cart and turned back to him. He was watching her fondly, as he seems to like to do. He nodded back at her all of a sudden, clearing his throat.
"No problem, anytime," This seems like the time where they would say their goodbyes and head separate ways, but Harry had other plans than that. "Do you mind if we check out together? I just want to make sure you get to your car okay."
His presence, she was not expecting in the least. Sure, it's fine now, but this? Never in a million years would she have guessed he would walk her to her car. She kind of wanted to say no, just to let him know that she wasn't the least bit afraid of Adam or anyone. But at the same time, he just wants to do something nice. She thinks that's okay and nods her head at him.
"Sure." (Y/N) has a hard time accepting help if no one could tell already. So this is a big step for her and she really just wants to forget about her cart and run out the door.
"Need anything else before we go?" Surely he's only being this nice because of the other day, right? It would make sense. He wants to get back in her good graces so she'll pay him more at the end of the day. It's fine. She's used to things panning out that way. No one is ever nice just to be nice.
She told him no, but really wanted to go scavenge the candy aisle, but now is not the time.
Nothing else was said as they made their way to the check out lanes and he let her go first, even though she had so many more items than he did. She tried to be quick though and before too long, she was swiping her card and thanking the cashier and the person who bagged the groceries.
Harry was paying by the time she left the lane, so she didn't have to wait long for him to be trailing after her to her car. Once again, she tries to be quick in getting the groceries into the back of the car, but she's kind of struggling. The new development that is her stomach gets in the way a lot, but it's still so small at the same time. She hadn't been paying attention to Harry since she was too busy trying to make sure everything fit in alright, when suddenly a hand rest on her shoulder, causing her to turn quickly.
"Can I help you?" She batted his hand away, not used to such a soft touch, and shut the car door after her.
"I was just going to ask you the same thing. Been calling your name and I guess you were ignoring me." He smiled, slightly teasing, while she brushed the hair from her face and looked him over.
"I'm fine. Thanks for . . . this." She gestured between them before starting to push the cart back to the corral.
"Sure," It was only five steps away, but he still followed after her, really taking on the role of walking her to the car. He waited until she was carefully sitting down in the driver seat of her car to announce his departure. She figured he would have left way before then, but it seems like Harry keeps surprising her. "I'll see you around, (Y/N)." She only nodded at him, reaching to pull the car door shut. She's unsure why he's sticking around, but that thought was quickly absolved by the need for her to turn the air conditioning on. Who knew it could be so hot in late September? (Y/N) is actually really excited for snow, but nervous at the same time. Just as the snow comes, she'll be on her way to having a baby. And that thought scares her more than anything Adam could ever do.
She didn't stick around for much longer, just until the air was cool enough she could roll the window back up, and then made her way back to Lindsey's.
(Y/N) wonders if Lindsey will let her make dinner tonight.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Harry's quite sure he's crossed the fucking line. How could he be blamed? She's just so fucking sweet. Of course, she could find any other lawyer in the city, the country really, but to Harry, (Y/N) choosing him was some kind of divine intervention.
And he wanted to be professional. He tried to with everything he had. He could have simply kept walking when he saw her in the grocery store the other night. He could have. Or, he could have at the very least waved and asked her how she was in passing. But no. Harry's brain had other plans. And it wasn't like he had just seen her in the vitamins section, struggling to reach for a bottle on a shelf too high, no. He saw her all the way back in produce and spent his entire shopping trip, only picking up convenient things, just so he could keep an eye on her.
He's not sure why. Maybe Harry is just so empathetic, the thought of her needing anything at all and not being able to get it pains him. Maybe. Or maybe he's completely, totally out of it just from one fucking meeting where he basically asked if she cheating on her soon-to-be ex-husband. Not one of his greatest moments, but he had to ask. Not in those terms, he should have been way softer, but it's too late now. He's just got to spend time making up for it.
And the look on her face when she turned to see him standing there, she might as well have told him to get the hell away from her. But he couldn't. Because he saw her reaching for the impossibly hard to reach vitamins and couldn't not do anything. He thinks it would be even weirder to have just come up behind her and grabbed them himself, so he gave himself a point for playing it cool. But still. He's irritated by himself because this was not supposed to happen. In all his years of being a lawyer (six), he had never, ever felt this way before. It's against protocol, honestly. There can't really be any emotional ties between the lawyer and client because it just isn't ethical. And Harry knows that. He's just never had to think so much about it because he's never, ever felt this way about someone before.
It's annoying for starters. He just wants to start his day with a hot cup of coffee and not wonder what (Y/N) likes in hers. He just wishes he knew for the sake of himself. It's only been a week and a half since their first in-person meeting and Harry's already daydreaming about her warming up his cold bed through the long hours of the night.
Many would think that her being married and pregnant would turn him off, but Harry can't help it. One of those things will be taken care of very soon by him, so he's not really worried about her being married. Adam sounds like a total dick and Harry will do just about anything short of jumping through hoops to get her away from him. For his sanity and for hers.
But in order to do the job correctly, he has to think clearly. He can't think about how pretty (Y/N) was in that light pink cardigan. He also can't think about how he'd love to take her to dinner and just know everything about her. Nothing about her sorry excuse for a husband. And he definitely should not, cannot think about kissing her. He can't. He won't.
Too late. He bets she taste so sweet. He bets she's so soft. He only briefly touched her shoulder and she all but shoved him off when he did. Harry thinks she just has a bit of warming up to do.
That's all. Surely if she's been treated like shit for four years, she has no idea how to process Harry trying to be sweet. But he has patience. And he's willing to wait until she realizes his intentions.
Because he's so bloody shy outside of anything to do with being a lawyer. He could shout at the top of his lungs at whoever is on the stand in the courtroom just to get his point across, but the mere thought of telling (Y/N) he just loves her pastel purple nail polish heats his face so much he has to open the fucking window in his office in order to cool down.
On top of all of this, he's seeing (Y/N) in fifteen minutes. Actually, he's quite sure she's here already. It's around six thirty on a Friday, but couldn't be fucked to be anywhere else. Despite having to discuss her current, piece of shit husband, he likes watching her switch from being so nervous she's shaking, to reprimanding him and being dismissive. Is it wrong of him to love that sudden change? He doesn't think so. That's just another reason why he stands to his feet and makes his way down the hall to the waiting room. He'd like to retrieve her himself and a bit early. Maybe then it won't be so dark when she leaves. But also, maybe he can escort her to her car again if it is.
He thought all this thinking mushy thoughts before he saw her would do him some good. He could get them out of the way and not be distracted once he saw her. How fucking wrong he was.
There sat (Y/N), in the firm waiting room, flipping through a fashion magazine and pouting. He wasn't sure why, but he can only stand here in the doorway and watch her for so long before he's caught.
"(Y/N)?" Her eyes shot to him and he swears he got goosebumps. He's got it so bad and it's only been days at this point. He just wonders how he's going to make it through her case without blurting out to her that he kind of adores her. Trick question. He won't.
"Finally, I've been here for ages." She set the magazine down before standing. He nodded at Jill, who was watching him a little closely. Goddamn it. Can she not look at him like that? He's just trying to be polite at the very least. He can't help if he looks lovestruck. He is.
(Y/N) followed him down the hallway and he held the door open for her. She's extremely tired and sort of the last thing she wanted to do right now was discuss Adam. So, she's in a shitty mood. But she knows the sooner the papers can be signed and taken to the post office, the sooner she can be free of him altogether. And that's all she wants.
So, she sits back in front of Harry and tries not to pick the remaining bit of her nail polish off. She's nervous again and she has no idea why. Maybe because she's not too keen on talking about herself. Or maybe it's because Harry's got such soft, kind eyes that she can barely even look into them. She's not sure, but thinks it's a bit of both.
"How's your day been?" Harry spoke up, placing glasses on the bridge of his nose. (Y/N) might need to take a break and run to the restroom to fan her face. He wasn't wearing them last time and she has no idea why, but she never wants him to take them off. He looks even more professional, if that's possible. (Y/N)'s sure that this all boils down to pregnancy hormones. Of course she's having zero sex right now. Who would want to when she's on the edge divorce and knocked up?
"Decent. Work was a shit show though." She has no idea why she told him that. She has no idea why she used those terms either, but it's true at the very least. It was a shit show.
The printer kept jamming and running out of paper. There's a big project going on right now and for some reason, everyone's first instinct is to kill a couple trees because of it. So, she's had to bend down and put more paper in the printer more times than she can count and she's just tired. She wants to go home, but she knows that it is imperative that she gets this done. Adam has shown up at Lindsey's door every night this past week and it's getting scary.
Not like a divorce will change that, but maybe she can tack on a restraining order as well. She could ask Harry about that later though.
"Sorry to hear that. I'll try to keep this quick so you can get home." So thoughtful, isn't he? She debates telling him that, for no other reason than she feels like he needs to hear it. But she remains quiet and watches as he clicks around on his computer and types a few things in.
(Y/N) knows she should have tons of questions, but staring at him now, she can't think of a single one.
He's wearing a mint colored button down today and gray trousers. You tell her how she's supposed to be able to think right now. On top of that, glasses. She would leave right now if that meant she could go cry about it. But she's not going to let herself because he's only her lawyer and she's the last person on earth he'd ever have an inkling of feeling for. Because of the client to lawyer dynamic and probably because she's a right out train wreck. A train wreck that’s going to have a child in mere months. He wants nothing to do with that, she's sure. She barely does and she well . . . she kind of has to.
"How's your day been, then?" Why not keep up conversation? It's better than sitting here and watching him look around on his computer in silence. Plus, she thinks it's only common courtesy to ask him how he's doing. Right?
"A bit busy, but good. Lots of meetings." He glanced up at her as he said this and she's sure that she can feel the slightest patter of butterflies tickling in her stomach. Or that could be the baby. She hasn't felt a kick yet, but that could honestly be whatever this feeling is.
"Good." His eyes finally returned to the computer and she noticed just a tinge of barely there pink on the tops of his cheeks. Maybe she's imagining it. Maybe it's the lighting in the room.
Maybe he's got a fever. She's not really sure, but him blushing because of her does not seem plausible in any way, shape, or form. It just doesn't and she's not going to entertain it.
Harry prints off a handful of papers and goes through what each of them are and what they will do. The petition for divorce, which is what Adam will first receive in the mail, has all the bits in there about their marriage and their finances and other shit. It's also going to tell Adam why she's chosen a divorce. Her answer will be something like irreconcilable differences or incompatibility. Nothing near what she actually is divorcing him for. It would be too much trouble to bring all that in and she's already so tired from this process alone. She has no clue how much harder it would be if she mentioned all of that. So, she doesn't. She tells Harry all he needs to know and at the end signs the document.
This is a really big deal. She did it. Now she has to take the papers to be mailed off and she's borderline shaking. If Adam's mad now, she has no idea what he'll do when he gets these papers.
Her and Lindsey may have to go stay at a hotel for a bit. But no one necessarily needs to know about that. Not Harry. She's sure that she could tell him, but he might want to include that in the case and (Y/N) really doesn't want any trouble, she just wants a divorce.
The clock on the wall lets her know that it's going on eight thirty. Time passes by so quickly when you're writing down everything you've ever owned and making a case for incompatibility.
It's not like Adam can really even challenge that. If they're incompatible, then they are. She's hopeful that this will be over before she knows it.
"What if he doesn't sign the papers?" It's an honest question. She has little faith that he will, so does that mean she's stuck? If he never signs the papers, will she be held captive in this marriage and have to put up with him for the rest of her life? She simply would never survive that. She would have to move countries and even then he could still get to her. Fuck marriage, she thinks. It's done nothing for her but make her miserable.
"Well, he has thirty days to respond to the petition and if not, the court will proceed, and you'll eventually get your divorce." That's all she could hope for. That Adam would think she's joking and never respond. Then one day, she'll be a free woman again once this is all over. That's as painless as it could be. She really, really hopes he doesn't respond before thirty days.
"He has to respond through his own lawyer, right? Or at least to the court?" (Y/N) has no doubt that he'll have something to say about it, but as long as it's to her and not to the court then that's fine. He can say all he wants to her as long as he doesn't respond back to the judge. She can handle that.
"Yes, he'd have to send his own response in and the judge will review it before making any decisions. If it's easy, we won't even have to go to court, but you make it seem like he's bloody terrible, so I would prepare yourself for the courtroom." Harry neatly placed all the papers into an envelope before sliding it across his desk to her. And then they met eyes.
She can't help melting just slightly. The smallest bit. She can't help it because he looks at her in the softest way and no one has looked at her like that in forever she thinks. It makes this warm feeling spread throughout her chest and she just wants it to stop. That must be one of his lawyer tactics. He just wants her to feel comfortable in spilling her guts to him. That's all. He truly doesn't care, he just wants to get the job done and get paid.
"Great." She started gathering her things, still feeling Harry's eyes piercing her skin, before she stood up.
Another night of pasta from Lindsey. She insists on making (Y/N) meals at home because it's better for her, but she'd really like to just eat whatever she wants. Lindsey's being very strict with her, but she knows it's only for her own benefit.
Harry glanced to the window beside his desk before standing as well. "I'll walk you down." She raised her eyebrows at him, wondering why he's picked up this new habit. It is dark outside, but the parking lot is fairly lit up and there's people around since it's a Friday night. She says nothing though and slings her purse over her shoulder.
The office is almost dark when they step out. There's no sign of anyone since it's nearing nine o'clock and everyone has probably already started their weekend. She wants to apologize for keeping Harry, but he's the one who schedules these meetings.
They got in the elevator and it was silent. She could feel him glance at her every so often, but he never said anything, so she didn't either. She just searched through her purse for her keys, finding them right when the elevator doors opened to the ground floor.
He held open the car door as she slowly got in a even rest his hand on her back as she did. Maybe she looked like she was struggling. That's why he did that. Once she was sitting behind the wheel, she figured she should say something finally.
"Thank you, Harry."
"Harry?"
"That's your name, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, but you've never called me that," He stared off for a second before his eyes came right back to her. "Actually, you've never called me anything before, so this certainly is new." A smirk drew across his face for the first time since she's met him. She couldn't help rolling her eyes.
"I think I'll go back to just saying 'you' then." He chuckled, shaking his head.
"No, no. I like it. Don't stop." And then they were smiling at each other. Her heart is so warm. How could he do this to her? He's just being nice, but being nice is the bare minimum for (Y/N). Someone could tell her they like her shoes and she'd already be daydreaming about them five minutes after. It's sad and she knows it is.
"Well, I'll let you go. Um, have a good weekend." His grin widened and he nodded at her.
"You too, (Y/N). Be safe and get those papers turned in on Monday, love, 'kay?" All she could do was nod. Love? She's sure he calls everyone that. She's sure. Nothing out of the ordinary. She lets it go, but not without feeling her cheeks heat. "Call me if you need me."
And then he gently shut the car door and waved to her. She waved back before starting her car.
How the fuck is she going to make it to the end of this dreadful, dreadful case?
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Damn. Sorry I keep posting stuff when I have tons of part twos to do but this one is just so cute and it’s completed so I had to!!!!!! But I’m working on the others, swear ☺️
Compromised (complete FanFic) - Harry is involved in a branch of the European mafia called the B.F. Clan. Y/N is an American spy who has been trying to dismantle them for years. Her objective now, get close to Harry and burn it all through him.
CASTING
CHAPTERS:
(** - smut ^ - angst)
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight**
Nine
Ten^
Eleven**
Twelve**
Thirteen**
Fourteen^
Fifteen**^
Prologue, One Shots & Blurbs from the Compromised AU:
The Wedding (Prologue)**
All About Family ^**
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