Harry can read minds (Patreon)

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NOWWWWWW THIS IS KIND OF RANDOM. I would say this is like loosely based on that anime, Cherry Magic; mostly just the reading someone's mind and accidentally finding out they like you bit! only instead of finding out she likes him, she is horned UP

OKAY LOVE YOUUUUU!!!! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

(2.3k+ words)

i.

Harry can read minds. 

It wasn’t something that he had forever, even though it felt like it. One day, he was a normal 17-year-old boy trying to work his job and make it through school, semi-well-adjusted, and the next thing he knew, he passed out at a soccer game and woke up hearing the nurse complain about ‘stupid fucking kids not drinking water’. He’d been so shocked because her mouth hadn’t moved, but he’d definitely heard it like she’d screamed it right in his ear. And when he gasped, scandalized, and said, “I was drinking water!” She looked just as alarmed, like she wasn’t expecting him to.  

Then it merely spiralled from there. From the nurse to his teachers, from his teachers to his friends, from his friends to his sister and mum – Harry could hear everyone’s thoughts. Of course he said nothing, because he thought that it made him weird and stupid, and he’d figured they would definitely try to lock him in a psych ward. And Harry really wanted to finish school on time, so he just. . .well, tried to ignore it. Which most likely wasn’t the smartest thing to do, because now he’s lived for more than a decade just ignoring a very large and, at times, distressing part of his life.

But it was easier to pretend it wasn’t happening than to try and explain that he knows the reptile advisor at the pet store is cheating on his girlfriend of 5 years with the woman who runs the puppy adoption days. Or telling Niall the reason their boss loves him so much is that he knows exactly what he wants him to say, because he’s hearing it in real time. And how could he expose himself when he was the most coveted person at the family reunion when it came to playing charades? He just couldn’t!

Plus, he’d lived so long like this that it was more normal than not living that way. And, at the very least, he’d learned how to block out most of it. It’s just background noise, like the hum of static in an empty room, or the buzz of fluorescent lights in a store at 11 PM. He can tune it out, or he can tune into it, and he usually tries to tune it out. Harry feels a bit guilty when he reads minds – unassuming strangers don’t want their brains to be picked and pried through without knowing. So he tries not to, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Or sometimes he just has to, because he’s nosy, and the reptile guy was literally eyefucking the puppy adoption lady instead of telling Harry where the cat clothes are. And his boss is notoriously a self-righteous dick, so he had to get his leg up somewhere, and it wouldn’t be with his normal personality. And charades is charades – those games become dog-eat-dog no matter who you’re playing with, blood-related or not. 

So, yeah, he just tries to block it out. He’s never met someone with loud enough thoughts that he was unable to block them out, even when they were drunk or clearly on coke. Harry can make it all fizzle and puff out. 

At least, that was before he’d tried out a different cafe. 

It was new – just a block away from his work, so he could easily stop by before his day started or during lunch. Maybe after work too, if he couldn’t afford an after-work nap because he had plans. Honestly, it was the most conveniently placed cafe he’d ever experienced in his life, so he was hoping that it was actually good. It looked quite cutesy on the outside, and there seemed to be a theme with cats that he was picking up on – it was warm pastels and cozy lighting from when he drove by. He’d imagined workers with matching aprons and semi-soft voices to fit a coffee shop atmosphere. The smell of arabica beans and warmed bread in an oven – a place that makes you long for autumn. 

And when he walked in this particular Tuesday morning, he was greeted with all of that! The scent of the air was sweeter than he imagined; the music was low but a surprisingly upbeat song; the two working at the counter were wearing matching mocha colored aprons over pristine-looking polos that he knew they probably hated to wear. At the chime of the doorbell, the one at the register perked up and looked over. She smiled softly, sweetly – her name tag read Y/N. 

“Hi, welcome in!” She sounds really nice, actually, and kind. Not at all like it’s 7 AM on a Tuesday, the very beginning of the work week. 

Harry opens his mouth to respond in kind, because he likes to have sweet, nice moments like that, but a voice – a very intense voice- flutters through his ears.

You’re joking. . .I need to fuck him like – yesterday. 

His words falter, lips shaking a little when he turned to look behind him and around, noting that he was the only one in the cafe so far, apart from the two workers. Harry blinked at the other girl behind the counter, who seemed to be preoccupied with her phone. Maybe it had been her? But it sounded like – 

“Um, Sir?” The woman who greeted him pulls his attention back, “Is everything alright?” 

He swallows, laughing a little, feeling his cheeks get hot – he probably looks crazy, “Oh, yes! Yes, sorry, I – I was just a little distracted.” 

Whoa, even his voice is hot? And the outfit he’s wearing – he must be a business guy. God, you don’t usually like business guys; they are glorified frat dickheads. Remember who you are, Y/N. . . but he’s cute. . .wait, would he fuck me? Does he think I’m cute? Do I look cute in this fuck ass polo or what? 

Then it registers that Harry isn’t hearing a voice in his ear; he's hearing it in his head. 

“That’s okay, don’t apologize,”  for anything, ever, at all – honestly, let me apologize to you with my mouth wide open – “What can I get for you today?” 

Harry feels a little aghast. It’s not like he’d never heard the thoughts of someone who thought he was attractive, but he used to at least have to work for them a little bit. Like, on first glance, nobody typically thinks Harry is all that hot. He’s flirty, sure; he can grab their attention and keep it, but he doesn’t have that sort of drawing personality that would just randomly get these naughty thoughts. He would say that he and Niall are around the same level of attractiveness, but he’s more alluring and seductive, so the thoughts about him go off the charts. Harry usually guides him toward people who are interested in him but relatively pure in their intentions. 

“Uh, just a – a cold brew and. . .what is your most popular food item?” 

Shit, I hate this question, “Hmmmm, well, I don’t know if it’s the most popular, but the chocolate stuffed croissant is my favorite.” 

He smiled. So cute, so cute, I need to fuck him! What the hell? What if he never comes back? Should I get his number – god, no, Y/N, shut the hell up, and focus. 

“Ah, okay! The price is on the screen.” He doesn’t have to tip cash; he could give me a different tip. How big is our supply closet? Could we fuck without messing with the integrity of the food? Harry took a peek up at her again and saw that she’s looking at him without even a n inkling that these perverted thoughts are slipping around her head. God, who looks this composed when they’re thinking that? 

Harry tips 30%, flustered, overwhelmed. 

He tips well too? He kinda looks like he’d cry when he cums. Does he cum a lot? Y’know, the older I get, the more hyperspermia intrigues me; I really can’t stop thinking about it. Is that weird? Who cares, I’d let him fill me up till I started spilling everywhere. 

“It’ll be right up!” She gave no indication that she was interested in him in the slightest! Every verbal response she made was very customer service, and her face wasn’t indicative of someone who was thinking about getting “filled up” by any means. Harry feels crazy – crazier than he’s ever felt, even after he’d started hearing people’s thoughts out of nowhere. Maybe he was making it up? 

It’s just that Harry has gotten really good at reading people. Hearing someone’s thoughts and analyzing the microexpressions on their face makes it so that Harry notices a lot of things. The dilation of someone’s pupils, the twitch of their mouth, the scrunch of their nose, or the flutter of their eyes. Harry notices all of it, usually – but again, for as loud as her thoughts were, Y/N doesn’t seem to have any physical reaction to him. Hell, she didn’t even ask for his name. 

Which is more than Harry could say. His dick twitched like three times while listening to her head, seeing the images flickering in her mind. It’s not even like Harry is trying to listen; her thoughts are invading his brain in a weird twist of irony that Harry had never experienced before. He tries his best to inconspicuously adjust himself when Y/N turns away, carefully constructing his drink while her coworker starts to warm up his croissant. Harry does peer into her coworker's head, especially when they lock eyes from above the clear food case. 

If I have to warm up another one of these today, I’m going to lose my shit

Well, it isn’t his fault! Y/N suggested it! 

This guy is so Y/N’s type; if he keeps coming in, she’s going to make herself look stupid. 

He’s got to get out of here. 

“Okay, all finished!” Y/N places the drink down on the counter, just as her coworker – who has covered her name tag with her hair – is bagging the croissant, “Have a good day. See you later!” 

Harry takes the coffee and croissant. He nods, “Thank you!” He twists on his heel, heading out of the store. 

His bum is cute too? Do I want to be with him or be him? I’m getting confused. Am I ovulating? 

Harry is feeling a lot of different things the rest of the day. He’s shocked for the first time in a long time about someone’s thoughts. The content of them, of course, but also the way in which they entered his brain without his request. And he’s flustered too, heart thudding in his chest every time he thinks about how she was thinking about him. Harry doesn’t think he’s like. . .ugly, but he’s never considered himself someone who was worthy of thoughts like that upon first meeting. Nobody had ever thought about him like that before, he doesn’t think, unless he was actively taking off his clothes and they were horny. And even then, nobody has ever thought about him and hyperspermia in the same sentence. Hell, Harry didn’t even know what it was until he googled it on his way into work, blushed bright red, and then had to click out of it. 

But most of all, he’s flattered. Maybe he should be weirded out, but he really isn’t – his cock is half hard, and he has to force the thoughts to leave his head so that he doesn’t have a stiffy the rest of the day. He wants to go back to see if it was a fluke or if she was really thinking all of that. But going after work would be crazy – he needs to wait until tomorrow morning. What if she doesn’t even work then, though? 

“Man, you look like you’re about to jump out of your bones.” Niall hums from across from him in the break room, leaning his bum against the counter with a comically large coffee mug in his hands, warming his hands between it, “Hm? You’ve been jittery all day.” 

Harry grimaced – was he really that obvious? “Oh, no, I just –” 

“Did you meet someone?” Niall tilted his head, “You’ve got that look in your eyes.” 

“What look?” Harry pouts, feeling too seen – Niall doesn’t even read minds, but he’s always been able to read him relatively easily. Either because Harry was more of an open book than he realized or because Niall was just used to him at this point. Either way, he doesn’t think there’s a look that he has when he’s met someone. 

Niall slurps from the mug, wincing when the heat of it splashes on his tongue. “I dunno, you get this dopey look about you,” he points his finger and draws a circle in the air, “You’re all jumpy, and your ears are always a little red, like you’re thinking about them.” 

Resigning to his apparent obvious nature, Harry’s shoulders slouch, “Uh – the woman at the new cafe – the one down the road? She’s. . .really nice,” and super horny, for some reason, Harry thinks to himself, but leaves that part out, “And pretty. That’s all.” 

With a sneaky grin, Niall presses, “Hm. . .is her name Y/N?” 

Harry’s eyes widen, “You know her?” 

“More than I’d care to,” Niall chuckled, which probably means they’re close friends, “Do you want her number? I can send it to y–” 

“No!” Harry shook his head, “No! Uh – I – I mean, I don’t want to look like a creep or anything.” He explained, “If she gives me her number, I want it to happen organically, I think.” 

He’d just like to make sure that Y/N was actually thinking about him, is all, before he does anything risky like that. What if Niall tries to play matchmaker or something? And then Y/N wasn’t even thinking about him, but now thinks he’s a creepy-ass customer, like, hunting her down or something? He doesn’t know – today has just been so weird; he doesn’t want to do anything stupid. 

Niall sighed, “Ugh, fine,” he crossed his arms. “Just so you know, she is real intense when she likes you, yeah? So be ready for that.” 

Harry may have a little idea of that already.