Harry Styles One Shots

Part 2 of: Y/N wakes up craving blood and Harry's there to help (reluctantly)

[WARNING: obligatory vampire period sex]

ii.

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

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

So what does a new vampire have to fear?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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