pink = favorite writings, hyperlinked *i will always link a series' masterlist, but if there's no masterlist, then i will link the last part so you can go to each part from there*
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jawllines - *click here for my personal masterlist of everything i've read from jaws, including patreon pieces*
- (old) soulmates
- boxer harry (coworkers)
- firefighter harry & baker yn (roommates)
- mechanic harry
- harry begs to eat yn out for first time (blurb)
- tutor harry (patreon exclusive)
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moonchildstyles
- aster: tattoo artist harry
- prosecco: older harry
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watchmegetobsessed - any oneshots are great
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stylesloveclub - anything from masterlist is great
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songbirdstyles - anything from masterlist is great
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tobesolonely
- let's make a movie!: making a sex tape with harry with the wms camera
- never have i ever: things dont go as planned on your camping trip with harry
- love languages: it's important to acknowledge your partner's love language.. especially in bed
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haaarry - longest masterlist i've ever seen, she's got something great for everyone
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goldengalore - househusband!H is adorable
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for-fucks-sake-H
- wanna be yours: bandana-wearing sub H feat. edging, love, and a deep devotion
- as you held onto me: husband/dad!H heartwrenching, but beautiful (warning: infertility, miscarriage)
- smooth operator: phone sex operator harry & yn fall in love
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daaydreamy - lots of good subrry pieces in their masterlist
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other favorites from other authors:
- behind the bar by @bopbopstyles: yns a bartender and harrys obsessed with her
- studio love by @kindapinkskies: harry records a song that will never be released but enlists in you for help with it
- yn loves putting on a show and harry cant help but lose control (camgirl!yn) by @haroldloverboy
- the first time by @harry-writings: harry loses his virginity to yn
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gay harry ao3 faves:
*disclaimer: i am not a larrie nor do i ship harry with any real people, i just enjoy an occasional gay harry fic!*
7up by cherrystreet: based on tv show “the up series,” we follow the lives of harry & louis in an interview setting every seven years
unbelievers by isthatyoularry: football co-captain frenemies -> lovers
relief next to me by dolce_piccante: what happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific craigslist post? fate, friendship, food, and maybe more
Hello my ducklings. We’ve got a hefty one shot for you- featuring nervous cutie pie Har, blunt and bold Y/N, a bee tattoo, someone definitely needing to sanitize their whole station, wasted baked goods and a good helping of spice 😋
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WC- 14.1k
Warnings- slight anxiety/people pleasing, tattooing, needles, switch! Y/N and H, mean Dom!Y/N, soft Dom!Har, choking, impact play, pain kink, slight humiliation and degradation, unprotected sex, cream pie
Harry was nervous, and it was silly. It wasn’t like he didn’t have tattoos… he had so many he could barely count them, actually. He liked the pain, probably more than he should, he wasn’t worried about regretting them, but the thing that had him a little anxious was the tattoo artist herself.
Y/N, or Angel as she was known to most people in the tattooing scene, was intimidating. She was beautiful, so beautiful that it had him feeling like his tongue couldn’t form words. He’d fumbled through his consultation, getting stuck on looking at her black liner that seemed sharp enough to cut, the tattoos covering her exposed arms, the pout of her vampy red lined lips.. it had made him feel like an idiot when she had to ask questions a few times to get his attention.
The thing was, she hadn’t been mean! Not in the slightest. She was just… quiet. More reserved. To the point. She hadn’t fed into his small talk too much, really hadn’t asked him much about himself, kept it only to the tattoo… and maybe he was spoiled for it, but he really wanted her to like him! Sure she was his tattoo artist but they could be friends, couldn’t they?
…So maybe he had a bit of a crush on her and it was distracting. Sue him! But he just… really wanted her attention. Was that so bad?
On the day of his first tattoo appointment, he’d tried to be prepared. Doing all the things he’d normally do to prep (this wasn’t his first rodeo even if it felt like it), on top of getting her a few pastries from the coffee shop he’d gotten his drink from. As much of a suck up it probably made him seem to be, he really wanted to impress her, make her feel like he was a good client. Maybe someone worthy of talking to after the tattoo was finished.
The tattoo shop wasn’t exactly like the ones he was used to. It was lighter and brighter, pale green walls covered with neatly framed examples of flash or other tattoos she and the other artists at the studio had in their portfolios. It felt a little more like a zen massage studio than anything else and he knew it should relax him, but he felt the nerves in his throat like a lump, sitting there as he got it together to greet the woman.
Clearing his throat, he held out the pastry box, trying to sound casual despite his racing heart. "Hi! Um, I brought some pastries for you and the team. I hope you like them, I wasn’t sure what t’get so I kept it but free and the separate box is something gluten free." He looked at her expectantly, hoping she'll accept the gesture- not think he was fucking weird for it. "I just wanted to show my appreciation for your time today. I know y’must be really busy, and I know your time is valuable. It was really kind of you to squeeze me in on your off day." He trailed off, catching himself in the babbling.
Her eyes looked him over, then to the box. A pink box with a red ribbon bow tying it all together, some fancy cafe name on the top of it that matched the cup in his hand. The corners of her lips twitched as she took the box, nodding as she placed it on the desk. “Thanks. I like money.” That… hadn’t been the response he had been expecting but then again- Y/N wasn’t exactly predictable. “It’ll just be us today, the studio is empty otherwise.”
His cheeks turned slightly pink. He'd assumed there'd be more people around. Being alone with her? No one to cut the tension? That hadn’t been a part of the plan either. "Of course," he stammered, running a hand through his hair, trying to fix it. It had definitely been a nervous habit he’d tried to cut but… it still popped up. "I didn't mean to assume..." He trailed off again, cursing himself for being so awkward. Trying to regain his composure, he glanced around the studio again, admiring her taste and the peaceful atmosphere. At least the zen vibe came in handy. "Your studio is really nice. Different from what I expected but... in a good way..."
“Thanks, I think.” She nodded, moving from behind the desk. “I’ve got to get the stencil printed now, but you can get comfortable on the bench if y’want.” Her hair swished behind her as she led him towards her station. “Think we’ll be doing outline today, shading when you come back. Is that something you can do?” Her eyes went over his arms. “You’ve done this enough times, probably know the drill by now.”
Harry nodded eagerly, falling into step beside her, almost tripping over his own feet in his efforts to catch up. "Yeah, absolutely. I've got loads of tattoos but it’s been a while since I’ve gotten one. I went through a phase where I got a ton in a three year span and figured I should chill out before I lost space later on." He tried to sound casual as he glanced at the various supplies laid out on her station, swallowing nervously. Even though he'd sat through plenty of tattoo sessions, the thought of her hands on him sent a little shiver down his spine. He didn’t know what his body was going to do. "So uh, how long have you been tattooing? If you don't mind me asking."
She took a moment to answer, back towards him as she sat at her laptop to send the design she’d drawn up to the printer. Tapping her nails against the counter, she let out a hum in her throat before turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Legally? 5 years.”
He blinked, surprised by her frank response. Finding her through a friend of a friend of a friend, he knew she was exclusive and a bit hard to get into, but he didn’t know much about her apparently. "Only 5 years? That's impressive, though. Your work is amazing." He quickly seated himself on the bench, trying to appear nonchalant despite the compliments bubbling out of him. His fingers drummed nervously on his thigh as he waited for her to finish setting up. "I bet you've seen a lot of weird requests in that time, huh?"
“Legally is the keyword here. I got a shitty tattoo gun online and practice skins when I was in school. Got good enough that I was fairly confident I wasn’t going to completely fuck up people’s skin and have them fight me, started doing them to make a couple bucks at parties.” She shrugged, standing up to go towards the printer, loading the stencil on. “I’ve done a lot of shit. You don’t really say no as an apprentice either, but now that m’taking my own clients I can be picky.”
His eyes widened slightly at her admission. To be fair, he hadn’t asked most of his artists how they’ve gotten started. They were super big talkers, but he felt that pull towards her and wanted to know little things. "You're self-taught? That's insane." He watched as she walked over to him with the stencil, his heart beating a little faster as she came closer. "That's... really cool." He bit his lip, trying to think of something else to say. Anything that wasn’t stupid or cliche- but came up empty. Cliche was better than stupid, he supposed. "So uh, what kind of requests do you usually turn down, if you don't mind me asking? Like... anything too offensive or just..."
“No hate speech or symbols, no neck or face tattoos for someone who’s not heavily inked, try to avoid hand tattoos because they come out like shit, and I prefer not to do the stereotypical shit.” She recited, laughing under her breath. “N’then there’s shit I just don’t like. Clocks, roses, lions. They aren’t bad, but I’ve got no interest in doing them.” She looked back over at him. “Bees are cool. I like tattooing insects. So I accepted your idea.”
A small smile played on his lips as he listened to her standards, appreciating how serious she took her craft. "I get that. I've seen some questionable clock and lion combinations." He chuckled nervously, adjusting himself on the bench as she moved closer with the transfer paper. " I really love bees. We used t’keep them in my backyard growing up." His shirt was already rolled up to expose his upper arm where the design would go. "Although... I have to say I'm happy you don't want to do cliche designs. My last... well, my last girlfriend, she wanted me to get one of those heart and dagger tattoos." He felt his cheeks flush at the admission, wishing he hadn't brought up an ex around her. "Not really my style anymore. I like having... meaningful stuff on my skin, you know? Stuff that actually represents me. I went through the phase of getting random shit for the hell of it. I don’t regret them but they definitely aren’t my favorite. Wanted to be more intentional. Get stuff I really love, or stuff that represents that." He paused before adding quietly, "Like bees. For my mum."
Her smile was ever so lightly on the corner of her lips as she nodded, brushing the hair out of her face. “Good. Don’t get shitty tattoos for demanding girlfriends. Cardinal rule. Shit doesn’t turn out well.” Her hand gripped his muscular arm, turning it slightly to get a view of the gap where he had said he wanted the tattoo. “Alright. Any placement changes, or is here still good?”
"Yeah, that spot is perfect..." His voice trailed off as he watched her face, those dark eyes and lips distracting him from anything else. Probably not the smartest idea but it felt like a privilege to be up close like this.
“Alright. Once it’s on you’re going to stand up and take a look in the mirror. if you want to move it, even if it’s just an angle- tell me.” Her face was serious as she put on her gloves, prepping the skin for the stencil. “Don’t people please. It’s on your body forever, not mine. We can take it off and put it back on again when it’s just a stencil, not when I use the needles.” With a careful hand she used the pink disposable razor over the skin, clearing it completely and wiping it yet again before centering the image. She was precise, making sure it was where she deemed fit before placing it down, running her hand over the sheet to pat it into the skin.
Harry nodded obediently, trying to be still under her touch. "I trust you." He caught himself, realizing how weird that might sound, and cleared his throat. "I mean, I trust your expertise. Obviously." When she was finished with the stencil, he glanced up at her nervously. "Want me to look in the mirror now?"
“Yep.” Her attention was already on cleaning up the station a bit as he stood up, walking towards the full length mirror she had mounted on the wall. Giving him a few moments to see if he liked the placement, she turned back to see him flex slightly to watch how the ink moved with the muscle. Y/N was professional, but she wasn’t blind. Harry was a very good looking man, and the tattoo would suit him well. “Good?”
"It looks perfect." He met her gaze in the mirror, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "You've got a great eye. S’exactly where I want." He turned back to her, hoping he didn't look too eager. "I can't wait to see how it turns out. It looks amazing just on here like this…." His fingers unconsciously traced the edges of the stencil, imagining the bee buzzing to life on his skin under her skilled hands. "So uh, how long until we start? I can try to relax. I don’t want to be in the way."
“You can sit down on the bench and drink your coffee if you’d like. I just need to get the prep started, wash my hands and change gloves.” Said hands made work of it, methodically taking out her supplies, lining up the needles and ink pot she had filled. “You know how it goes, I assume you don’t need the whole speech about how it’ll feel and all that.” Considering how inked he was, she was a bit confused at his questions so far, but she did tattoo some odd clients so it wasn’t anything too off putting. He was cute, in a way. Like an overly excited puppy at a training class. Nervous but eager.
He nodded, a light blush on his cheeks as he realized he was probably asking too many questions out of nerves rather than genuine curiosity. "Right, of course. I'll just relax and enjoy my tea then." He settled back onto the bench, trying to appear calm as he took a sip from his cup. The taste was smoothing, a stark contrast to the jittery feeling in his stomach.
As hard as he tried not to stare, the way she moved captivating him. Her dark clothes, black liner, and the tattoos peeking out from under her tank top only added to her allure. Even the sterile smell of the shop couldn't mask her own subtle scent - something sweet with a little spice- that made him more excited for her close contact while she tattooed so he could figure it out. He took another sip of his tea, hoping the slight caffeine would calm his nerves, but he suspected the real cause of his excitement was seated right in front of him.
He really did want her to like him, wanted her to think he was a decent client, someone she could tolerate chatting with during breaks. Maybe even someone she'd consider going out with. The thought sent a thrill through him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on his coffee instead. The last thing he wanted to be was one of those guys, but it was hard to ignore her. As he sat there, he found his eyes drifting back to Angel, studying her from under his lashes. He wrinkle in her brow in concentration, the way her hair fell in loose waves down her back, even with it pulled into a ponytail...
Fuck, he was in trouble.
“I’m going to go wash my hands but did you want t’use the bathroom or anything before we start?” She slipped her gloves off and stretched her arms above her head, trying to loosen her body up before she was hunched over tattooing. It was most definitely, 100% going to cause her issues one day- but at least she loved her job. Rather a creaking back over a creaking soul, her grandmother told her.
"No, m’good thanks." He nodded a bit too eagerly, trying not to stare at how her stretch made her tank top rise slightly, catching the piercing in her belly button. It was far more attractive than he could have imagined. Did he have a thing for piercings? Maybe it was just her.. Clearing his throat, he forced his eyes to meet hers instead of taking advantage of her casual pose. "Should I, uh... where do you want my arm? Positioned I mean. I want to make it as easy as I can." The nerves were making him babble again, but he couldn't help it. Her presence just did something to him. He knew he could get a little sappy over people he had crushes on but this was a whole other story.
“I’ve got the attachment for the bench. Give me a second.” Rolling it over from where she had it parked and prepped, wrapped in Saran Wrap, she placed it next to him and took his arm with her now bare hands to adjust it. “This is how I’m going to have you sitting, so figure out how you’d like yourself situated. I’ll be right back.”
Nodding dumbly, he watched her walk away, admiring the sway of her hips before forcing his gaze elsewhere. Get a grip, he chided himself silently as he settled onto the bench attachment, positioning himself as comfortably as he could. Why did he like when she ordered him around so much? He tried to focus on something other than her, like the sound of the water turning on in the restroom, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the feel of her hands on him.
Harry fidgeted slightly as he waited, adjusting his position again, trying to find the perfect angle. He couldn't shake the fluttering feeling in his chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through him. He knew he was being pathetic about the whole thing, but that didn’t stop him from being that way. When Angel returned, her hands freshly washed and gloved once more, he offered her a slightly strained smile. "Ready when you are."
As she prepared to start the process, Harry found himself holding his breath. He could feel her hands on his arm, the gentle pressure as she adjusted his position, and he wanted more of that. Any kind of touch.. When she finally picked up the needle, he let out a slow exhale, watching as she began to work. There was no warning as she started, correctly assuming he didn’t need to be babied over it and given a countdown. At least she thought he was capable of that. The sound of the needle moving across his skin was almost hypnotic, and he found himself relaxing into the process, his eyes drifting closed as he let Angel's skilled hands take over.
The pain of the tattoo needle was sharp, nothing he wasn't used to. Nothing he didn’t… enjoy. But the real reason he was enjoying this experience so much was the feeling of Angel's touch, the focus and concentration evident on her face as she worked. He couldn't help but sneak glances at her, admiring the way her face looked as she was set in concentration, the way her lips pressed together in a soft pout as she blew a loose strand of hair from her eyes. Fuck, she was pretty when she was working. She had to be pretty all the time.
Harry bit his lip, trying to keep quiet as he sat there. It wasn't easy, especially when the needle kept sending zings of pleasured pain through his body. It wasn’t like it didn’t hurt- it absolutely did. But he had always found himself to like it. Pain was welcome to him. Not many understood. The focus now was on staying as still as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was be annoying or break her concentration. So he just sat there, breathing slowly and trying to relax into the process. Occasionally he'd let out a soft hum or clear his throat if she hit a particularly sensitive area, but he kept his voice low and tried not to draw attention to himself.
After a few minutes of silence, her voice surprisingly broke it first. “I hear feel you thinking.” She laughed under her breath, wiping away at excess ink before peering up at him momentarily. “You alright?”
Harry's eyes snapped open at her comment, his cheeks flushing slightly- again- as he realized she probably heard him making little noises the whole time. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, trying to sound nonchalant despite the heat in his cheeks. He glanced down at his arm, watching as the bee began to take shape. "Just a little sensitive in a few spots, that's all." He hoped that was enough of an explanation to satisfy her curiosity.
It was impossible to be truly honest with her. Harry liked the pain. He couldn’t tell her that it was arousing to feel the needle more than it hurt.
The sharp drag of it over his skin, the pain mingling with something else entirely - a warm, tingly sensation that spread through his core every time it hit a particularly sensitive spot. It was fucked up, he knew it was, but he couldn't deny the way his heart raced or the way his stomach clenched each time she pressed down harder.
He was getting hard, he was getting fucking hard from a goddamn tattoo and he couldn't tell her that, could he?
The feeling was wrong, so fucking wrong. He was supposed to be getting a tattoo, not getting turned on. But every press of the needle, every gentle drag across his skin, sent a jolt of pleasure through him. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, trying to adjust himself discreetly, praying she wouldn't notice the growing bulge in his jeans. Fuck, no. No, no, no. There was no way this was going to happen. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his breathing even, to not make a sound that would give him away.
It was humiliating, absolutely embarrassing that his cock was twitching to life under Angel's hands. He'd always had a thing for pain, got off on it in ways he wasn't proud of, but Jesus Christ, this was a new low. An artist this pretty, this intimidating, tattooing him? It was like every fucked up kink of his was colliding.
He closed his eyes tightly, trying desperately to think of anything else. Baseball stats, grocery lists, his grandmother, global warming and its dire acceleration —anything to distract himself from the growing throb in his jeans. But every pass of the needle, every soft exhale from Angel against his already sensitive skin sent another jolt straight to his dick. It was useless. The more he tried not to think about it, the harder he got. He was screwed. Quite literally, it seemed.
He bit the inside of his cheek hard, fighting back a groan as the needle traced a particularly sensitive line. Hell, even the way she'd occasionally wipe away ink with her gloved hands was making him crazy. It was like a teenager again getting hard at nothing. A light sheen of sweat formed at his temples, despite the cool air conditioning in the shop. It wasn’t hot, but he certainly was..
Angel took notice, as much as he hoped she wouldn’t. “Harry, you look a little sick.” Her voice turned slightly concerned as she paused, taking her foot off the pedal. “Do you need a minute or something? Don’t keep quiet about this shit. If you’re going to get sick I’d rather you do it in a trash can or something.”
He blinked rapidly, trying to come up with a proper excuse. It was difficult considering his dick was starting to hurt now from being so hard for so long- it held all the blood, apparently. Licking his lips nervously, he tried for a reassuring smile that he knew probably looked more like a grimace. "Nah, I'm alright. Just... a bit overheated, I think." He shifted again uncomfortably, praying she'd buy the excuse. "Can we keep going? Really don't wanna waste your time." Lie.
Her darkly lined eyes narrowed at his blatant lie, giving him a raised eyebrow as she adjusted herself on the rolling stool. It wasn’t often that a client looked sick and didn’t just admit it after she pressed. “It’s not a waste of time. You’re my only client today. If you need a breather you can take it. I’ll go out for a smoke or something.”
Harry was a shit liar- he could feel the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. He didn't want a breather, not even a second of not feeling her hands, not even a moment of not smelling her perfume even if it made him feel insane. He was a masochist, plain and simple, sitting there getting tattooed while his body ached with unwanted arousal. Not only that, but he really didn’t want to chance her truly figuring it out. He would be mortified. "No really, I'm fine," he insisted, his voice coming out hoarser than intended. "Let's just keep going, okay?"
Angel's expression darkened, a hint of irritation mixing with her concern as she watched him squirm on the bench, looking flushed and sweaty. She knew that he was lying through his teeth. "You look like you're about to pass out," she snapped, her tone laced with a hint of her natural impatience. "I'm not gonna have you faint or vomit on the bench and waste a whole day because you're too stubborn to take a break. So tell me what’s wrong.”
His eyes flickered nervously as he avoided her gaze, swallowing hard past the lump in his throat. He knew if he told her the truth, she'd think he was a freak. Who gets turned on by getting tattooed, for God's sake? He was trapped in a cycle of lying and sweating, his mind racing with how to explain his strange behavior without sounding like a pervert. "It's just... the pain."
“Is it too much for you?” Her face lightened, looking over his arm. “You have a ton of ink. Is it like this for you every time?” Obviously that was something she could understand, to a degree. She had tattoos in places that really hurt, but the placement shouldn’t be too painful. And considering her casual perusal of his Instagram after their consultation, he had a sternum piece. This should be nothing compared to that.
"No, no, it's not too much pain," he sputtered quickly, waving a hand to brush off her concern. "I mean, yeah, I've got a lot of ink but that's not... I'm used to it." He shifted uncomfortably again, realizing this wasn't getting any easier. His cock throbbed insistently against his zipper, reminding him of his embarrassing predicament. "It's just... really hot in here, isn't it?" he tried weakly.
She leaned up, gripping his chin with her gloved hand. “Are you on something?” The words were low and frankly, pissed off. That was one of the things in her waivers that she had him sign and she’d told him that when they first talked. “I don’t judge people for taking shit but if you’re high when I told you not to take anything before you came to the appointment I’m going to be pissed. I don’t work with people off their ass in my station.”
He felt his heart stutter at her touch, her dark eyes boring into his with genuine worry - and something else. Something almost intense, almost aggressive. Fuck, she was so close. "No, I'm not on anything!" he said urgently, meeting her gaze. "I swear." His breath caught slightly in his throat, realizing how she could easily mistake his flushed state and strange behavior. "It's... the heat, really." Another fucking lie. His cock throbbed again, seemingly mocking him.
Y/N didn’t buy it. Not when he looked so nervous. He was either high, or sick, or… Her eyes looked over his body, trying to find any tells, any obvious signs of discomfort- and it didn’t take long to find it.
He was hard. She could see the sizable bulge, making her manicured eyebrow raise again, looking back to his face.
He was busted. Completely and utterly found out. He could see the question forming on her lips, the way her dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was screwed. "Angel-" he started, trying to think of any explanation that wouldn't make him sound like a pervert.
“You could have just said you’ve got a thing for pain.” Releasing his chin, she shook her head and moved across her station to get on new gloves- no chancing any contamination. “Stressing us both out for no reason. I like direct communication. Don’t bullshit me anymore. I can handle a bodily reaction.”
Harry stared at her, mouth agape, a bit floored by her bluntness. She just... called him out, no judgment, no disgust, just straightforward honesty. It was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking witnessed. "Shit," he breathed, slumping back onto the bench. "Okay, yeah. I do have a thing for pain." No point in denying it now. "But not like, fucking weird pain," he added quickly. "Just... the endorphins, I guess?"
“I get it. I like it too. It’s fine, I’m not judging you. You haven’t been a creep or anything. Besides.” Placing the new gloves down on her station, she tapped her fingers over his cheek a few times. “You’re not the first to get hard on this bench. At least you’re cute.” Like she hadn’t said anything she moved her hand away.
Cute? He was cute? It was an one off compliment and yet his mind was spinning. Pathetic, his need for praise- How much he liked knowing he was attractive. She wasn't judging him, she understood his thing for pain, and she thought he was cute. He felt like he was dreaming, like this was some kind of bizarre, albeit wonderful hallucination. He watched, entranced, as she put her gloves back on and reached for the needle again. "So... you're used to this?" he asked quietly, his voice shaking slightly.
“Somewhat. It isn’t the most common reaction, but it’s something that happens. You haven’t been making weird comments or very obviously leering at me, which gets people kicked out. I understand why you lied. You didn’t want me to be uncomfortable. But you don’t have to be embarrassed. I can tell you are.” She shrugged her shoulder, picking up her gun with her freshly gloved hand. “You get hard at all your appointments? Or is it just me?”
His face burned with embarrassment, but at the same time, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. She wasn't disgusted, she wasn't judging him harshly - she was actually understanding, even a little amused. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "It's... not just you," he admitted quietly, feeling his heart trying to find its way down and out of his throat. "But you're the first artist I've told. M’usually better at hiding it."
“Yeah?” Pressing the needle back to the stencil, she watched as his eyelids lulled, a slight wince but a dash of what she now knew had to be arousal washing over his face. “Hm… That alright with you?”
Nodding slowly, his eyes fluttered closed as the needle resumed its work. It was alright, more than alright. It was fucking incredible. He felt so relieved, so understood. If it was possible, his crush on her grew tenfold. "Yeah, that's alright," he murmured, his voice deeper than it had been before. There was no hiding the effect it was having on him- and she had said he didn’t have to. "Really alright."
As the tattoo progressed, Harry found himself sinking deeper into a state of blissful discomfort. The needle continued its path on his skin, each pass sending a jolt of pleasured pain straight to his core. He could smell her perfume with every lean- which he was fairly certain was vanilla with sandalwood, maybe a bit of tobacco since she had mentioned taking a smoke- could feel the heat radiating from her body as she worked intently. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.
He squirmed a little bit, making her pause. “Stop moving, yeah? Be a good boy.” It was teasing, really, but she saw the look on his face. Harry liked it.
Harry froze, his breath hitching in his throat at her words. "A good boy," he echoed softly, his voice filled with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. He felt his face flush an even deeper shade of red as he held still, trying not to squirm. Was she flirting with him? Or was his horny brain just hearing things he wanted to hear? Either way, the command had his dick throbbing in his jeans. “Uh- okay. I can.. do that.”
Continuing the tattoo, all she could notice was that he was stiff- squirmy. She could tell he was trying his absolute best not to move, but he wanted to and it was distracting. Ten minutes passed, the outline almost done, and she really couldn’t keep up with this. She needed him to be relaxed, still, and calm… and not so distracting to her. Harry was cute. Really, utterly adorable. Hot in the way she liked but in demeanor he was nervous and twitchy. So cute… That she was going to do something about it.
“Alright.” Turning the machine off again, she crossed her arms. “You’re too stiff. We’re almost done with the tattoo… but I need you to relax.” Moving a hand, she rest it on his knee and curled her fingers around it. “I don’t do shit like this, but you’re cute. Let’s get you off so you can chill the fuck out.”
Harry's eyes widened in shock, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as she spoke to him in such a matter of fact way. Did she really just... offer to get him off? Right here in the tattoo shop? Or was this a wet dream? He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "You uh, you don't have to-" he started weakly, but even as he said it, his body betrayed him, a visible shudder running through him at her touch as soon as she moved.
“You can say no.” She trailed her finger up his thigh. “We don’t have to do anything. But you’re trying to be good, and you can’t help that all you can probably think about is that cock. Whatever you’re gonna do to it after. Stroke it, go find someone to suck it off. Kinda makes me jealous, if I’m honest.” It looked big. That’s something she wanted. She was so tired of mediocre, selfish lays and if anything, it seemed like Harry was the type more than eager to please her. “So if you don’t want me to touch you, I can stop…”
"Fuck," he hissed, his hips lifting slightly at her words, completely failing at maintaining his cool facade. How was he supposed to think straight when she was saying shit like that? Her hand on his thigh was making his head fuzzy, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans. "No, don't stop," he breathed out, voice trembling.
“There we go. Finally being honest with me.” She hummed, her other hand stroking over his cheek. “So sweet.” Tapping over his nose, her hands retreated to take the gloves off completely. “Alright, off with your belt then. Let yourself out.”
He stared at her for a long moment, speechless. Something about how blunt she was, how she ordered him around.. it was something he hadn’t experienced much of before, but he had always wanted to try. Never had he imagined it would be today, with his tattoo artist that made him incredibly intimidated and eager to please but he supposed that’s what made it so good.
Swallowing hard, he reached for his belt, unbuckling it with shaking hands before unlatching his jeans. He hesitated, looking up at her, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Like, all the way?" he asked hoarsely. God, he felt like a fucking teenager again. Nervous and excited and completely out of his depth. "And you're really just gonna...?"
“All the way. Yes, I’m going to touch it.” She discarded the gloves and pushed the tray table to the side- ink was a pain to clean up. “Don’t be afraid. As cute as being shy is, I have a feeling you’re really a needy little thing. Let me see your cock, sweetheart.”
His breath hitched at her words, his face burning with a deep, flush. Christ, she was so blunt, so fucking direct, something he had never dealt with in a woman before… And he ate it up, loving every second of it. With a shaking hand, he slowly pushed his jeans and boxers down, his hard, thick cock springing free. He was big, really fucking big, and the head was already leaking precome. "Fuck," he muttered, looking up at her with wide eyes, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his size.
His cock was long and thick, proportional to his tall frame. The veins were prominent, the head swollen and dark pink, almost painful from how worked up he’d gotten. Precum leaked steadily from the slit, making him a little embarrassed. He knew she’d be able to see just how fucked up he’d gotten from it all. The base was thick, the root of his cock visible under his neatly groomed pubic hair as it pulsed rhythmically, betraying how horny he actually was.
As Angel wrapped her hand around him, she could feel how much bigger he was than most men she'd encountered. The velvety soft skin was hot under her touch. She couldn't help but run her thumb over the shiny, leaking tip, spreading the bead of precum around the swollen slit. "My god, you are a big boy, aren’t you?” She murmured in a honeyed tone. “Such a pretty cock, Harry. It was aching this whole time?”
Her hand felt like heaven wrapped around him. The most welcome damn relief he’s ever felt. Biting his lip to stifle a moan, he watched as she spread the precome around his tip, the sensitive cock jumping at the contact. "Fuck, yeah," he panted, his hips shifting. "It’s been hard the whole time. I-I didn’t wanna move and fuck up the linework or anything..." He trailed off, watching her touch him with wide, dilated eyes.
“How sweet. You knew I’d be pissed if you messed up my work.” She cooed. “You‘ve been a mess this whole time, though. Is it because you think I’m pretty, Harry?” She tilted her head to the side as she leaned over, pursing her lips and letting a trail of spit dribble down to his cock. Hand spreading it around him, she wanted an answer. “Hm?”
"Shit," he cursed softly under his breath as the spit slid down his length, her hand moving expertly to spread it around. He nodded quickly, his face flush with embarrassment but his eyes dark with desire. He knew he was kinda into it, kind of liked a bit of humiliation but actively getting it made him feel crazy in the best way. "Yes," he breathed out, totally caught. "I mean, look at you..." He swallowed hard, watching how perfectly her long fingers circled his shaft. "The tattooing, the... the perfume, those fucking lips... god, your whole vibe, you're..." He trailed off, face burning. "Killer."
“Killer, huh?” That got a laugh out of her. “That’s so funny. Big, bad, tattooed Harry… intimidated by me. Got all that muscle, all that money, and all it takes to get you to fold is a pretty woman and some pain?”
"Shut up," he muttered, trying to look stern but failing miserably. His cheeks were on fire, his heart racing in his chest as she laughed at him. But fuck, it was a good laugh, and the way her eyes lit up only made him melt more. "I'm not intimidated," he insisted, but his voice wavered. "I just... appreciate beauty when I see it, okay? And you're fucking stunning.”
“Oh, sweet little baby…” She cooed, squishing his cheeks with her free hand, making his lips pucker. “Better watch the way you talk to me, m’kay? I could make you cum like this…” She squeezed around him, twisting her hand as she stroked his cock. “I could let you fuck me. Bend me over the bench, or get on top of you. I could suck you off, or…” She took her hand away, letting his sticky cock fall back against his stomach. “I could stop. I’m in charge here.”
His cheeks burned at her words, her voice like honey and venom, sweet and dangerous to his well being. She may as well kill him. "Fuck." He panted out, watching her hand leave his dick. It throbbed, aching for her touch again. He knew the game, knew when someone had the power. Angel fucking had all the power right now. "You're a bully," he muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. "What do you want?" He swallowed hard, eyes flicking between hers and her hand.
“I want you to be nice to me. Where’s my sweet boy gone?” A faux pout painted her lips. “You’re acting like a spoiled brat. Took time away to try and make you feel good and you’re calling me a bully…” Shaking her head, she curled her fingers around the hem of her tank top, pulling over her head to expose her tits. “You could touch them, if my nice boy came back. But you’re being mean to me.”
His voice caught in his throat as she pulled off her top, revealing her breasts, nipples hard and perfect and… when had he ever been shocked into stupidity? Was this a new record?. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "M’not being mean!” He tried to save, but his voice was hoarse, his eyes glued to her chest. He could practically hear his mom lecturing him, about disrespecting women, about using sweet words and gentle touches. And goddammit, he was gonna lose his hard-on if he kept thinking about that.
“No?” Holding her tits in her hands, she lightly pinched her nipples between her fingers. “You’re ready to be nice t’me?”
"Yeah," he said quickly, sitting up properly and moving so she stood between his spread thighs. As her hands dropped from her chest, she stepped further between his legs and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to take her breasts in his hands, gently squeezing them. Fuck, they were perfect. So soft and warm, the nipples hard under his thumbs. “M’sorry," he murmured, looking up at her with wide, apologetic eyes. "I'll be nice. I'll be your sweet boy." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. "Please touch me again, Angel." He begged softly.
His lips moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone and down to her sternum. He worshipped her chest with his mouth as he kissed and licked down to her tits, overwhelmed with opportunity. Lick, suck, bite, leave marks? Harry wanted to do it all. “I’ll be so good f’you, beautiful. I promise.” He wrapped his lips around one hard nipple, swirling his tongue around it before sucking gently. His hands stayed on her tits, palming and squeezing them together as he moved between them, giving attention to both. A big supporter of equal loving, he was.
He moaned softly as her hand pressed his face harder against her chest, the soft flesh yielding under his mouth. Opening his mouth wider, he took as much of her breast as he could fit, sucking and nibbling gently over the sensitive buds. His hand slid around to her back, pulling her closer almost desperately. More. He needed more. "Fuck," he mumbled against her nipple, the word muffled. "Perfect fucking tits."
“Tell me how beautiful I am.” She requested softly, pulling his mouth from her nipple with a handful of his pretty hair. “If you were so distracted by me before… You should have no problem doing that.”
"You're so fucking beautiful, Angel," he said without hesitation, his voice filled with genuine awe. "Like, breathtakingly beautiful. Those tits, that face, that fucking body..." He trailed off, shaking his head in wonder. "I don't know how you do it, but you're just... stunning." He reached up to touch her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "You're perfect. Please, let me kiss you," he begged, his eyes pleading with hers. "Just one real kiss, Angel. I need t’taste you, to feel your lips against mine."
He leaned forward, his hands settling on her hips as he looked up at her with the clearest depiction of desperation she had ever seen. "I'll be your sweetheart, your good boy, just please... let me kiss you." He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her chin, hoping to wear her down. "Pretty please, beautiful."
“How cute.”’She cooed, tracing over his bottom lip. It was amusing to get men on their knees, to hear them plead and beg for her, but especially when said men looked like Harry. Buff and inked and otherwise looking like he’d be a complete dickhead she’d find at the gym, but so sweet just from his own desires. “Alright. Go ahead, since you asked so nicely.”
As soon as her fingers left his lip, he surged up to capture her mouth in a soft, gentle kiss. Trying his best to be gentle and sweet despite the overwhelming urge to devour her, it was harder to control himself than he’d ever remembered. He kept his hands on her hips, not daring to pull her closer or wrap his arms around her like he desperately wanted to. Breaking the kiss after a moment, he panted softly as he pulled back. "More? Can I have another?" He looked up at her with puppy eyes, already addicted to the taste of her lips.
The softness of it had surprised her, fully expecting him to be completely lost in it. If she was truthful, it only made her feel a little more fond of the man as he asked for another one, pleading almost with the luck he wanted to have. “You really are a sweet little puppy, aren’t you?” She murmured, stroking over his hair. “Want to keep kissing me that badly?”
"Yes, please," Nodding eagerly, he pleaded for it like he hadn’t before. "I want t’kiss you all day, Angel. I'll do anything, just let me keep kissing you." He rested his forehead against hers, clutching at her to keep as close as she allowed. "You taste so good, smell so good... I just can't get enough of you." He opened his eyes again, looking up at her with pure need. It was intoxicating for her, considering she hadn’t met anyone this down bad in her life. The power of it went straight to her cunt, giving her that telltale second heartbeat.
"Yes, thank you." the words were cut off, already pressing his lips to hers again as soon as she nodded in the most respectful kiss he could manage. This time, he pulled her a little closer, one hand sliding up her back while the other cupped her jaw gently, letting his fingers curl around and hold her where he wanted her- just testing it out. His tongue barely ventured out, just a hint of it ghosting over her bottom lip as he explored her mouth cautiously. Every kiss felt like a privilege, a gift. "You," he broke away just long enough to speak, "shouldn't be this perfect."
“But I am.” She hummed against his mouth, leaning into him as she allowed his hands to hold her. It was strange to feel a possessive hold on her body and yet see such a needy look on a man’s face. The juxtaposition of it all.
"Your lips are perfect," he mumbled against them, stealing another deep kiss. "So soft, so full..." He pulled back slightly to look at her face, "Your eyes are gorgeous, your nose is perfect, your jaw..." Cupping her jaw again, he angled it where he wanted it. "It's so pretty. Like you’re art, carved from marble or somethin’. I can’t even think straight.” It was hard to when she felt as good as she did. “Your neck." He leaned down to kiss her throat softly, "So smooth. Jus’ want t’bite."
She loved being worshipped, was the thing- And Harry was giving her the taste that she had wanted, completely submitting to her agenda without realizing he was filling the gap she had always wanted filled. It was precisely what she wanted actually, exactly what she needed, and the slight crazed look in his eyes had her cunt hot. “Mm… Thank you, good boy.” Gently running her fingers over his scalp, she felt his teeth graze her skin. “You getting mouthy, Puppy? Trying to bite?”
"Maybe..." he murmured, his teeth grazing her neck again as he tried to suppress a grin. He could feel her pulse quickening under his lips, taste the salt on her skin. His hands tightened slightly on her hips, thumbs rubbing small circles as he tried to restrain himself from outright biting her. "Is that a bad thing? Wanting to taste more of you?" His voice, low and husky, hinted at his building need, his cock twitching against his stomach. There was no hiding how affected he was by her.
“Not at all. Just didn’t know you liked to nibble on people, is all.” She took a handful of his hair, tugging him back with a heavy hand. “I like pain just as much as you do, seeing how much your cock is jumping just from a little tug of the hair. But you don’t have the right to bite me yet, so you have to wait.” Leaning down, she grabbed his cock back in her hand and spit over it again, stroking slow and tight.
Harry groaned, his head falling back as she tugged on his hair again and spoke in that stern, commanding tone that had him putty in her hands. "God you don’t even…. You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me." His cock jumped in her hand, the spit making it slick and easy for her to stroke. He felt a droplet of precum leak out, and he whimpered, his hips bucking slightly into her hand. "Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Jus’ wanna… Want to make you feel good, too.’
She smirked down at him, her eyes glinting with amusement and a hint of something darker. "Is that so?" she said, her voice low and sultry. She continued to stroke him slowly, her thumb swirling around the head of his cock, spreading the spit and precum around. Messy and sticky, just how she liked it. "And how, exactly, do you plan on making me feel good, hmm?" She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "With that big, thick cock of yours? Do you know how to use it properly?"
His entire body shivered at her whisper, his cock throbbing aggressively in her grip. "Yes," he managed to choke out, every ounce of control slipping away. "Would you let me?" He looked up at her with pleading eyes, a hint of vulnerability. "You're... god, you're making me crazy." His hips bucked into her hand again, desperate for more, more, more. Greediness was overwhelming. "Want to feel those perfect tits against me while I fuck you deep," he breathed, his eyes dark with the ever building lust. "Want to watch your gorgeous face while you cum on my cock. Feel your pussy clench around me, squeezing me so fucking tight, cause I know it will." His words were coming faster now, his restraint slipping. "Been hard imagining pounding into you all goddamn tattoo session. Want to pinch those perfect nipples while I do it, make you cry out-" He stopped abruptly, realizing he was rambling shamelessly. The mixture of his dominate side peeking out with the submissive. A true switch problem, feeling them both rearing their heads.
“Oh no, don’t stop on my account.” She laughed in disbelief. “You’re showing just how filthy you’re gonna be. Thinking about fucking me this whole time? Getting a needle in your skin but you’re thinking about my pussy?” It was filthy, it was dirty, but he had the privilege. She was attracted to him unlike most people, and that awarded him the right. “Keep going then, tell me what you want.”
"Jesus, you really do love hearing me say this shit, don't you?" He asked, a hint of a desperate smile pulling at his lips. Reaching up to cup her breast with one hand, he plucked her nipple lightly between his fingers. "Want me to tell you how I'd fuck you so slow at first, let you feel every inch, but then pound the hell out of that perfect pussy when you beg for it?" His tone was stronger, less nervous as he spoke to her about his hidden desire. She’d been blunt with him, so he was only awarding her the same.
"And when you're about to cum," he continued, his voice dropping lower, rougher, "I might just flip us over. Pin your wrists down and ride you hard enough to make those pretty tits bounce. Would you like that? Me being rough while I fuck you?" He squeezed her nipple harder, testing her reaction. The pretty noise she let out from the pinch let him know what he needed to know. She was just as much for it as he was. "Do you want a sweetheart who makes love to you slow, or a man who makes you scream?" His cock jerked in her hand, betraying his desire for either outcome.
“Think I want to be fucked hard. I haven’t screamed in quite a while. No one is able to do it.” The smirk on her face said it all, wanting to see just what he was capable of. How his voice had switched from nervous to confident, showing two very different sides of him? She had no idea. All she knew was she liked it. The duality of a man.
His expression morphed from pleading to predatory in an instant, his eyes glinting with a dark light. "You wanna be manhandled, then?" He purred, his hand sliding down from her breast to her hip, his fingers digging in as he took charge. “Alright then.” Standing up, he took initiative without another word- flipping her stance, pushing her over the bench and letting that perfect ass perch up in the air.
Harry was quick with it, calculated. Gripping her waistband in his fingers and tugging it down, exposing her bare body to him. No panties, nothing. Son of a bitch. She’d been sitting there with nothing on under the thin leggings this whole time? Unable to help himself, his hand came down on the soft flesh with a sharp smack to make his palm burn momentarily."Fuck, this ass, baby." he groaned, barely giving her a moment to realize what was happening before he slapped her ass again, harder this time. He admired the handprint appearing on her skin, wanting it to stay on there the entire night. It just looked too good to fade away.
Running his hand over the curve of her, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You wanted rough, beautiful. Hope you can handle it." His other hand slid around to her front, directly cupping her pussy. "Already fucking soaked, aren't you?"
“Of course I am.” She laughed breathlessly. “You’re being sweet and then tossing me around. Smacking my ass. Did you expect me to not react?” Turning her head back towards him, she gave him a little attitude. “Do something about it.”
"Such a fucking brat, even after you call me one." he muttered, grinning despite himself. His fingers slipped up and down her cunt, letting out a grunt as he found that how soaked she actually was. Filthy wet, a mess, and he’d been the cause. "Look at that mouth, keep panting like that..." He moved his finger to stroke her clit, quick and firm, causing her to gasp. "Should I stuff it with my cock until you gag? Would that shut you up?" His other hand smacked her ass again as he spoke, leaving another hot mark in his wake. His voice dropped lower, more smug. "Or do you want me to just fuck you? Hm? The choice is yours."
"Damn," she muttered, her body wracking with shivers as his fingers strummed over her clit expertly. He may act nervous, but he knew what to do with pussy. "You talk shit," she threw back at him, "Like you’d actually shut me up with that dick. I'd bite it off." She snarled as she wiggled her ass to provoke him. "And who said anything about choosing? You asked if I wanted you to stuff my mouth or just fuck me. Where's the option to ride your face or have you eat me out?" She smirked.
“Trust me, I plan on doing it all.” He smacked over her clit a few times, feeling her jolt. It was such a pleasure, having her so reactive underneath him. “I have no intentions of this being a one and done. Not when you’ve made such a fucking mess out of me.” She had no idea, did she? “All I wanted was t’get you to like me. Wanted to hang out with you. Made me so nervous.. and then you tell me you want to get me off? Think m’not gonna go crazy?”
Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. The woman really didn’t have a proper clue. He’d wanted to go about it the proper way but she’d been true to her fashion, blunt and to the point. “Got all nervous just tryin' to talk to you. Thought you'd eat me alive, professionally and literally." He chuckled darkly, giving her clit one last firm tap before withdrawing his hand. “Now, m’not so sure I’d mind. Think we’re gonna take turns doing it.”
She let out a breathy laugh at his words, her head falling forward as she relaxed back against the bench. "Oh, you're something else," she murmured, her voice tinged with amusement. "Crazy, nervous, sweet boy who wants to make me like him and then wants to take turns making me cum." She reached back, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him down by his scalp as he looked over her body. "Fuck, I think I'm starting to like you, Harry. But I think I’d like you more with my cunt wrapped around that pretty cock.”
His face split into a wide, predatory grin at her words, his eyes flashing dark with desire. "For fuck's sake," he muttered, nipping lightly at her throat where her neck met her shoulder. "Such a filthy mouth for such a pretty face." One hand slapped her ass again, trying to get the skin hot while the other moved to grip his cock, lining himself up with her entrance. Pressing the tip against her, he applied just enough pressure to make her feel the stretch but not entering yet. "You wanna know something, beautiful?" He didn’t wait for her response. “I’ve never been so obsessed with making a woman like me the first fuckin’ times I meet her," he admitted, his voice rasping as he fought to maintain control. "I've never wanted to please someone so badly that it hurts." Flexing his hips forward slightly, he teased her with the tip of his cock. "And I've never, ever been this hard in my entire life."
"Goddamn," she breathed out softly, arching her back slightly to push back against him. "You get all sweet, talking about being scared of pissing me off. Making me laugh. Getting nervous..." She wiggled her ass again, wanting more of him. Just the preview of the stretch made her want more. "And then you spank me and talk dirty." Her voice dropped to a sultry purr. "Do you even have a filter? Answer me one thing, Harry." She asked, making him tense slightly. "Are you this sweet and this filthy all the time? Or jus’ when you get horny from tattoos?”
He chuckled, his hot breath fanning over her shoulder. "Both," he answered honestly, his hands roamed over her greedily, wanting to get very well acquainted with her body. "M’always sweet, always a gentleman when I need t’ve... but I've always been filthy in the bedroom." He bit down gently on her shoulder, his hips bucking forward slightly again, catching the tip of his cock on her cunt again. "And tattoos make me extra horny, so... here's your answer," he continued, his hands spreading her cheeks apart slightly to get a better view.
"Sweet and romantic most of the time. Dirty talker and versatile in bed." He pushed forward again, this time sliding just the tip inside her wet pussy. "Feeling you tattoo me… made me wanna throw you down and pound into you hard. Was willing to do anything you wanted if it meant feeling this… fuck, just look at that." He muttered, looking down in awe at where his body met hers, watching himself disappear slightly inside her. "No filter when I'm horny."
“Shit.” Y/N winced slightly at the stretch of him, feeling the tip pull back out before popping right back in again. It was the good kind of pain. “Thought you’d only be a sweet little sub but… You like both?” She wanted to know more, impressed with the so-called ‘versatility’. He’d been so sweet, nearly shaking earlier when she had caught him hard and now he was teasing her poor cunt.
On how the tables have turned.
He grinned against her shoulder, the motion making his hips move again and sending another inch of his cock inside her. "Mhm," he hummed, his hands squeezing her ass. "I like being sweet and submissive, but I also love being dominant and in control." He pulled back again, letting her feel the stretch of just the tip before pushing in further. "It's all about the situation and who I'm with." He nipped at her skin again, his words punctuated by slow, teasing thrusts.
"I can be your cute little puppy one minute, begging for your kisses, your touch..." His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he held her steady. "And then flip the switch and fuck you into oblivion the next, depending on what you need." He slid deeper this time, groaning at the tight heat enveloping him. "So is that what you want, Angel? Want me to ruin this pretty pussy with my cock?"
She nodded, her arms relaxing by her sides as she spread her legs further apart, giving him an unobstructed view of her dripping cunt and his thick cock disappearing inside her. "Fuck, look at that," he breathed, his eyes glued to the sight as he pulled back until just the tip remained inside her.. With a low groan, he pushed forward, watching her stretch around him. “S’so pretty. Wish you could see how gorgeous she looks, opening up for me.”
Harry wasn't small by any means, and he was more than aware that his size was intense for most women. He gave another testing thrust, watching her body swallow him up inch by inch. "Goddamn," His voice dropped lower, almost concerned. "You good?" He could feel her stretching around him, her inner walls quivering as she adjusted to his size. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest as he tried to push deeper, trying his best to soothe her. "Talk t’me," he rasped, pressing his lips against her shoulder. "You okay, sweetheart?" He flexed his hips forward again, burying another inch inside her.
Was it a bit contradictory? Yes. It was. But he knew she liked it- he could feel it, hear it in her little sighs. One thing he would give himself was that he was an observant lover. Her pleasure was above his own and he was paying attention to every shift in her. If she wasn’t loving it, he wouldn’t continue.
She let out a long, shaky breath, her head falling back onto his shoulder as she felt the stretch with each movement. "Fuck... it's been a while," she admitted, her voice strained. "You're really big." Her nails dug into his forearms as she tried to relax her body, to let herself open up for him. "I'm okay... just give me a second to... fucking... adjust." She hissed, wiggling her hips slightly, testing the feel of him inside her.
He felt her inner muscles clench and unclench around him as she adjusted, her body struggling to accommodate his size. He could see the stretch marks on her inner thighs, the way her pussy lips were spread wide around his thick shaft. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to slam forward and bury himself to the hilt. Instead, he held still, his fingers digging into her hips as he waited for her signal. "You look so fucking pretty like this, baby. Unreal." he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.
“Thank you, puppy.” She tried, cooing the best she could as she relaxed her top half over the bench as he adjusted her back down. “There’s that sweetness.”
"Still trying to earn more brownie points with you." he teased lightly, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder blade as his hand trailed up to brush her falling ponytail away from her skin. "Thought I might've ruined that when I spanked you." His hips gave her a little more, burying himself a tiny bit deeper just to feel her twitch around him.
"Mm?" She hummed softly, her body relaxing more around him. He could see the muscles in her back moving fluidly as she tested the stretch again, spreading her legs wider. He almost whimpered at the view - his thick length disappearing inside her slicked up, puffy lips. "This is all I wanted, baby. Wanted to be real fuckin’ nice to you. You think I’m being nice enough yet?” He tested softly, his voice dropping back to that sweet, almost innocent level..
"You're being a good boy," The reply came softly as she arching her back just a bit. "Sweet talking me one minute, spanking my ass and spreading me open the next. Making me take this cock inside me..." Moaning softly as he widened her thighs, he gave himself better access. "You're definitely being nice."
He grinned mischievously, his fingers splaying wide over her inner thighs. "Yeah, you like that, Angel?" He cooed, his sweet demeanor belied by the way he was positioning her body. "You like me being sweet while I make you take all this?" Pushing his hips forward again, he pushed the final inch inside her. "You think I’m being gentle enough? Or do y’need something more?"
She moaned again, his words driving her wild as he forced her legs higher. "You're being more than fucking gentle," she panted out, her inner muscles convulsing around him. She shivered, reaching back to grab at him. "Less asking if I like it, more show me how you fuck when you're being sweet."
"Yes ma'a." Harry echoed obediently, the same smirk playing at his lips as he pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the tip inside her before sliding back in with exaggerated slowness, letting her feel every thick inch keeping her open. He maintained that maddeningly gentle pace, his hips rolling against hers in smooth, controlled thrusts that hit deep but never rushed. “Such a perfect cunt. Christ.”
He peppered her neck with soft, open-mouthed kisses as he continued his slow, deep thrusts, his large hands keeping her right where he wanted her. "This is what you needed t’get you to talk to me, huh? Jus’ needed a thick cock t’fill you up. Didn’t need to be nervous… just needed to give the pretty Angel what she wanted." He murmured against her skin, his voice dripping with fake innocence "I think you’re ready for more."
"Damn it, you're playing with me," She gasped out, her nails digging into his thigh as she pushed back eagerly onto his cock. "Sweet talk me more like that while you fuck me harder." She purred, her head tilting to give him better access to her neck. "Wanted to shut up that nervous rambling with my pussy, huh? Gave you somethin' better to put your mouth on than words."
"Mmhmm, exactly," he hummed softly, his large hands tightening on her thighs as he continued his slow, rolling thrusts. "Shutting me up real nice with this pretty, squeezing little hole, isn't it?" He sighed against her throat, his hot breath tickling her skin as he spoke. "You’re so pretty, sweetheart. So fuckin’ hot around this cock." He flexed his hips forward, burying yet another thick inch inside her.
"Want more, Angel?" he murmured teasingly, barely moving inside her. "Need me to fuck this greedy little pussy harder?" He punctuated his words with a sharp, quick thrust before returning to his torturously slow pace.
She snapped at him, her voice tight with lustful irritation. "Shut up and fuck me, Harry! Stop teasing and put your money where your mouth is." Her demand was abrupt and harsh, contrasting sharply with the sweet way she'd been talking to him moments before. Harry chuckled darkly as he finally gave in to her demand. Her wish was his command.
He snapped his hips forward abruptly, finally giving her a taste of his full length and girth as he buried himself to the hilt inside her. "Like that, you greedy little thing?" he growled as he began to thrust harder and deeper, filling her completely with each stroke. "You want me to ruin this perfect little hole?" He snarled, his voice laced with a matched aggression as he fucked into into her.
“God, yes. Finally.” She moaned, loving the sting she felt from his cock filling her. It wasn’t the easiest to take and it had been a while but it fit her so well, she knew she needed more. He’d done a decent job getting her worked up, and she needed him to do what he promised now.. “Shut up and fuck me.”
"Christ, baby. Okay. I’ll- I’ll give you anything y’need." he groaned, finally letting go of that last bit of control. His thick length slammed into her again and again, each thrust harder than the last. One hand moved to her hip, holding her steady as he fucked into her, the sound of their bodies meeting echoing through the room.
The wet slapping of skin against skin filled the air, punctuated by his guttural groans and her own breathy cries. His thick cock slid in and out of her soaking wet pussy with ease, the sound of her coating his dick and making each thrust slick and, frankly, obscene. It was lewd and hot and he knew that he was living a damn dream. Harry's own moans grew louder, more primal, as he lost himself in the sensation of her tight heat surrounding him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, his voice ragged with pleasure. “Pussy is so fuckin’ good, baby. I can’t… you’re too good.”
Leaning over her body, his face pressed against her shoulders as he kissed and bit at her skin, seeking comfort and reassurance even as he ruthlessly fucked her. His hands moved from her hips to wrap underneath her, around her waist to hold her in place as he buried himself inside her over and over, his movements becoming less controlled and more desperate.
“There you go, puppy.” her voice was strained as her knees wobbled, clutching onto the bench and his thigh as he filled her right up. He was wrapped all around her, kissing and whimpering into her skin. “Shutting up and giving me that perfect cock. Just like you should.”
"Mmm..." The endearment of 'puppy' combined with her nails dragging across his skin made him whimper softly. His hips stuttered as he continued to fuck her deeply and smoothly, submitting to her praise as his mouth sought more skin to taste. "Makin’ me feel so good, Angel... d’you? Want you to feel so good too..." He was fully reduced to sweet, submissive whispers now, in stark contrast to his intense pace.
"You asked for sweet..." His voice dropped lower, almost shyly. "You like this better? Me being all nice while I pound your cunt?" He spread her thighs wider as he adjusted, changing the angle slightly to make himself go even deeper.
She let out a long, low moan at the new angle, her inner walls clenching around him tightly. "Fuck, yes... just like that, puppy." Her voice was husky with pleasure, her nails digging into his thigh hard enough to leave marks. "You're being so good for me, taking care of me so well with this perfect dick." She pushed her ass back against him, meeting his thrusts eagerly. "Keep talking to me like that, keep being my good boy while you fuck me."
Harry's breathing was labored as she praised him, his cock throbbing inside her. Pressing open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder and neck, he wasn’t able to shut the hell up. "You like hearing me talk like this? Your good boy, fucking you so deep and hard..." His fingers found her clit, circling it slowly as he continued to thrust. He needed to see her face as he did this. As much as he liked taking her bent over- he wanted to watch her face when she came apart on his cock.
Ignoring her whine when he pulled out for a moment, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her effortlessly and flipping her over onto her back. Adjusting her so she was laying stead, he stepped between her spread thighs as he lowered himself back inside her. He wanted to see her face, to watch her expressions as he continued to fill her with his thick length. "Look at me," he whispered softly, his voice laced with submission as he began to thrust again, "I want to see your pretty face while I'm being a good boy and giving you this….cock," he finished, his hips snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt inside her again.
His eyes locked onto hers, drinking in the sight of her flustered face, her lips parted in a silent cry, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. "So fucking pretty," he breathed, his hands reaching up to cup her cheeks as he began to fuck her with renewed vigor, his thrusts hard and deep. "Look at me, Angel. Look at your good boy while I make y’feel good."
He worshipped her with his eyes as he continued to fuck into her, filling her up again and again. He brushed his nose against hers, breathing her breaths in as he whispered soft, submissive words against her lips. "You're so pretty... so perfect... you deserve this... you deserve me being your good boy and giving you everything you want..." He moaned softly, his hips rolling forward to brush spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. "You like that?"
Her back arched off the bench, her hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders as he hit it again. "Fuck, yes.” she cried out, her voice echoing through the room as she shuddered beneath him. "Just like that, baby. Don't stop, don't you dare stop fucking me." She bucked her hips up to meet his thrusts, desperate to keep that thick length buried inside her as he rubbed against her g-spot in the way he knew she needed.
His face broke out into a blissed-out, adoring smile as he felt her clench around him, her cries of pleasure music to his ears. Harry was determined to make her feel the best she ever had, to see her lose control and shatter beneath him. "Gonna make you cum, Angel... gonna make you cum so hard on my cock… tell me what you need." He’d do anything.
"Choke me," she panted out, her eyes wild with desire as she stared up at him. "Choke me while you fuck me, puppy. Show me who’s making me feel good." Her hands reached up to grip his wrists, guiding his hands to wrap around her throat. "Squeeze... please... I need to feel your hands on my neck while you fuck me..." She didn't even finish the sentence before he complied, his large hands wrapping around her delicate throat and squeezing lightly. “Yeah, like that.”
His large hands tightened around her throat obediently, squeezing just enough to feel her pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he groaned softly, letting her hear how it made him feel. “Look perfect with my hand around your neck… Makes me want t’cum so badly..” His hips slammed forward, burying himself impossibly deep as his fingers pressed slightly harder against her windpipe.
His other hand slid down to her clit, rubbing swift circles as he felt her walls flutter around him. "Come on, Angel... fucking squeeze me. Show me how good it feels. I can feel you tryin’ to milk my damn cock.” Harry could actually feel tears well up in his eyes as the intense pleasure of her tightening cunt mixed with the sight of his hands around her throat.
Her nails dragging over his wrists sent electric shocks straight to his cock, making him thrust deeper and faster. "So fucking beautiful... gonna cum so hard if you keep squeezing my dick like that..." His hold on her throat tightened slightly more as his cock pulsed inside her.
She giggled deliriously, her body shaking beneath his as she felt him losing control around her throat. "You gonna fill me up while you choke me?" She pushed up against him with her hips, making him hit that spot again and making her hiccup. "Come on, Puppy... c’mon, you look so sad with those tear-filled eyes... You gonna make a mess in your good girl or not? Give it to me.” She hissed, almost demanding it. “I want it. Show me.”
Harry really couldn’t help it. Her words pushed him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep and let out a low, guttural moan. "F-fuck... Angel..." he choked out, his fingers tightening around her throat as he came hard, his cock pulsing and filling her with his hot cum. Tears spilled over his cheeks as he shook and trembled above her, completely undone by her words and the intensity of the moment. "So good, baby it’s… so fucking good..." he was babbling a bit, but he couldn’t control it. She’d nearly fucked him dumb.
"It’s so hot…” feeling his load inside of her only made it harder to keep it together. There was nothing more arousing than a man losing it inside of her, unable to wait. “Keep going, just-," she panted out, her body still shaking. "Don't stop, puppy. Keep fucking me and choking me until I cum." Her nails dug into his wrists, holding his hands in place as she arched her back and pushed her hips up to meet his thrusts. "I need it... need to cum so badly... keep going, good boy... make your Angel cum all over you."
Her makeup was ruined, her eyeliner smeared and running down her cheeks as she laughed and begged him to keep going. Her hair was a mess, sticks and strands clinging to the sweat-damped skin on her face. Y/N knew she looked utterly wrecked, completely lost in the moment as she rode out the intense pleasure he was giving her, and she didn’t care. Her nails scraped against his wrists, leaving red marks as she held his hands in place, keeping his hand choking her as he listened to her. "Don't stop... don't you dare stop.”
"Jesus..." he gasped, his over-sensitive cock still leaking cum inside her as he continued to thrust, dedicated to her demands. He could feel his messy cum leaking out around his length each time he pulled back, creating a wet, lewd sound that only turned him on more. "Look at you... so messy... cum all over your pretty pussy..." He leaned down to kiss her swollen lips, groaning as his hips moved automatically, fucking her deeply. It was intense and he felt the over sensitivity but the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her. "God, you're fucking destroying me..." The whimper was hoarse, hitting that perfect spot deep inside her again and again.
Her inner walls clenched around him, drawing out another desperate moan from him as he felt her getting close. "Cum baby, cum all over me..." He adjusted the angle slightly, pressing harder against that spot, knowing it would send her over the edge. "You're gonna squirt all over me, aren't you? I want you to give it t’me" He tightened his hold on her throat, hoping that extra pressure would help push her over.
His nose pressed against hers, his breath mingling with hers once again as he begged her to cum. "Please, Angel... please cum for me... squirt all over my cock and make a mess of me with your cum..." His voice was raw and desperate, his hips moving in deliberate, deep thrusts as he held her throat and fucked her with precise, calculated movements designed to make her lose control. "I need to see it, baby... need to feel you cumming all over me..." She was right there. He could feel her pulsing around him, bruising up to it. Taking her bottom lip, he bit down.
She choked out a loud moan mixed with a scream as she finally gave in, her body convulsing around his over-sensitive dick. She yanked his hair hard and pulled her throbbing lip from his teeth, arching her back and pushing her hips up to meet his thrusts as she let go, squirting hot and sticky all over his lower abdomen and balls. "Fuck, yes... yes... that’s a good girl!" He praised hoarsely, his fingers flexing around her throat to ease up as he felt her clenching around him. "There you go, baby. Jus’ like that..."
He slowly stilled his movements, still buried deep inside her as he reached up to gently wipe away the smeared makeup from her cheeks as she went through the last of it. "So fucking beautiful," he cooed softly, his thumb brushing over her tear stained skin. "Perfect, messy little Angel..." He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, his other hand resting on her throat without any pressure. "You did so good, baby... took me well." He praised her warmly, his voice filled with the satisfaction he felt.
This was the last place he had realistically thought he would end up today, but it’s his favorite place he’d been in a while.
"Mmm..." Y/N let out a happy, delirious giggle as she wrapped her legs around him, keeping him buried inside her. His forehead rested against hers as they both caught their breath, sharing the same dream, fucked out smile.
"Look at us..." he laughed softly, one hand still gently stroking her throat while the other traced patterns on her overheated skin. "Messy makeup, sweaty skin..." He wiggled his hips slightly, making them both giggle. "Both fucking destroyed...
"You're like a wet dream," she giggled softly, her legs tightening around him, making them both let out noises. "One minute you're spanking my ass and being all dominant, next you're choking me and being my sweet little puppy..." She nuzzled his nose with hers, laughing softly. "And now you're all gentle and touchy like you didn't just make me squirt everywhere..."
"Well, I think I’m multidimensional." He hummed softly, his forehead resting against hers as he listened to her breathe. "You're on the pill, right?" He asked suddenly, his voice curious. "Not that I'm complaining about not pulling out-but I wanna know if I can just..." He wiggled his hips slightly, making her hiss. "You know... stay inside you all the time..." He blushed softly, burying his face in her neck.
“Mhm.” She replied, stroking through his sweaty hair. “You can relax. M’fine.” It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to go at it raw but… prevailing circumstances. She didn’t regret it. “M’gonna have to sanitize the fuck out of this place now. I still have t’finish your linework”
"Mhm..." He murmured happily, leaning into her touch as her fingers played with his sweaty hair. "Fuck, I'm glad." Pressing a small kiss to her throat, he relaxed a little. "My brains still scrambled from that orgasm, if m’honest..." He flexed his hips gently, making them both shiver. "But you know what?" He looked up at her with those sweet, vulnerable eyes. "I'll behave real nice while you finish my lines. No squirming..." He grinned innocently. "Promise."
pink = favorite writings, hyperlinked *i will always link a series' masterlist, but if there's no masterlist, then i will link the last part so you can go to each part from there*
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jawllines - *click here for my personal masterlist of everything i've read from jaws, including patreon pieces*
- (old) soulmates
- boxer harry (coworkers)
- firefighter harry & baker yn (roommates)
- mechanic harry
- harry begs to eat yn out for first time (blurb)
- tutor harry (patreon exclusive)
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moonchildstyles
- aster: tattoo artist harry
- prosecco: older harry
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watchmegetobsessed - any oneshots are great
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stylesloveclub - anything from masterlist is great
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songbirdstyles - anything from masterlist is great
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tobesolonely
- let's make a movie!: making a sex tape with harry with the wms camera
- never have i ever: things dont go as planned on your camping trip with harry
- love languages: it's important to acknowledge your partner's love language.. especially in bed
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haaarry - longest masterlist i've ever seen, she's got something great for everyone
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goldengalore - househusband!H is adorable
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for-fucks-sake-H
- wanna be yours: bandana-wearing sub H feat. edging, love, and a deep devotion
- as you held onto me: husband/dad!H heartwrenching, but beautiful (warning: infertility, miscarriage)
- smooth operator: phone sex operator harry & yn fall in love
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daaydreamy - lots of good subrry pieces in their masterlist
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other favorites from other authors:
- behind the bar by @bopbopstyles: yns a bartender and harrys obsessed with her
- studio love by @kindapinkskies: harry records a song that will never be released but enlists in you for help with it
- yn loves putting on a show and harry cant help but lose control (camgirl!yn) by @haroldloverboy
- the first time by @harry-writings: harry loses his virginity to yn
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gay harry ao3 faves:
*disclaimer: i am not a larrie nor do i ship harry with any real people, i just enjoy an occasional gay harry fic!*
7up by cherrystreet: based on tv show “the up series,” we follow the lives of harry & louis in an interview setting every seven years
unbelievers by isthatyoularry: football co-captain frenemies -> lovers
relief next to me by dolce_piccante: what happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific craigslist post? fate, friendship, food, and maybe more
this wasn't y/n's first time being a PA to a major star on a film set, but this was the first time she'd worked with someone like harry styles
wordcount: 16k+
—————
"Good morning, Mr. Styles!"
(Y/N) kept her chipper tone as quiet as possible as she entered her boss's trailer. Though he claimed to be a morning person, but there was something particularly wicked about five a.m. call times on a Sunday morning that even he wasn't immune to.
"You have another half hour until hair and makeup," she continued, carefully shutting the door closed behind her in an effort to keep out the chill of the morning, "But, I brought your coffee and a croissant from craft services."
Harry, in his morning glory, puffy eyes and all, gave her a soft smile as she entered. "Morning," he mumbled, decidedly less awake than his assistant who had been here since four a.m. with the rest of the crew. His thank you came after the first sip of coffee went down his throat, some of the sleep in his eyes seemingly melting away with the help of the warm drink.
"What kind is it?" he asked, referring to the croissant he had set with its napkin on his lap.
(Y/N) hung in the mouth of the trailer, more than happy to indulge in these morning conversations she had grown to look forward to in the last two weeks since shooting commenced. "Chocolate," she chirped, proud of her discovery for the morning, "It was the last one, so I had to hide it until you got here. After that, all that was going to be left were those lemon ones that are way too much to have for breakfast."
Knuckling at his eye, a warm smile tugged at Harry's lips. "That's why you're the best, (Y/N). I really lucked out with you, didn't I?"
Though the sentiment was nothing new, Harry's words did more for her than a cup of coffee or shot of green juice in the morning. In the weeks since filming starting and consequently being introduced to one another, Harry was probably one of the best temporary bosses she'd ever had since joining the industry. He was kind, understanding, and relentlessly patient with her.
It was hard not to harbor a small crush on him.
Especially now, with his lazily affectionate words falling from his pink, puffed lips, how was she supposed to just pretend her heart didn't flutter and her tummy didn't bubble full of honeybees and butterflies at his words. How was she supposed to ignore all of that when he was looking so cozy that (Y/N) swore she could cuddle into his chest and earn back her interrupted sleep from this morning.
His unstyled hair flopped over his forehead in lazy curls that matched the hood of his eyes. A rumpled green top covered his torso with the back decorated in large, pink hearts, something about self-love scrawled within the emblems. A soft pair of sweatpants encasing his legs, a rainbow gradient working over the fabric as he sat in the blanket draped chair at the cent of the vanity installed in his trailer. The amber colored bulbs were dimmed to his morning preference, the light bathing him in a golden haze that made him too pretty to be fair this early in the morning. He was the perfect lazy dream, and she couldn't ignore it if she tried.
But, no matter how much of a school-girl crush she felt, she knew this was nothing more than puppy love for a kind person who was acting as her boss for the next couple of months.
"Maybe you did," she answered him with a soft smile, hoping he didn't notice the rise in temperature behind her cheeks, "I'll be back to get you for hair and makeup, okay? Let me know if you need anything before then."
Harry gave her a soft nod, a wave of his ringless fingers being tossed in her direction. "I'll be waiting," he said, "Thank you again, (Y/N)."
Stepping out into the slowly warming morning air, (Y/N) couldn't be more grateful for the role she found herself in. Even if she was getting a little tired of these early morning call times.
—————
"Cut!"
The sound of the director's barked caused (Y/N) to jump, not having excepted the loud call in the middle of such an intense scene. While the shout made her and the other unsuspecting PA's and crew jump, the actors in front of the camera, including Harry, seemingly relaxed at the barking tone.
In a split second, Harry, who had previously donned a murderous scowl as he recited his whispered lines, slipped back into his true persona with a soft set in his shoulders, brow raised as he looked to the director for any instructions. Even now on the set of her fourth movie working as a crew member, and three weeks into his specific production, it still astounded her how actors like Harry were able to flip that switch so expertly.
He was set to play a morally grey character, allowing him the chance to enact some dark scenes (Y/N) got the privilege of witnessing first hand, just like today. Currently the set they were shooting in was meant to be the dark alleyway between a pair of abandoned buildings, the shot filled with dark crevices and menacing lighting that drained the scene to grayscale. She didn't have the firmest grasp on what the movie was about and what each scene was to entail (this specific director was known for leaving members of the production in the dark in an effort to gain the most organic reactions from actors and allow him to fully guide the film), but so far (Y/N) was entranced by Harry's character. She couldn't wait to see what everything looked like when it all came together.
When no other instructions other than a call for a break was given, Harry nodded with a smile to his scene partner before striding off set and out into the real world. Though he was no longer in character, he still looked the part as he gave her a smile from across the camera line. His tan, pressed slacks were ripped and frayed at the hem, matching the dishevelment of the white t-shirt tucked into the waistline, something the wardrobe department mixed up to look like blood staining the collar. His skin had been scrubbed clean of his collection of tattoos that morning, the ink now buried under layers of carefully applied makeup. His skin was clean and glowing, a sheen over his features sure to be emphasized in editing to highlight his features and the cut lines of his face. His hair had been meticulously styled to look perfectly disheveled, as if he really had ran his hand through the strands a thousand times before appearing on camera.
Seeing him like this, it was a wonder he wasn't cast for any and every movie, right smack as the lead.
She knew she'd go to the theater more often if that was the case.
His smile grew larger the closer he drew to her, his hand coming up to absently scratch at the patch of his chest exposed by the less than buttoned state of his shirt. "Hi," he said, his chipper greeting being a complete turnaround from the deep gravel that touched his voice during the scene, "How was that?"
He looked to her eagerly with his grin wide and dimples deep, seeking her honest opinion. He always did this when they cut for a break and (Y/N) was lucky enough to have the time to watch, always asking what she thought of the scene and if there was anything he should do to make the performance carry more impact. Today, just like almost every other day, she had nothing but glowing reviews for his acting.
"It was perfect, Mr. Styles," she praised, skipping into step beside him, "You looked really scary for a little bit, not going to lie." She gazed up at him with a smile, hoping he knew just how honestly she meant her kind words.
"Really?" he asked, looking down at her as he worked to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt, readying himself for the lunch break, "Didn't mean to scare you, (Y/N)."
"But that's the point, remember?" she countered, "You're supposed to be scary, that's how I know it was good. Even without all the special editing, and angles, and everything, it still scared me. It looked like you meant it, what you were saying. It was really, really good."
His smile turned crooked as he dropped his eyes to the ground where their steps were in line. "Yeah? You think so?
From a few of the conversations they'd had regarding the movie, Harry had shared with her some of his nerves over the role. He'd only ventured into something dark like this once before, but never on a scale like this one. He had told her he was worried he wasn't quite cut out for this all, despite having been vetted through the same auditioning process like everyone else, having earned the role and proven himself like the rest of the cast.
"I know so, Mr. Styles."
A bashful smile curved his lips, dimples denting his cheeks. Harry flicked his gaze to her through the vignette of his lashes, the intensity of the contact showing her how sincerely he appreciated her. "Thank you."
"Of course," she peeped, cheeks growing hot under his attention. She feared, after these weeks with him, that she'd never get used to that level of engrossment from him, eye contact and all. Being nothing more than a personal assistant to such large stars on movie sets made it something of an impossibility to be taken note of, so Harry's attention made even more of an impact than she's sure he knew. It made her feel important. "Um," she started, shaking herself from her thoughts though her brain lagged behind her mouth, "Before you go change, I can take your lunch order so its ready when you are, if you want?"
Harry let out a hum as he considered her words, taking on the opposite cuff now that the first was loose. After a moment, he finally looked to her with his brows raised, "What are y'getting?"
"Probably that salmon that we had last week again, the one with the lemon and capers," she answered, already eager to break off and finally eat since the short breakfast she had at four a.m. before coming to set. "Did you want the scampi again, or try the crab cakes you missed last time?"
Another contemplative hum left his throat as they approached the small stack of stairs to his trailer, both Harry's name and his character's name plastered to the door. "I'll be brave and try the crab cakes, I think," Harry joked, stopping in front of the small case to face (Y/N).
"Okay," she chirped, cataloguing the entree away next to the same sides he asked for every time—a side Caesar salad and the sage butter peas served daily. "I'll go pass that along and bring it to you when you're ready!"
"Wait, wait," Harry stopped her, a gentle hand cupping her elbow before she could get too far. (Y/N) spun on her heel, a question raising her brows as she looked to him. Maybe he wanted to try the kale salad instead today. His question only made her brows shoot higher in confusion. "What are y'doing for lunch?"
"Oh," she sounded, caught off guard, "I was probably going to go around back, like I usually do. Why?"
He rolled his lips between his teeth, his brows pulling to a furrow. He ignored her own question in favor of posing another of his own, "Alone?"
"Most of the time, yeah," she nodded, "Depends on who's on break at the same time, and everything."
Harry nodded his head slowly at her words, his grip on her elbow loosening until falling away to hang his hand at his side. His gaze only flitted from her own to take stock of her features for a moment. "Would y'want to eat with me, instead?"
Never had she had a boss ask her to take her lunch with them. They were usually much too busy or in need of space after being fussed over for hours on end (or just plain divas who didn't believe they had time to sink low enough to have a meal with their assistant).
"Are you sure?"
His expression never swayed, staying firm on his offer. "Yes."
How was she supposed to say no to something like that?
A bright smile bloomed across her features, her fingers itching to tuck on the tiny locket clasped around her neck. "Okay, yeah," she sighed, "I'll come back when everything is ready, if that's okay. Thank you, Mr. Styles."
He shook his head, curls flopping over his forehead, "Don't need to thank me or anything, jus' come back soon."
(Y/N) lagged in her spot for a moment, the toe of her shoe scraping the pavement beneath them. He wanted her to come back to him. He wasn't making this easy for her.
She nodded her head to him biting back a smile that stuck on her face the whole way to the catering tent.
—————
"I didn't know y'worked on that movie. 'S one of m'favorites."
(Y/N) keened under Harry's attention, having become completely enveloped with it since walking into his trailer with their lunch. She had barely kept it under wraps when she was placing their orders and awaiting the plates to be put together while she stood with the rest of the assistants and crew under the tent, bursting at the seams with the excitement of her lunch invitation. Under her own accord, she figured it would be better to keep this to herself for the time being, knowing just how quickly the rumor mill turned on productions like these. Whether or not Harry's invitation meant anything, it would no doubt be taken in as many different and scandalous ways possible just to give the bored crew something to talk about (and potentially sell to the press).
But, the second she scaled those short steps to his trailer, (Y/N) had felt both high and grounded at the same time. Harry was just as genuine as he had come across in their daily interactions; his attention never swaying from her as she spoke, even when she shared stories she had no doubt were pale in comparison to the arsenal he walked around with. He seemed to be actually interested in her.
Nodding her head, (Y/N) tucked herself further into the corner of the small couch pressed against the wall of the trailer. Her lunch was only halfway finished despite the fact they had less than ten minutes of the promised break left, too occupied to focus on eating. "Mhm," she hummed, "It the first real movie I ever got to work on. I didn't know it was your favorite, Mr. Styles."
Harry was quick to shake his head at her words, swallowing down the bite of crab cake with a furrow to his brow. "Don't have to call me that, you know," he said after his mouth was no longer full, looking to her through the curls that fell over his forehead, "I know 'm technically your boss, or whatever, but y'don't have to call me that. 'M okay with Harry, or H."
(Y/N) hesitated for a second. She'd never been explicitly invited to work around the chain of command like that before. "I don't know, Mr. Styles..."
While it wasn't exactly against the rules, she doubted their director and hoard of producers—legends in Hollywood, known for their traditional approach to productions—would be privy to the idea of her cozying up to the star of what was slated to be a blockbuster film.
"We're friends, right?" he asked, prodding her gently with a raised brow as he scooped up a bite of peas.
A smile pinched at the corners of her mouth. "I'd hope so."
"Then, please, call me Harry. I want y'to call me that."
Glancing up through her lashes, she found him looking to her with that moss green intensity simmering in his eyes. He was being honest. He considered them to be friends, and wanted her to treat him as such, not as the talent on set that happened to also be her superior.
"Okay, Harry."
A dimple-inducing smile molded his features, the smile too big for him to even take the bite of peas he had queued up. She was happy he had his eyes pointed downward at the plate in his lap for the time being, so he wouldn't see her testing the heat hiding behind her cheeks with a brush of her fingers.
Adjusting his posture, Harry placed his almost finished plate to the side, resting on the vanity that lined the front of his trailer. His attention was placed solely on her, his phone nowhere in sight.
With his elbow propped on his knee, Harry fit his chin in his palm. "If y'don't mind me asking, what other movies have y'been a part of?"
She shrugged her shoulders in response, "I haven't worked on a lot or anything, I don't have a bunch of cool stories outside of the one I just told you."
At that, Harry let out a small laugh, the sound permeating the small trailer.
"What's funny?" (Y/N) asked though a smile was already picking at the edges of her lips at the sound of his happiness. Whatever she did to draw that from him, she hoped he'd tell her so she could do it again.
"Nothing," he said shaking his head, "You're jus' cute. I want to hear all of your stories, even the ones y'don't think are 'cool'. Besides, I think you're plenty cool for the both of us, so I can make up for it."
Before (Y/N) could formulate any kind of response, a breathless laugh fell from her lips. The sound was tugged out from nothing other than utter happiness in that moment. She'd never met anyone like Harry Styles before, especially after moving to L.A..
Though she could have reveled in the knowledge that not only did he think she was cool, but he said she was cute, too, but she was too aware of the fact he was waiting on her and the handful of stories she had left to share. She'd scream into her pillow later tonight about those sweet words wrapped in his graveled voice, but for now, she was going to pick out her most impressive stories and hope that gleam he saw in her never lessened.
"Well," she started, canting her head, "A couple of years ago, I was working on a movie with Anya Taylor-Joy and..."
As (Y/N) pattered on with her story, she couldn't help but notice that Harry's eyes never moved from her and the smile on his lips never lessened.
—————
"They were all out of croissants today, but I did grab that brioche and egg sandwich you've been smelling in the morning," (Y/N) introduced as she brought in Harry's breakfast the following morning. She'd only been here for about an hour, and her cheeks already hurt from how large her grin was at the prospect of seeing Harry again after their lunch the day before.
Though she knew the croissants were his favorite, when she shared the change of plans with him, Harry's expression never swayed from the silent contentment that touched at his eyes and threatened the corners of his lips.
"You're the best, (Y/N)," Harry praised her, morning voice especially deep due to the early call time today. He had to get his entire body scrubbed of his tattoos today, not just his forearm and the birds on his chest, the project going to be nothing less than a couple hours long for the makeup department.
"And you're too sweet," she countered, unable to match his eyes as the gentle compliment left her lips, feeling too shy. There was a certain barrier that was lacking now after their shared lunch break the day before, but she still wasn't as free-wheeling with the praise when it didn't pertain to his acting. With his coffee and food safely in his hands, (Y/N) began to edge out of his trailer, "I'll be back to grab you for hair and makeup in about twenty minutes, but let me know if you need anything before then."
Harry nodded his head as he sipped his coffee. "Before y'go," he interrupted her exit, waiting as (Y/N) lifted her chin in acknowledgment, "You're eating lunch with me again today, right?"
If not for the fact that she could hear her blood pumping through her ears and the heat she felt behind her smiling cheeks, (Y/N) would have thought her heart stopped in that moment.
"Do you want me to?
A crooked smile took home on Harry's lips, the curve being seen around the rim of his paper coffee cup. "Unless y'have plans."
She was quick to shake her head, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip in effort to bite back the grin tugging at her lips. "No, no. I'll be here."
"Good."
All the while (Y/N) ran around, getting Harry's things ready for the day, she carried that good around with her.
—————
As (Y/N) watched Harry shoot, once again returning to the murky alley way they had filmed in over a week ago, she noticed the circles lingering under his eyes. Makeup hadn't bothered to cover them since they paired well with the distress his character was meant to be under for the scene, but seeing them and knowing they were real chipped at (Y/N)'s heart just a bit.
She knew he was entrenched in some album decisions, lots of final calls being presented to him the closer the record pressing deadline came. (He was deadset on releasing vinyl versions of this album he had told her, in several different colors too, no matter if the deadlines were crashing into his filming schedule). This morning, when she dropped off his breakfast, he had already been dressed and put up in character after shooting a set of early scenes, earlier than even her own set time, only a skeleton crew being used until five a.m.. He had shared just a bit of his woes with her, telling her he had been up on a conference call with his label and manager until the late hours of the night to finalize the album rollout and promotion strategy that went along with it. He barely made it to bed after midnight, before his alarm was screaming at him to wake a few short hours later.
While (Y/N) usually loved to sit in and watch him work, today wasn't as magical as she was used to. He had no shortage of talent like he lacked sleep, but knowing what was happening underneath his character made her want to tug him away and set him up in his trailer with a warm blanket and permission to nap.
"Let's break for lunch!" (Y/N) heard called across the lot, the voice of the director reaching through to where Harry had been loosening up after nailing that scene.
She heard another stream of instructions, Harry's scene partner needed back in an hour while Harry could be off for the next couple. At the news, the stiff set in his shoulders fell before he almost brought his hand up to run through his hair. Just in time, he remembered the gel sculpting his hair into perfect waves that would no doubt need to remain the same for whatever was planned after his break. Nonetheless, a deep breath was released from his lungs as he strode off set. His eyes scanned over the line of cameras and crew, peering through the lights trained on the set.
With the way his eyes brightened when he caught sight of her, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel like he had been looking for her.
"You're staying with me for lunch again, right?" Harry asked, skipping the usual question of what she thought of the scene.
"Yeah, yeah, of course," (Y/N) hurried to reassure him, falling into sync with his steps, "Still tired?"
Harry let out a sigh, eyes facing the ground as they approached his trailer. "Yeah," he confirmed, the weight of the sleepless hours settling in his voice, "'S been a long day already and it's not even noon, yet."
Letting out a breathless laugh, (Y/N) wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him in sympathy. "I'm sorry, H," she said, peering up at him with a sympathetic pout puffing her lips, "At least you have a little bit of a break now. You can relax after we eat."
A crooked smile took home on Harry's lips as he shifted his gaze to settle on her, "Not your fault, don't apologize," he murmured to her, his voice quiet just for the two of them. With the way he was looking at her, (Y/N) hadn't even noticed they made it to his trailer until she felt his warm hand wrap around her arm, stopping her from continuing to walk off without him. Harry flicked his gaze up to the door of his trailer before returning to (Y/N) with a slight furrow to his brow though he never lost his lopsided smile, "And where did y'think y'were going?"
Instantly, a heat was felt behind (Y/N)'s cheeks. All the blood that wasn't rushing to where Harry was touching her, flooded to her cheeks and warmed her skin. "Oh-I," she stuttered, her tongue fumbling behind her lips, "I didn't realize..."
Harry shook his head, his grin growing. "You're so cute."
Taking in a deep breath, (Y/N) bit back her smile. Though reluctant to leave his grip and the blanket of his shadow, she gestured behind her shoulder towards the set and the catering tent. "I should go get our lunches and everything," she said, her words coming out in something of a daze, "I'll be right back."
Her words were meant to be a statement, a short promise of her return, but in the end a little curved her tone like a question.
"Okay," Harry answered, his hand falling from around her arm though the phantom of his fingers still remained, "Hurry back."
And, that she did.
—————
After hearing a faint Come in! called through Harry's trailer door, (Y/N) maneuvered her way inside while juggling a pair of plates stacked with their chosen lunches for the day. (Ever since the day he tried the crab cakes, whenever they were served Harry didn't waste time in assuring that's what (Y/N) was packing for him). Once inside, while she'd never seen it before, (Y/N) couldn't be all that surprised with what she found with how the day was going.
Typically, Harry was the kind of person to have as much light filtering through his trailer as possible, the space bright and sunny as they worked throughout the day. But, with the fact he was working on less than enough sleep and the eye bags that hung under his lashes, she shouldn't have been that surprised that he finally utilized the heavy curtains pinned around the windows and had the minimum amount of lights on while still allowing him enough of a glow to see.
While it was most likely no where near as comfortable as the bed he surely wanted, Harry still tucked himself into the quilted couch pushed against he sidewall that he and (Y/N) usually ate at. He had changed out of his character clothing, the articles carefully folded and set on the vanity. Seemingly forgetting—or no longer caring—about the amount of gel used to make his hair the perfectly-unperfect mess that was becoming his character's trademark the more the film progressed, Harry even succumbed to using the stiff decorative throw pillows he usually complained about, his head pillowed by the unforgiving foam.
Eyes fluttering open at her arrival, Harry made the massive effort of leaving his relaxed position laid out on the couch, to sit up with a sigh. "You're back," he announced sleepily, "I kind of fell asleep for a little bit, sorry."
"No, no, don't be sorry," (Y/N) murmured, keeping her tone quiet to match the ambiance of his trailer, "I can leave you be if you want. You don't have to eat with me if you're so tired."
The sleep mussed curls on his head fell over his forehead as he shook his head. "No, I want y'to stay."
Her heart began to glow in her chest at his words. Though she felt a bit guilty to be distracting him from his needed break time that he could use to nap, she wasn't going to deny him (or herself, really) from his wants.
"Okay," she peeped, taking her usual spot in the cushioned corner of the couch once she passed his plate off.
Maybe it was the way the sun filtered though in gentle slivers, or the feel of the plush blanket that hung over the back of the couch, or just the sound of another being so close to her, but (Y/N) was halfway sure this is the closest to home she'd ever felt while being on set. If not for the close quarters and the fact the closest bathroom was through a series of hallways through the studio, she would have convinced herself this was some new overpriced apartment she managed to snag in the middle of the city, Harry only becoming another anchor that urged her to curl up and stay awhile.
His presence covered her like the warm blanket pressed into her back, keeping her warmer than the lattice of sunlight that spotted through the trailer. In the ambiance of the confined space, (Y/N) didn't feel the usual need to fill the silence with any kind of conversation, feeling comforted by the quiet that could settle between them. Through the weeks, he'd become a good friend to her. Of course, he was the kind of friend that had the power to boss her around and made her heart flutter every time he smiled at her, so she figured it was a bit of an unconventional friendship. Nonetheless, she truly hoped this would be something that followed her after filming wrapped and she had no excuse to be around him day in and day out.
"You're alright outside of being tired, right?" (Y/N) questioned, stealing a glance at the way Harry didn't do much more than take a couple bites of his food before pushing around the rest.
A quiet nod was offered before he found his voice, a heavy hand running through his hair. Hair and makeup was going to hate him later.
"Yeah, 'm jus' a little exhausted, honestly," he told her, a sleep-soaked smile curling his lips.
Rolling her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) plucked together an idea with the feel of the down blanket brushing against her form. Looking to Harry, she found those bags persisting under his eyes as he gazed at her with his cheek cupped in his hand and elbow propped on his knee.
"You can lay down again, if you want," she offered, grabbing for Harry's plate before pushing them both off onto the vanity just within reach of her side of the couch. Reaching behind her, she tugged the quilt thrown over the back of the sofa, "Take a nap, and I'll wake you up when its time."
Passing the comforter to him, (Y/N) made a move to desert her spot on the cushion to give his long form full reign over the couch, but was promptly stopped with a gentle hand on her shoulder. Harry didn't say much as (Y/N) settled back in her spot, her mouth falling into a small gape. He maneuvered himself to sprawl across the sofa, feet on the other end where he had been sitting with the blanket now covering his form. (Y/N) knew what was coming before she felt it, but even as he laid his head down to be cushioned by her thighs, she swore her heart stopped all together.
(Y/N) couldn't have been more grateful for the new lack of gel in his hair as the strands flared out in her lap, baby curls framing his face. Highlighted by the slivers of sunlight peeking through, his cheekbones looked especially high, the remaining sheen of his makeup shimmering in the light. If not for the darkened circles under his eyes, (Y/N) would have sworn he was the prince in a storybook, even if he was dressed in an oversized crewneck with visible tears in the collar.
Through hooded lids, lashes fluttering, Harry gazed up at her. "Is this alright?" he murmured.
With her voice stuck in her throat, (Y/N) nodded her head, a tender smile tugging at her lips. She acted on instinct as she brought her hand to his hair, a single finger brushing a stray curl from his eyes. Harry only reacted with his eyes trying to follow the motion, the lilpads going crossed in his efforts. The laugh that drew from (Y/N) caused Harry's own smile to unfurl on his lips, his body sinking further into the small reprieve offered in that moment.
That single finger caress of (Y/N)'s turned into her fingers trailing through his hair now that she knew he wasn't perturbed by her touch. She combed the strands through her fingers, dismantling the few remaining constructed waves as she went. Harry's eyes fluttered closed at the touch, a deep breath expanding his lungs while a look of contentment molded his features and sunk his shoulders into the cushions.
"That feels nice," Harry murmured, voice lazy as she worked.
"Want me to keep going?"
His quiet smile widened further at her question, dimples popping into his cheeks, "Mhm. Please."
At his request, (Y/N) glazed her attention over him like honey. She worked her fingers in gentle strokes through his hair, fingertips brushing along his hairline in cautious touches to satiate the urge to know what it felt like to touch his skin and feel his face under her hands. Harry was a willing participant in the way he practically lent into her touch like a kitten, keening as she stroked his skin. In a daring move (at least to (Y/N)), after tracing over the baby curls lining his hairline, (Y/N) strayed from her familiar path. The tip of her index finger grazed over his cheekbone, touching over the sheen she had been familiarizing herself with as she laid her affection all over him. The planes of his face directed her further over his features, drawing her to the line of his nose and the curves of his brows. It was only when she dared graze over the hills and valleys of his Cupid's bow that she realized he was smiling.
"What?" she asked, taking the opportunity to poke at his dimple.
"Nothing," he whispered, blinking his eyes open to look at her. The tension his eyes had held through the day had dissipated, having floated away now that he wasn't under the pressure of the lights and producers trying to squeeze the best out of him. He used his eyes like (Y/N) used her hands, tracing over all of her features, seemingly cataloguing them away for another day. "'S nothing, (Y/N)."
(Y/N) made a move to take her hand away from his skin, intending on tucking it underneath her thigh so she didn't do anything embarrassing now that he could see her. She didn't get very far before Harry gently grabbed at her wrist, fingers wrapping around her arm.
"Don't stop," Harry murmured, his request simple though his eyes were intense on hers.
He kept her hand pressed to his cheek, fingertips dipping into his hairline while her palm fit to the curve of his cheek. Harry was in control of her movements then, using his grip on her wrist to tug her hand over his skin. Slowly grazing his face, feeling every curve and dip of his features, the rough stubble he had grown for his character, she swore she felt the faintest heat rise to his cheeks. In a slow glide, Harry brought her fingertips dangerously close to his lips.
Stopping just before she could touch the raspberry colored skin, (Y/N) flicked her gaze from her hands to find Harry looking at her just as intently as when they began. Her mouth suddenly felt dry under his attention, this moment feeling different than any they had shared before.
Swallowing, (Y/N) struggled to find her voice. "H-Harry, I—"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
(Y/N) jumped in her spot, her movement effectively jerking her hand out of Harry's grasp. Someone was knocking on the trailer door.
"(Y/N)? Are you in there?"
The familiar voice of one of her fellow assistants, Meredith, sounded on the other side of the door. She was one of the few that knew where she spent her lunch breaks these days, and (Y/N) knew she wouldn't bother her if it wasn't important.
"Y-Yeah," (Y/N) croaked, cringing at the crack of her voice, "Is everything okay?"
"Russ needed some help unloading costumes for the cocktail scene," Meredith explained, "It's kind of a lot with all of the extras, so I was hoping you could help a little. If you weren't busy anyway."
Her final statement was tacked on at the end like an afterthought. Though (Y/N) wished she could take advantage of that out, she knew she really wasn't busy with anything else other than indulging herself.
Looking down at Harry still tucked in her lap, he gave her a gentle nod of his head.
"No, I can come help. Give me a second," (Y/N) called back, feeling the fragile thread that had weaved to tie them together in that moment become severed.
Meredith called out and Okay, thanks! before the other side of the door went silent, leaving a less-than perfect quiet to settle in the trailer.
Harry's movements were lethargic as he moved to sit up, leaving (Y/N) cold as she stood from her spot. She didn't know what to do with her hands now that she knew how much she'd rather be raking them through Harry's hair and grazing the peaks and valleys of his face.
She shuffled on her feet as she looked at him, "I'll—um—I'll come back after, and everything. Okay?"
A tender smile stretched Harry's lips, his fingers coming up to pluck at his bottom lip. "Okay. Hurry back."
All through the task of unloading the wardrobe trailer, (Y/N) never stopped thinking about just how close she was to feeling the edge of Harry's lips. What a privilege that would have been.
—————
"Cut! That's it for today, everybody go home. Good work!"
Harry's eyes immediately scanned the team behind the camera line, (Y/N) watching as he lit up once he caught sight of her. He only lagged behind a second, sharing quick goodbyes with his scene partners and the crew that helped craft the scene, including a shaking of hands with the director, before he was stepping past the line of ready crew to where (Y/N) was waiting a few paces back.
"Hey, you," he greeted her once he was close enough, smile bright.
"Hi." She reciprocated his grin, falling into step with him as they moved, "That was really good, H. You have to promise to take me to the Oscars when you get nominated for this role."
Peering up at him, (Y/N) got the perfect view of a dimple thumbed into his cheek and what she swore was a blush tinting the tip of his ear red.
"Y'think I'll get nominated?"
"And win," (Y/N) added, a definite nod emphasizing just how much conviction she held in her claim. She didn't know what would look better: him on the big screen for two full hours or him glowing with an Oscar statuette in his hand?
Speaking through his smile, Harry mumbled out a shy, "Thank you, (Y/N)," her name just barely catching over the sound of their feet scuffing over the pavement.
As Harry's trailer came into view, with the knowledge that today had officially wrapped and (Y/N) had one last task of walking him to his trailer before setting off herself to go home, she dreaded the remaining paces.
Harry had been insanely busy all day, getting the smallest of detail shots done before specific sets were set to be torn down to leave the rest of the time for the major scenes that needed more time to refine. Aside from the short breakfast they had that morning and a twenty minute lunch, there wasn't much time leftover to spend together like (Y/N) was becoming so used to. And, now she was going to go home and hope she had more time with him tomorrow, even though she knew the closer the final shoot day came, the less and less time he would have for her.
"What's got y'looking all sad, hm?" Harry asked, his words fragranced with he smile she was sure was pinned to his face. Nonetheless, (Y/N) kept her eyes trained on their steps, the yards disappearing much faster than she would have liked.
"Nothing," she shrugged, "Just tired. If it's been a long day for me, I don't know how you're still standing right now."
With her eyes trained forward, (Y/N) didn't see the way Harry was gazing her and especially didn't see him nudge closer before throwing his arm over her shoulders. The weight was a welcome heft over her form, tugging her into Harry's side as he gazed down at her. He was warm against her, just as warm as she caught a glimpse of in his trailer a week ago and just as warm as the sincerity in his eyes suggested.
"What are y'doing after this?" he asked, his tone gentle between just the two of them.
(Y/N) feared her tongue had gone numb as she struggled to find any kind of footing in that moment, nothing threading together in her head as she matched his eye contact. Harry seemed like he knew exactly what she was struggling with as his grin turned crooked, a break in his eye contact happening as he flitted over her softened features. A soft squeeze was delivered to her bicep with the hand he had thrown over her shoulders.
"Y'alright?"
That was enough to knock (Y/N) out of her stupor and take stock of the rest of her body that wasn't in direct contact with his. It was then that she realized that their feet had slowed a fair amount, the length between them and his trailer now taking much longer to cover.
"Y-yeah, sorry," she murmured, "I'm—uh—I'm not doing anything after this, no."
Harry rolled his lips between his teeth at her words. The moss coloring of his irises were what held (Y/N)'s attention even as his own eyes trailed over her face, tracing along the dips of her features and even daring to go as low as the curve of her neck and slope of her shoulders.
If he was thinking anything near what she was thinking...
The sound of another's trailer door slamming to a close seemed to shatter the bubble forming around them. Harry used the reprieve to suck in a breath (Y/N) hadn't realized he was denying himself. Though the weight on her shoulders remained, his hand dangling over her shoulder, he lessened the impact from the heft that slowed their steps.
Harry cleared his throat with a rumble, his gaze drifting from hers as he faced forward. "That's good, y'should go home and sleep. 'S supposed to start getting a little crazy soon, and I don't want y'getting sick or feeling unwell while you're running around for me."
(Y/N)'s lashes fluttered in a series of blinks. When had everything around Harry turned into a blur with him being the only steady focal point?
"Right," she agreed, only half processing his words though she knew it wasn't exactly the response she had been anticipating. She had sworn she saw him look at her lips.
Now at the doorstep of his trailer, Harry's last stop for the day to get out of costume before going home, (Y/N) had never wanted to stay at work this badly before. She didn't care about the rest he had suggested for her, she would much rather see if she had really caught him looking at her mouth, or if she just just falling victim to the whims of her heart.
"But, I'll see you in the morning, right?" Harry said with an air of finality, his arm falling from her shoulders as he turned to face her with the trailer behind him.
"Of course," she nodded her head, a bright smile worming its way on her lips out of habit, "Bright and early."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Harry murmured, a quiet smile on his lips that felt a lot more intimate than should be fair in the middle of a crowded studio lot, "You're m'favorite to see first thing in the morning, you know that?"
A conflict arose as (Y/N) realized that she didn't know if she wanted to smile at him, or allow her mouth to gape in awe of what he had just shared with her. No, she hadn't known that, but now (Y/N) was sure she wasn't ever going to forget that, even if just for a small amount of time, she had been Harry's favorite person to see first thing in the morning.
He must have been able to catch onto her floundering, as Harry only giving her a lopsided grin, a single dimple winking to her in the fading sunlight. "You're cute, (Y/N)," he said, obviously on a mission to kill her with a heart attack, "Let me know when y'get home safe, yeah?"
A soft yeah fell from (Y/N)'s lips as she managed to nod at him. With one more shake of his head, Harry backed into his trailer.
She'd never been more ready to go back to work, her time at home suddenly seeming like a burden when all she wanted was to be behind that door with him.
—————
With only a couple weeks left of filming, (Y/N) didn't want to squander any remaining time she had with Harry. That's why she didn't hesitate before running off to craft services and picking up their lunches as Harry finished off the scene they had taken all morning to shoot and get just the way the director envisioned it. She practically skipped all the way back to his trailer, her smile bright as she passed by fellow crew members and production assistants.
Carefully juggling the pair of plates in her hands, she scaled the stairs to his trailer and plucked open the door. (Y/N) practically jumped in her spot when she heard his deep voice filter through the small space, the same voice she only heard him use when he was in character and on set. She didn't know he was practicing lines for his lunch break today.
As she carefully crept in, (Y/N) held an apologetic smile as she continued her cautious balancing act with their food. "Sorry, I didn't know you were running lines today, I ca—"
"What?"
Harry's question brought (Y/N)'s eyes up from the plates, finding him sat on the sofa by himself with his script in hand.
"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, now feeling especially silly after having walked in like she did, "I thought you were running lines with someone, sorry." She ended with a huff of a laugh, moving to pass Harry's lunch off to him instead of leaving it on the vanity.
"No," Harry smiled with a shake of his head, "'M jus' running it with myself. I've got this big monologue we're shooting on Friday that's been tripping me up, so 'm trying to get it down before then."
(Y/N) sat down in her designated corner of the couch, her brows raising as she listened to him. "What's the scene about?"
The script showed signs of wear as Harry placed it on the arm of the couch, folds on the corners of the pages as well as rips in the paper. It was obvious he had been trying to get this down for a while now, though (Y/N) couldn't figure out when he had the time since she was with him more often than not when he wasn't in front of the camera.
With his eyes trained on the plate in his lap and brows pinched in a furrow, Harry pursed his lips before speaking. "'S the big love confession between mine and Vic's characters, after I find her in the basement," he mused, "But I can't get it right. None of it feels real, not like when I've read for the other scenes."
"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, eyes falling to the script on the other side of the couch, "Do you mind if I read it over? You can show me where you're hitting that wall, and I'll see if I can help."
Harry nodded his head, passing the staple bound pages to her. Thumbing through the pages, he brought her to the monologue he was referencing. "'S this part right here," he mumbled, unpainted fingernail pausing at a large paragraph of dialogue with Harry's character's name typed off to the side.
Scanning over it, (Y/N) read the confession with wide eyes. Even though she was a part of production, on high profile movies like this, often times, she and other crew weren't cleared to know the ins and outs of the film just to preserve the mystery around the scenes and lessen the chances of any leaks. This was the first real peek she was gaining into how the movie would all tie together, even with the few moments she's been able to watch behind the camera line.
God, she though, she couldn't wait until she got to see this all on the big screen.
Just the idea of Harry uttering these words, the sound of his rough, in-character voice, wrapping around the monologue made her mouth run dry.
"And-um-what part were you having trouble at?" she floundered, aware of the dazed quality to her voice as she tried to shake the echo of his voice from her head.
Swallowing the bite of food in his mouth, Harry pointed to a specific line, "This one. 'M supposed to be angry, in a way, at how much I love her. 'S supposed to be some kind of revelation that I've been doing all these things because I love her and not for myself."
(Y/N) had to hold back the lame sounding "oh" that threatened to fall from her lips. To save herself from a loose-lipped response, she looked to the script in her hands, tearing her gaze from Harry across from her. She read over the paragraph again, adding in the cues she learned from him, a frustrated undercurrent working its way under the confession inked on the pages.
She could see how it might be hard to execute out loud, the words needing to come together with the right pacing while allowing for the drama of the moment to sink in for both the audience and Victoria's character. Maybe he needed that energy to play off of, another in the room with him to react off of, to make it all feel real for him.
Knowing that Victoria was busy with other scenes not including Harry, (Y/N) allowed a wild hare of an idea to skitter through her mind.
They did have another hour and a half before he was needed again...
"I'm not any good or anything, but if you wanted to run your lines again with me just so you can have someone to play off of, I don't mind helping."
The offer ended in a lilt of (Y/N)'s voice, a question that he had every right to turn down if he would rather work alone.
"Really?"
The perky tone that held up Harry's voice caused (Y/N) to look up from the script. She found him gazing at her with a brightness in his eyes and brows raised. He looked excited.
"Yeah, if you want. I'm not Vic or anything, but I think I've been on enough sets to get the gist of it." (Y/N) worked her bottom lip between the blunt of her teeth, a fresh set of nerves touching at her.
A small smile bloomed on the corners of Harry's mouth, "Yeah, I'd like that. Thank you, (Y/N)." When she made a move to pass the script back to him, a proposal that they could read off the same page together forming on her tongue, Harry stopped her with a shake of his head and a melted hand pushing the pages back to her. "I can remember, y'keep it."
Their lunches were long forgotten, (Y/N) moving them to Harry's vanity where they sat half-eaten as Harry pointed out the section he wanted her to start at. Then, he settled into his cushion across the couch from her. Harry sat with his elbows on his knees, his entire body angled towards her with his head inclined her direction, chin up and expecting.
She felt transparent under his gaze, not a single secret having anywhere left to hide with the lilypads of his irises inspecting each and every single one of her movements.
Was this what is was like to work a scene with him? How anyone was able to keep their head on straight, let alone a scripted facade, she didn't know.
"Um," she floundered sucking in a deep breath, her rattled hands displaying a slight tremor as she scanned the script. "Ready?"
Harry only gave a hum in response, the tone deeper than even the voice he had been using a minutes prior.
A quick muttering of okay fell from (Y/N)'s lips before she started speaking. Using her best Victoria impression, and cues she had picked up while watching so many scenes, (Y/N) recited, "H-How do you know all of this? You're not making any sense, Ha—Keaton."
Ignoring the her stumble over his real name and character's name, Harry continued on from memory, "I think you already know the answer to that, sweetheart."
Whether it be the will of his character, or Harry acting on his own free will, (Y/N) couldn't ignore the way his eyes crawled over her face before dropping along the slope of her shoulder and down to the neckline of her top. His breathing was even and paced, nothing to give away that he might be reciprocating any of the buzzing (Y/N) felt beneath her skin.
"You didn't... that wasn't...," (Y/N) swallowed around her tongue like she was really in the dark basement described at the head of the scene, feeling exposed with Harry's eyes acting as the camera. "Keaton, don't tell me that you—"
"They were trying to hurt you, Piper, I saw them. You didn't see what I saw in them, but they weren't good people. Every time you turned your back, I saw them plotting to take something from you and ruin you." Harry ground his teeth, taking cues from his character.
"But, Josh, he didn—"
"Especially Joshua," Harry shot back, cutting off her stuttering, "You didn't see him for what he was, saw what he did when you weren't looking. He was the one taking things from your apartment and making you feel crazy when you noticed. He was the one taking you to all these places without telling you what was waiting in the dark when you got lost. He was the worst of them all, and I couldn't stand back and watch another person hurt you."
"Why would you do that?" she whispered, voice delicate in the space between them. If not for needing to read the script in her hands, (Y/N) never would draw her eyes away from Harry's, this moment sucking her in better than any film could achieve.
"Because, I love you," Harry paused for dramatic effect, his tip of his tongue drawing along the seam of his lips as he examined her, "I've been there every day, watching you be torn down by people who weren't good enough for you, tricked you into trusting them, or even made you love them before they left. I was here every time, on the other side of that wall, hearing you cry and scream and hope for something new. I couldn't hear you cry anymore, sweetheart, I couldn't.
"If you had to go through one more disappointment, one more elevator ride with red eyes, one more day being anything less than perfectly content, I was going to lose my mind. So, I fixed everything. For you." Harry's gaze finally fell from her own, the cage of his eyes freeing her as he dropped to her slightly gaping lips as she listened to him. "I did all of this because I love you. And I would do it again, just to give you even one more happy day."
Silence hung in the air as Harry finished his dialogue. Where he had been struggling, (Y/N) didn't pick up on it for a second. He complained about the moments, the wording, the dialect not coming out naturally and not feeling real, but (Y/N) would love to beg to differ.
If not for the hazy, warm lighting filtering through the clean trailer, (Y/N) would have thought she was in the dingy basement with a corpse shoved in the corner with her partner trying to explain it all away. In this moment, she felt like a prop to hold up Harry's performance, and she couldn't be more enchanted by the man sitting across from her.
Dropping her gaze to the script in hand, realizing just how long she had sat and stared at him, (Y/N) just about froze when she read the next set of directions.
"It says you're supposed to kiss me now." (Y/N) didn't know when she became so breathless, but the squeeze in her lungs was evident in her voice.
"Okay."
In a second, the script in her hand fell to the floor of the trailer and Harry was on her. His hand wrapped around her waist as his mouth sealed itself over her own, the pillows of his lips molding to the curves and dips of her mouth. This wasn't the kind of kiss between their characters instructed by the script, this was Harry and (Y/N). The knowledge allowed for a shot of adrenaline to shudder through (Y/N)'s body.
If not for the instinctual act of fluttering her eyes closed, (Y/N) would have yearned to know what he looked like when he slipped his mouth over hers and crawled atop her. Instead, she saw him with her hands.
Her first touch came with a fluttering of her palms over his shoulders before settling on the broad stretch of muscle covering his back. She scoured the length of his body under her palm, the ridges and dips of his muscles undeniable. He was completely solid, though it wasn't much of a surprise given the way she got a good view of this when he worked out on set and tucked under t-shirts he wore during breaks in between scenes. Her palms slid up his shoulders before her fingers carded through his hair, the baby curls bordering the hairline twisting around her touch as if they were keening into her. He hovered his weight above her, his hand on her waist and the one behind her on the armrest kept him from falling into her, though (Y/N) swore she could feel every inch of his body.
His breath came in puffs through his nose that fanned out over her skin, unwilling to pull away for something as trivial as breathing. His hand on her waist clenched as (Y/N) snuck the tip of her tongue out and sampled the curve of his mouth, just as she had seen him do not even ten minutes prior. A soft, choked groan wrapped in Harry's voice melted into her lips. She'd bet that if she opened her eyes in that moment, the dark brows that hovered over the cage of his eyes would be drawn into a pinch, as if he were concentrating on what it felt to finally have her.
"(Y/N)..." Harry murmured against her mouth, drawing away just enough to get the syllables out before he melted into her kiss again.
At the sound of her name floating on the grit of Harry's tone and the breath from his lungs that she was stealing as her own, (Y/N) adjusted her position underneath him. Her thighs split to accommodate the width of his hips, ankles hooking around his calves as he struggled to keep up the precarious hovering game he was doing instead of sinking into her form.
"(Y/N)," he tried again, more girth to the call now as he pulled away just enough to feel the full of his lips brushing against her mouth, "What are we doing?"
She knew what he was asking, but she wasn't sure she had an answer for him.
As far as (Y/N) knew and felt in her heart, this was the culmination of those threads she'd felt since the second week of filming that strung her to him finally unravelling. The knot she'd felt separating them whenever even the ghost of intimacy floated in their vicinity that stopped them from getting closer—whether the interference came in the form of a nosy crew member came pounding on his trailer door, a call time that made their moments together agonizingly short, or even her awareness that came in the form of a blinking reminder that he was her boss, it always won—came apart in tatters. It left nothing but the liquid velvet of the disintegrating tension to melt over her. She was finally getting what she wanted since the first day she was too aware of the shape of his lips and the light that filled his eyes when she greeted him in the morning with coffee and breakfast.
But that wasn't much of an answer when he tugged at her shirt with wandering hands and inky pupils that gazed lazily into her own from centimeters away.
"Anything you want, that's what we're doing," she settled on. It was safe. He got to call the shots and set the pace. (Y/N) would happily take whatever was given, even if it began and ended on this couch with his lips sealed to her own.
A long moment transpired as Harry gazed at her, unfocused eyes matching her own. A breath she hadn't known he was holding flared out from his nose, fanning over her skin just before he'd had enough of the space and pressed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss.
He seemed to like her answer.
(Y/N) followed his cues as he eased her mouth open with his own, his lips capturing her bottom one between his two with a sighing inhale. She chased after him, wanting to taste her the same way he was getting the privilege to do to her. With her hands in his hair and thighs clamped around his hips, she slipped her tongue out and touched at his mouth.
Something akin to a groan bubbled from Harry's throat, his hand on her waist tensing into something almost considered painful if not for the fact (Y/N) was only registering each of his touches with nothing but pleasure. Using his grip on her, he adjusted her to lay completely beneath him, head propped up by the stiff decorative pillow shoved against the armrest of the sofa.
With his body lain almost totally against her, (Y/N) felt each of his breaths that puffed out his chest before the exhale was felt on her face. The training that he had gone through to be fit for the movie role was blatant as she felt each of the packed muscles of his abdomen against her tummy, his thighs strong and thick between her own.
The hand on (Y/N) waist snuck a trail down her side before the hem of her top was revealed and thus moved out of the way by his greedy fingertips.
"How much time do we have?" he breathed against her lips, peeling away just enough to get his words out and for her to form a response.
Harry had a call time of two this afternoon, and it had been one-oh-five when she found herself on the doorstep of his trailer. "A little more than a half hour, I think."
A pleased smile was felt against her lips, something smug woven into the curl. She would have wanted to see if not for the fact she got to feel it.
"That's enough for me."
(Y/N) all but melted into the cushions at his words. He was going to have her worked over in less than a half hour before he was called back to set to play his Oscar-worthy character, her kiss on his lips. That was enough for her, too.
"Please."
That was (Y/N)'s lame response that garnered a deft reaction from Harry that had her positioned on his lap as he now sat back against the sofa, his lap now a chair for her. His now familiar mouth abandoned her lips—her lungs certainly weren't complaining when she realized how oxygen-deprived she was—and worked a trail down her neck and to the shelf of her collarbones. Though her eyes were closed with her head tipped back, (Y/N) knew that if she dared a glance in the mirror to the left of them, she would no doubt see his swollen lips dotting spit-slicked kisses over her skin that would shine in the small light offered through his windows.
"Still doing what I want, right?" Harry murmured, his words were felt more than they were heard.
"Mhm," (Y/N) hummed though she felt dangerously close to a whimper, "Anything."
"Take off your shirt."
As much as his command was direct and swift, it was equal parts soft and compromising. If she said no, there would be no retribution. Though they were playing the game of whatever Harry wanted, the game would be no fun if she wasn't a willing participant that helped him shape the rules.
Her compliance came in the form of her arms crossing over her torso, before her fingers grasped the hem of her top and pulled it over her head to be dropped to the floor. Harry's hands were warm on her now bare waist, though they still elicited a layer of goosebumps to appear on her skin. Her chest heaving inches from his face was enough to draw Harry's eyes from her features and down the expanse of bare skin that now greeted him like the breakfast she offered every morning.
Dipping his head down, Harry continued his game of planting kisses down her chest until he met the swells of her breasts. The paisley print of her bra no longer felt as silly as it did when she was getting dressed this morning—under his attention, she felt sexy now with the swirls accentuating the roundedness of her chest, the curling tips of the print directing him to the cleavage in the middle and the tips of her breasts that pushed against the minimal padding sown into the garment. Harry followed each of those directions, a contented hum when he reached the line of her cleavage before he sunk his chin in and continued pressing kisses down the obscured valley.
(Y/N)'s breathing came in shuddering inhales, the exhales being nothing of a thought when all she wanted was to catch each molecule of Harry's scent that lingered between them. His kissing was enough to make her feel more scatterbrained than any raging director or uppity producer ever could. His hands on her waist traveled as a team up her sides, tracing the form of her ribcage before landing on the sides of her chest. His thumbs curled into the flimsy straps that kept the garment bound to her form.
"May I?" he mumbled, tips of his fingers tugging at the very curve of the cup before it transformed into the nylon straps.
His brows and eyes posed the question more than his mouth did, words muffled by her own skin.
Her response came in the form of a half formed nod, her consent being compounded by the tightening of her hands in his hair. In a moment, the cups of her bra were tugged down and the full of her breasts were revealed as the garment was trampled under Harry's grip.
He didn't waste any time before he flitted his mouth to follow the swells to the tip of her breast, tucking her nipple between his lips. Her deep inhale pushed her chest further into his face, his hand reaching to cradle her other breast in his palm.
His touch was gentle as he slathered his attention over her form, lips kissing and sucking before flitting to another patch of untended-to skin. By the time he was done, his kisses were commemorated in the form of spit-slicked kiss marks, pinched nipples glinting in the light. Harry continued his affection down the line of her stomach, his hands following before he was stopped at her belly button.
"H-Harry," (Y/N) breathed, her voice a lot more broken than she remembered. Her fingers were cramping in his hair, the grip unsurrendering.
Harry hummed against her skin, a slick sound acting as punctuation as he kissed at her tummy one more time before blinking his eyes open and gazing at her. (Y/N)'s hands fell from his hair, following the curve of his neck before landing on the broad of his shoulders.
The fabric felt offensive under her hands. "I want yours off, too," she whispered, fisting the shoulders of his top in her hands. If she could, she would have instead ripped it apart at the seams so he wouldn't have to part from her skin for even a second.
"Yeah?" he smiled, his voice a grumble against her skin. The green of his eyes was outcast to just a ring around his pupils though something tender lingered in his gaze.
"Uh-huh," she breathed, arching her back under the force of his hands as he slid his palms to the small of her back, "Please."
"What else do you want?" he asked, a teasing lilt to his town that she'd never heard before.
"You," she murmured, "Just you." Something about the fact she was saying it out loud allowed for something like a release to filter through her form. She'd never really said that she wanted him; liked him as more than a colleague, a friend she'd made on set. It was liberating in a way that pressed a weight on the center of her stomach and clenched her insides.
It was true, she did want him. She wanted him so bad, and she didn't care how much longer they had in this cramped trailer. She was going to have him.
With his grip on her waist and a satisfied, lazy grin on his lips, Harry tugged her harshly against his lap. Her hips ground against his own, though his lap had something a lot more substantial situated between his thighs. He directed her with his hands, dragging her over the lump of his cock in lazy strokes she hoped to feel more of with less clothing between.
With her breath caught in her throat, Harry took his opportunity to press his lips to her cheek, her jaw, the space just under her ear. "Y'want me? Want this?" Another teasing drag.
The weight in her stomach grow impossibly tight. She couldn't cum from just this, right?
"I-I do, Harry, please," she keened, "Let me touch you."
It seemed Harry had distracted himself in the process of playing with her, her original request of taking his shirt off becoming lost in the sea of rose-scented lust that was overtaking the small trailer. After a single smudged kiss pressed to the corner of her mouth, Harry pulled away reluctantly.
Much like she had done, Harry tucked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt and tossed it away as soon as the fabric cleared his head, joining hers in a Valentine colored pile—pink and red mashed together in the shape of a lopsided heart. Before he had a chance to paste himself back to her skin, (Y/N) stationed her hands on the set of his shoulders, eyes gleaming as she took in the shape of his body. Her hands mimicked her eyes as they trailed down his chest, blocky muscles defined by the tattoos inked onto the tanned skin. Just the very tips of his swallows were concealed with the help of the makeup team, leaving the rest to be completely and totally Harry.
The blocks of his muscles directed her further and further down, the laurel tattoos on his hips acting as a road map that only enticed her along. His arms reached out to encircle her waist though he didn't stop her expedition, only drawing her closer and subsequently over the hardness between his legs. A trail of hair sprouted in between his pectorals before sparsing out until the return of the down came just underneath his belly button. A thin line of dark, curling hair carried her down the line to the waist of his sweats before the hair and the rest of his skin disappeared.
"Having fun?" Harry teased, the curl of his lips heard before (Y/N) saw it.
"Definitely," she decided on the truth, her voice no louder than a whisper. A flick of her gaze through her lashes let her know Harry was much too busy cataloguing the expressions on her face to make much note of what exactly on his body had her gaze so entranced.
Harry seemed pleased by her words as he cut her off with a tug around the curve of her waist, sticking their bare chests together before he captured her lips with his. This round was nothing but sloppy, lazy kisses that came in quick succession. Harry peeled her lips apart with his own, his tongue peeking inside her mouth before disappearing once more. Before (Y/N) could catch up, he had pulled her away.
"Stand up," he said, another compromising demand.
Making room between his legs, (Y/N) helped her on her bambi-esque unsteady legs before he grabbed for the top of her leggings. The material quickly gave way under his fingers though Harry was slow with his movements until he looked up at her in that questioning way that let her know she had more than one choice in that moment.
Once a small nod was given, Harry stripped her of her leggings in a quick series of tugs that left her to step out of the puddle of fabric at her ankles and a white thong nestled against her modesty.
From his seated position, Harry helped her kick her pants to the Valentines scramble of clothing on the floor before he planted his lips against her skin. The entire waistline of her thong was imprinted with the shape of his lips as he dragged them over her skin. Once he was satisfied on that front, Harry slipped his hands to settle on her hips, palms covering the hem of her underwear as he descended upon her thighs. The curls of his hair tickled her skin, the slightest of touches felt through her panties as he took his time commemorating her skin.
At the feel of his teeth glimpsing her hip, a sharp touch that was quickly soothed by his tongue, (Y/N) let out a wobbly call of his name before planting her hands on his shoulders for balance.
Her eyes had closed without permission, (Y/N) only noticing when she felt Harry heave a sigh before his forehead was felt against her hip bone and his breath fanned out over her freshly kissed skin. Looking down, all she was granted with was a view of the swirling curls on the top of his head, messed up by her own fingers though the memory of the act was hazy.
Chancing a look into the mirror to the side of them, (Y/N) found herself stood on a pair of legs she didn't quite feel in that moment, hips cupped by a hair of hands she'd seen every day for the last month and a half though they looked alien pasted to her skin. Her chest heaved in breaths that were laborious, her bra askew on her form, the twisted straps and mangled cups mimicking that of her hair. But, the real draw was Harry's reflection.
His eyes were closed as he lent his forehead into the soft of her tummy, lashes curling outward as if they ached to touch her as much as the rest of him did. The straight line of his nose was warped as he whispered something to himself, raspberry lips wrapping around the silent words that (Y/N) only felt the ghost of against her skin. His shoulders were cradled in her own palms, fingertips making small dents in the muscle.
(Y/N) watched in the reflection as a decision seemed to be made in split second, Harry's hands abandoning her hips as they rounded her body and landed on the back of her thighs, thumbs pressing into the crease just under her ass.
"C'mere," he grumbled, tugging her with his new vantage points on her thighs.
She broke her gaze from the mirror, instead opting to look at the real thing. Harry's jaw looked especially sharp with the way he looked up at her before she dropped into his lap, the middle of her panties situated directly over the bulge in his sweats. His hands disappeared from her form though she was quickly distracted by his swollen mouth that was now sealed over her own.
"I wish I could take m'time with you, (Y/N)," he murmured into the kiss, a brush of his knuckles felt along her inner thigh, "And I will next time, darling, I promise. But, we don't have lots of time, do we? Gotta make y'cum before I go back out there."
The promise of a next time rattled her so much that she almost missed the petname that drawled from his lips, the first time she had heard him call her anything other than her own name.
(Y/N)'s back bowed as she curled into him, cutting off his kiss as she cushioned her head in the crook of his shoulder. His chest became her safe space as she keened into him. "I want you, anything you'll give me. Please, H."
It was when her lips brushed against his neck as she spoke that she realized just how close she was to the thrumming of his pulse. Pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot, she reveled in the fact his heart was racing just like her own. That knot she had blamed as the entity separating them now became a velvet bow that wrapped around her and tethered them together.
"Gotta do something for me then," he murmured, his own head dipping down and pressing a chaste kiss to her available shoulder, "Can y'reach my bag behind you?"
"Hm?" she hummed, confusion etching her brows together.
A huff of a laugh flared from his nostrils and over her exposed skin. When had it gotten so hot in here? Her skin was on fire and his breath chilled the sheen of sweat that covered her.
"I've got a condom in m'bag, I just need y'to grab it for me," Harry explained, a tint of amusement in his voice.
(Y/N) let out a small oh, at his words. Unfurling herself from his form was enough of a task that she didn't know if she was going to be able to reach away from him towards the duffle that laid behind her. But, if she had any hope of getting even closer to him, she was going to have to do it.
With Harry bracing the small of her back with his palms, she reached towards the army green duffle he lugged to set every day. Her fingers caught on the strap before she hauled it over to him. One arm of his wrapped around her waist, securing her to his lap while the other made quick work of unzipping the clasp.
"Do you always keep condoms in here?" (Y/N) asked, watching as he knew exactly which pocket to unzip before a square of foil was in hand.
A lopsided smile took him on his lips as he looked at her through his lashes. As quick as he had it, Harry tossed his duffle back to the floor, adding to the mess of his trailer. "Not until the day y'played with my hair and almost kissed me in here."
An astonished laugh made it way through (Y/N)'s throat. "And that was enough to make you think we were going to have sex?"
A half shrug was offered. "I think I was hoping more than anything. Worked out jus' fine in m'opinion."
She couldn't really argue with that.
Not much else was to be said when (Y/N) felt a brush of Harry's fingers between her thighs with the edge of the condom wrapper tickling the sensitive skin. When she glance between them, she found Harry had tugged the waist of his sweats down before pulling his cock out. Any kind of underwear line was missing. The whole time they had been reading lines and kissing and doing anything to get closer, he hadn't had a single thing on under his pants. The thought made (Y/N) sweat.
His hand wrapped around the thick of his shaft, the mushroom head glazed in a layer of precum that shone in the light. Harry groaned at the contact, a deep noise that both relaxed his shoulders while also winding the muscles in his forearms tight. (Y/N) did her best to guess what it was going to feel like when he sunk himself inside her, but she only managed to further soak her panties when she realized that just as they sat, the head of him reached just below her belly button.
As much as she could tell he was pandering for any kind of release of the pressure bunching his stomach, Harry didn't waste time as he rolled the condom over his length. Only a cursory stroke of his fist was granted to ensure the rubber fit him as needed.
"Hold your panties to the side for me, darling," Harry instructed, a compromise in his eyes.
No compromise was needed as (Y/N) readily plucked the soaked middle of her panties to the side, exposing her wetness to the warmth of Harry's gaze and beams of peaking sunlight. His arm on her back stiffened, a gentle tug that drew her closer. Something that sounded like a curse fell from his lips, but (Y/N) couldn't process much after she felt the first bump of his head against her clit.
"Oh, m—" (Y/N) choked, her exclamation ceasing when Harry's lips made contact with her own.
"Shhh, shhh," he hushed her, his hand an unrelenting weight that positioned her perfectly over his cock, "I know, but we've got to be quiet. Only have a little more time with you, don't I? Don't want anyone snooping around and cutting this short, right?"
"Right, right," she nodded, feeling something close to panic at the thought of another Meredith stripping of her this moment, "Sorry, I'll be quiet."
A pleased smile was felt against her lips. "Not too quiet. I need to know 'm doing good, still."
She could do that, she figured, she could definitely let him know how good she was feeling and that she was already planning the next time he offered. Harry smiled when she told him as much (minus the next time mention, she didn't want to get too ahead of herself though she was sure that idea ran away the send she let her winged heart out of its cage).
"Ready?" Harry prompted, his arm around her waist falling to land his hand on her hip in a steadying grip she hoped would leave bruises on her skin.
"Uh-huh," she breathed, nodding her head, wild tendrils of hair fluttering at the motion.
"Hang onto me, darling," he murmured, waiting until her arms were comfortably wrapped around his neck before he tugged her down with his gentle grip.
The head of his cock nudged at her opening, her slickness kissing at him and clinging to him. A shaky breath was exhaled through Harry's nose, enough to flare his nostrils and make (Y/N)'s thighs clench. She moved with him despite the fact the weight in her stomach wound her muscles even tighter the closer she drew to his form.
She was stretched around the girth of his head before she felt him clear her entrance with a tight pop, the ridges of her walls sucking him in the more of his length her fed to her. A breathless call of his name fell from (Y/N)'s lips, a shameless whine that she hoped let him know how good this was for her already.
"Relax, darling, relax," he coaxed through gritted teeth, his grip on her hips demanding. His now free hand came up to flutter around the small of her back, bracing her as she sunk lower and lower onto his prick. "Shit, (Y/N)."
Harry's head fell to her shoulder once he bottomed out, (Y/N) seated on his lap with nothing separating them. He sucked in deep breathes before they were exhaled against her skin, his curls tickling her neck.
She hadn't meant to, but (Y/N) felt her walls flutter around him the longer he sat unmoving, a silent call to please, do something. Another round of curses with her name tucked between was smeared over her skin before one of the hands stationed on her waist slipped lower and found the apex of her slit and the small pearl tucked between her folds.
"Bounce on me, darling," Harry murmured to her, "I'll help, jus'—jus' need to see y'do it for me first."
The first brush of his thumb over her clit jolted (Y/N) enough to kickstart her rhythm. With her back arched and panties to the side, she used the tense of her muscles to her advantage and rocked herself over his cock. Tentative lifts of her hips were integrated once she became used to his size, used to the nudging deep in her stomach, pulling him a little more than halfway out before she dropped back down and swallowed him whole. Every time she sunk down, Harry made an accompanying brush of his thumb over her clit, a reward for being so strong for him and riding him like he asked.
His head nudged far at the back of her walls, the veins brushing her ridges as if to emulate the grazing of his thumb on her clit, pushing for more and more of her breathless, quiet moans to spill from her mouth. The pulsing of his cock could be felt inside her, echoing against her snugness in its own tease. An area she had only ever reached in her own lonely sessions in bed, was taken hostage of with the help of his thickness brushing her walls in unrelenting runs. Each bounce of her hips allowed another graze of his tip against her g-spot, shudders wracking through her body every time.
They played this game a while longer with Harry pressing kisses to her chest and neck before he paused to look at where he was entering her. (Y/N) kept her promise and tried to stay quiet, but every once in a while, a call of his name was loud enough to warrant a shushing from her lover before he pulled her in for a silencing kiss.
"K-Keep going, darling," he told her, his grip on her hip intensifying just like the weight in her stomach, "I'll help in a second, jus'—jus' want y'to get close like me first."
It was then that (Y/N) chanced a look at him, the mention of him being close, enough to wrench her eyes open from where she had her head thrown back towards the ceiling. As promised, he showed all the signs that she felt in her own body. His abdomen was pulled taut, muscles straining in his arms with tendons and veins making appearances in the same moment she felt his fingers flex around her form. His face was flush with a red blush, a dewy sheen over his cheeks. Hair and makeup was going to have a fit when they saw him after this.
Underneath her, Harry's hips jerked and thrusted upwards. "Told y'to keep going, darling," Harry grumbled, throwing his head back to loll over the couch cushions, "Don't stop now. Can feel y'getting there, right?"
In her haze of examining him, (Y/N) hadn't realized she stopped her bouncing to only give him rolls of her hips. Resuming her pace, she felt the assistance of his hand on her waist lifting her before the snap of his hips meet her halfway. All the while, tight circles were traced onto her clit in strokes that made her thoughts make less and less sense.
"S-Sorry," she stuttered, "You're just so-so—I couldn't stop look-king at you. Don't want to forget this."
"Not gonna give you a chance to, darling," Harry murmured, rushing forward and planting kisses along the line of her jaw, "Gonna do this again and again, y'won't have enough time to forget. Next time, 'm gonna have hours to make y'feel good. Gonna—fuck—Gonna have y'in a real bed yelling m'name as loud as y'want. Never gonna forget me."
(Y/N)'s hands on his shoulders didn't do much in the way of steadying her anymore now that she had his promises lingering in her head. She wasn't going to last much longer; not with the thrusting of his hips, the touching to her clit, and the words murmured into her skin. She wasn't going to be able to fend off the weight in her tummy anymore.
"H-Harry, Harry," she stuttered, his name making more sense than anything else in her head, "I'm gonna cum—oh my god."
"Give me one more kiss, darling, c'mere. That's all I need," he shuddered, his hips lagging for just a second before picking up the pace, "then I want you to cum with me."
Her hands on his shoulders made quick work of landing on his cheeks, jaw cupped in her palms. Tipping her chin, (Y/N) pressed her lips to his in the dance they now had down like second-nature. Though it was her turn to get a taste, no longer following after him in a chase before he cut the game short. The bounce of her hips and the snaps of his own under her didn't lend to the most stable kiss in history, but (Y/N) still managed to slip her tongue past the defenses of his mouth the touch over his own. He played with her then, responding to her call with gusto.
Harry's hand on her hip tightened, his thumb on her clit now working at a lightning pace. "Cum with me, darling. Need to feel y'cum around me; give me what I want."
This demand didn't sound as comprising as the ones in the past. He wanted her to stick to her word and do anything he wanted right now, and he wanted her to cum.
So, she did.
(Y/N) felt her form crumble under the force of the unraveling weight in her stomach. Her body felt wound unbelievably tight despite the fact she'd never felt more relaxed than in that moment, ease lapping over her in waves that were Harry scented. His touch was the only thing that kept her grounded; his hips between her thighs, his cock snug inside her, unrelenting hand on her hip and thumb on her clit, all the while his mouth was sealed to hers. Her body clenched and released around him, drawing him deeper and deeper despite the fact there wasn't much else Harry could go.
But, that seemed to be enough to set Harry's own release off. Warmth filled her through the condom as his form shook under her. It was him who cut off the kiss though he only managed to get far enough away to tuck his face into her neck and smatter soft kisses to the skin in between coos of her name and whispers of curses. All the while he held her.
Once the squeeze in her lungs lessened and (Y/N) realized just how much like jelly her legs felt, she curled into his form. Aftershocks came in the form of half shudders down her spine and teasing clenches of her pussy around his softening cock.
"Harry?"
"Give me a minute." His voice was a breathless grumble, the baritone vibrating her skin more than she heard him.
She unfurled in that moment she gave him, her arched back relaxing before she slumped into Harry. Her arms slipped down his form until she hit his middle. She wrapped him in a hug, their bare skin pressed against one another. Harry mimicked her movements, abandoning her hip and between her legs to loop his arms around her waist and keep her close to his chest.
God, she hoped they really got a next time. If not for the mind-hazing, vision-robbing, lung-squeezing orgasm, then for this.
Out of nowhere, (Y/N) felt a huff of a laugh exhaled into her neck. Then another. And another. Before long, Harry was laughing with a smile pressed into her skin, sounding just as exhausted as she felt.
"I can't believe we did that. And before anyone's had to come looking for us," he mumbled, the tip of his nose wiggling against the curve of her throat.
Had everything that transpired really taken less than forty-five minutes to get her here?
The thought made (Y/N) laugh, too.
"Or, everyone saw your trailer shaking and though they'd come back another time," (Y/N) offered, drawing back just enough to indulge herself in the sight of his dimples and soft-lipped smile, "If that's the case, then we're fucked."
"Yeah, we are fucked." Harry laughed even harder, dropping his head to her bare shoulder.
With the help of his huffed laughter, a set of goosebumps broke out across (Y/N)'s skin, a tickling shudder working down her spine.
After pressing a delicate kiss to her skin, Harry reached blindly behind him and grabbed for the blanket hanging off the back of his sofa. The same one that had been draped over him the day she played with his hair and Harry decided there could be something more between them.
"You're cold," he mumbled as he wrapped the cover around he two of them, (Y/N) still situated on his lap and his cock soft inside her.
"Thank you," she said, snuggling deeper into his hold as they shared the warmth of the blanket.
(Y/N) closed her eyes as she finally relaxed into him, the panic of lust no longer taking from the fact that holding and being held by him was enough. Her hand that had been splayed over his back rounded to his front where (Y/N) stroked over his heated skin in what she hoped was soothing runs over his skin.
She only made a few passes before her hand was captured in Harry's. He brought it to his mouth, a tender kiss pressed to the knuckles before he brushed them over his cheek.
"Would y'want to go to dinner with me Friday?"
She hoped he could feel the smile stretching across her face as her cheek pressed into his chest. "I'd love to."
That velvet bow that bound them together tightened in that moment, the ribbon thicker than even the real blanket draped over their forms. (Y/N) didn't know how much time they had left before someone would come looking for them, but she was happy this was how she was going to spend those last minutes with Harry before venturing into the real world.
"I really lucked out with you, didn't I?"
His voice wasn't much more than a whisper but (Y/N) heard it like a shout.
As she sunk into his hold, (Y/N) didn't know which was more gratifying: the affectionate words that now dripped over her in a new context, or the knowledge that there was forever going to be a movie out there crediting her as his assistant?
He was right in that she'd never forget him.
—————
ahhhhhh!!!! ever since that pic came out up top ive been trying to figreout when id have time to write something about working w him on a movie set and im jsut !!!! hes s!!!!!! thank u all sm for reading and sorry if theres any mistakes!! if you have any ideas or requests of ur own please send them in !
summary: y/n loves coming home to harry after a long day of work.
warnings: coarse language, smut, pegging
pairing: harry styles x fem!reader
•••
“God, Harry, this is fucking divine.”
Harry smiled brightly and felt a little giddy from how pleased Y/N was. He had tried a new recipe and he had spent plenty of time in the kitchen while Y/N was out at work, so long that she even had time to answer a few emails after taking a shower while Harry was scrambling all about the kitchen. She offered to help, but Harry was sure he didn’t need it and kept insisting that it was a surprise, so she waited on the couch, waiting… letting her eyes drift to places…
“It’s good?” He asked, taking a bite himself and she nodded enthusiastically, eating some more.
“More than.”
•••
“Such a good little housewife, aren’t you?” Y/N mumbled against Harry’s shoulder, one of her hands gripping his hip tightly while the other had two fingers shoved into Harry’s mouth, pressing down against his tongue and making him drool down his chin. Her thrusts were harsh, keeping his back arched downwards a little as he gripped the kitchen counter with soapy hands.
“Have to at least give you something in return, don’t I?” Her smile widened a little more and Harry started shaking his head, letting out muffled moans around her wet fingers. “No? Not even a little treat, as a thank you? You’re too good to me, angel.” She chuckled softly, taking the hand she had on his hip off to reach around him, starting to stroke him slowly, making his legs tremble just a little and his hands grip the counter just a little harder.
“Wanna spoil you.” She murmured, “Give you everything you want.”
don’t know if you’ve explored this before, but a blurb about the early stages of sub!h and y/n’s relationship and how they settled into their sub/dom dynamics. did y/n help him experiment and awaken that side of him, or did he shyly admit his kinks to her when they got together?
love your work as always ❤️
compatibility
summary: harry has… things on his mind.
warnings: coarse language
pairing: harry styles x fem!reader
•••
Harry, stop being weird.
Harry wanted to be dominated.
He wasn’t sure how this… thing awakened, but it was very awake and was shaking Harry’s entire world. He would always choke on a little bit of air whenever Y/N called their goddamn cat a ‘good boy’, which always made himself weirded out because of how his body reacted to the two words. He wanted to be good for her, to listen to everything she would tell him to do—to be submissive in the bedroom.
Not like their current sex life was bad, no, not at all. He just wanted to try this, at least once, to see if it was just some thing his brain puked out that he couldn’t seem to clean up.
•••
“‘M I being good?” Harry mumbled against the softness of Y/N’s thigh, still a little hazy from the orgasm he just had. He was lying on his stomach with his head between her thighs since he obviously wanted to give her something in return, pressing wet kisses against her skin, licking her up needily.
“Yeah, fuck.” She said breathily, tangling her hand in his hair. “Being such a good boy for me.”
“What?”
“What?” She opened her eyes and looked down at Harry, brows furrowed.
“I- er, good boy?”
a/n: bro wants to be pounded so hard into the bed he forgets his name?
A/N: I hope you guys like it!! Smut throughout… but SMUT in the end. Enjoy 🙃
“Why can’t yeh just stay home. We can have as much sex as you want” Harry pleads, laying on the bed behind you.
“I promised my friends I would go out tomight. I haven’t seen them in a while, and its starting to look like you’re holding me hostage.” You chuckle at the man laying on the bed behind you. You loved Harry, you really did, but you needed a night out. You were really looking forward to catching up with your friends and having some fun with them. Every time you went out recently, it was always a couples thing. That’s why going out with just your friends, and leaving the guys and partners at home was going to be a nice change of pace for you.
You walk out of the bedroom to grab the outfit you’d chosen for the night. And of course when you come back with it on Harry was full of opinions.
“I hope you’re not going out in that” he immediately sits up against the headboard when he sees your appearance. He didn’t know what to focus in on, and he was only looking at you from behind. He felt like you knew what you were doing, like you knew he’d get wound up from how good you looked. He thought you’d purposely chosen the dress so he could get all riled up before you left and he’d be the one stuck at home without you, dying to have you wrapped around him.
And of course, Harry was right about your motives on picking your attire for the night. You did choose this dress on purpose. You did want him to be a little antsy while you were out. You wanted him to get so riled up that when you came back home later on tonight, he was going to take all of his built up jealousy (over the fact that other guys would be staring at you, and getting a good look at what was his), and built up sexual frustration (from you looking so good) out on you, and your pussy.
So when you added up these two factors you got one thing; some really hot sex later on. So you knew that you were making the right choice.
You then put on the coveted dress. It stopped about mid thigh and it was made out of a soft satin material that was in a deep red color. So the dress wasn’t extravagant by any means, it was actually pretty simple. But what sent Harry off the rails was the way you filled out the dress. It fit you like a glove and it clung to your body in a way that accentuated all of your curves. Whenever you wore it, Harry could always guarantee that it was going to end up on the floor, and now he was starting to think about what was going to happen when you got home. Maybe even before you left if he was lucky.
But he wasn’t. “Y’have to let me fuck you if y’going out looking like that” he reasons from the bed behind you.
“I know you, and if I let you have a quickie before I leave, I won’t leave” you chuckle. You applaud his efforts but it wasn’t going to happen. You wanted to go out and have fun and look sexy and if that meant leaving Harry in bed with a hard cock, so be it. Plus, it’s not like Harry was the only one that had a throbbing sensation going on between their legs. You were starting to get a little turned on at how needy and possessive he was. It was almost like his dominant and submissive sides were coming out. You saw his dominance in how possessive he was. The way he was so against you going without him because of the guys that were going to be looking at you. Yet you saw his submissiveness in the way he was begging you to give him something, just something to tie him over until you came back. You thought it was so hot to see him like this and you just wanted to take your clothes off and just get into bed with him.
But you didn’t. You just continued to get ready. Once you were done putting the finishing touches on your hair and make up, you put on your shoes. Now you had two options, you could either sit down, and not tease Harry even more, or you could bend down to put them on, showing Harry exactly what he wanted but couldn’t have. You decide on doing the latter. You bend down to put on your heels and your dress rides up in the back to expose your thin, almost nonexistent panties. You knew for a fact that Harry was palming his cock through his sweats behind you. You could even hear a soft groan come from him. For a moment, Harry even thought that he could see a small damp spot forming in your panties. He kept his eyes trained on your body until you were finished and were coming back up. He tried to stay strong and not give in to your obvious teasing but it was so hard.
You straighten your dress out before looking into the mirror one final time. You then turn around to face a beyond horny Harry.
“So how do I look” you ask him, even though you already knew what he was going to say.
“Y’look utterly fuckable and you know it” he grumbles and lays back against the pillows. He looks over to you and he sees the front of you. It was like every time he looked at you there was something more. The top wasn’t super low cut, but it was just enough to get a peek at the tops of your breasts. He got to see all of you from head to toe and he felt like his cock could just explode at the sight.
“Well I’m glad you like it” you smirk and you make your way over to the bed. As you get closer, you notice the large tent inside of his pants, and you know that you just had to do one last thing before you left. When you’re standing next to the bed, you swing your legs over and onto both sides of his hips. You can see his expression change instantly. He went from mopey to completely shocked. You then lean down and you smear your lips onto his. You can hear him grunt into your mouth and you slip your tongue into his mouth. You feel him part his lips even more for you and you glide your tongue against his. You then drop your hips onto his and you grind your clothed center against his cock and he whimpers against you. You continue like this until you felt his hands beginning to wander up the backs of your thighs. You pull away from his lips to find a bewildered Harry laying in front of you. His lips are pinker than before and his mouth just hung open at the sudden pleasure you gave him.
Then one of your hands glides up his chest and wraps around his throat. His eyes widen at the action and his breaths become harder and harder. You tighten your grip around him and as soon as you do, his entire body goes limp. You bring your face back down to his and you whisper to him “I’m gonna need daddy to be a good boy while I’m gone, okay?” your warm breath fans across his face. The only response you got from him was a twitch from his cock that was pressing right against your now completely damp panties. “Okay baby?” You ask once more. All he does is nod. You feel his Adam’s Apple bulge against your hand and you chuckle at his completely shocked reaction. You press a kiss onto his bottom lip and you pull away from him completely. You pull your dress down in the back and you make your way out of the door.
“I’ll see you later” you say almost innocently, which was a complete 180 from the way you were just a few seconds ago. You shoot him a wink and you walk out of the door. Leaving Harry completely paralyzed in bed from what just happened.
Let’s just say that for the rest of the night, all you could think about was Harry and his response to you before leaving home. You even ended up leaving your friends a little early so you could get back to Harry and have even more fun.
smoking a joint with subrry and blowing the smoke into his mouth 😩
ANDKSKDOSKS PLEASE!!!!
Check out Patreon
——
“Smoking always makes you extra horny.” You warned, resting your arm around his shoulders.
He was extra clingy tonight, cuddly. The baby blue cardigan wrapped around his warm, broad body only highlighted the fact that he was in his softer mood despite no one else truly knowing the deal. A bonfire with friends was always fun, and H had been happy to go so long as you’d sit in his lap.
“I know.” He nudged your neck with his cool nose. It made you shiver, getting a giggle out of him. “But I like when we play with it.” Large fingers flexed around your waist, tucking underneath your hoodie. “Didn’t drink anything though so, can I? You can give it t’me.” The soft plea did something to you. It always had and always will.
Knowing you were the one he trusted to be vulnerable with, that a large man stripped down bare bones to allow you to be dominant over him? It was both a stroke to the ego and warming to your heart. Harry was such a good boy for you and gave you everything you never knew you needed.
“Okay. You’ve been a very good boy for me tonight…” realistically you’d never tell him no for things he wanted with his own body so long as it wasn’t hurting him. Smoking though, it got to him horny and wiggly and you knew that you’d more than likely have to leave not far off in the future. He was already grabby without the influence.
“Open.”
Harry’s pretty pink lips opened up for you, a happy gleam in his eye as he felt you come closer and gently exhale the smoke into his own mouth. It was honestly his favorite way to do it, getting the buzz and getting to be close to you in this way. There wasn’t any way he was going to be able to hide the throb coming from his pants but either way, he knew you wouldn’t want him to.
He only coughed a tiny bit after you pulled away, smoke billowing from your mouth as you laughed. The giggle was interrupted by his mouth actually pressing to yours, the happy him letting you know how pleased he was with the action.
“Thank you, goddess.” He murmured against your lips. “Promise I’ll please you when it does hit me. My body is yours.” That was what you liked to hear.
“Good boy.” Getting the purr and praise from you made him melt, your free hand tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’ll be good for me like you always are. Now, do you want more?”
“Yes please, Goddess.” The breathless answer made you smirk as you brought the joint to your mouth once again.
tiny disclaimer: everything here is stuff that has been posted on this account, to find any of my old stuff that hasn't been posted here you'd have to go to my old account ch3rrybabyhon3y. i would post everything here but i'd feel so annoying flooding the tags lol. if there's anything specific you'd like to see/read again, send me an ask and i'll be more than happy to post it. kisses.
ordered from new to old 🤍
indicators: smut ☆ fluff ❁ angst ♪
one-shots:
Doctor's Orders: in which you have an interesting visit with your gynecologist when you come to him with an inconvenient problem.
or
“M’name is Dr. Harry Styles. You can call me Harry, Dr. Styles, or Doc. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m personally fine with it all. I know your name already and…” he blows out a breath with his eyes comically wide “…basically your entire medical history so I think it’s safe to say we’re well acquainted!” You take his hand and shake it softly, a small giggle leaving your lips. You don’t miss the way he glances down at the contact. His hand feels nice. And you know it’s weird to be thinking that about your doctor, especially when that same hand will probably be somewhere near your genitals in the next couple of minutes, but his hand feels really nice against yours. Calloused and sturdy, yet gentle and soft.
You appreciate how he immediately got in tune with how cracking jokes made you more comfortable. It feels like extra effort to you and a warm feeling blooms in your chest at how attentive he is. You can tell that he cares about his patients and takes pride in his job, and it makes you feel so much more comfortable.
“Okay m’darling. Says you’re here for a regular check up. Are you sure there’s no concerns? Nothing we should be worryin’ about? S’more helpful if you tell me now so I know what to look for.” His hand goes out to motion you to lie down on the examination table. You oblige and he grins at you again, waiting for your response.
Second Visit (part two)
Film Bro: in which sleepy best friend Harry gets a little too worked up while you guys cuddle. ☆☆❁
or
The poor baby’s worked himself up somehow and doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, doesn’t realize how needy he is. His face wears a tortured expression, his eyebrows arched and pushed tightly together. The desperate soft sounds continue to leave his slightly parted lips and all you can think about in this moment is how much you want to kiss his lips, soft and bitten.
Honestly, you’re at a loss of what to do in this situation. Do you wake him? Do you let him keep going until he ruins his pants? Do you just will yourself to go back to sleep and pretend this never happened? You know that last one’s definitely not going to work considering how ridiculously turned on you are. With every thrust against your ass, an onslaught of butterflies assault your stomach and you feel the pool in your underwear only getting wetter.
You don’t want to stop him.
Favorite Holiday: in which you and Harry are friends with benefits ☆❁ ♪
or
"He plans to take you home tonight, you can tell. You two have been going at this for months, the no-strings-attached sex thing. You think it’s easy enough. There’s never been any real difficulties, just the fact that you’re trying to keep it discreet.
The first kiss was at the New Years party. You were both tipsy, he confessed that he always had a little fixation on you and how you looked in “all those pretty outfits you like to wear” and you confessed that him and his “fancy british accent”, “pretty tattoos”, and “ridiculously charming personality” never failed to have you imagining kissing those incredibly soft looking lips.
He looked at you for a second, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes as if he was trying to gauge where your head was at. Then, at the perfect timing, the clock turned twelve and your lips were intertwined. The rest is history."
Sex Therapist: in which Harry helps you out a bit, and he's not actually a sex therapist. (but he might as well be)☆❁
or
"“Maybe you need someone familiar.”
You can tell he almost regretted it when he said it, but there was also something of what seemed like determination in his eyes. You can only imagine the mental battle he’s having right now.
“Someone…familiar?” You say, your tone is nothing less than breathless.
“Mhm…someone you know, someone you trust, someone that can take care of you.” You know Harry’s noticed your change in breathing, the way you tried to subtly press your thighs together, you know he’s noticed and that’s why his voice has lowered to a calculated sultry tone that you know he only reserves for times like this. He’s downright seducing you and you don’t seem to have a problem with it, “any ideas?”
Good Boy: in which harry is a brat. ☆❁
or
"“So sit down, and listen to me like a good boy.” she says, watching as Harry rolls his eyes. She scoffs because she knows it’s all an act, but also because she knows he’ll regret this later, when he’s on his second denial and begging her to just ‘please, baby let me come’. She knows he’ll regret it.
“No? This is how we’re doing it tonight? Alright then.” She loves it when Harry is soft and submissive and just does whatever she wants off the bat, but she can’t deny the fun in making him submit. She knows he loves it too.
Harry, is on cloud nine, he loves this, he lives for it. Being forced to submit, making her hurt him. Gives him a high like no other, really gets him going. Sometimes he regrets being smart with her when he’s on third orgasm, or his third denied orgasm, but still, he loves it."
Morning After: in which you wake up next to harry after your first night together. ☆❁
or
"They had sex for the first time.
In no way were they virgins, but it was just as special as anyone’s first time. She had been holding off on having sex with anyone since her last relationship, scared to give all she had to someone only for them to hurt her and walk away like her ex did. She never wanted to feel that pain again.
She was dead-set on becoming a nun before Harry found her and swept her off her feet. He loved and cared for her, showing her he would never hurt her like her ex did. It took some time, but she finally learned to trust Harry. And as soon as her walls broke down, she loved and trusted him fully. She gave her all to him.
Harry wasn’t expecting from her, he just wanted to love her. So when the opportunity came to love on her, there’s no way he could’ve passed that up."
Piper: in which sub-harry let's go. ☆❁
or
"Piper shakes her head at his pout and opens her mouth to speak, “I have an idea.“
Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his pout lessens a little bit, “wha’ is it?” He’s talking slower and thicker due to how overcome with lust he is and Piper fight the urge to shift her thighs at the sound of it.
“Well…” she pauses to give him a slow kiss, “you’ve been working so hard lately, been so good. Was thinking I could dedicate a night to just you. Hmm? Make you cum so hard you see stars?”
Harry’s mouth parts slightly at her words and he tries to prevent his eyes from rolling back into his head at the butterflies that just swarmed through every part of his body."
Alexa: in which you're an assistant for one direction ❁♪
or
"“Do you want a coffee or something? I feel weird just standing here without getting you something…” Alexa mumbles and Harry’s face falls. Her words served a (very) painful reminder that she just worked for him. She was forced to be around him. Doesn’t mean she liked him. After all she only came up to him because Niall told her he needed help with something. Harry feels pathetic.
“No…no thank you.” he murmurs and Alexa nods quickly and turns on her heel to walk away.
Harry doesn’t understand why he can’t just talk to her. Every other “employee” feels like a friend (or even family) to him. Why can’t he cross that line with the one person he wants to?"
She: in which we dream with harry ❁☆♪
or
"The drive of his life, where his passion is derived from. He wouldn’t be where he is without her.
Some people may say it’s foolish to be so codependent on a dream, but he doesn’t see anything wrong with it. As long as he keeps seeing her when he closes his eyes, he’s at peace.
He imagines the color of her skin, the smoothness of her body, the volume of her hair, the sound of her voice. Every day he imagines it all. Every day he dreams about it."
Laura: in which you've had enough. ♪♪
or
"She hates herself for feeling weak, for showing him any emotion. She’s stuck between wanting him to know that he’s hurting her and not wanting to give him the power to know that he has any affect on her at all.
“You keep acting like you didn’t know how it was going to b-” Harry starts, but Laura interjects with an angry incredulous tone, feeling like if this were a cartoon you would surely see the steam coming out from her ears.
“Are you kidding me? This isn’t how it was when it first started, even when you were doing the first album, hell, even when you were on fucking tour! This is an us thing, this isn’t just a ‘studio’ thing and you know it!”
blurbs/asks:
sub ceo harry ❁☆
friends to lovers h ❁❁
sex with h headcannons ☆❁
friends to lovers angst ♪❁
sub bestfriendrry finding your vibe ☆❁
request that's basically just porn (lol) ☆☆
subby co-worker harry ☆☆
enjoy to all your heart's content. love you loads and loads. kisses. 🤍
Hey! It would be so nice if you could write something I had in mind for a while. Ceo Harry who’s like always in control of everything but behind closed doors with his girlfriend he gets all shy and submissive. (If you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t wanna write it it’s alright :) 🫶🏼)
apologies for this being so short, migraines are kicking my butt but i didn't want to go so long without posting/answering your request :(. please don't hesitate to let me know if you'd like a part two though <3
There’s a small knowing grin on your face as you watch him through the large window of his office as he berates one of his employees. You roll your eyes at his tone and chuckle softly to yourself. You turn around when you feel a soft tap on your shoulder and a smile is brought to your face when you recognize the touch as Harry’s secretary. She’s young for the job, fresh out of university but incredibly intelligent with a strong work ethic. She’s also so incredibly kind.
“I would absolutely not go in there if I were you,” she warns, making you furrow your eyebrows and pout in confusion, “that guy he’s yelling at, messed up a couple reports that set us back big time. He’s pissed.” Your mouth opens in an “o”, understanding the situation. A small smile comes to your face, knowing that she’s just trying to help.
“I am not afraid of my husband, no matter how grumpy he can be.” you laugh softly and she looks to the ground and blushes softly with a smile on her face as if she’s scared to speak ill of her boss.
The smile stays on her face as she speaks, “well good luck then, Mrs. Styles. You can always ring me if you need anything.” she walks away and you notice that the yelling has stopped. You take it as your opportunity to knock softly on the door and Harry’s head instantly shoots up, his eyes softening in recognition when he sees you. You open the door and smile at the employee, who almost looks scared to make eye contact with you.
“I hope I’m not interrupting, I brought you some lunch.” you make your way over to Harry with a small smile and place the food down on the wood table. You decide to make light of the obvious tension in the room and speak sarcastically, “everything okay in here?”
Harry rolls his eyes but you can see him look down to stifle a laugh.
“You’re dismissed.” He tells the employee and you watch as he scurries away.
Everyone in the office knows to steer clear of Harry when you come in, no one dares to bother him or come to his door, and even if it’s important, they opt for a call or an email.
The second the door is closed you look back at Harry and run your fingers through his hair. His entire demeanor melts into the soft one you’re so familiar with, “what have I told you about yelling at people like that, honey?” you reprimand him gently.
“He fucked up an entire weeks worth of work, my love.” He looks up at you softly, his eyes pleading. The poor baby is always so eager for your approval. He brings his arms up to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him so his head can rest on your stomach.
“I’m sorry you’ve had a bad day, honey. Would you like me to make it better?”
In an instant, his frame softens even more. The implication of your statement making him fall deeper into that submissive state you always seem to get him in. And he loves it, he truly does. He loves how he’s able to relinquish control with you. With the job he has, it feels like he always needs to be in control of everything, but with you, he can just let go. He can let go of all his stress and tension and just get lost in you.
“Please…” he sighs, his arms tightening around your waist, “please make it better.”
You pout in sympathy at his desperation and continue to run your fingers through his soft hair, “the second you get home, honey. Can you be patient for me?”
He nods quickly and eagerly, still clinging to you. You can tell it might be hard for him to let you go today, but if he avoids the work he has to do it’ll only grow in size. You pat his arm slightly as a signal to let you go, you feel him hesitate, but he obeys, and you look down at him to give him an approving smile.
“You’re just so good for me, aren’t you?”
Harry opens the front door softly, his mood having improved since this morning. He’s been thinking about you the whole day, thinking about your touch and how you promised to make him feel better. He hasn’t been able to think about anything else. Even his secretary commented on how distracted he seemed.
He walks further into the house, placing his keys on the counter. He calls your name softly and frowns when you don’t answer.
He keeps walking until he reaches your shared bedroom and his eyes instantly widen at the sight of you, clad in the most beautiful piece he’s ever seen.
He doesn’t remember buying you that one, but he doesn’t even dwell on that thought considering how beautiful you look.
“H-hi,” he whispers, he walks up to you and his expression is pleading, “touch?” he asks softly. You smile gently at him and you nod, he wastes no time bringing his hand up to your body. He drags his knuckle softly down the material of your bra and sucks in a sharp breath.
“You’re really pretty” he keeps his voice quiet and low and you melt as his sweet words and the way he reacts to you.
“You’re just as pretty, angel,” you respond. He softly shakes his head and you pout, standing up to press your lips to his. He fully immerses himself in the kiss and his hands shoot up to grab at your waist.
“Still want me to make it better?” you pull back from his lips to ask, watching his hazy, half-lidded eyes.
Harry shifted on his knees to face the camera, forced to look directly into it as Y/N gripped his hair tightly, her other hand holding his jaw, her fingers pressing into his cheeks hard enough to make his lips pucker a little. His pupils were blown wide, cheeks red, chin wet with saliva, chest rising and falling a little quicker than usual with every pant that left his mouth. Multiple messages were coming in quickly, he could hear each one ping, and his eyes scanned over them, every word only stoking the fire burning deep inside of him.
He could still taste her on his tongue, his hunger yearning for just another taste. He wanted to hold onto her thighs as he kneeled beneath her, listening to her soft moans and whimpers that contrasted her rough hands that would grip his hair and slap his face. The pain would only make him moan and smile.
“You get to choose what to do with him this time.” Y/N spoke directly to the viewers, and instantly the amount of messages that came in increased significantly. She laughed a little from each little ping! that came out, letting go of Harry’s hair and instead stroking one of his cheeks as she read through the messages, waiting for one she liked. “You can choose anything, you already know he’ll like it no matter what. Isn’t that right?”
She gave his cheek a few light slaps and he nodded in response, letting out a small sound of surprise when she pushed two fingers into his mouth afterwards, eagerly licking over them to get them wet. He felt like such a dog, following her every order since she taught him to.
Y/N was never seen by the camera whenever they did this. All that she ever showed was her lower half—yet sometimes she still felt like the main star of the show, despite having her full attention on Harry and him only. Sometimes they would set up two cameras, one to show Harry’s face, and one to show the rest of his lower body to watch him writhe and to see how twisted his face could get.
“When you pay good money, I’ll do yours before the others. Does that sound good?” You could practically hear the smile in her voice and Harry had heat rising to his cheeks, excitedly waiting for the donations to come in.
“Are you okay?” She asks, “I didn’t take too much, did I?”
Harry smiled softly, “No, not at all,” he answered truthfully, “Do you feel better?”
She looks sheepish; shy, when she leans toward him, turning her head to the side and pressing her ear flush to his chest. It was similar to the first time, though he thinks there’s less fear now than there was then, from her end. Harry thinks she might just feel better hearing his heartbeat afterward, proof that she hadn’t taken too much blood. He doesn’t mind it at all, though that isn’t much of a surprise coming from him.
There was relief in the way she sighed, loosening her grip on his wrist, “I feel a lot better,” she answered, running the back of her hand over her mouth, “Like I’m not g’na Jasper someone if they get a papercut in front of me.” Y/N looked down at his wrist again, the two little spots where her teeth had been, no longer weeping, “You promise it didn’t hurt?”
“I promise,” Harry feels like he could float the rest of the way up the stairs.
or
Harry is touch starved and Y/N makes him feel so warm
(19k+ words)
i.
Harry has been cold all day.
When his eyes peeled open that morning, he was meant with the icy tone of sunlight pouring into his room from curtains he must have forgotten to close the night before. The brand new sheets around him did nothing to reflect his body heat, crisp and numbing as they sat above him stiff rather than melting around his body as his normal ones did. He grits his teeth to keep them from chattering, a brisk wind billows his curtains away from the window and he’s struck with the realization that he’d left it open. And of course, when he pressed himself from the mattress and swung his legs over the side, the house slippers he typically keeps tucked together neatly right in front of his nightstand – weren’t there.
It’s unlike Harry to deviate from his normal nighttime routine which would have had most of this in order, but he’d been distracted last night. Sometimes he got like that – his brain ventured into places it probably shouldn’t, spiraling into so many things that it was hard to keep his head straight. It depends on the day, how he might tackle the sudden onslaught of intrusive memories trying to dig themselves from the recesses of his brain. If it’s mild, then he finds comfort in pattern and order; the system he works with inside of his home works for him and it quiets an already hectic mind. If it’s a. . .harder day, then to hell with his system, and to hell with order. He gets caught up in cleaning the baseboards for hours and scrubbing between the tiles in the bathroom, or emptying his entire bookshelf and reorganizing it by author instead of series.
Yesterday was harder – it just was sometimes. And now present Harry has to deal with past Harry’s crimes, so he’s pretty irritated about it.
Even after closing his window, cranking his heat, and taking a warm shower – Harry was still cold. He would be worried he was catching a fever but he knew that mostly it was in his head; this bitter feeling would remain bone deep until he could wriggle out of the funk he was in. Ice chips threaten to form around his lungs in crystals to make it hard to breathe, but he fights past that with the exercises his therapist taught him. Better than ignoring the feeling was to address it, he knew that, but who has time to dig through trauma when they need to be at work in a little under an hour?
So he has to settle for being cold today. Fitting enough, his mum messages Wear a scarf, it’s chilly – and he picks the one she knitted him last year. He thinks it might help settle his brain a bit; his mum is amazing at working needles and yarn together to make something beautiful while still being functional. He knew this lovely ornate design must have taken a lot of concentration and dedication to complete so beautifully over more than 100 rows of looping over loops. Though his mum probably doesn’t even have to pay much attention at this point – she’d been doing it for so long, made to knit around the time she was 16. The reason why she was made to knit was a part of the reason why Harry was all out of sorts today, so he tries not to reflect on it too much. He’s just happy she still can find joy in something that used to be a chore, and pleased by all the lovely gifts he receives periodically throughout the year, always preparing for the winter.
It’s warm around his nose and cheeks, thick enough to cover his neck and half of his face. The navy wool yarn protects his face from a biting wind nearly blowing him over when he stepped outside. If he had a companion he would have curled into their side by now, pressed into their body to siphon some of the warmth that emanates from them. He doesn’t though, of course. . so he relies on the synthetic warmth and love from the scarf around his neck and pretends his heart doesn’t yearn for it.
Even after drinking his coffee, getting to work, walking up eight flights of stairs to his floor, and settling into his cubicle – there’s a coating of frost over his skin. It would be one of those days, he guesses, which was frustrating but at least he was realizing it now. Then he knew what to expect from it. . .knew what his feelings might be.
Harry was lonely.
It was sad, but that was the truth. He really had nobody besides his mum and his sister, but even then he couldn’t be honest with them – they worry enough as is, and have their own issues to work through, so Harry avoids adding any additional weight to an already loaded plate. His mother would just blame herself for it and Harry couldn’t stand for her to carry any more guilt on her shoulders than she already does; it’s why he pretends to be a perfectly well-adjusted adult whenever they speak. It’s why he pretends that he’s got a fruitful, fulfilling social life with plenty of friends and very little time to himself.
But it was a well-crafted and pathetic lie. Harry had never had many friends, and every chance at making them was always thwarted by something that he was sure would loom over him for the rest of his life.
Harry was born into a cult.
It was. . weird. Harry didn’t have many memories from that time, but the ones he did have were nonsensical and a bit dark. Sometimes he doesn’t know if what he remembers are actually his memories, or if he’d just overheard his sister explaining her night terrors to their mum. He’d rather not know, for sure. He tries to think about it as little as possible to avoid cracking into a time so miserable for his family, though that doesn’t stop the glimmers and echoes of words he’d heard or things he’d seen. Like light trying to slice through frosted glass, some make it through and others bounce off, reflecting back to the sky.
They left when he was about 5 years old; his hair hadn’t even been long enough to curl yet and his skin was still soft. He was little, dressed in a long white smock and matching booties when his mum woke him in the middle of the night. Harry isn’t sure what stirred the urgency she felt for them to leave right then and she never offers an explanation above “it was time” so Harry doesn’t press any further. She picked him up and held his sister's hand as they snuck from their cabin with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and his teddy bear and ran through forests and fields for what had felt like hours. An aunt that he’d never met waited for them in a car idle on the side of the road, Harry was stuffed in a cramped backseat with his sister who pulled him into her lap and buckled them both together.
Then Harry’s memory fizzles after that, and gets hazy. What he does know is that somehow it was public knowledge that Harry had escaped with his family from a cult – he suspects his mum had told the school counselor, or maybe his teacher at the time. He also suspects that instead of keeping it a secret, maybe they told the children that Harry’s background is different from their own. Or worse, maybe they told the parents what the first five years of his life had looked like up to that point. That would make more sense, considering there’s no way a child would understand what Harry growing up in a cult meant because they were between 5-6 years old and they didn’t know much more than Kipper and Paddington Bear.
But if their parents told them to stay away from him. If their parents told them that Harry was weird, different, and dangerous like he’d had any choice in what he was born into. . .then he guesses that might explain why he was treated so poorly early on.
He tries not to think about it, but it’s hard not to, sometimes, when that’s part of the reason why he’s so lonely now. It’s rather difficult to cultivate friendships when he’d missed a critical time in childhood learning how to create interpersonal relationships. Now he isn’t even sure where to start, what to do, how to do it without coming off as weird. Anytime he feels the itch under his skin to finally try and start a conversation with his cubicle neighbor, he feels a cold sweat build on the back of his neck and he almost instantly clams up and recedes into his head.
It’d be easier if he didn’t want it – some people are like that. Perfectly content with being alone and even prefer it that way, no matter how well-adjusted of an upbringing they had. If Harry was like that then maybe he could take all of this in stride, but he wasn’t. At the end of the day, a tender-hearted child grew into an even more tenderhearted adult. Harry is someone who craves physical contact – he absolutely thrives from it, so to seldom receive it is hard. It leaves him feeling even colder, on the days there is verglas on his insides.
Only at noon does Harry start to feel a little better. His job is. . .a job. He’s a financial data analyst so the majority of his morning is silently crunching numbers and listening to his coworkers discuss their weekends. First dates, day trips, nights drinking – things that Harry had never experienced so he lives vicariously through their stories (then if his mum ever asks what he does with his work friends, he could lie efficiently and effectively). By the time they all get ready to clock out for lunch, Harry knows that Niall – his cubicle neighbor – wants to get his asshole bleached and Mora, his other cubicle neighbor – is offering to do the bleaching.
He’s returning from lunch when things take a shift. Harry always leaves for lunch, at the bistro down the street, which is so used to seeing his face that they already have his order typed in before he gets there. The cashiers are always very kind to him and speak with him casually, which is nice. Harry has an easy time speaking to people in small doses, in scenarios where he can easily leave if it seems like they dislike him, or think he’s awkward. It’s nice talking to workers at stores because there’s not a lot expected out of the interactions, they’re brief, and Harry doesn’t have much to overthink afterward. And even that small interaction with the nice older woman behind the counter was enough to lift his spirits a bit. Made him think about how he was going to go home and light a candle, something warm and cinnamon-y, and maybe he could finish making the hat he’d been working on (he was much less adept with yarn as his mother is, but he is decent enough and it’s a hobby that he likes).
Harry takes the stairs to his floor often. There were a lot of floors in his building so the lift typically moved slowly but part of him knows he avoided it because he’d convinced himself he made people uncomfortable with his presence. So he tries his best not to. . .impose his existence on people too often. That means not trapping them in a 6 to 7-foot space for the time it takes the car to stop at the eighth floor. He doesn’t mind the stairs – it’s a nice little workout after his sandwich and he thinks, after a year of working here, his bum had started looking pretty good.
Today, however, when he pushes into the stairwell – he hears a groan.
It was small, but the rising, empty walls echoed it louder than he thought must have been intended. Harry pauses for a second, hands still, where once he’d been sliding his phone back into his pocket and the other held the rest of his fruit tea, the straw tucked into his mouth. The door slammed shut behind him as he looked forward, where he knew an alcove sat beneath the first flight of stairs. The building janitors kept their extra brooms there – he’d investigated once – but that’s about it, so it was a good area to come and have a panic attack (or 2, or 3). Nobody ever used these stairs anyway, because they’re further away from the lobby – it’s for that reason Harry always comes to them, and he’s maybe run into someone once (twice??) before.
Harry thinks he should mind his business – he’s spent his fair share of time in that same spot and the last thing he wanted was someone peeping in on his mental breakdown. But just as soon as he takes another step toward the railing, another groan – this one a little longer. They sounded like they were in pain, which was harder to ignore than the tiny sound from before. There was a twist in his gut that told him something was wrong, and when the groan turned into a whimper, he swallowed hard, then cleared his throat – his palms felt clammy already.
“Um – hello?” He called out to them, “Are you – I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, but. . .do you need some help?”
Silence sizzles in the space around them, the buzz of fluorescent lights stripped along the walls the only sound. Harry waited for 30 seconds, wondering if whoever the person was didn’t want to be bothered or if he’d just had an auditory hallucination. He’s about to apologize and start booking it up the stairs to give them their privacy, but he hears movement. Clothes readjusting, the sound of a broomstick knocking into the wall – his face feels hot, thinking maybe he’d walked in on something more intimate than he’d imagined until a head pops out from around the wall.
The woman he recognized instantly – someone from the other side of his floor. Harry didn’t know her name but he knew her face and had even seen her this morning, dropping off a stack of papers to Niall’s desk while he was at the coffee machine. Right now, her hair is mussed on top of her head, no longer the neat style that he’d seen only a few hours ago. Her clothes look disheveled like she’d been pulling at the fabric, and the careful tuck of her sweater is pulled from the skirt she’d donned. Her eyes wide, distressed, her bottom lip tucked between two fretted teeth and she looks like she just might chew right through it.
At the sight of her, Harry typically feels nothing. He knew relatively little about her – didn’t even know her name.
But right now? His heart speeds up in his chest and the blood in his veins runs icy, different from the lonely feeling he’d been struggling with throughout his morning. This type of chill is ripe with fear, slithering up his spine like a gelid serpent, forcing him to stand straighter. The hair at his nape stands on the end, goosebumps dotted insect eggs along his skin. This reaction is unsettling, to say the least; such a primal response of distress that his body was begging him to listen to. Even the muscles in his legs twitched, beckoning him to run, but he was frozen in place as she stepped around the corner.
“Ahh, this is. . .sorry,” she takes a step closer to him, then trips over her feet – she’s quick to find her balance again, her smile sheepish though it didn’t reach her eyes at all, “I’m just sort of starving right now.”
Harry stares at her, as she steps closer to him again, her fingers curled around the hem of her sweater and pulling at the knit, “Oh,” he replies, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, fighting every alarm that is alerting his brain of danger. Why would she be dangerous? She’s just his coworker, right? There’s nothing – from what he’s been able to see, there’s nothing weird about her besides seeming frazzled and a little sick. What was weird, was the fact that Harry was speaking to someone in a matter that wasn’t for transactional purposes. Harry can’t remember the last time he’d spoken to someone who wasn’t a store clerk or a barista or hostess of some kind, who wasn’t his mum or his sister. The whole thing felt foreign, the words weird on his tongue as he inquired, “Did you want me to go get you something?” Is that a normal thing to offer? If she’s starving, he thinks it should be, but was it weird to offer someone you don’t know food?
She takes another step forward, and then another. Before Harry can comprehend it, she’s standing toe-to-toe with him, and her hands reach out for his arms – her grip is strong, almost bone-crushing, how tightly she holds him. He hisses, his body finally responds to his brain’s incessant panic when he jolts back but it’s much too late now. With how she looked, Harry halfway expected her to feel hot and feverish but she was ice cold. It seeps through the fabric of his long sleeves, biting and bitter.
“Sorry,” she murmured again, closing in the distance. She smells so sweet, like vanilla and artificial strawberries. Harry can’t remember the last time he’d been this close to someone, or if he’d ever been that close to someone, to be able to smell them like this. “I hate doing this, I really do, I just –” the tip of her nose touches his throat, freezing like she had no blood running through her. If the cold Harry felt all day was more of a mental sensation, then hers was the physical manifestation of it.
Harry should pull away. Should yank as hard as he could, with all of his might, from her hands that skate up his forearms to his biceps, and press him into the concrete wall. He should dodge it when her lips graze against his drumming pulse, scramble away from her, slam himself into the door, and run out back into the lobby.
But he doesn’t move. Not even when he feels two sharp pinpricks against his throat, he doesn’t budge apart from a small grimace from the initial pinch.
It’s pathetic, how he melts into it. To be held like this pressed chest-to-chest with a stranger, it feels nice. . .it feels so fucking nice.
Through a bleary, content daze he realizes that she’s drinking from him. There’s no trying to understand what all of this meant, only the warm, glowy feeling that spreads from his throat, down to his chest, swallowing up his belly and tangling down his limbs. He’d never felt something like this before, how it thaws out his insides and washes away the chill that had troubled him all day. He revels in this novel feeling. Though he’s certain, even if he wanted to – even if he tried – he wouldn’t be able to remove himself from her hold. The grip she has on him is stronger than anything he’s experienced before, but he guesses that doesn’t amount to much, since nobody’s normally holding him in place. It feels like he should be able to wiggle out though – she doesn’t look as strong as she is.
It was impressive and not human, kind of like the way she was drinking the blood from his throat. He has no choice but to accept it for now.
Harry is unsure how long she drinks from him. He just knew that he started feeling lightheaded, his mind swimming in continuous loops and circles when she finally pulled away. The sound of her swallowing down what was left in her mouth makes him shiver, along with the warm puff of air that she breathes over what he could only imagine is a weeping, bleeding wound.
“Fuck,” she murmured, seemingly to herself, and then she comes back into view of him, away from his throat. Her mouth is stained pink from his blood, but she seemed. . .well, she looked a lot better. Color had returned to her face, her eyes less dull, brighter as she regarded him worriedly, “God, I’m stupid, sorry, sorry, could you – could you maybe keep this a secret?”
He blinked at her, trying to tell his mouth to move but it didn’t want to. This seemed to bring more stress to her, as she cursed again, then guided him (and she must be pretty strong because Harry is nothing but additional weight to her – he’s not helping much at all) until he was underneath the stairs where she’d been hiding before. She leaned forward, pushed her ear against his chest, and listened for a little while. Harry, once more, feels awfully pathetic at the way his whole body lights up from it, “Your heart sounds good, so I’m going to get you cranberry juice! Yeah, that should – that should help. I don’t think I took enough to do any like – real damage. Right?”
“Tha’s good,” he slurred, and she winced, and cursed again.
“Ah, shit! Shit, okay, yes, juice! I’ll get you some juice and then we’ll – I don’t know what we’ll do. I’ll get you some juice though.” She stepped back, and Harry bit down on a sad noise, forcing himself not to pout when her hands left him. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall, “Wait here okay? I’ll be right back.”
Harry doesn’t think he could move right now if he tried. This isn’t the worst feeling though; remnants of the warmth he’d been given before still glow through his body. Harry feels. . .good, despite losing some blood, and despite his understanding of the mortal world being skewed in the last five or so minutes. He could still feel the places she was holding tightly to him, the way her nose warmed against his skin the more she drank, and how nice it felt to have her ear pressed against his chest.
He doesn’t care how pathetic it is. . .he savors it.
. . .
She deposits Harry in the infirmary, where Harry is wrapped with a blanket around his shoulders and still sipping cranberry juice. She told the nurse on duty that she found him passed out in the stairwell and assumed he had fainted, and when he came to, he told her he was anemic. . .allegedly. Harry knows what really happened, but when she looks at him to corroborate her story, he nods.
“My iron is very low,” he lies, and he feels the tension seep from Y/N’s bones almost instantly.
The nurse doesn’t seem like she’d care whether or not Harry’s iron was actually low, or if it was because Y/N drank from his throat. She only barely looks up from her phone before nudging her head to one of the beds, “Pick whichever bed and close the curtain,” she tells them, popping her airpod back in her ear, “Let me know if you need more juice.”
She was the one to guide him to the first bed, furthest from where the nurse sat but closest to a window, sunlight pouring in. She yanks the curtain around them, places his satchel and scarf in the chair beside him neatly, then puts a hand to her forehead like she’s exasperated, “Christ, you know she gets paid, like way more than either of us to do that all day?” She whispered, standing close to him – she touched him so casually when her fingers met his chin and tilted his head so he bore his throat toward her, “They’ve already closed up, thank god – it just looks like a hickey now. How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” he replied, pursing his lips around the straw and taking another drink, but then added, “Dizzy.”
“I know, poor thing,” she pouted her mouth like she wasn’t the reason he felt this way, “I really didn’t mean to take so much, I was just – this is all new to me.”
Harry is a little confused about why she says it like he should know what she’s talking about, but he feels a pleasant buzz where her fingers have laid, “Oh,” he replies lamely, and concern deposits right back on her face again.
“Are you always a man of so few words or did I break you?” The only reply Harry could have given her was that he was in such a daze from not only what had happened, but from how inexplicably good it felt. He would be thinking about it for days to come, maybe even weeks, and he’s still not entirely sure what’s going on. Was it pitiful that his coworker just drank his blood with the strength of four bodybuilders to pin him down, but all he could think about was how nice it felt to be touched? It was, but. . .well, fuck it, he liked it.
Before he could fumble through an explanation, Y/N’s phone buzzed in her hand. She jumped, cursed under her breath, and looked at the screen before her eyes blew wide, “Ah, shit I’m late,” she looked back at him, her hand resting on his knee, “Listen, I – I can try to explain this later. I’ll tell our floor manager the same story I told her, yeah? Take as much time as you need down here.”
“My name –” he began, “Um – so that you can tell them who I am, my name is –”
“Harry,” she looked at him, brows knitted, “Yeah, I know that already.”
He blinks at her, surprised and wordless and she must think he’s so awkward because of the lack of blood that his bone marrow is working in overdrive to replace because she uses two fingers to push at his chest, “Lay down for a while.” The push is more like a shove, and she grimaces around an apology before patting his leg, rearranging the blanket so that it doesn’t dangle over the cot, instead flopping clumsily around his knees, “I’ll see you later.”
Harry watches her leave, his eyes heavy.
. . .
Harry doesn’t see her again that day. His floor manager is the one who draws the curtains the second time, offering him a pity-filled smile, “I wish you would have said you weren’t feeling well,” he (Milo, was his name – he was nice enough and never made Harry feel uncomfortable, but they didn’t really talk either) stepped inside, wringing his hands around the phone between his palms, “Y/N told me you fainted?”
He swallowed, “Yes,” it’s not that much of a lie – he nearly fainted and there was a specific reason why that had nothing to do with a sudden ailment, but he keeps it to himself, “I have. . .low iron.”
“Try eating a steak,” Milo jokes, before shaking his head, “Or there are loads of supplements for that, Mate, but hey – that doesn’t help you right now, does it? I’m g’na send you home so you can rest up and we’ll give you tomorrow so that you can hopefully get in to see your doctor.”
Harry sits himself up, still a little shaky, “Oh,” he breathes out, “I haven’t finished analyzing the weekly report yet, though.”
“Seriously, don’t worry about that,” he assured him, “Everyone’s been working hard lately – it’s been a busy month for us, but the employees’ health is of utmost importance and always comes first. Take these two days and try to feel better, yeah? Do you have someone to come pick you up for the day?”
“Yes,” Harry lies again.
All that Harry takes from this conversation is that he gets to go home early and that the woman from the stairwell is named Y/N. He does what he thinks anyone would have done with that information, and after (very slowly) slipping the blanket off his shoulders, folding it carefully, placing it back on the cot, and gathering his things – he goes home. Harry would consider himself a hard worker, but work was not his whole life – if he was given the chance to have a half day then he was going to take it. Besides, he didn’t think resting in the infirmary any longer was going to make him feel better enough to finish out several more hours here.
Believe him, he wanted to speak to Y/N. Or, rather, he wanted her to speak at him and explain what it was that he’d just experienced while Harry tried his best to accept it. Then he wanted to ask her, in a less perverted-sounding way, why it felt so nice after she had her teeth in his throat. If that was what it felt like every time she bit someone, and if there was a way to savor that somehow. He’d assume that her body releases some type of. . .venom, in her bite, to make her prey loose and compliant with her as she sucks them dry. Was it possible to bottle the substance? Could he inject it into himself somehow? If it meant feeling so utterly warm, then he would spend whatever the cost.
Once he’s home, Harry is too tired to try and make a meal so he orders one instead. While waiting, he eats a small snack before getting in a warm bath, letting the heat resonate in his bones. He keeps the telly on in the living room so there’s noise in his flat apart from the heater rattling to life occasionally, and the whip of his ceiling fans keeping the air from sitting stagnant. The bath he can only stand for so long before it starts to feel too cramped and a small sweat builds up on his brow, but with how he shivered this morning, he’d take anything over it.
(When Harry went to retrieve his food from the delivery driver down in the lobby, he felt goosebumps dot up his spine – like someone was watching him, apart from the disenchanted UNI student holding his burger. He decides that he’s being paranoid, but still scurries back up to his flat, makes sure the curtains are closed, and his door is double-locked.)
Harry’s sheets feel less stiff than they did this morning, but that’s partly because he stuffed them into the dryer before he got in the tub. After he took them out they were so soft and warm, he crawled into the bed and felt the covers melt over his body. It’s really nice.
It’s pretty easy to find Y/N on social media. Harry’s cubicle neighbor Niall’s last name was Horan, and he’s the third profile down on Instagram and the self-proclaimed socialite of their floor. He finds Y/N almost instantly pops up but her profile is private. He couldn’t find her on Twitter, but he does find a LinkedIn page and that tells him nothing more than her job history, but he has his best luck with Facebook, in the Photos of Y/N section.
She seems very normal. Not like someone who might be a vampire, or a demon, or anything that might drink and survive off blood. But from her earlier words, it sounded like this might be a recent development for her.
I really didn’t mean to take so much, I was just – this is all new to me.
Y/N had seemed so regretful that he believed her; he didn’t believe it to be a ploy of any kind to get him to let his guard down. Honestly, with how lonely he was, it’d probably be fairly easy to manipulate him but he gets a feeling in his gut that she isn’t the type to. Maybe it was silly to make such an assumption based on 15 or so minutes of interaction, but he already had.
Chewing on his bottom lip, the pads of Harry’s fingers dance along the spot she bit. The flesh is still tender and bruised, but if he presses on it. . .it feels kind of good. To try and look anything up about what he’d experienced would have been useless unless Harry wanted his search history to be filled with film and literary depictions of humans that suck blood. He thinks it would be difficult to find anything of value, so he doesn’t bother.
He fell asleep like that, with his fingers to his throat, remembering how her hands felt on his arms.
. . .
A week goes by without anything.
The day after it happened, Harry did take it off. He doesn’t go to the doctor, but he does take it easy for the day and does his weekly scroll through an adoption center’s page of all the dogs in need of a home (one day he’ll do it, he thinks – it would be nice to have something to love him unconditionally, so long as he takes care of them how they need, physically, emotionally, etc.). He feels. . .light that day, in a way that he hadn’t in a while, so he utilizes it to the fullest. He calls his mum to talk to her for a while and learns her new husband is taking her to see the Halloween decorations (he’s sweet, very respectful of their individual traumas with how they were raised, and maybe the least manipulative man he’s ever witnessed which Harry likes – it made him feel okay leaving her alone with him when he moved from home). He goes grocery shopping, then even decides to amble around an art and craft supply store for a while. He tries a new recipe for Shepherd's pie, checks the adoption page again, then watches Twilight because. . .well, why not?
When he goes back to work the following day, it’s Friday and everyone is buzzing in a good mood. He sees Y/N briefly, but he doesn’t go out of his way to make eye contact with her. Harry didn’t want to seem forceful or seem as desperate for answers as he was. Whatever it is that’s going on with her, she’s probably very. . .nervous about telling him. He’d let her do it at her own pace.
The weekend comes and goes, still with no answers, but he didn't expect any.
He would say that the feeling of someone watching him from the first night had remained. Not all the time, mostly after work, when he was walking from his car to the lobby door. And then again, when he was walking inside of work several times from the parking garage. It never felt sinister, but it was still unnerving and hard to ignore. Anytime he turns around expecting to see someone staring at him from behind a car, the feeling almost instantly disappears. It’s very confusing.
Harry had started to make his peace about potentially never finding out, and the whole situation eventually being attributed to a hyper-realistic fever dream when, in fact, Harry is actually low on iron. Sometimes, briefly, he wondered if maybe that was it. The only thing that convinces him it wasn’t some elaborate hallucination is the pictures he’d taken of his throat after, the small, hickey-like bruise left from her biting and sucking at the tender skin of his neck. There was no other way for him to have received such a mark, with two little spots that teeth clearly had dug into and the size of the spot roughly the width of Y/N’s mouth if she was pursing her lips (he’d been on her page. . .maybe for a little too long, trying to find any indication that she wasn’t human, but then he was just studying pictures of her for an hour before he started feeling like a creep and closed her page). It had completely healed over by now, not even a pink spot where the bruise had been.
The weather is frosty when Harry comes back from lunch on Thursday, nipping his nose pink on the way from his car back to the building. He had taken the stairs from the parking garage to the lobby and the cold, thin air made it difficult to catch his breath. When he gets to the stairwell he always takes to his floor, he’s regretting not bringing a thicker coat with him today, fooled by the weatherman’s promise of sun on what could not have been a more dreary day.
Harry presses inside the door, listening to the familiar echo of the creaking hinges and its push bar sliding against itself. Then he listened to the unfamiliar sound of someone saying his name before his foot could reach the first step.
“Harry, wait –” he startled first, a sharp inhale sucked through his nose when he darted his hand out to grab the railing so he wouldn’t fall. His heart immediately started to hammer, but when he turned to see Y/N emerging from the dark corner, the tension eased from his shoulders.
He cleared his throat, “Oh, it’s you,” he replied lamely.
She grimaced, pulling herself further from the shadows. Harry had seen her briefly this morning, in a white blouse with a soft, brown cardigan that was now tied around her waist. Her skirt is a dark color, falling mid-thigh, and her hair is pulled neatly from her face. When she isn’t starving, she looks very put together, Harry noted – she rarely seems rumpled or unkempt.
“Yeah, I’m – I’m sorry,” she frowned, “I wanted to talk to you about. . what happened, but I kept getting so embarrassed. I kind of figured you would bring it up to me and it would save me the stress of trying to broach the topic, but you are like. . .way too blase.”
Harry’s brows knitted as he observed her. Darting around, her eyes don’t settle in one place for long, and she keeps rubbing her hands against the cardigan like her palms are sweaty. He thinks if he pressed his ear to her chest, similar to what she had done to him, then her heart would be beating a rapid, bunny-like tune (if she had one, that is – he remembered something in vampire lore about them not needing one). There’s a distant, hollow ache in his chest when he notes the fear in her eyes. A rolling memory from childhood that slithers from the depths of a box he’d long locked away – how people used to avoid eye contact with him in middle school, their hackles raising if they accidentally did. How he could brainwash someone with a single glance, he wouldn’t know, but they all sure acted like he could.
“Did you want me to act differently?” He inquired, feeling himself frown.
Y/N scratched at the back of her head, “I mean – not necessarily. All things considered, it really works out for me that you aren’t reacting appropriately to this,” she gestured around them wildly, “But like – I’m bad at making the first move, so –” That makes two of us, Harry wanted to say, but he doesn’t – he doesn’t feel like it’s appropriate to interject when she’s finally opening up, “--so anyway, about like. . .what happened that day. Um, so recently I think I’ve been turned into a vampire.”
They blink at each other.
Harry is. . .well, he doesn’t know how he feels. Part of him thinks that much is obvious, the whole being hungry and biting into his neck with sharp teeth then drinking his blood – kind of gave that away. The other part of him hadn’t expected her just to come outright and say it though – he thinks there's supposed to be some big long dramatic lead-in from all the film he’s consumed and the literature. If he’s to go by Twilight’s example then Y/N is supposed to take him to a forest with trees as tall as skyscrapers and make him submit his evidence in thesis format about how he found out what she was.
This is much more anticlimactic than that – enough so, that the only response Harry’s brain can think to spit out is.
“Oh,” the furrow in his brow relaxes as he pinches at the hem of his sweater, “That’s. . .too bad?”
Y/N stares at him, her mouth agape and she blinks several times like the dry air in their building finally gets to her. Do vampires still get dry eyes? That sucks if they do, Harry decided, that if you were going to become immortal and have to live off blood then the very least the universe could do for you is keep the eyes adequately lubricated. But that’s just his thought.
An incredulous laugh puffs out of her mouth, before ambles over to the stairs, climbing up a couple of them before plopping down. He had followed her with his eyes, watched as she rumpled her lips and leaned her elbow on her knee, then rested her face in her palm, “You’re. . .very different,” she murmured, looking up at him then sighing heavily, “You aren’t asking for details but I’m telling you because it’s driving me fucking crazy. Like crazier than I feel when Niall starts going into League of Legends lore – I can never keep up.”
Harry only realizes that he’s kind of looming then, and when he realizes that they’ll be here for a little longer than a brief conversation, he also sits. The concrete stairs are painful on his bum, especially at his tailbone, but he shifts his weight left and tries to appear casual though his brain is setting off firecrackers. The conversation could be going worse, all things considered, but by no means does Harry think he’s doing great. She already thinks he’s “different” which is the nice person’s way of saying “weird” so maybe he should try a bit harder. Though he just isn’t quite sure what she wants from him. Isn’t it better that he’s not overreacting? But maybe underreacting is just as unsettling.
“So, like a month ago I was out with my friends, right? We went bowling, and I like actually hate bowling because the thought of wearing those shoes is just gross but I went anyway because it was my friend’s birthday and for some reason, she loves to fucking bowl,” she gesticulates as she speaks, Harry gets distracted by the way her hands move, “Fun fact about bowling alleys is that they have the music blasting through every speaker, even in the bathroom, so I stepped outside to take a call. There was like – a little standing area outside, I think smokers usually go to, around the side of the building. It’s The Bowling Lounge – you know the one that’s right beside a wooded area. There’s not a lot of traffic over there either, so in retrospect, I should’ve gone out with another person so I wasn’t alone, but. . .hindsight is 20/20 I guess.” With a heavy sigh, she thumbs over her brow, “Anyway, all of a sudden I’m grabbed and bitten – it was pretty scary.”
She takes a very long pause after. Long enough that Harry’s face screws up in confusion, “That’s. . .that’s it?” He tilted his head to the side, “You don’t know who did it?”
Y/N shrugged, “No, not really. A guy found me – his name is Felix. He told me that this just happens sometimes; a rogue vampire gets out and starts biting people. It’s usually someone who isn’t trained to control their venom yet which means they haven’t been – actually, I don’t think you care about all of that probably.”
“I mean, maybe a little.”
“So, I just wanted to tell you because –” she continued, and Harry didn’t know if she was intentionally ignoring him or if she was just so caught up in the memory of what happened, she was having trouble focusing, “ – I know that was probably really scary. I skipped out on a feeding session because I was busy this week and by the time I got here the other morning, I was. . .I felt like I was starving. If that’s how the person who changed me felt, then I guess I get why they would just blindly bite into someone.”
It was a lot to comprehend quickly, but Harry had already started about a week ago. He doesn’t know why it doesn’t scare him. . it probably should. The way his body reacted to her in a borderline feral state spoke to his sympathetic system ringing alarms that he was in danger. Maybe if the bite had only brought him pain, he would be more inclined to fear it, but it had brought him something so lovely. How could something that made him feel like that, for the first time ever, be a bad thing?
“I was stalking you,” Y/N said after a moment, and Harry hadn’t realized he’d been staring off until his eyes found hers again, “Sorry. You kept looking over your shoulder, I think ‘cos you felt me.”
“That was you?” He inquires, and Y/N nods.
“Not just to be weird! I just – had to make sure you weren’t telling people about what happened but you don’t seem to be much of a talker. That’s the only reason why I trusted you with all of this,” she scratched the back of her neck, “Plus, Felix said I’d be in a lot of trouble if I went around exposing this world to people. I don’t know what a lot of trouble is, but I’d rather not find out what the vampiric punishment system is.”
Harry swallows hard, “I won’t tell anyone.”
Y/N smiles; it’s warm and familiar, like being wrapped up in a hug and Harry thinks he could melt beneath it. He tries to think of the last time someone has smiled at him so genuinely and he comes up short.
“Thank you. I’ll deny it vehemently if you do though,” she giggles a little, then pauses, holding her stomach with a frustrated sigh, “It’s like – I’m always hungry. It’s so annoying.”
“Do you need to eat from me again?”
It was stupid – to find out that someone was a new vampire and then immediately offer up his throat as soon as she complained about being hungry. Harry’s mouth had formed around the words before his brain could truly dissect what he was thinking about saying. He isn’t necessarily considering the consequences of it – not only being bitten again, by someone he just learned wasn’t experienced in the actual feeding process, but the consequences of him saying it. Of his offering and the alarmed look on her face that follows it.
“Oh, no, I can never do that again,” Harry tries to ignore the way his heart sinks, down deep into his belly, “I’m sure Felix would kill me if he knew I did it once.” She raised her hands, a smile that could only be described as good-natured painted over her mouth, “You don’t have to worry about me though, honestly! Um – pardon me for like, psychoanalyzing you but from following you around I kind of picked up that you might be the type of person who feels unnecessarily responsible for others. Even when you shouldn’t,” she waved one raised hand in the air, back and forth like she was batting something away, “I’ll be okay, yeah? I just need to get over the mental block of. . .of feeding. Then I’ll be good. Um – do me a favor? Can we pretend that this never happened and like. . .not tell anyone?”
Sure, Harry could do part of that. He doesn’t talk to many people, and he hardly thinks the woman who runs the till in his most frequented convenience store would believe him if he launched into talks of vampires in his workplace. He could keep all of this to himself easily – it wouldn’t even be a struggle to lie to his mum or sister about it. If anything he could always integrate Y/N into the web of lies about all the coworker friends he has.
But Harry himself? He wouldn’t be able to wipe it from his memory. It would be all he could think about for months to come, he’s sure of it.
Still, he braves a smile and nods, “Yes, I. . .we can do that.”
Y/N closes all of her fingers into a fist, leaving only one out – her pinky. Harry isn’t so unsocialized that he doesn’t understand the concept of a promise, so he hooks their pinkies and tries to ignore how cold she is. Was she always this cold? Or was it because she needed to eat? Is she only keeping herself from doing it out of fear that she’d get in trouble? Or maybe she thinks Harry just offered to be nice when really the offer couldn’t have been more selfish.
He isn’t sure, but he forgets about his inner turmoil the moment he hooks their pinkies together and Y/N’s smile stretches wider on her mouth, “I’ll take you out to eat sometime, yeah?” She tells him, “It’ll be good – everything kind of tastes like chalk to me right now, but I’m good at faking it through a salad.”
People make fake promises sometimes – Harry intends to keep his to her, but he doesn’t expect her to take him out to dinner. The sentiment is enough to leave him feeling warm in his center; not even half of what the warmth the bite produced, but enough to leave him buzzy. It was sweet of her to at least suggest it.
“Okay.”
. . .
Harry’s able to be normal enough about it.
Actually, he thinks he’d be able to be more normal about it if Y/N went back to not knowing he existed as he’d assumed of her. The following day, he saw her in the lobby and she offered him a small smile – she’d been in the middle of a conversation with someone Harry didn’t know, so he returned the smile (it twitched on his mouth unnaturally) and headed toward the stairwell. He’d imagined that would be their inconspicuous way of regarding one another without her having to speak to him or explain to others why she was suddenly friends with the floor recluse.
But later that day, just before lunch, a fruit tea was set on his desk with a little heart post-it.
I hope this is the right flavor! We made the order in advance last night but I didn’t have your number so I guessed.
It’s mixed fruit – Harry is unsure what fruits exactly, but it’s sweet and refreshing, and he feels a little flustered being thought of in something like a group order. Harry spent more than half an hour panicking about how he should thank her (if he should do it in public or if he should wait until they were alone somewhere), but Y/N saves him the stress of approaching her because she approaches him.
“Was it good?” She pointed toward the empty drink container on his desk, and while she leaned her hip against it, arms sliding around her body, “I’ve never had that one.”
“Yes,” he wiped his sweaty palms against the thighs of his pants, “It was delicious. Thank you for thinking of me.” Then, he reached for his phone where it lay face down on the desk, “How much was it? I can send you it – or if you prefer cash then –”
Y/N used her index finger to point at his knuckle, and there was enough strength in it to shove his hand back down on the desk with the phone. From what Harry knew of vampire lore, they get incredibly strong, and it seemed like she wasn’t entirely sure how to control it yet. Or maybe she could and just really wanted him to set his phone down, “No,” she knitted her brows together, her forehead crinkled, “Why would I order you a drink without asking, then make you pay for it? It’s on me.”
“But I –” he tried, but she leveled him with a gaze that suggested her accept it and shut up, so that’s what he does, “Well, thank you again. I appreciate it.”
Her smile is bright and toothy, and Harry thinks he likes having a smile directed at him.
Still, when he went home that night, he figured she was just trying to keep her word. He thinks there was no real desire to kindle a friendship of any kind, that maybe she was still nervous he might try to tell her secret. Harry understands – she may have followed him around, but at the end of the day, she surely didn’t know who he was. Harry wondered how long she would keep this up until he’d proved himself. At most, maybe a couple of days or maybe a couple of weeks.
The following days there isn’t much more interaction than pleasant nods and smiles when they lock eyes in the same area. Work has been busy and Harry rarely leaves his desk for more than his lunch as is, so there wasn’t a ton of room for discussion, had she wanted to speak to him. Y/N always spared him the glint of her teeth though, a sweet gesture, but the whole time Harry finds himself looking for sharpened canines that he can never find. Sometimes, if he focused hard enough, he could still feel the pinch of them into his neck and shivers.
He does it a lot when he’s knitting – something his mum had taught him to do relatively young, and what Harry likes to do to save himself from dreadful, lonely thoughts. Harry can make hats, sweaters, and socks – he tries to make things warm and in comforting, pretty colors like petal pinks and baby blues. Typically he quiets his brain by focusing on the pattern he’s following and watching a movie on the telly, but now he finds in every bit of peace, his thoughts drift to Y/N. From her smile to her teeth, from the way she bit him, to the way she sucked his blood down warm into her belly. The panicked look on her face with her mouth stained red, how it felt when she leaned her ear to his chest to listen to his heart, the relief dripping across her face when she realized she hadn’t taken too much.
The glowy warmth that pervaded his being.
All of it he thinks about, all of it he remembers, all of it he. . . .misses? Can he miss something that’s only happened to him once?
Two weeks in, when he was sure she was finally going to settle and believe him, Y/N caught him in the stairwell again. Harry is just about frozen down to the bone and he knows the stairwell would make it worse, but he wraps his scarf around his neck tightly and pulls his hat over his ears. The hat he had just made a couple of days ago, a deep red maybe a little too reminiscent of what flows through his veins. His mum was impressed by it when he sent her a photo but confused because it wasn’t his typical color of choice. He spares her the details of her son getting fed on by a vampire and instead tells her he was just experimenting.
“Why are you always taking the stairs, huh?” is how Y/N greets him, appearing suddenly at his side when he’s four steps up. He startles – she can be quiet as a mouse sometimes, then loud, stumbling, and clunky at other times, it just depends on the day. Today she’s as quiet as ever, like a shadow that had melted off the wall and become tangible beside him, “S’freezing in here, and we’re like 8 flights up. Are you trying to work on your bum?” She paused, tilting back to stare and Harry’s face got hot, “I mean, it’s not bad, I hardly think you need to keep doing this.”
“That’s not why,” he is flustered and doesn’t want to tell her the actual pathetic reason, but he doesn’t want her to think that he’s constantly working his bum out. He huffed, clearing his throat, slicing through his brain for a lie that might seem believable, “I’m. . .scared of elevators, is all.”
Y/N hummed thoughtfully, taking steps in stride with him, “Liar,” her fingers came to his head, thumbing along the ribbing of his hat, “This is a new hat. It looks so cozy, where’d you get it?”
“I made it.” Y/N stands close to him, their shoulders brushing with each step when she gasps.
“Oooh, really? It’s amazing,” she doesn’t accuse him of lying this time, “Make me one too, yeah? I bet it’d be so nice!”
Harry’s heart stuttered in his chest, “Do you want – would you like to try it on?” They’re on the third set of stairs at this point and Harry wondered if that was weird to ask. He’s seen people do that – he’s seen Y/N do that – with anything removable that Mora wears, she plucks it off of her to put on herself. Hand warmers, hats, jackets, cardigans – she melts into them and fawns over them then carefully returns them.
Maybe he shouldn’t have offered, though. Y/N does that with Mora because Mora is her friend – he’s just some random guy on her floor and –
“Really, you’d let me?” Harry had never heard someone sound so delighted. He pulls the hat off, hoping his hair isn’t too crazy as he pats it down with one hand while handing it to her with the other.
Y/N takes it, stretches it over her head, and. . .she looks really cute in it. Harry likes that it feels like they’re sharing something, and the way she glints at him is making his heart do all sorts of weird beats, “Wow, this feels professionally made! It’s so nice,” she runs her hands over it, “Perfect for the cold – y’know it’s supposed to frost tonight? I wish I had one like it – all the vampire shit, and I still can feel the weather, isn’t that fucked?”
They get to their floor way too soon, Y/N shoving it open – something that would be a feat for even a bodybuilder, she accidentally swings the door open so hard it threatens to fly off the hinges. Her eyes go wide but they’re alone, for the most part, the entry from the stairwell is relatively hidden. “I need to get better at that,” she murmured, mostly to herself, but turned to face him with a grimace, as if she just remembered something,, “Do you think Milo is gonna be an ass today? I heard him and his wife got into a fight outside the office.”
Harry blinks, “Oh, I. . .I don’t know. I didn’t know they got into an argument.” Honestly, Harry didn’t even know Milo had a wife. The most he and his floor manager discuss are numbers, data sheets, and deadlines (plus the one time he sent him home after he passed out) – he doesn’t even think he’s seen his left hand for more than it takes him to hand off a stack of folders.
“I’ll have to fill you in, ‘cos I think it’s about to impact us on a daily, so –”
“Since when were you wearing a hat?” Niall makes a show of pretending to trip Y/N and almost successfully doing so because she’d been turned, facing Harry with rapt attention, “Did you go and buy that?”
Harry isn’t sure what he expects. Maybe for Y/N to realize it was still on her head and pull it off, hand it to Harry, thank him for letting her try it on, and then ambling away with her actual friend. Or for her to lie, tell Niall that she did so she didn’t have to explain why she and Harry were sharing hats all of a sudden – he wouldn’t blame her for that if she did. He’d understand her not wanting any rumors to start, regarding him.
Instead of any of those things, she pointed at Harry, “Turns out Harry is great at making hats,” she said proudly like it was worth showing off. Niall’s brows raise, his fingers reach out and dip beneath the bottom, pulling at it before his gaze set on Harry.
“Shit man, this quality is like – amazing. Industrial loom quality, innit?” He slipped it off Y/N’s head, ignoring the displeased sound that left her throat as she hurriedly patted her hair down, “Do you only make hats?”
Harry blinked, a little overwhelmed – he doesn’t speak to people about his hobbies or interests apart from a few online forums he’s a part of. His brain is alarmed, confused, flashing red lights like he might be under attack – it was a little easier with Y/N. He thinks maybe because they already shared something very intimate with one another; a secret that by no means could get out. Talking about knitting seemed inconsequential then.
But with Niall, Harry’s heart is racing. What if he thinks he’s stupid? Or weird? What if he takes one look at him and somehow figures out that Harry spent a few formative years in a cult –
“What is this, the fourth degree?” Y/N butts in, plucking the hat from Niall’s hands and passing it back to Harry’s, “You don’t have to tell him. He’ll start asking you to make his whole winter wardrobe.”
Niall pouted, “Is that so bad?” But he does stop by his desk and busy himself with his work again, “You’re good though!”
Harry cleared his throat, “Thank you,” he replied politely and was thankful that they seemed to drop it after that. Y/N goes back to her desk – not without a wink that Harry doesn’t know how to decipher, but is still left feeling flustered by. He powered his computer back on but stared at the screen start up while he waited and his brain replayed the interaction several times.
A bead of warmth glitters from his chest.
Y/N was really nice.
. . .
Y/N doesn’t show signs of hunger for a little while.
She meets him in the stairwell daily, walks up the eight flights, complains for part of the way about the burn in her legs but then spends the rest of the time giggling and gabbing about something with him. Conversation flows a little easier each time, the more practice he gets with her, and when Niall inevitably starts waiting for them outside of the door (“fucking hell, you’re opening that door hard! You’re strong Harry, what do you bench?”) it gets easier to speak with him too.
Harry is. . confused but delighted by the change. He’s unsure why Y/N keeps meeting him in the stairwell, but it feels like something special now – a pill of time just for them. It’s not the only time she interacts with him during the day, but it’s the only time that it goes interrupted. Y/N’s good at easing his nerves so he typically feels relaxed in her presence.
The only time he doesn’t is when she starts to appear noticeably hungry. That took some time though, around three weeks since she explained to him what had happened that time before. Harry wondered if she’d eaten since then or if he’d been enough to sustain her for that long, but he didn’t ask her. It didn’t feel like his place, at least. So he just silently notes when the luster behind her eyes dims, and her hair doesn’t seem as full and bouncy. When her skin takes a duller hue, and her skin – where she touches him – is colder than the frost sprinkling the grass in the morning.
Harry also notices she gets much more. . seriously, about his scarf completely covering his neck. Almost like it was out of sight out of mind – like if she didn't see his throat, then maybe she wouldn’t feel inclined to bite him.
(If Harry doesn’t bother redoing his scarf after it starts to slouch around his shoulders, that’s between him and the scarf.)
Today is much like the other days. Y/N is waiting for him in the stairwell, but she’s sitting down on the first step, her head tilted against the wall and her eyes closed. It looks like it takes a lot of effort for her to crack one open to look at him, “Ahhh,” she smiled, her lips dry, “There you are. I’ve been here for hours.”
It had only been thirty minutes since they left each other, but Harry tried not to hold it against her. She liked to hyperbolize most of her lengths of time, so he couldn’t assume that wasn’t just being silly.
But then she says, “I’m so happy it’s Friday, I really need a weekend,” and Harry can't let that go because –
“It’s only Wednesday.”
Y/N’s brows curl in, “Oh.” She pulled her phone from her pocket, movements sluggish and slow, and when she checked the date a frown yanked at her lips, “My bad.”
The thing was – Harry had done some research. He isn’t positive how credible it was, but one night last week he’d dug through forum after forum about vampire mythos until what he was reading seemed to stray further from fiction. It took hours before he could get away from usernames reminiscent of Cullens, Salvatores, and Buffy’s, and even longer than that to avoid usernames like princessofthedarkmoon and bloodsuckerlover200. The searching had brought him to a page, finally, that sounded closest to Y/N. Or at least, it described the absolute feral state that she’d been dropped into when she hadn’t eaten – something that the other things he’d read hadn’t mentioned. And when he further digs and starts slimming down results to their area, he gets the name of a club – a back door you’re supposed to hit in a precise pattern, how you’re supposed to explain whether you’re vampire or human if you wanted to be fed or fed from.
He wasn’t sure how true it was, but if it was, then that meant Y/N did have a way to eat. She’d even said it was the mental block that was keeping her from feeding – that once she could get over that, she’d be okay. Harry wondered if she still hadn’t gotten over it.
It’s when she stumbles up the next step and Harry has to reach out to catch her, his hand gripping around her bicep and she winces, tilting her face from his throat, “Y/N,” he finally brushes past his own mental block – he’s worried because he doesn’t want to upset her. And he feels like acting like he knows what she’s going through would upset her – maybe enough for her to decide that he isn’t worth the trouble of keeping around if he was going to pretend it was just as easy as eating an apple, “It’s. . .it’s dangerous to be here, like this.”
The danger is prevalent and worrying – that’s why he says it. Not for the person Y/N could bite, but for Y/N, who had been lucky to bite someone so sad and lonely that he wouldn’t tell a soul. Lightening couldn’t strike twice – what if she bites Milo? Or Kya? Maybe she’d sink her teeth into Niall, Lowri, or Aiden? They probably wouldn’t take it in stride. They wouldn’t be able to focus on the warmth that glows through their body over the fact that their coworker (and friend, in Niall’s case) had just bit into their neck and drank.
“I know,” she looks so sad, Harry feels guilt immediately welt in his stomach, even if he was telling her the truth, “I know, I know I just – it feels – it feels so wrong to eat from someone. To take from them so that I can survive,” her lip is pouted, “And it hurts what I’m doing, right? It hurt you – you had to be sent home and I’m. . .it just made me feel like such an awful monster, so I –”
“It doesn’t hurt,” he cut her off, carefully guiding her to the landing only a few more steps up. Once he gets them on level ground, he removes his hand from her, but she stays just as close, “At least, for me, it didn’t.”
Y/N stares at him, blinking.
“. . .It didn’t?”
Harry shook his head, “No,” he answered truthfully, he thinks – it’s embarrassing to talk about, especially when it’s something he’s been holding onto, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her thinking she was a monster. How could she be, when she made him feel that good? “It was nice when it happened. I felt warm all over.”
She tilted her head, “It did?”
“Yes,” he agreed, watching her closely, “Only for a second when you bit me, but afterward it was nothing but. . .good. Warm and good.”
Her fingers curl into fists, nails digging into her palms then releasing – she does it a couple of times like she’s forcing the blood to pump through her hands, “When – when I’ve been fed from it just hurt,” she explained, frowning still, “I guess it’s different when you’re a – when you’re one, already.” Harry nodded, and he could see when a thought struck her, her eyes going wide, “Oh – did it turn you on?”
Harry’s mouth falls open, “What? No!” He shook his head adamantly, “No, not at all it was just –”
“It’s okay if it did, I’ve read, like a lot of stories about it affecting people like that,” she shrugged, “No wonder you wanted me to bite you before.”
“No!” He exclaimed, “No, I just wanted – I mean, it feels nice but it isn’t like that and –”
Y/N’s dry lips pull into a smile, she laughs though it sounds like she’s expending a lot of energy to, “I’m just kidding,” her gaze, despite how hungry she must be, still twinkles in the fluorescent lighting. Soon the smile melts from her face, the current situation reaffirming itself in her head, “I. . .really shouldn’t though, right? I don’t want you to get all lightheaded again.”
She looks like she’s asking him for guidance on the matter like Harry would know what she would do otherwise. Maybe call the Felix guy she’d mentioned in the past – he might have a solution, but. . .but why would she need to do that? Why need to take all those extra steps if Harry is ready and willing?
“My wrist?” He offered, pulling his arm from his puffer coat and pushing his navy long sleeve up to his elbow. Y/N swallows thickly, “I really don’t mind. Especially if. . .if it can hold you off until you feed properly, right? It doesn’t feel bad for me.”
It seemed much harder for her to deny it when his wrist was exposed to her. He wondered if her hearing was good – if she could make out the way his pulse drums, how his heart thuds rapidly in his chest with the anticipation of it. Her fingers wrap around his wrist, squeezing tightly. Harry holds back from making any sort of grimace or face that might suggest he’s in pain, especially when she keeps looking up at him, dilated pupils dancing across his features.
“You’re sure?” Her voice is just barely above a whisper, breathless, pulling him closer to her body, “You make me feel like a mosquito,” she admits, though it doesn’t sound like she knows she’s talking, “Every time I see even a sliver of skin on you I want to. . .my teeth ache.”
Harry feels lightheaded from this conversation alone, but he doesn’t respond. He can’t, apart from a gentle, “Eat.”
The tight band around Y/N’s resolve snapped clean in two when she surged forward and her teeth slid into Harry’s wrist. It’s the same as before – the initial pain is sudden and brief but is almost instantly replaced. The fleeting touches he receives from Y/N are nothing in comparison to the full-body white-hot glow that blooms from his center and spirals outward. Harry shivers when she latches her lips around him, the pull of her lips taking his blood into her mouth is weird but welcome.
He has to force his eyes to stay open, watching her closely. The hand that she isn’t gripping onto twitches at his side – somewhere inside of him he wants to pat her head, tuck her hair behind her ear, coo sweetly at her. Y/N groans against him before he feels one of her hands leave him and curl into the hem of his shirt. Her fingers curl up in it and she pulls, and it feels like Harry just knows that she wants him to sit. So he lowers down, happy to hear her satisfied sound as she gets comfortable with him on the floor. Harry settles for patting her knee, rather than stroking her head, “You must’ve been hungry,” he murmurs gently, and her gaze locks with him almost instantly.
It’s. . .an odd feeling. Feeding her like this, looking into her eyes, knowing that he’s the reason her cheeks are regaining color and her lips seem to slowly soften and moisten. To know that she’s the reason that inside and out he feels toasty inside of this frigid stairwell. Maybe he’s just touch starved and needy for affection, but this might be the best day of his life. This is only cemented by the fact that her free hand, the one that had been dug into the fabric of his shirt, curls into his calf. She doesn’t dig her nails in, nor does she hold on and press tight. She strokes his leg, curling her fingers and then uncurling them, an undulating motion soft and sweet.
Eventually, his fingers start to feel numb. Harry knew if he let her keep going until the rest of him started to feel numb too, she wouldn’t be too pleased, and might never feed from him again. Harry didn’t want to chance it, so he carefully pulled his arm from her. It’s easier than he thought – her teeth don’t stay inside of him the entire time, they just bite down so it’s easy to drink. So Harry withdraws and Y/N’s lips pop off of him with a wet sound.
Y/N stares up at him, concerned oozing onto her features already – but she looks so good. Way better than when they started, and he thinks the turnaround might be the most amazing part about this. How just a little bit of his blood could make her look so healthy again.
“Are you okay?” She asks, “I didn’t take too much, did I?”
Harry smiled softly, “No, not at all,” he answered truthfully, “Do you feel better?”
She looks sheepish; shy, when she leans toward him, turning her head to the side and pressing her ear flush to his chest. It was similar to the first time, though he thinks there’s less fear now than there was then, from her end. Harry thinks she might just feel better hearing his heartbeat afterward, proof that she hadn’t taken too much blood. He doesn’t mind it at all, though that isn’t much of a surprise coming from him.
There was relief in the way she sighed, loosening her grip on his wrist, “I feel a lot better,” she answered, running the back of her hand over her mouth, “Like I’m not g’na Jasper someone if they get a papercut in front of me.” Y/N looked down at his wrist again, the two little spots where her teeth had been, no longer weeping, “You promise it didn’t hurt?”
“I promise,” Harry feels like he could float the rest of the way up the stairs.
. . .
Harry hasn’t gone out to eat with people in a little under two years.
The last time had been for his birthday when his sister and mum came to the city and had made reservations at this high-priced Italian restaurant that he’d mentioned wanting to try. It was nice, sure, but the food was not worth a king’s ransom so Harry told his mum that the next year he wanted one of her homemade pot roasts. So that’s what they did, and Harry had nobody to go out with other than his family so. . .well, he didn’t. He avoided company outings and those were the only things he was regularly invited to, and even then that was passive because he was just included in an email with all 20 members of the floor he’s on.
Yet here he sits, with Niall and Mora across from him, and Y/N at his side. He’s cooking the thin slices of meat on the grill in the center of the table, a sweat building up on his nape from the steam that swarms over him. He’s only done this a couple of times before when Gemma had an intense and expressive love for Korean food very suddenly in her first year of UNI. She had bullied Harry into grilling, so he was familiar with it, but it had been a while, and tentatively grilling for his mum and sister is much different than for three coworkers.
Still, he tries his best and his efforts aren’t in vain as they pull pieces off the grill and eat with pleased hums and sighs. Niall especially, who is going for seconds and thirds before Mora has even finished his first piece, “Oi,” she pretended to stab his hand with the fork, “Ni, save some for us you prick.” The two of them bicker for most of the meal, sparing Y/N as she pretends to love every piece of food she’s sliding into her mouth. She’d told him before that food tastes like chalk right now, but she does a good job of acting like it doesn’t. Though he doesn’t think she needs to spend too much time acting, considering her friends who don’t know that she prefers blood to cleanse her palate are too busy fighting over ribeye steak and simultaneously discussing Mora’s love life woes.
“No, he’s definitely playing you,” Niall concluded, clicking his tongue and nearly knocking over his drink in the rush to get to the piece Harry just finished grilling, “I mean, how fucking hard is it really to market for a lawn company? Let Us Edge Your Hedge – see, that took me like, 10 seconds.”
Mora chewed, frowning until she swallowed, “I know, it’s like as soon as I said I wanted to take things kind of slow, he changed tune instantly. Usually, I don’t give a fuck, but. . .y’know, I really liked him.”
“He’s a dick,” Y/N finally piped in, but in the same breath, her hand carefully slid over Harry's white knuckle gripping the tongs. Expertly she slips them out of his grasp, plucks the piece up that he was about to disperse to the masses, and sets it on his plate. She clinks the tongs together, pointing at the meat and then motioning toward Harry’s mouth before she picks up another bowl of meat – something Niall had ordered and he couldn’t remember. Especially not now, when his hand tingles warm, and he feels butterflies kick through his stomach.
Was it a silly thing to get moony-eyed over? Probably, but the gesture coats his insides like crystals of sugar sticky on his teeth. This is what it feels like to be looked after, he thinks – for someone to care enough about what he’s doing, to take care of him. Maybe Niall and Mora were too busy eating to notice Harry had barely been able to slide a cucumber in his mouth, but Y/N had noticed. She’d been watching close enough, or maybe, she did some weird vampire intuition thing. For some reason though, his brain insists that even if she didn’t have some supernatural powers, this would have played out the same.
Harry chews thoughtfully, and slowly, savoring every bite. When Y/N invited him, it was in the stairwell, on the fourth set of stairs after she debriefed him on Milo’s probable divorce (the relationship was looking pretty bleak, he could admit that). It was a little warmer that day, a brief reprieve from the cold front frosting through the grass each morning, so Harry wasn’t as bundled as he typically was. So he’s sure she could see the flush crawl from his face down to his neck when she inquired, “Do you have any plans tonight?”
“Oh, um – not really. I dropped my car off this morning at the mechanic but I don’t think I’ll get it back for a day or two.”
“Perfect,” Y/N smiled, “D’ya wanna come out to eat with me, Ni, and Mora?”
He was a little bewildered. Did she really want him to come to eat with them, or was she only offering because she’d drank his blood a little under a week ago? Was there a polite way to ask that? Also, was she really okay with Niall and Mora thinking they were closer than acquaintances? She’d never shied away from speaking to Harry in public with them around, sure, but. . .he just couldn’t imagine that there weren’t at least a few questions about her sudden familiarity with the floor recluse, and perhaps some discomfort.
Harry wishes there was a way he could convey this properly – that she owes him nothing. Not her time, nor her friendship, even though she believes she’s this horrible monster taking from him. What he gets in return is worth more than anything.
Don’t get him wrong, he is a huge fan of the companionship! He’s felt a lot less lonely lately, the stairwell didn’t feel like the cold, acrid taste of seclusion anymore, and he didn’t always feel like the embarrassment of an otherwise socially adept floor. He just would feel bad if she felt she had to go out of her way to spend time with him if she didn’t want to when the compensation he got from the bite itself was enough for him. All the additional things made him feel too greedy.
Y/N grills for the rest of the dinner, occasionally stopping to pluck at a side. Now that she wasn’t focused on eating, she was better able to participate in the conversation. She would always look at Harry, like a reminder that he was involved in the conversation too, and if he didn’t respond for a while she might ask him a question directly – but he never felt forced or uncomfortable. It always flows naturally with the rest of the group. He thinks, for introverted people, Y/N might be the perfect type of friend to spend time with.
He feels soft around the edges by the end of the night. Niall and Mora go one way home because they live within walking distance in the same complex. Harry and Y/N don’t live in the same place, but since Harry’s car was in the shop they end up taking the same line to get home (and get off at the same stop too) because the walk dragged on just a little too long at night. It was safer to go underground and take a train rather than cross these dark alleyways and patches.
Truth be told, Harry was pretty scared about taking the subway this late at night too, but he guesses he shouldn’t be. Y/N is a vampire, after all, and the grip she had on him sometimes plus her borderline shattering the door every time she opened it, suggested that her strength was far more than capable of protecting them. Still, he tries not to be too lax. If something happened and Y/N didn’t want to impose her vampiric abilities to protect them, he wouldn’t force her to. And Harry. . .he works out well enough. He’s sure he could figure out how to throw a punch or two. If you’d asked the children he grew up with, they would swear that he had perfected the art of stealing people off to the woods and making them disappear.
Y/N seems relaxed though, swiping her card and leading them to their terminal. For the time of night, it’s quite clean – before Harry was comfortable driving in the city, he used to take the subway often, but that was right after work when it was much dirtier. The floor is much less sticky, and he doesn’t feel the need to keep his eyes glued to the ground to make sure he doesn’t step into something weird.
They had fallen into a comfortable silence, one that Harry wasn’t sure would break until they parted ways officially. But Y/N does, eventually, turning to face them as they wait for the subway, “Does that make you uncomfortable?” She locks eyes with him, playing with the cuff of her jacket – it was a bright, red thing that draped off her body in something soft and pretty. Harry doesn’t know if she’d subconsciously started wearing more red or if she’d always liked the color, “Going out like that?”
Harry blinked at her, unexpecting of the question and not sure how to answer. Was he uncomfortable? No, not exactly. His heart would race toward the beginning, and his palms would get clammy, and he’d think he was about to faint for like three seconds – but as soon as he was relaxed, he thought he settled in nicely. Maybe he sits with the poise of a debutant being scored on the way they held themselves, but that was more of something that had been ingrained in him as a child.
But was he uncomfortable? He really hadn’t done it enough to know. It just felt like a continuation of work, but a little better. Any time he’s with Y/N, though, he feels an ease that he rarely ever does.
He tried to think of the best way to explain it, “I’m not uncomfortable, no,” he shook his head, letting his eyes dance over the subway, “I’m just not used to it, is all. But I’m having fun.” It was a little bit of a one-dimensional answer but it was the best he could come up with on the spot. He didn’t necessarily think that it would be appropriate to bring up the whole cult thing now – not when she hasn’t had a chance to see he isn’t the monster they tried to make him out to be. Finding out he was born into a cult and then how chill he was about her biting his throat might come off as creepier than it was. And maybe it was creepy, but. . not in a cult way. More in a sad way, he thinks.
“Did you not have a lot of friends growing up?” She prodded carefully, but let him off with a soft shake of his head, “Mm, me neither.”
“Really?” He said perplexed, head tilted, and Y/N laughed a little, “You seem. . .I don’t know. Like you’ve been popular your whole life.”
She shook her head, “Nope! I was actually viciously bullied for a year or two – or as vicious as a six-year-old can bully you,” ‘depending on the subject matter, pretty viciously’ is what Harry thinks, but he doesn’t say it, “I think it was over a crush? One of the girls in the class liked my seat partner and was mad that he said I was smart or something. So she got all of her friends to be so rude to me – they were brats, all of them.”
Harry’s staring at her with wide eyes, feeling very. . .seen. Even if the circumstances were different – people don’t talk much about how they were bullied as a child. Most of the time he thinks people lied about it unless they were scouting for sympathy, but Y/N seemed like she was just reflecting on her past. Making Harry feel less alone, even though she didn’t know why he didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. Maybe she could just guess from how he held himself.
“How did you – you said it was only for a year or two? How did you get them to stop?”
Y/N shrugged, “Most of it just kind of went away with time,” she answered, “Some of it was because I threatened to send Dracula to one of their houses in the middle of the night, which is an ironic threat now. I was sort of a weird kid so they believed me – it freaked them out and they left me alone.” She scratched at the side of her face, “And I just made friends with the other weird kids who were also bullied.”
Harry’s weird kids who were also bullied, had also not wanted anything to do with him at the time, but maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough. Y/N, even in her childhood, didn’t seem like one who would back down easily while Harry gave up the moment someone seemed put off by him.
But maybe that’s why she’s so good with him – another weird kid who was also bullied. After the first time, she questioned his stairwell usage, she never asked about it again and never made him feel weird about it. She doesn’t get upset when his brain doesn’t supply him with anything to say, she isn’t rough with him, and she treats him the most tenderly anyone other than his family has treated him. And to top it all off, she’s something he’d only heard stories about, and seen films on – something that shouldn’t even be real – and he feels nothing but safe and calm in her presence.
“Anyway,” she tilted her head a little, waiting for the overhead to tell them their train was approaching the terminal, “I was wondering if you would be okay if I invited you to more things like this? I didn’t want to keep forcing you if you didn’t like it.”
Harry’s heart feels soft, “You aren’t forcing me. Not at all,” he admitted, “Um – I – if you want me to go somewhere then I’ll go. I like to. . spend time with you – you and the others!” He hurried to correct, a little embarrassed by how it sounded at first, but Y/N only grinned at him instead of looking weirded out, “Um, like – it’s very nice.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, “I think so too.”
. . .
Harry made Y/N a hat.
He feels a little silly about it now that he’s packed it up in a small little box, wrapped in Halloween-themed paper. There was no real reason to get her a gift – they weren’t near a holiday that would make sense, and he thinks people mostly hand out candy to one another in October. But he’d started making it around the time she tried his hat on and told him how nice it would be for the frost, and he knew it would only get colder the deeper into autumn, and then into winter that it got.
Plus, he just wanted to do something nice for her. He’d always dreamed of having a friend he could make things for – he thinks it’s much more gratifying than only making things for himself. He could give them to his mum, but she’s already so good at it, it would feel like handing a professional artist a stick figure drawing of crayon. And his sister, after the third set of gloves he made her, and the second knitted scarf, told him that she was well prepared for winter and didn’t need one in every color.
Y/N would appreciate it, he knew that. He just hoped that she didn’t think he was making a pass at her or trying to develop their relationship into more than what she wanted. Harry just wanted to give her something. A gift for making the effort to be his friend. With it in mind that he was making it for her, he finishes it quicker than he’s finished a hat in the past – he spends an entire Friday night into Saturday working the wooden needles together, and accidentally stabbing his thumb when he tries to watch the telly simultaneously. In the end, he’s got a red hat with earflaps because she complains frequently how her lobes might as well turn to ice and chip off. But that seemed too bland to give to her by itself, so he added two dangly white stars that would rest close to her shoulders and swing around from the flaps.
He’s nervous, even though he knows he won’t be giving it to her until after lunch. That was their allotted time together, so he was prepared to give it to her then.
So when he parks his car and almost instantly sees Y/N rapping her knuckles against his passenger side window, he almost screams. Harry unlocks the door and Y/N pops it open, her teeth clicking together as she crawls inside, “You get here early,” she shudders, readjusting to the temperature change and Harry automatically clicks the seat warmer on. It’s only then that he notices she has two coffee cups in her hand, one of which she’s holding out to him, “Sorry if this is creepy, but I remembered your preferred coffee from a group order a while back.”
“Oh,” he blinked, reaching out to grab it, “That’s – thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I know,” she grinned, “I just wanted to. Plus, coffee is the only thing I can still taste that isn’t like chewing through powder. I thought it’d be nice to share it.”
Harry’s heart feels like it quadrupled in size, beating wildly in his chest. It feels different, Y/N being in his car with him – just a little more familiar and intimate than the stairwell. It was rare anyone else used the stairs, but there was always the possibility that they could. Nobody else would get into Harry’s car though – it’d be a little weird if they did.
She melts into the seat like she’d been there plenty, a shiver of delight running through her this time. The sweater she wears is a pretty purple color that Harry thinks he has in his yarn collection, and the sleeves drop down over her hands. Only her fingers peek out to hold her coffee cup, and Harry thinks she looks way too cute like this.
When he takes a drink, he recognizes that she’d remembered his order down to a T. It’s good, and the halfway point between bitter and sweet dances pleasantly on his taste buds. He’s about to murmur "thank you” again when Y/N’s foot taps into the Halloween bag sitting on the floor of the passenger side, “Oh?” She tilted down to look at it, “Ooh, what’s this? Did someone give you a gift?”
Harry expected at least four additional hours to decide how he was going to explain this to her. Making a hat for someone hardly seems like a ‘just because’ gift, but to explain how much her friendship means to him seems like a lot too. He was going to try and find a way to downplay it, but now he has no time to deliberate about it at all. So he’s flustered and kind of sputters on his coffee as he tells her, “Oh, no– um, that’s – uh, that’s for you. A gift.”
Her mouth falls open, “For me?” She inquired, eyes wide and pretty even in the horrible lighting of the parking garage, “Can I – can I open it?”
Harry nodded, and she wasted no time. She picks the bag up from the floor, then carefully sets her coffee cup in his holder. Y/N is very careful in how she unwraps it, though he knew from the way her fingers twitched that she wanted to tear into the tissue paper. When her eyes set on the knit, she gasps, and when she pulls it out from the bag and unfolds it, revealing the two dangling stars, she gasps again, “Wait, you’re kidding,” she looks astonished, looking between him and the hat, then back at him, “You made this for me?”
“Yes,” he racked his brain quickly, “You said – you mentioned wanting one.” Wow, how inspired.
“Really?” Y/N clutched it to her chest, “Harry you – I have to pay you for this! This is so nice.”
Harry laughed a little, “No, that’s okay. I like to make things for people,” he explained, “And I don’t – I want you to know I don’t expect anything in return, this was for. . .you know. . .the frost.”
He hardly thinks she’s listening to him, as she puts the hat on her head and it fits almost perfectly. To see her in something that he made with her in mind makes him feel happier than he probably should. It’s not too tight around her head, maybe even just a little too big, but the flaps cover her ears, and the twisted yarn fixed to the flaps holds the two stars that swing just above her shoulders. Y/N keeps running her hands over it like she can’t believe it’s real and Harry is tickled glittery and pink all over.
“You like it?” He presses, even though he can tell, but Y/N doesn’t accuse him of fishing for compliments.
“Like it? Harry, I love it,” she is still gaping, elated, “I’m like – just so shocked, I feel like I don’t deserve this at all. Oh, it’s even so warm over my ears – I’m wearing this all day.”
Harry laughs again, shaking his head, “It doesn’t really match the outfit though, right? I guess. . .maybe I could’ve made it a more universal color.”
“I don’t care about that at all,” she picks her drink back up, “I’m showing this off all day, and I’m telling everyone who made it for me. Niall’s g’na be so jealous he could scream.”
His middle blooms with warmth, similar to how it does when she feeds from him.
He wonders if it’s less of the bite and more of her, that makes him feel this way.
. . .
The next time he feeds Y/N, she isn’t starving, and they aren’t in the stairwell.
Actually, they were on their first outing alone together. Y/N told him about a cafe with free-roaming (litter-trained) rabbits and upon the slightest hint that he was interested, she invited him to go with her. He wondered if the other two couldn’t go or if she had chosen him specifically, and he decided for once not to think too deeply about it, and instead enjoy that he’d been picked at all. Since there was an early day at work, they got off around 4 PM and headed to the cafe shortly after.
It was adorable. They signed an agreement highlighting what they were allowed to do and what they couldn’t (no chasing rabbits or bothering them while they were eating from their bowls, you could pet them when they were resting, you understood that one could nip at you – things like that) and order their bunny themed drinks and sweets. So Harry gets a Cottontail Cappuccino, a small slice of carrot cake, and bunny bread. Y/N doesn’t get any food, but she does order the Lop Latte and a bundle of hay that she could give to the bunnies to chew.
The tables are low to the floor with no chairs, so you just sit beside them on your bum. There are various soft cushions for both humans and bunnies to sit on, and a few other people there. Apparently, they were all up for adoption too, which was nice – Harry hoped that all of them found a happy home.
He had a lot of luck with the bunnies coming up to him, which he hadn’t expected. Harry loved animals, but they never loved him in the same way. If it had been easy to connect with one then he would have had a flat full of them, just to ward away the sad, lonely thoughts that would always blossom in the quiet of his home. So when these bunnies carefully hop their way over to him, let him pet their backs, and take the hay from his hands – he’s over the moon.
Y/N doesn’t have the same luck.
She’s a good sport about it, the fact that none of them waddle up to her how they were to Harry. When Harry had noticed, she had either read the look on his face (or his mind – he isn’t sure if she was able to do that or not), but she answered with a small shrug, “Ever since – y’know,” she uses her index fingers and curls them, making them fangs, “Animals have a harder time trusting me. My kitty Clover wouldn’t sleep next to me for like, two weeks!”
And though she doesn’t seem to mind, it makes something ache inside of Harry. Enough that he mustered all of his knowledge on animal behavior from a brief (yet informative) phase he went through as a child when he wanted to be a vet – and scooted around the table, to Y/N’s side. Animals were more likely to trust humans that the humans they trust, trusted. Like when your dog stops barking at a stranger when they see their owner speaking to them casually and hugging them.
Harry is unsure if it would have the same effect, given he didn’t own any of these bunnies. Most of them clear out even, once he’s made the move, and the look on Y/N’s face kind of makes him want to cry about it.
Until one little lop-eared friend appeared at their table.
He eyes them a little warily; Harry thinks that the little creature learned to be wary with how his right ear seemed to have a small bite taken from it. The little nose twitches in the air, and its mouth twitches as it stares then takes one step closer. Y/N and Harry both seem to be holding their breaths, waiting quietly, patiently, wondering if it would turn around and hop away once it got the chance to really smell Y/N.
But it doesn’t. The brown-furred lop, with the little white spot on his bum, makes his way over to them. They sniff Harry first because he’s closest, then tentatively crawl into his lap for the hay that’s sitting there. Harry smiles, feeding him the pieces and stroking his index finger down his back. The bite looks healed over from this close like it must have happened a while ago, and he wonders if a cat did it, or a dog – maybe even a coyote or a fox. He’s glad that he’s here now, safe and soft – probably warm every night. He wonders if he has any bunny friends to snuggle with.
Then the bunny starts to move, out of the cradle in Harry’s lap, onto his thigh, before padding his way onto Y/N’s. Her eyes are wide, excited, and when the bunny rests in her lap this time, she looks so happy that Harry could cry about that too. Y/N is careful - tentative when she strokes between his ears, “Hi cutie,” she murmurs, in a tone Harry had never heard before. It’s tender and loving – he bets she speaks to her kitty like that all of the time, and he wonders how any animal could be scared of her when she sounds so sweet.
She looks over to Harry and giggles, and. . .Harry thinks he might like Y/N a lot. Maybe too much.
They stay there for hours with (they found his name) Pudding alternating between both of their laps. When it’s close to closing, they have a hard time plucking him from their lap and setting him on one of the soft cushions they’d been sitting on. But they promise to come back and see him very soon, maybe even Sunday – Harry might even go the next day. If this is what it felt like to connect with an animal, then he’s incredibly jealous of everyone able to before.
It’s around 7 PM when they leave. Harry offered to drive Y/N home and she’d agreed enthusiastically, “Yes! I was kind of sad, I didn’t want to split up yet.”
For the most part, the drive is uneventful. They chat idly and gush about Pudding, and Y/N has more information about Milo and his wife (they’ve made up now, apparently, but things are still rocky). Y/N is in the middle of telling him how she sent photos of the hat he made her to her family and a couple of her friends outside of work, and Harry doesn’t even have the chance to be embarrassed and shy about it because her stomach growls.
He thinks it’s kind of funny, that even as a vampire your stomach still rumbles when they’re hungry. There are a lot of things that stay so human, though there are only little tidbits Y/N tells him, there’s a lot he could just tell. How could she ever see herself as a monster? Not when her smile still gleamed full of mirth and joy when he agreed to go see bunnies with her.
“You’re hungry?” Harry queries, and she hums, looking shy when he flicks his gaze over to her briefly before setting it back on the road.
“Yeah, I – I guess I am,” she admitted, “I haven’t – I mean, I’ve had a little here and there, from Felix and his personal feeder, but never a lot. They put them in these shot glasses so it’s easier for me,” she scratches the side of her nose, “They’d probably feed me more, honestly, if I’d ask but I’ve been lying and saying I’m using feeders.”
Harry listens to the GPS tell him to turn into the parking lot, his speed slowing as he twists his wheel, “Do you –” he starts, pausing when they go over the speed bump, their bodies bouncing with it, “I mean, do you want to feed from me again?”
Y/N is quiet as Harry turns into a parking space, changing gears and letting off the brake. It’s a long enough time that Harry wonders if he’d accidentally ruined the night, or made her uncomfortable. He worries his lip between his teeth, at least finding comfort in the fact that she doesn’t immediately open the car door and leave him with this air that he might have asked the wrong question.
“Harry,” she starts, her voice soft, and when he looks at her she’s already looking at him, “I – I mean, yes,” her shoulders sink, and she looks disappointed in herself, “I do – I really do. It’s easier to do it with you than. . .than with someone else, and you – I know you aren’t lying about it hurting because you just melt when I bite you,” Oh god, she’s noticed? Harry’s a little self-conscious about it, “But I still feel like. . .really bad about it. I don’t want you to think I’m only your friend ‘cos you let me gnaw on you.”
Harry could let out a big sigh of relief, glad that he didn’t ask a stupid question.
“I don’t,” Harry told her, “I . . .used to. I thought maybe you were just doing this because you felt bad – like, inviting me to things and hanging out with me. But the ratio in which you bite me to the things we do together is like. . .way too different, for that to be it. Right?” It’s true. Harry hadn’t realized he’d even come to this conclusion until the words were leaving his mouth, but he’d realized it had been a little while since he’d wondered if she was only spending time with him to make sure he didn’t tell anyone or because of any more guilt. The way she looks at him only confirms it, especially when she rushes to agree.
“Right!”
“So if you’re hungry, ever –” he pulls his arm from his winter coat and rolls the sleeve of the jacket he wore beneath it up. It’s the wrist that she’d bitten before – it had healed over in a little under a day, so there’s no proof that she’d even fed from here before, “--I’ll always. . .I’ll always feed you. All you have to do is ask." You don’t even have to ask me – he could say that, but he thinks he’s already saying too much, so he keeps that to himself.
It’s a different experience, her eating when she isn’t borderline feral and starving. The grip she has on him is nowhere near as demanding and he isn’t suddenly reminded that all she would have to do is squeeze and shatter the bones in the body part she’s holding. She can keep her attention split between him and the blood pumping through him as well, caressing the skin with her thumb, “You’ll stop me like before, right?”
“I will,” he tells her, then nods toward his wrist, “Take what you need.”
Harry doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to the feeling. The pinch of her teeth, the wet soothe of her tongue, how her lips push against his skin, and the first pull of them before the blood pools into her mouth. His warmth is immediate, even quicker than the last time, like his body was responding to the bite the second her teeth cut into the skin. Had he been unintentionally Pavlov’d? It sort of felt like it.
It’s very. . .calm. Y/N isn’t frantic and starving, she’s not panicking – she’s just eating. It’s like when they drank coffee together, soft and quiet, in his heated car as the engine gently thrummed. Before, when she was starving, and even in this state, when she was just a little hungry Y/N continued to caress him This time his forearm with the hand that held him to her mouth, fingers running back and forth tentatively, gently. He wants to close his eyes and revel in this but he doesn’t – worried she’ll think he’s lightheaded or passed out, he works to keep them open.
Just as he did before, when his fingers start to tingle, he carefully wiggles them and starts to pull away. Y/N lets him go, but this time, when a spot of blood trickles down his wrist, she catches it with her tongue. After she licks it up, she swirls the tip against the bite marks, then over her lips, “Sorry,” she murmured, huffing out a breath, “We almost got blood on your interior, that would’ve sucked.”
“That’s okay,” he thinks he’s about to have the best sleep he’s had in a while, after such a nice day, to end it off with her feeding off him just seems sort of perfect. Especially when she giggles a little, still holding his arm, using one of her hands to curl around his – she helps him crunch his fingers to regain feeling in them.
“Today was great,” she beamed, her eyes a glossy sheen to them, the brightness that sparkles every time she’s eaten, “I want to hang out even more, yeah? I feel like I can – I can just relax with you, y’know? Since you already know everything, and you’re so cool about it. And I have so much fun when I’m with you, it’s perfect.”
Harry hasn’t felt this happy in a very long time. He wonders, even, if he’s ever felt this happy before.
“Yeah,” he replied, far more casual than he actually felt, “I think hanging out more would be nice.”
. . .
When Harry gets home that night, there’s a man with brown hair sitting on his sofa.
Harry startles when he sees him, just as soon as he’d turned around from locking his door (which seems to be pointless, if this man was able to just waltz in). He appears far too. . .gorgeous, to just be human. There’s an air around him that reminds Harry of Y/N, but more imposing, and commanding. Harry thinks he might be taller than the man, but the way he’s existing on his sofa makes him seem like he might be 7 feet tall. He sits with the leisurely confidence of someone who knew that they were strong – someone, who maybe has been around for centuries.
Harry’s heart starts hammering in his chest.
The man smiles, “Hello,” his voice is low and smooth, and his pink lips stretch into a friendly enough smile. His features are sharp, his skin pale.
“Hi?” Harry’s brows are furrowed, and his fingers cling to his keys like he’d be able to do anything with them against a vampire.
“I’m Felix,” he offers, “You must be Harry, right? You’re Y/N’s friend.”
He feels like the breath leaves him – should he lie? “There’s no need to lie, I can smell her all over you.” Holy shit, could he read minds? There’s no verbal response to that one, he just stares at Harry and waits politely, a soft smile still on his mouth.
“Um,” the teeth of Harry’s keys dig into his fingers, “What – what did you need?”
