Part 8 of: Alpha Harry and Alpha Y/N (Patreon)

HIIIIIIII!!! GUYS, seriously i know you yell at me about cliffhangers, but the one I left this one off on was ACTUALLY CRUEL, AND I DON'T REMEMBER LEAVING IT LIKE THAT!! I'M SO SORRY, Y'ALL HAVE FULL PERMISSION TO BEAT MY BUTT

SOMEONE ASKED FOR THESE TWO BACK!! SO HERE THEY AREEEE i hope you still like them! :-)

TOMORROW MORNING I'll post a form asking for kinks that you'd like to see in kinktober, and then on WEDNESDAY I'll compile them and make a this-or-that list for which ones you all want to see!!

I'M EXCITED FOR IT!! I HOPE YOU ARE TOOO!!!

LOVE YOUUUU!!

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

part 6

part 7

(3.1k+ words)

viii.

Y/N only allows him a total of five minutes to beat around the bush. 

Partially, it’s due to her scenting that she even gave him that much time to begin with. She does so fruitfully, as if completely instinctual and innate at that point – like scenting a pack mate or something close to it. Y/N doesn’t even care to do a publicly appropriate scenting with her wrist; she’s unbothered by the PDA that comes with nuzzling her nose against his throat, breathing in greedy, deep breaths. Harry is no better, huffing her like a drug almost, letting it, raw and unfiltered, slither down into his lungs, expanding his alveoli with each inhale. He can practically taste her on his tongue, and it almost sends him into a whole different kind of spiral. He loves her scent so fucking much; if he could have a candle in each room to light with it, he would. It probably wouldn’t be too hard to find a lily-scented candle, right? Or honeysuckle? He could find both and light them together.  

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her throat, his voice feeling small and all too loud in the quiet of the park, despite being muffled against her skin, “I’m just a stupid knothead; I should never have avoided you.” 

There’s a soft squeeze on his shoulder, and he realizes very quickly that he can never go this long without her hands on him again. A week and a half is entirely too much time to not hear her voice, feel her against his body, or scent her. Harry feels a little crazy over it, and extra stupid. He wants to bury his face against different parts of her body and apologize over and over again for being so dumb. And he’d start at her feet too, press against the soles of them, then against her ankle, her calves, her thighs. He’d go to her belly, her chest, her arms – he’d even tuck his nose against her armpit and beg for her to forgive him – 

Okay, he has to stay focused. He’s getting a little carried away thinking about all of that. Time away did very little to clear his head; that’s one thing he’s sure of. If she does reject him, he might have to go live in the mountains and become one with nature, but even then, he’d probably be sketching her face into cave walls or something. Maybe he could get hypnotized into forgetting her or something? That might be easier. Then at least he would walk around with this carving in his chest, but he wouldn’t know what it was for. Or, if his hypnotism didn’t work, he’s sure there’s a memory-loss-inducing pill in the works in some lab that he could be the experimental mouse on, but – 

No, seriously, he needed to focus. 

“You are a knothead,” she agreed, but she was petting the hair at his nape so sweetly that there was no bite to her words, “But you’re my knothead, yeah? And my stupid knothead needs to know that I prefer to communicate rather than disappear. If you needed space, I wish you would’ve just told me, baby. I would’ve given it to you.” 

“I never want space from you!” Is something Harry definitely meant to say in his head, but comes out desperate and pathetic even to his own ears, “Seriously, I wanted to see you every single day, but I just — I knew — I just wouldn’t be able to be normal at all. I’d be weird and clingy and —“

“So would I!” She squeezed his arms, then tugged him softly in the direction of a bench. Harry followed because he’s a good boy, through and through, and the bench is a little more private, surrounded by bushes and a large oak tree. Right now they were having an emotional reunion right in the middle of the sidewalk, which, if someone passed by, they’d probably feel a little accosted by the scent for sure. It’s just a short way away, but Y/N keeps a tight grip on him like she’s worried he’ll run off if she doesn’t. He feels guilt well up inside his bones, oozing onto the vessels that surround them. Harry didn’t know that she missed him this much — he knew that she was unsettled by how he left it off, but he thought she’d eventually just let him fade into her periphery. 

But how she’s acting right now was not the way someone who was going to forget about him would act. They sat down, and Y/N turned to face him, her knee pressed up against the back of the bench. She’s pressed so closely that even a piece of paper wouldn't be able to slip in between them. One of her hands is in her lap, but the other is playing with the rings on his fingers. They feel soft against him, but he knows how delicious they feel when they’re rough. When they press into him tight and hold him close.

“After you left, I got really in my head,” he admits finally, though that was a given; it felt good to say it out loud. “And I just kept thinking how you were just being nice and helping me through my rut, but I was making it weird, so I felt bad. When you called me rut buddy, I was — I don’t know, I guess the bubble we were in popped, you know? And I realized that it was — that I was getting my feelings involved, and we never agreed to that.” He swallowed thickly, “I crossed a boundary, y'know? I felt awful about it.”

Y/N pulled his hand from his lap, opened his fingers wide for her, and then pressed her face into his palm, “Stupid alpha,” she was whiny in a way that she doesn’t really get. It’s cute, actually — way too cute. It sort of makes him want to gnaw on her — he wants to put her wrist in his mouth and chew on it like a dog toy. He’s so obsessed, it’s making him look dumb – he is dumb, really; she’s right, he’s a stupid alpha. “My stupid alpha.” Harry loves being Y/N’s anything. Her knothead, her stupid alpha, god, he’d be a bug underneath her boot if that’s what she wanted. What is this feeling? It’s so overwhelming; he thinks he might burst. 

“You didn’t cross a single boundary with me, okay? I thought – I was worried I’d be crossing a boundary by staying too long after your rut was finished. I didn’t want to leave, though. If you had asked me to stay, then I would’ve stayed in a heartbeat.” A whine left his throat, like a kicked puppy, “But we hadn’t discussed what we would do after it was done. I didn’t know if you were someone who preferred to be alone to recoup or if you would want me to stay, and I guess. . .well, I guess I could’ve asked too. I just didn’t want to seem pushy,” she sighed softly, “So I’m a stupid alpha too.” 

Harry shook his head. “You’re not stupid, never,” he dragged his fingers along her jaw, down her throat where her scent patches typically lay. He petted it with his thumb, shuddered when she shivered, and more of her scent eased out, “I could have been more. . .forthcoming, with how I was feeling.” 

“And how were you feeling?” She pressed, “How are you feeling? About your rut? About me?” 

And normally, Harry would be so shy to tell her. He’d be red in the face, looking away, murmuring some excuse about how it was nice and she was nice, but never really go into the deep-rooted feelings that he’d begun having for her. Honestly, right now, Harry is just struggling with figuring out how honest he could be without freaking her out. It really hasn’t been that long since they’ve known each other, but with the way he thinks about her, you would’ve thought he’d been in love with her for years. There was just something about her, encrypted in the sequences of his DNA. He doesn’t even just feel like he wants her – not after getting to spend so much time with her, taste her the way he has, feel her the way he has – he needs her now. That’s what it felt like. 

“I like you,” he settles on at first, holding her gaze, even though he wants to look away, “I like you so much, almost. . .almost too much. From the moment I met you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I didn’t know if it was because I’d never met a female alpha before or if I was just truly that enamored with you. I think, to start, it was a little bit of both. You open your mouth to speak, and it feels like I’m sucked right in. During our rut, I wanted to press so closely against you that we fused together or something; I don’t know – it’s weird.” She doesn’t move away from him, though – if anything, he feels her melt closer, and it encourages him to keep moving his stupid mouth, “Your scent is so good, it’s driving me crazy. You drive me crazy, and I want to bite you, and mate you, and claim you, but I don’t even know if that works between two alphas, really. But I want it vice versa too – I want you to mate me, claim me, tie me up on a leash and walk me around, or –” 

“Oh wow,” she laughs breathlessly, lifting her hand to place a couple of fingers over his mouth to make him pause while she peeks around to make sure they were still alone. In the meantime, Harry pursed his lips and kissed over her fingertips. She’s marveling at him, though – he thought, maybe if he said too much, she would be grimacing, disgusted, creeped out by what he was saying. “Harry, I – I mean, I don’t know what this says about us, but I’ve been just as crazy about you. Niall keeps saying I’m so obsessed it makes me look stupid, and I can’t even fight him on it, because I am – I even bought this candle because it had a similar note to your scent. I’ve been keeping it lit in my flat – I move it to whatever room I’m in.” Harry holds her delicately by the wrist, keeps her hand where it was, and keeps kissing her fingers, down to her palm, pressing into the center. He’s over the moon, truly, “Like, if it means anything to you, I literally want to shove my face into your groin and breathe in deep like a dog or something. You tickle an animal part of my brain. I – I had to look it up because I felt so insane.” 

“You’re too good at hiding it,” he whines, huffing, shaking his head. “I was so obvious about it; you seemed too chill and relaxed. I was positive I was coming across like a weirdo.” 

“I am good at hiding it,” she tells him, “You have to be really good at hiding how you feel when you’re like me, y’know? Especially if it’s towards another alpha I – you never know how people will feel about that. I used to get picked on a bit at school anyway, for being an oddity. The amount of whispers I’ve heard about the “weird alpha girl” liking someone is enough to teach anyone to put at least some sort of a lid on it.” Harry pouts and immediately wants to transport back in time so he could protect Y/N from every dickheaded secondary schooler who thought they could tease her. “And you are a weirdo, Harry, but it’s okay. You’re a cute weirdo.” 

He pouts even harder, and she giggles, and he wishes she’d lean forward and kiss it off his face, but she has more to say. 

“When I looked it up online, all the things I was feeling, and how quickly I was feeling them, I ran into some stuff about like. . .like you know how people believe there are mates you’re destined to be with? Like, red string of fate type shit – you were always meant to meet each other, and when you did, it was sparks and butterflies. You are so meant to be together that the world alters and shifts just so that it makes sure you are. I think – would it be crazy to think that was us?” 

Harry guesses he’d never considered that they might be fated mates to any degree. Since he’d imagined it was all pitiful, one-sided puppy love, he’d figured that this was his own thing he was dealing with. Had he known Y/N was feeling the same way, and so quickly at that, then he would have maybe suspected it more. He’s met a couple of fated pairs, actually, one during a work deal he was involved in months ago. Then another, back in high school, who are still together, and almost disgustingly happy, married and shacking up in some house in the countryside. 

But now that she says it, it makes so much sense. It washes over him in a flood of relief and full-blown desire. It was nice to know that he wasn’t crazy, that he wasn’t imagining chemistry between them, and to find out that she was feeling the same as him? He could just turn to glitter, he thinks – a pile of fizzing, sparkling glitter.  

“Now take that with a grain of salt, because I’m not some mate astrologer, but it just made so much sense. Especially finding out you feel the same way,” she smiled at him softly, “And I just feel so comfortable with you, like – from the moment we met, I would’ve done anything you asked me to.” He continues to rub against her scent gland, only now he slides his wrist up to her throat and leaves it there. “When you weren’t answering me, I thought I was gonna lose my mind. And Niall kept telling me we were both being stupid – god, we might need to buy him some flowers or something.

Harry’s heart feels so full, too full in his chest. This is too much, almost – too good. He wonders if he’s dreaming right now or if this is all actually happening. 

“Can I take you home?” He asks, “Or – or will you take me to your home? I – um, I’d like to redo our aftercare. I’d like to extend it properly, how it should have been, how it could have been if we had been honest.” 

“Yes,” she agrees, standing up almost too quickly – she nearly knocks Harry off the bench, “I was having a lot of trouble not being weird in public. It’s taking quite a bit of restraint.” 

She understands him, Harry thinks – she understands him so fucking deeply it riles him right up. 

The ride to her house was a quick one. Y/N had taken the bus, but Harry had driven here, so he drove them to her place and tried not to seem too excited by the prospect of seeing her flat for the first time. He’d seen it in the background of pictures and videos, but he knew it’d be different in real life. Where he could smell it and feel it; where he could truly capture what it was like to be completely encompassed by her. 

And it does not disappoint; the first step inside is like immediately being coaxed into her warm embrace. She doesn’t have the heat on, but it’s definitely warmer and cozier inside than it is out. It smells like Y/N mixed with the candle she’d been lighting because it sort of smelled like him (it did, actually, in its own weird little way – a couple of the notes in the candle might match him well). Her walls are decorated fruitfully, no space left uncovered by some portrait, trinket, light, string of objects like paper butterflies, felt stars, crocheted kitties. It was eccentric in the way she was, and so inviting that he thinks he might have to stay here forever or something. His own place dulls in comparison; that’s for sure. 

Y/N directs him straight to the bedroom – she lives in a studio, so they go up the stairs to a lofted area where her mattress lies on the ground, pressed in a corner. There seems to be something close to a nest of clothes along the perimeter of the mattress, and with it, a shirt of Harry’s that he did not remember giving her. And then he recalls Niall's very original gift idea of bringing along a scented piece of clothing from one, for the other, and figures he’d done this for her as well. 

She pays no mind to it, and doesn’t seem the least bit shy about her nest. They had already kicked off their shoes at the door, but Y/N makes him peel off his shirt so she can add it to her bed. She gives him a different shirt to change into that smells like her and her laundry detergent, and he struggles not to tuck his nose beneath the collar and start huffing it until he passes out. Instead, he’s very normal and drops his pants as instructed before climbing into the bed. Y/N strips down to her underwear too, dropping onto her knees on the mattress before crawling over the top of his body. Harry accepts her readily, excitedly – if he had a tail, it’d be thumping between him and the bed right now. Y/N melts over the top of him, like butter over a pancake. He feels just as fluffy as the insides of a pancake, actually. He also wouldn’t mind if Y/N bit him right now, but he thinks they should probably start dating before that happens. 

Until then, Harry allows himself to enjoy this. Even though he probably shouldn’t – he’d made both of them suffer for longer, unnecessarily - Y/N doesn’t seem angry with him. He’s just a little angry with himself, but it’s hard to feel anyway when he feels so content right now, after a week of sheer distress. 

“We need to talk more,” she murmurs, but her voice is slow and heavy, like she’s on the brink of sleep, “About our relationship, but right now I’m – I’m so sleepy, baby. I haven’t slept well since we were together.” 

Harry can only agree, pressing his mouth against her temple, and letting his eyes flutter closed. 

“Sleep now, and we can talk when we wake up, okay?” 

I think I might be in love with you, actually. That’s what Harry doesn’t say. 

He’s definitely thinking it, though.