Tales From The Modern Incubus Part 12*

Soon

prompt: It’s not very often Harry gets triggered by the events of their past in the same way that YN does. 

warnings:  smut, cheating, flashbacks, mentions of abuse, this could just be overall triggering if you have experienced trauma or family struggles. please take these warnings seriously.

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this is dedicated to Sarah - who made a generous donation to my kofi and requested a fluffy cheating blurb. (even though it turned into an angsty, fluffy oneshot, i hope you enjoy)!

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—

It was a lake, on the outskirts of London that one of Harry’s friend had found a long long time ago and now that the friend was back in town - they decided on a lake day.

It was tucked into the woods, on private property that nobody had cared for - overgrown and foresty- it was a bit of hike to find it.

The sun was hot, unusually warm, even in the summer, and it was perfect to spend their afternoon in the grass and water.

Harry, as always, had offered to pick up YN but she refused like she always did when he was driving Anna as well.

He felt a bit anxious when they arrived and YN wasn’t there but all of his other friends had arrived, laid out their towels, and were sunbathing to get nice and toasty before getting in the water.

The man groaned internally with annoyance when Anna tugged off her sun dress and had an extremely revealing bikini on - tits spilling out and her bottoms just a sad scrap of fabric.

They weren’t at fucking Miami Beach, it was a casual day where everyone was dressed in a comfortable, some old suits to laze around in.

Anna was waiting for Harry’s eyes to trace down her full chest, flat tummy, the hint of her bum from the cheeky bottoms.

Instead, he just shucks of his shirt and lays down his towel without a word to her about it - he wasn’t stupid, he knew what she wanted.

“Harry,” Anna grits out, squeezing his bicep harshly, and pulling his attention to her with force, “You can’t even compliment my appearance?”

He doesn’t want to argue around his friends, he sucks it up and sighs, eyes on hers - not roaming down once.

“I like y’suit, y’tits look nice,” Harry replies blandly, giving her no emotion but she beams and giggles none the less.

“I can give you a peek later,” She teases, brushing her chest against his arm before reaching for her towel - he could sense his friends ogling her and he didn’t give one fuck.

He doesn’t respond, peeking back at the woods to see if YN was trekking through. He would have texted but there was no service.

After about fifteen minutes of laying out, Anna chattering him and his friends’ ears off with boring shit about her gym and nail tech.

Harry sits up when he hear rustling, spots his love stepping in the field in a oversized old shirt of Harry’s, jean shorts, and her tennis shoes - bag slung over her shoulder.

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i will never accept the sound of my recorded voice

what are your favorite drabbles you've ever done ?

something about harry being nervous to meet your extended family

something about harry fucking you so rough you can barely get up the next morning and he’s a smug little shit about it

something about harry being tired and pouty and begging you to fuck him

something about harry tasting himself after he’s through with you

something about harry having too much fun tempting you throughout the day

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She looked at the drink in her hand, suddenly feeling demure and childish holding a drink the bartender told her was called Sex on the Beach after she asked for something that doesn’t take like alcohol. He noticed her hesitation and the way her eyes flickered between his drink and her own. “Would you like to try it?”

She nodded her head yes, letting him know that she did want to try it. So badly, she wanted to try it. Not because she wanted to taste the tequila, she was sure it wasn’t very good, but because she wanted to taste where his lips pressed against the glass. She could see the subtle fog where he was placing his lips every time he would take a sip. So, he handed her his drink and when she turned the glass and pressed her lips against where they both knew his lips had once been, he murmured a small, “Christ, Y/N.”

Or

Harry is a young professor and Y/N has never felt this kind of attraction before

Disclaimer: I didn't do a lot of editing to this, and it is also part one out of at least three!

Word Count: 14k+

Y/N was always one that was good at school work. She was punctual for class, thorough with her assignments, and would spend way more time than the average person studying for exams that she knew she would ace regardless. She flew through her undergraduate program, enjoying the learning component of school so much that she decided she would attend a graduate program.

She thought she would fly through it like she always had.

Y/N was wrong.

It was her first day in a teaching position as a graduate student, and the professor she was assisting for the semester only taught advanced level psychology classes. She thought that maybe assisting a professor in the class she was struggling most with — even though he was not her direct professor— might be helpful with bumping up her grade and understanding the content of the course. 

Although Y/N was not new to this program, she was struggling with one psychology course in particular. As the opportunity arose for her to TA (the pay was minimal, but she would take anything at this point), she jumped at the offer when she realized it was a position for a class she was nearly pulling her eyelashes out over. Of course she went over it with her guidance counselor to make sure the school didn’t qualify that as an unfair advantage. She didn’t want to be scolded for thinking it was appropriate to TA for a class she was concurrently taking, but her guidance counselor quickly reassured her that as long as she didn’t TA for the professor she was taking the course with, she had absolutely nothing to worry about. 

To say she was nervous was an understatement. The professor she was assisting was one she had never heard of before. With much frustration, she scoured the internet trying to find any inkling of information regarding him. There were no reviews on his teaching, no rating on how hard his course was, and the only thing she managed to find was his name (not even a picture) on the faculty website. Typically, Y/N could look up faculty and find a rating on some college website to let potential students know how hard their class was on a scale from one to five, how heavy the course load was, and if the student rating them would take a class with that professor on another occasion.

There she was, outside of his room, fifteen minutes earlier than she needed to be because she was always stressing over minuscule things (to her, five minutes early might as well be ten minutes late). Stress oozed from her pores, and she felt the tension build in her shoulders as it began sinking in that she knew nothing of the man who she would be spending quite some time with. She let out a small breath, trying to ease some of the tension in her shoulders and the way butterflies were infiltrating her brain and stomach. Y/N was in what she would call, a stress pocket. Like she had picked herself from the world and tucked herself away in a separate dimension that was only filled with stress. No happiness, no laughter, no sorrow, no anger. Simply stress. She could view the outside world from the clear stress pocket, but she couldn’t quite find a way to crawl out of it.

With one more breath and a copy of his course schedule in her hand, she flicked her gaze down and scanned it over once more preparing herself. As far as she was concerned, he had no class during this time slot and she could easily rasp her knuckles against the oak door, but a fizzle in her stomach stopped her from doing so. 

What if he didn’t know he was given a TA by the school? Is that possible? She went over a few practice lines in her head to make sure she had the words flowing through her brain before she worked up the courage to knock. It was somewhat of a habit of hers. When she ordered food for takeout, she spent a few minutes rehearsing her order so the words slipped out of her mouth nicely. Otherwise, her brain became flustered, her face would heat, and her eyes would gaze down at her shoes. 

Before she had the chance to rehearse what she was going to say, the door unlatched and popped right open revealing who she believed was Professor Styles. A satin shirt laid across his chest, slightly showing the tips of a tattoo she couldn’t quite make out. Long dark blue slacks covered his leg, flaring at the bottom and possibly made him look taller than he actually was. 

“Thought I saw a shadow lingering outside the door,” he murmured, stepping to the side to allow space for her to walk in. “What’re you doing standing out there for so long?”

It took her brain a couple seconds to compose her thoughts. This is exactly why she always prepared what she would say in advance, because her brain was becoming foggy as he held her gaze. She couldn’t help but scan his face a little more intensely than she probably should have, noting the slight pink color to his cheeks that matches his lips, the way his green eyes had a sort of sultry look to them, and the way he brought his hand up to his jaw, scratching at the stubble growing in as he looked at her. She had to avert her eyes, otherwise she may have never been able to get the words out— his beauty was a little too intense and overwhelmingly unexpected. 

Y/N doesn’t think she had ever seen anyone quite as beautiful as him. It was like an angel carved him from stone and decided the world needed a little more beauty. They planted him in the soil and grew him with the clearest spring water they could find, the sun nurturing his cheekbones and the soft brown curls that wrapped around the frame of his face so well. He was not accidental, he was planned by the Gods. Beauty that was a gift to the world.

“Sorry,” she managed to squeak out, her eyes plastered to the wall behind her as she cleared her throat to avoid any voice cracking. “I didn’t knock because I was a little early. I didn’t know if I would have been interrupting something.” 

His fingers pushed the door closed once more, then turned away from her and strode to his desk with long steps. Y/N took a chance to look at him once more, familiarizing herself with his features. She could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips curved upward that he was sure of himself. “Mmm,” the hum coming from his vocal chord raised an octave up as he looked over a piece of paper on his desk. “You wouldn’t have been interrupting anything. How can I help you?”

She glanced down at the paper in between her fingers, and realized she was gripping it a lot harder than she processed. An indentation was made in the paper where her forefinger and thumb were straining it. In a few steps, she made it to his desk and slid the paper over to him, a slight shake of her hand as she gently pushed it across the desk. He looked up at her as he noticed the tremble in her hand, but chose not to say anything about it. 

“I’m your new TA for the class that’s starting in about ten minutes.” She spoke clearly, quickly removing her hand from the wood of his desk, and shoving it into her coat pocket. Y/N shifted on the backs of her heels, a tendency she had developed to self soothe in tense situations. 

His face lit up in realization, a look of understanding washing across his features like he finally put the pieces together as to why a random student, (certainly not one of his own because he’s great with names and faces), was nervously standing outside of his door. Her shy gaze faltering slightly as he asked why she was lingering behind the door suddenly made sense, and the nervous hand trembling was completely understandable when he realized she was reporting for her teacher’s assistant duties for the first time ever. She was just a little nervous, and he was determined to make her warm up to the new atmosphere around her. 

“Yes,” he smiled down at her, trying to make her feel welcome and comfortable. “Y/N, right? If I’m being completely honest, I forgot that I was getting an assistant today, but I’m happy you’re here!” He reached out his palm, encasing her hand in his with a firm shake. 

Her hand was delicate in his, the firmness of his made her feel small and she simply wanted to melt into a puddle against the tile as she took in his excitement. He wasn’t going to be so excited when he realized that she was actually very, very bad at abnormal psychology and couldn’t, for the life of her, remember any of the terms she was supposed to. A quick heat crept up her neck and infiltrated her cheeks at the thought of him thinking she was stupid. 

Y/N was not stupid. Y/N was anything but, and her greatest pet peeve was being belittled or ridiculed for her lack of knowledge because she spent a great deal of time intaking the material her professor’s provided her with. Hell, that’s how she got into grad school. It was just that abnormal psychology wasn’t her strongest course, and she couldn’t be faulted for that. She spent a lot of time studying for it, but her test scores were suffering more than she would like to admit. It could be because of her bashfulness, or maybe it was just her ego, but she couldn’t bring herself to visit her professor during office hours or even show up to the tutoring center. On the other hand, it also could have been because her professor was not the most approachable human being to exist and quickly made it known if you were inconveniencing him in any way.

When she didn’t say anything back, he sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and motioned for her to follow him. Inside his classroom was a medium sized personal office tucked in the corner. Walls and a chestnut colored door separated it from the actual learning portion of the classroom. His fingers gently tapped against the door with the red undertone as he hooked his long fingers in the door knob and pressed it down. The door swung open, revealing another girl probably the same age as Y/N sitting behind one of the two desks. 

“Hi,” the girl behind the desk chirped. Her eyes were kind, and she sported big chunky glasses that suited her face well. One of the first things Y/N noticed was the subtle glow to her skin, and if she thinks a person could embody sunshine, it might just be this girl behind the desk.

“Y/N, this is my other TA, Mallory,” Professor Styles motioned toward the girl, Mallory, sitting behind the desk with a bright smile across her face. “She is also one of my TA’s for abnormal psych, but she is here with me in the mornings. I only teach abnormal psych this semester, so a couple TA’s will help me balance the workload. Sometimes your schedules may overlap for about twenty minutes or so, but whatever you’re falling behind on let Mallory know and she can pick up the following morning.” He glanced between the two girls, a smile spreading across his rose colored lips, “Same thing goes for Mallory. Whatever she needs help with, you’ll continue the task in the afternoon.”

Mallory motioned for Y/N to step inside the office, so she took the cue and walked inside. As she looked around, she noted that the office was decorated beautifully, like whoever designed the workspace must be keen on interior design. It felt more like a home than an office, really.

A green sofa with orange throw pillows flushed against the wall, as what she assumed was a comfortable area for students when they visit Professor Styles during office hours. Two fully wooden desks, side by side, though one was more cluttered which she assumed was Professor Styles’ workspace. A faux leather swivel chair was placed directly parallel with his desk for students to sit at while he chatted with them, or maybe even his colleague friends that visited him for lunch. The walls were decorated with paintings, mostly paintings with sage green and a burnt orange color to match the same vibe as the couch, and when she cocked her head to the side, she saw a small bench next to the door that held papers with community resources so students could tear off the contact information they needed.

“Mallory, do you think you could get Y/N familiar with the desk and the space? My next class starts in a few minutes and I just want to prepare a couple things. After that, you’re free to go.”

Mallory simply nodded as Professor Styles strode out of the doorway and back over to his main desk in the classroom. Y/N tore her gaze from him, trying not to ogle too much to the point where it becomes increasingly more noticeable. She made her way closer to the desk, where Mallory began showing her where all the supplies were. The top drawer of the desk was for pens and pencils, the second drawer was for extra sheets of blank paper, and the third drawer in the desk held an organized filing system which held all the answer keys for the tests he gave throughout the semester. 

“These are the tests I’m currently grading. I was able to get through his first two classes and part of his third class, but there are two more classes of 60 people that need to be graded plus the one that I didn’t finish all the way through.” Mallory pointed at the stack of tests that needed to be graded, and next to it was the hefty stack she had already worked through this morning.

Y/N looked down at the answer key displayed, and realized it was the same exact test she had taken just last week in her abnormal psychology class. “This is the same exact test I took last week,” she picked up the answer key and scanned it, noting the same wording on each question, same multiple choice answers, and same write-in questions.

Mallory nodded, a warm smile across her face as her voice chirped out, “Yeah, you’re in Professor Smith’s class with me. I recognize you. I sit behind you. Smith’s class is one week ahead of Harry’s which is why we’re able to TA for him, because we’re taking the same tests but a whole week before Harry gives them to his students,” she shrugs her shoulders up and down, “It makes it fair.”

It took Y/N a minute before she realized who Mallory was talking about. The name Harry got lost in her brain as she tried to understand who Mallory was talking about until she realized that Mallory was Professor Styles’ first name, and she knew that due to her deep Google searches on the young professor.

“I see,” Y/N nodded her head and placed the answer key back on the desk, not quite sure what else to say to Mallory. It seemed pretty straight forward, and if she finished before her time was up for the day, she was sure Professor Styles would give her something else to do for the remainder of the time.

“If there’s anything that you need, you can just ask me. My contact information is on that little piece of paper taped to the desk,” Mallory pointed at the corner, and Y/N read her full name, phone number, and email address, “But everything is pretty straight-forward.”

Y/N nodded, mumbling out an appreciative “thank you” as Mallory began gathering her stuff. Right before she exited the door, Y/N cleared her throat as she worked up the courage to get Mallory’s attention. 

Mallory turned her head slightly, her eyebrows raised as she held the edge of the doorway with her fingers, waiting for Y/N to say something.

“I was just wondering if…” Y/N trailed off momentarily, her eyes drifting to where Professor Styles stood as he greeted the students that were flooding in his room in large groups, “I was wondering if you liked assisting Professor Styles.” 

Mallory’s smile grew larger as she understood the nervous gulp Y/N gave in between words as she spoke. If Mallory was being completely truthful, she was skeptical of him at first too. She couldn’t find any ratings as this was his first year teaching and sometimes you truly don’t understand a professor’s temperament until you get to know them. “He’s great, I promise you.” Her eyes glanced behind her and she lowered her voice, “He’s nothing like Professor Smith… And he’s easy on the eyes.”

Mallory sent a wink toward Y/N, and Y/N felt that familiar heat crawl up her neck once more.

___________

By the end of the day, she had nearly finished the stack. With a glance toward the clock, she realized she only had a few minutes left and wouldn’t be able to crank out the thirty or so tests that needed grading. Her fingers drummed against the desk as she contemplated how to let Mallory know she didn’t completely finish. 

Y/N could send her an email as her contact information was taped to the corner of her desk, but it didn’t feel like a good enough reason to email her and she really, really didn’t want to bug her. Y/N thinks if she were in Mallory’s shoes, an email letting her know she didn’t finish felt unnecessary.

Multiple shoes clicking on the floor in the main classroom rang in her ears, the sound of nonchalant talking as the students shuffled out the classroom, and the sound of papers rifling in backpacks signaled that Professor Styles’ class had ended, concluding his classes for the day. 

It was only a few minutes before the last student finally made their way out the door, the familiar sound of the door clicking closed told her that he had finally completed his work day.

Like he was anticipating the end of his day, he gently tapped his knuckles upon the door of the office and before she could even mumble a small “come in,” the door was flying open. Y/N realized then that the tapping against the door wasn’t necessarily permission for him, but a courteous way of letting her know that he would be entering the room. 

He stood in the doorway, his lean shoulders pressing against the frame. The satin top that exposed just the tips of his tattoos taunted her, almost as if they were  looking back at her while she tried to decipher what might lay under his shirt. 

With hard eyes, he glanced down at what she was staring at and when he realized where her gaze was studying, he brought his nimble fingers to the top button and securely covered it so that the tattoos were no longer in sight. He cleared his throat and she swallowed hard, glancing around the room to try and play off her wandering eyes.

“How was your first day?” He asked, giving her a somewhat hopeful look. The kind of look that told her he must have had a TA at one point that had a terrible first day, and ran out of his abnormal psych class screaming, never to be seen again. 

If she was honest, the subject in itself was something she might have had trouble mastering, but the assistant duties weren’t that terrible. All she had to do was review an answer key, mark in red pen if they got the answer wrong, and total up the number of points they got on their test. It didn’t get much simpler than that. 

“It was good, Professor Styles,” she tried to make her voice sound as chipper and friendly as possible. She wanted him to know that she was happy to help him out and liked doing it. 

He shook his head slightly, a small smile forming across his lips to indicate amusement. It was almost as if she could see his eyes shine a little brighter than they were before as he brought his hand up to his neck and rubbed in a comforting way like. He searched the air, trying to find the same words he used for Mallory when she began assisting him. 

“I like to be called Harry if that’s something you’re comfortable with. I want you to feel like we’re on the same level, almost like we’re colleagues. You don’t need to address me as ‘professor’ because I’m not your professor,” he began the same spiel he told Mallory, letting her know that they were equals and it made Y/N’s insides warm a little bit. “For example, if one day you told me you wanted to teach the lesson, I would absolutely trust you to do so.”

Her eyebrows scrunched and her tongue flicked against her lower lip, the eyes that were previously locked with him now analyzing the pattern of the wooden desk as she shook her head in a gentle way. Giving a lesson was definitely not something she wanted to do. Maybe Mallory was the kind of TA that wanted interaction with the class, but not Y/N. No, that wasn’t Y/N at all. 

Y/N considered herself to be a simple person. She didn’t mind sneaking into the office he had tucked away in his room with the door closed as she graded papers. She didn’t mind the silently working alone, reading through answers, trying to decipher sloppy handwriting, but she did not want to teach a lesson,

Maybe Mallory was her polar opposite, balancing out his two TA’s. Mallory was talkative enough when she met Y/N. She seemed like the kind of girl that could discuss a topic as bland as oranges for thirty minutes by constantly adding new components to the conversation. Mallory and Y/N might be a yin and yang ordeal, opposites that balance each other out just enough that it works together.

“I appreciate that, but I don’t want to teach a class,” she explained. It took a second for her to calm the thoughts that were picking at her brain. Maybe the idea of teaching a class sounded some sort of internal alarm that forced her shoulders to tense up, her knees to lock, and her mouth to produce more saliva than necessary because she physically felt her body constrict at the idea.

“No, you don’t have to,” he shifted against the doorframe, sensing how uncomfortable she was and silently cursing at himself for putting her in such an awkward position on her first day. “I was just trying to explain that I want us to be equals.”

She simply nodded, not quite sure what else to say. She could confirm that she was comfortable calling him Harry, but she thinks he probably already knew she would if that is what he was requesting. She settled on two words that expressed her gratitude, “Thank you.”

He gestured his hand as if to say don’t even worry about it, but a puzzled look formed on his face as he did so. “Do you mind telling me why you don’t want to teach a class? Mallory nearly fell out of her seat with excitement when I told her she could if she really, really wanted to.” 

There it was: confirmation that Mallory was her opposite. A sense of relief washed through her veins as she realized it was perfectly okay for her to be the quiet one, as long as Mallory was outgoing.

Her eyes narrowed and Harry could tell she was trying to find the words to explain how she felt about the idea. She was very thoughtful, and in the short three hours he had known her, he appreciated that quality about her. Y/N couldn’t tell him she sucked at abnormal psychology and was almost failing her class. She couldn’t tell him that she would pretty much be setting his students up for failure if she taught the class, but she could tell him that she was uncomfortable in big groups of people. That was true. As soon as the group exceeded five or so people, she realized she never wanted to participate in the conversation as she felt like she never had anything good enough to say. Y/N was more of a listener, and sometimes even then, five people in her friend group was overwhelming. 

“I’m not a good public speaker,” as the reason slipped from her lips, she suddenly felt like that was such a silly reason to make a fuss over it. It was true though, public speaking was not really her element. 

“We could always work on that if that’s something you’re interested in?” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. If she refused the offer it wouldn’t really bother him, but he wanted to give her the option anyway, just in case it’s a goal she wants to work toward.

Y/N didn’t know what possessed her because even though working on public speaking would be helpful in its own way, she really didn’t want to. She had already taken the most basic required public speaking course and did not plan to take any other communication class, but she nodded her head in agreement with his proposition and mumbled out, “That would be great.”

Harry could tell by the lack of enthusiasm in her response, and by the way her shoulders slumped forward and her nose scrunched up that she didn’t actually mean it. It was more that she was trying to be polite than anything, and he thinks that maybe if he were her, his reaction would be the same. He used to be a people pleaser too, and at first it was a harmless personality trait that slowly morphed into something that was no longer harmless, he was absolutely taken advantage of (covering shifts for coworkers when he didn’t want to, staying out too late with friends because they wanted to even though his warm bed was calling) and became a difficult thing to shake. 

He glanced down at his watch, reading the time carefully. It hadn’t felt like 15 minutes of interacting with her until he realized just how long his, now numb, shoulder was pressed against the door frame. “It’s probably time you head out, hm?” 

“Yes,” she breathed out, finding her voice. She knew they hadn’t been talking for too long, but she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. Not that she was itching to stay and grade papers. No matter how mindless the activity was, she did want to go home. It was at that moment she realized the question she wanted to ask him hadn’t come up yet, and it was the first thing she wanted to ask when she heard the shuffling of footsteps as he wrapped up his last class of the day. “I have about thirty tests left to grade. How can I let Mallory know?” 

He wasn’t looking at her as she spoke, but she knew that she had his undivided attention. With hesitation, she gulped as she watched his long fingers rake down his throat, his index and middle finger touching the skin ever so gently, just avoiding his Adam's apple. It only took a couple steps for him before his long legs were at his desk in the office, and he was sifting through the disorganized pile he must have dumped on there in between classes. “Why don’t you just leave her a little note that she can read when she comes in tomorrow morning? Should be fine.” 

It didn’t take too long for her to grab a blank piece of paper from the second drawer. She scribbled out a note as quickly as possible, letting Mallory know how far she got the day before and thanking her for picking up where she left off. As soon as she was done writing the note, she began gathering her things. Y/N was more than ready to get back to her flat, have a small discussion with her flatmate (who also happened to be her best friend), and climb into the comfort of her bed. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly. 

He gave her one of those sweet smiles that he must have kept tucked away in his utility belt of charm, and waved her a simple goodbye. 

She thought of him the whole way home even though she tried not to. 

___________

“So how was it?” Her roommate and best friend from her undergraduate days, Niall, asked from the other side of the kitchen. She had been home for a total of ten minutes and he was already interrogating her, but she didn’t expect anything less from him. With a short glance over to where she stood at the counter, he gave his attention back to the refrigerator where he was rummaging to find the strawberry kiwi flavored juice he loved so much. 

“It was fine,” she shrugged her shoulders. As soon as she started speaking, his eyes fixated back toward her as his hand finally grasped the strawberry kiwi juice he was looking for. Instead of holding eye contact, she let her gaze flicker to the floor.

Eye contact was one of Y/N’s telling traits; Niall knew that when she couldn’t hold eye contact with him, she was either lying or holding out on giving him information. A smirk danced across his lips as he shut the fridge, then leaned his body against it slowly. “You’re either lying or holding out on me. Which is it?”

“Holding out on you,” amusement twirled throughout her eyes, and her lips curved to match the same smirk Niall was giving her.

“Won’t you tell me?” He clutched his chest, feigning heart pain as if she had stabbed him by telling him she was holding out.

“He’s really…” She trailed off, not quite sure how to say what she wanted to say appropriately. It felt wrong to say it out loud. She wasn’t concerned that Niall would judge her, but if she was being honest, she was judging herself for being so attracted to the professor she was supposed to be working for. She decided to put it as bluntly as possible, “Attractive.”

In a matter of seconds, Niall’s smirk turned into a full blown smile, teeth showing and all. It wasn’t common for Y/N to talk about when she found someone attractive. She always kept to herself. In fact, she kept to herself so much that when Niall invited her out with his other friends, he was always a little worried that she was feeling overwhelmed. It’s not that she couldn’t take care of herself or regulate her own emotions, she absolutely could and he knew that, but he always worried that she was forcing herself to be around his friends just because she wanted Niall to know she cared about spending time with him. “Is he now?”

“Yes,” her smile turned into a sheepish one, her ears feeling hot right at the tips.

“Have you told him that you suck at abnormal psychology?” Niall didn’t mean this in a mean way, he knew Y/N was struggling with her abnormal psych class because she had come home on multiple occasions, kicked her shoes off, buried her face into the couch cushion and screamed at the top of her lungs. When Niall asked her why she was being so dramatic, she told him that she was failing her first class, and even he was slightly taken aback by the news. Y/N had better grades than anyone he knew. 

“That’s not the plan anymore,” she explained, her fingers rubbing against the countertop just enough to feel the smooth coating. She was waiting for him to scold her. She was actually anticipating it on the car ride when she decided that she absolutely, for certain, was not going to tell Professor Styles—Harry— that she was failing her abnormal psychology class. When the opportunity came for her to TA, she had talked about it with Niall. He knew she was a naturally shy being, but he explained that if she was still struggling in a couple weeks when the TA position started, she could tell the professor and maybe they would offer her some extra help or some extra worksheets that would get her back on track.

“What do you mean?” Niall furrowed his eyebrows, taking a swig of the strawberry kiwi juice he had forgotten he was holding in his hand.

She simply shrugged her shoulders up and down, staring at her pink polkadot socks as she wiggled her toes to distract herself.

“Why? Because you think he’s attractive?” Niall tried to understand, pressing the topic further. If she didn’t want to give him anymore information regarding it then he would stop pestering her, but his job as her best friend was to pester her anyway.

She simply nodded, still not looking up.

“Sheesh, Y/N.” Niall brought his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and pressed it together in order to relieve some of the tension building in his head. He wasn’t going to tell her it was a bad idea or shame her for finding him attractive. Hell, he was putting himself in her shoes and decided that if he found one of his professor’s attractive, he would probably leave out information like that too.

“I know,” was all she said, a tinge of shame ringing in her tone but he waved her off.

“So,” he said, not wanting her to feel too badly, “Indian for dinner?”

She gazed back up at him, a grin shining in his direction as she said, “You know me so well.”

________

Days had passed of Y/N working in the office located in Harry’s classroom. They didn’t talk very much, but sometimes he would come into the office and sit with her. While he did work on his computer and she graded papers, he would make small talk. He would ask her things about why she chose to major in psychology, what undergraduate school she went to, where she was from. Normal things like that. Sometimes she wanted to ask him questions too, but she could never work up the courage to until today (it only took her a few weeks).

“Do you have a favorite color?” It was the most mundane question she could ask him, but she was actually asking for a reason. Typically, she graded the papers in the red pen Mallory left behind, because it was cohesive with Mallory’s work.

“I like green. Why do you ask?” He glanced up from his laptop, closing the lid just slightly so he could get a better view of her face. 

“I grade with a red pen. I was wondering if there was a preference you had,” she suddenly felt childish for asking, and was mentally banging her head against the wall. 

“You can keep grading with red. That color is better for grading anyway.” His eyes tore from her and he was back to scrolling through something on his laptop. Her eyes remained fixated on him, and she wanted to keep the conversation going, but there was no way she would have been able to work up the courage to speak to him again. Like he was reading her thoughts, he looked back at her and concluded with, “Thanks for asking, sweet girl.”

Sweet girl. 

Her heart nearly exploded in her chest.

After that day, her and Harry spent a lot of time talking. Possibly too much time talking.

___________

Mallory decided that since she and Y/N both TA’d for Harry, it was an unspoken rule that they should start sitting together in Professor Smith’s class. The day after Mallory met Y/N, she packed her bag up from the other side of the classroom, and moved to the back desk in the seat parallel to Y/N.

Their seats already weren’t too far away, even though Mallory originally sat on the opposite side. Actually, Y/N hadn’t ever realized before but the classroom was small, sterile, and unwelcoming. It wasn’t the way Harry’s classroom was set up with paintings hanging on the wall, informative sheets placed on a vintage waist level bookcase that was filled with leatherback classics. Professor Smith’s class was that of a doctor’s office. No color except gray, tile that constantly smelt of lemon floor cleaner. Y/N didn’t always catch the fine details, but when comparing Professor Smith’s class to Harry’s, she realized just how much Harry went out of his way to make the environment feel like home. 

So Y/N was a little grateful when Mallory took a seat beside her, the atmosphere feeling a little less cold and dark. They would work together on in-class projects, and Y/N realized that Mallory was really, really good at understanding the fundamentals to abnormal psychology. She was actually really grateful she met Mallory, because the more Mallory helped her, the better her grades were looking. She still wasn’t passing the class at a satisfactory level, but she was definitely getting better. 

Mallory liked to talk a lot, which was good, because Y/N liked to listen. She never had much to say, but Mallory always did. Like today, for example, she was telling Y/N that she and her boyfriend were going to some dive bar on the East side with tickets to a comedy show on Friday, and she really wanted Y/N to come. Her other friend and her friend’s boyfriend bailed, but Mallory had already purchased two extra tickets for the comedy show and she would hate for them to be wasted. Y/N was hesitant at first, but she decided there was no harm in going. She liked Mallory a lot, and she was excited to meet Mallory’s boyfriend because she had heard so much about him.

“Are you going to bring your boyfriend? If you don’t then we’re going to have that one extra ticket,” Mallory explained.

Her boyfriend? When had Y/N ever said that she had a boyfriend? Mallory wasn’t the type of person to assume either, so she tried to replay the past conversations in her head dating back to when Mallory and her first started conversing about a month and a half ago. They had talked about all kinds of things, but Y/N had never mentioned a boyfriend. As if the puzzle pieces clicked together, she realized just how often she talked about Niall when she felt she had something interesting enough to add to the conversation.

“Do you mean Niall?” Y/N questioned, her eyebrows raised just a smidge.

“Yes,” Mallory confirmed, confusion laced in her tone and present on her features. “Is he not your boyfriend?”

“No,” Y/N started to laugh, the kind of laugh that made your nose scrunch. Niall was handsome, sure, but they would only ever be best friends. They definitely were not each other’s types. Y/N had seen Niall’s type at nights when he would escort her to small gatherings to play board games. The girls (sometimes even guys, she thinks, though she’s never asked) would be twirling their hair in the corner as he charmed them with that dazzling smile. “Niall is my best friend! He’s also my roommate which might be why you’re confused. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Mallory said, a smile spreading across her face as she clapped her hands together. “Well, why don’t you bring him then if he’s your best friend. I would love to meet him!”

“I think…” Y/N trailed off, trying to think if this is something Niall would say yes to. He was such a social butterfly, he usually never said no to going out, so she didn’t see why agreeing for him would be a problem. “I think that would be a lovely idea.”

When Y/N got home that night, she asked Niall and to no surprise of her own, he excitedly agreed and said he was excited to meet Mallory.

___________

Harry dismissed his class early that day. Mallory didn’t show up to grade papers in the morning because she had a doctor's appointment she already arranged with Harry. He decided that since there was not much left on the chapter his class was going over, he would help Y/N grade the test his class took two days ago since she was grading by herself. 

He popped his head through the door to tell Y/N that he dismissed class early and was going to step out for a few minutes. She gave him a nod in confirmation and heard his heels click as he walked out of the classroom.

Just like he said, he was back in a few minutes but with two coffees in hand. She eyed the coffee with the whipped cream on top, and a devilish smile spread across his lips, his eyes sparkling. Was that other coffee for her? If so, how did he know she liked whipped cream on the top?

“I got us a treat,” he set the two coffees down on her desk and pushed the one with whipped cream, then grabbed his swivel chair that was tucked into the desk he normally sat at in the office and placed it directly next to hers. When he sat, he was so close that she could feel his knee brush against hers.

“Thank you,” she expressed her gratitude and picked up the coffee, eyeing the whipped cream once more. “How did you know I liked whipped cream?”

He paused and looked at her. The look on his face was teetering on the edge of wariness, like he didn’t want to say anything to cross the fine line of a boundary they had constructed. As he searched for the right words to say, he drank in her appearance and she couldn’t help but want to melt away as his eyes danced from her own eyes then back down to her lips then back up to her eyes. “When you come in looking especially tired, you always have a coffee with you, and every single time you’ve had a coffee with you, it has whipped cream on the top.”

Her heart thumped in her chest. Did he notice her that often? Surely he didn’t notice her the way that she’s noticed him. She notices how his tongue darts out and swiftly moved across his bottom lip when he’s concentrated, how he clicks his pen to the beat of the song when they’re playing music in the office, and how he rakes his forefinger and middle finger up and down his throat when he’s really listening to what she has to say.

“I was thinking that we could share this answer key,” he tapped the answer key she had toward the top of the desk, “To grade these papers together. It’s Friday night, I’m sure you wanna get out of here a little early.”

She decided that he was maybe the most thoughtful person she had ever met. There was absolutely no reason that he needed to help her, he could have let her do it all on her own. He didn’t need to get her a coffee either. Maybe she just wasn’t so used to random acts of kindness, or maybe it was the fact that every single day, her attraction to him grew and grew like a plant flourishing in the sunlight. “Did you want me to make a copy?”

“What? Am I sitting too close to you?” He teased, brushing his leg up against hers. She sucked in a small gasp as she felt his knee against hers once more, and maybe it was because she was so touch starved, but she wanted him to do it again and again and again.

“No, no. Not at all,” Y/N said a little too frantically. A little too eagerly.

“Hush, pet. I’m just kidding with you.” Harry spoke softly, letting her know that he was only teasing her. 

They worked in silence for a little while until Y/N rested her back against the chair. She was beginning to cramp up from the way she was sitting. Her fingers were beginning to hurt with each stroke of the pen. Her eyes were getting a little blurry from looking at the same thing over and over again, so she used her left hand (the one that wasn’t cramping up) and grabbed her coffee, taking a swig and underestimating the strength of her left hand, causing whipped cream to coat her upper lip.

Harry laughed gently, then used his fingers to wipe the whip cream off her mouth. He grabbed her lips in between his fingers, then wiped the whipped cream onto his pants. She shuddered softly, almost unnoticeably when she felt his fingers so gently across her lips. Though this was not professor and TA behavior she would deem normal, he said nothing about it, and she was beginning to think that maybe she was overthinking the whole thing because she found him so attractive. With one swift sentence, he pulled her from her thoughts.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” He asked her, making subtle conversation as his pen marked a few things on the test he was grading. Like Y/N, Harry wondered what Y/N did in her free time although he never found a way to weasel that into their conversations. While their conversations were mostly made up of random tidbits of their lives, he had never figured out how to ask how she would spend her weekends.

Y/N was about to tell him that she was seeing a comedy show with Niall and Mallory (and Mallory’s boyfriend of course), but she wasn’t sure if Mallory had told Harry they became quick friends. What if Mallory didn’t want him to know? Y/N couldn’t understand why Mallory would think that way, but just in case, she decided she wouldn’t tell him anything about it. “I don’t think so,” she lied plainly, “What about you? Are you doing anything special?”

Harry casually looked up, clicking the pen a few times before replying. “I am doing something tonight. My friends planned it. If I’m being honest, though, I’m not quite sure what we’re doing. They have told me a few times, but it’s gone over my head. At this point, they’re going to swing by my flat and pick me up just so they are certain I’ll actually show up. Not that I don’t want to see them and don’t care about the plans, I’ve just been so busy.”

“Oh,” Y/N tightens and a sudden realization sweeps through her mind. What if he has a girlfriend? She pushed the thought from her head and buried it, “I’m like that too, I think.”

The sudden realization she tried to bury put her in a somewhat sour mood. Harry notices right away, but he doesn’t ask her why she’s suddenly so adrift from their conversation in an attempt to not push her. If something was bothering her and she wanted to talk about it, she would.

They spent the rest of the time grading papers, and before she left for the night, he told her to have a great weekend, and she told him to have the same, the sullen feeling still weighing on her chest.

___________

The bar was very crowded, very noisy, and not usually Y/N’s scene at all. When her and Niall arrived, she quickly introduced him to Mallory, and Mallory introduced her boyfriend—Josh— to them quickly. The comedy show didn’t last too long, and Y/N could have sworn that Mallory said it was a dive bar when she was trying to convince her to come. The atmosphere was that of a nightclub, as the show finished people shuffled to the dance floor and began dancing.

Mallory grabbed Y/N by the arm and ushered her over to the bar, and Y/N was guessing that she could feel the tension radiating from her. “I think a drink will loosen you up. Do you want a drink?” Mallory asked.

“I don’t drink very often,” Y/N said, unsure of what to order. There is one thing that Y/N does know about drinking, and it is that she hates the taste of alcohol. The bar was crowded, and Mallory shoved in between two people sitting in barstools, making room for Y/N. Her fingers brushed against the counter, feeling a cold liquid under her hand. It took everything in her to not scrunch up her nose as she wiped the mystery liquid against the bottom of her satin dress.

“That’s okay,” Mallory said, “Just ask the bartender what he thinks you’ll like.”

Y/N didn’t know how the bartender would know what she likes if she didn’t even know what she liked herself. Mallory ordered something red, but Y/N didn’t know the name of it. She knew immediately that she wasn’t going to get that though, because the smell of vodka coming from Mallory’s drink was strong. Mallory took a strong swig of the drink, not making a face and giving her a thumbs up. It was at that moment that Y/N decided she really liked Mallory’s carefree personality. She really enjoyed Mallory, even if the bar was a little too loud than she would normally like, Y/N decided it was worth it to spend time with Mallory and Niall.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender turned and looked at Y/N after watching Mallory take a sip of her drink to make sure it was made to her satisfaction. 

Y/N hesitated, “Something that doesn’t taste like alcohol, I think.”

“I’ve got the perfect drink for you,” he yelled over the music and people talking then reached for a glass from under the counter. He added a few juices to the glass and a steep amount of alcohol. Y/N wasn’t sure if he misheard her and thought she asked for something that did taste like alcohol based on the amount he put it. After the glass was full to the brim, he popped in a little umbrella and slid it over to her. “Let me know if you don’t like it. It’s called Sex on the Beach.”

Sex on the Beach was such a crude name for a beverage, but who was she to judge the name. Maybe it really did taste like sex on the beach. She sipped through the straw and was surprised when it tasted like an assortment of juice and none of the alcohol he had heavily poured into the glass. She murmured a soft thank you, and though he didn’t actually hear her, he knew she was expressing gratitude.

It only took a couple seconds to find out where Niall and Josh had moved. Mallory and Y/N walked over to them with drinks in hand, and even with the one sip Y/N took, she already felt much looser. They found their way to a booth, facing the door.

By the time an hour passed, Y/N and Mallory finished their drinks and Y/N was feeling exceptional. They made their way back to the bar and the bartender winked at her, fixing up another Sex on the Beach and Mallory ordered something different this time.

As they walked back toward the booth, Mallory nudged Y/N with her elbow and pointed toward the door. Y/N watched Harry walk in with a couple of his friends, his eyes locking with hers and then flickering over to Mallory. A grin spread across his face and his hand came up in a slow wave. Mallory quickly waved back and Y/N just stood there, shocked that these were the plans his friends had made with him. 

He approached them, leaving his friends to saunter to the bar without him. The three of them exchanged hellos, then he shifted his body to face Y/N. “I thought you weren’t doing anything?” Harry yelled over the music, smoke clouding around the three of them.

“I forgot,” she lied, and Mallory quickly turned her head to look at Y/N as if to say how did you forget when we’ve been talking about it all week.

To Y/N’s misfortune, Mallory said just that. “We’ve been talking about it all week, Y/N. How did you forget?”

Harry’s face sparked with amusement as if she had caught her red handed, her tongue twisting in the shape of the lie that she had so easily told him earlier in the day. Y/N rolled her eyes at Mallory and laughed a little, the alcohol pumping through her veins at an alarmingly fast rate.

“I’ll meet you back at the booth,” Mallory was grinning as she turned her body and walked back over to where Josh and Niall sat, waiting for them to return. Y/N realized that she really needed to explain herself to Mallory, the conversation with Harry probably seemed a little more intimate than it actually was.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” Harry eyed her drink, her Sex on the Beach. Oh, she would love to have that with Harry. Y/N’s tipsy brain was much more scandalous than her sober brain. “Maybe we can talk later.”

Y/N really wanted to spend more time with him. She wanted to sit with him, and meet his friends. It wasn’t going to happen, but she so desperately wanted to. It took a second for her to tear her gaze from his body as he walked away from her and toward the bar to meet his friends. She took this as her cue to not stand in the middle of the dance floor like an idiot and found her way back to the booth where her friends waited for her. Niall looked at her suspiciously but she shrugged her shoulders in response, directing her attention to Josh as he talked about a movie trailer he recently saw and how much he wants to go see the movie in the theater. Y/N knew exactly what movie he was talking about, and said that she wants to see it too, so the four of them made plans to go see the movie next Friday.

Throughout the night, Y/N glanced at Harry and more often than not, they made eye contact with one another. Thirty minutes had passed from the time he walked in the door with his friends, and finally, the last time they locked eye contact, he subtly nodded toward the hall that led to the Billiards room and the bathroom. Immediately, Y/N knew that he was telling her to meet him there. 

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she said, the drink still in her hand. 

Mallory and Josh thought nothing of it, nodding at her to confirm they heard her, but Niall eyed the drink she sported in between her fingers and gave her a knowing look, a twinkle shining in his eye. Oh, he was definitely going to be asking her about this later.

She staggered toward the hallway, moving through the crowd of people, trying not to spill her drink on herself, the floor, or the people near her. As she made her way to the hall, she felt Harry come up behind her, knowing it was him by the minty citrus scent of his cologne.

Y/N flipped around and the hallway was so crowded with people that they didn’t have much room between them. Her back was slightly pressed against the wall, his thigh placed in between her legs, rubbing her gently. She was suddenly hyper aware of how he felt, how he smelled, and how he looked.

He wore jeans that flare at the bottom, a black sweater tucked into the tops of the jeans. The sneakers he had on matched his outfit perfectly, and it took her until this very moment to realize that he was fairly fashionable. His outfits always looked put together, but they weren’t trendy. They were always timeless and fitted to his lean stature.

“I’ve been looking at you all night,” his tone was soft and his eyes searched hers thoroughly. “You look so cute, y’know?”

Harry took the fabric of her satin dress in between his fingers and felt it, his index finger slowly rubbing against the soft part of her thigh. 

“Thank you,” was all she managed to squeak out. He dropped the fabric from his fingers, and she wanted to protest because she wanted to feel his fingers against her. She hadn’t realized how much you could crave someone until you’re one Sex on the Beach in, and then the realization that he knew just how much she ogled him in his office kicked in. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming here tonight because you didn’t want me to know you were with your boyfriend?” His tone was teasing, but she thought just for a second that’s how he was playing it off. Like he wanted confirmation that wasn’t actually the reason and he was fishing for the information. 

She held his gaze momentarily before sputtering out, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” She wanted him to know. No, she needed him to know.

“Then who is that blonde bloke you’ve been snuggling up to?” He questioned, knowing she was telling the truth but he wanted to see her squirm just a little bit. She knew it, too. She could tell by the way his voice sounded that he was just messing with her, he wanted a bit of cat and mouse.

“My friend. We’re best friends, actually, and roommates.” Y/N explained, though her brain was a little bit foggy. Not because of the alcohol, no. Actually, she felt like she was sobered up, and needed a little bit more of her drink to get her back to the floaty place she was at when she was sitting in the booth.

He used his right hand to keep himself sturdy, then checked his surroundings and asked her, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. It was loud, but she felt just fine here with him.

The atmosphere was so wild with smoke filtering through the air, that now they really had no room except practically chest to chest as they spoke. The drink he was sporting in his hand was dark tequila on the rocks, and it made so much sense that he could drink hard liquor as is. He exuded that kind of dominance, the kind that says I enjoy the burn in my throat because it feels nice.

She looked at the drink in her hand, suddenly feeling demure and childish holding a drink the bartender told her was called Sex on the Beach after she asked for something that doesn’t take like alcohol. He noticed her hesitation and the way her eyes flickered between his drink and her own. “Would you like to try it?”

She nodded her head yes, letting him know that she did want to try it. So badly, she wanted to try it. Not because she wanted to taste the tequila, she was sure it wasn’t very good, but because she wanted to taste where his lips pressed against the glass. She could see the subtle fog where he was placing his lips every time he would take a sip. So, he handed her his drink and when she turned the glass and pressed her lips against where they both knew his lips had once been, he murmured a small, “Christ, Y/N.”

The tequila dribbled down her chin, and he used his finger to wipe it up, and as she lowered the drink from her lips, he grazed his index finger over her lips, beckoning for her to open and lick the whiskey she spilled. He didn’t need to coax her, didn’t need to tell her what he wanted, she simply just knew. Her tongue darted out, licking the whiskey from the base of his finger to the tip. He was never really into voyeurism, but he thinks he could take her right here and right now. How did he go from helping her grade papers earlier in the day to pressing her against the wall of a bar with his thigh tense between her legs. They were crossing so many lines, he was crossing so many lines.

“Why are you always cleaning up my face?” She gave him a lazy smile, and her eyes were so innocent.

“Why are you always spilling?” He countered.

He breathed her in, smelling the taste of his whiskey against her lips. He was so close, so close that he could taste her if he really wanted to, so close that she could feel his breath against her face. He decided that he spent too much time thinking about her mouth. About the way her lips parted then closed when she had something to say, but decided not to say anything at all. God, that was so frustrating. He spent so much time thinking about her lips, and the noises that would come from them if he truly could have her that he should just kiss her, right here, right now. “I want to. I really want to,” his voice was low and thick, sultry even.

“Me too,” her voice was small, and once again he was all too aware of the way her legs squeezed his thigh. 

Before he could make a choice he couldn’t take back, he pushed himself away, leaving a foot of space between the pair. “You should go back to your friends,” he didn’t want to sound too harsh, so he gently brushed his fingers against his cheek and grasped the glass of tequila with the palm of his hands. “I’ll see you Monday, Y/N.”

Without a word, she made her way back to her friends, feigning the frustration that was building in his chest. For the rest of the night, she glanced in his direction but he never glanced back at her. Maybe he was feeling guilty. Maybe he thought he was making a big mistake.

When they finally got home, Niall didn’t ask her anything like she thought he would and she was grateful.

___________

It started with an ache low in her belly, then slowly spread to her lower back. As she sat in her second hour of Professor Smith’s class, she laid her head against the coolness of the desk. Y/N was trying not to think of her encounter with Harry the Friday before. Nothing had actually happened so it was fine, there was nothing to worry about. Mallory gave her a sympathetic smile, and once more held out the pamprin pills but Y/N shook her head as she had already taken some just an hour before class started. 

It was almost like she could feel the color draining from her face, nausea turning in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting her period to come this morning after she had stepped foot on campus. There were no signs as she was greeting ready in the morning. No signs when she stepped out of her apartment. The first sign happened when she was walking from the opposite side of campus to Professor Smith’s class. The dull ache weaseled its way into her lower abdomen, causing subtle pain with each step she took. As she continued to walk, her hand found its way to her abdomen, applying warmth and pressure to rid her of the ache but it wasn’t working.

Quickly, she found a bathroom and slipped into a stall, realizing that her period had come sooner than she was expecting it. With a hurried hand, she rummaged through her bag, pulling out an emergency bottle of pamprin and shuffled the pills past her lips, chugging it down with the water bottle tucked into the side pocket of her backpack. 

As soon as she saw Mallory, it was like Mallory could tell she was in an immense amount of pain, because she slung her backpack off of her shoulder and pulled out a bottle of the same pills tucked into a specific pocket of her backpack. Y/N just shook her head, struggling to muster up the words to tell her she had already taken some.

“I think you should leave class a little early. Go to Harry’s class and lay on the couch in the office. There’s no point in staying here, it’s not like you’re able to absorb any of the information while you’re in pain,” Mallory began reasoning with her. As far as she was concerned Mallory didn’t know that Harry and Y/N were so close to kissing at the bar that she could still feel her lips tingling three days later. She didn’t want to go to Harry, and she didn’t want Harry to think she was being dramatic. Y/N wasn’t worried that it would be awkward between her and Harry today, because he was so charming it would have been like Friday never happened, but she was still hesitant. Before she had a chance to think twice another cramp ripped through her, and she was already packing up her backpack and lifting herself from her seat, the dull ache turning into something more sharp and painful as she stood.

It was her intention to slip out the back door, to be as inconspicuous as possible, but her plan to do that was ruined when Professor Smith cleared his throat and called out her name. “Where are you going?”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she wasn’t keen on telling the whole class that her uterus might fall out of her body if she stayed hunched over in an uncomfortable chair, with the coolness of the desk being the only thing that could soothe her, or that the nausea was building with each second and she might be so low on iron that she vomits all over the floor of the classroom.

The words tumbled out of her mouth like a squeal, “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too well.”

Professor Smith’s expression remained stoic, not showing any sign of annoyance or even sympathy for the girl standing in pain at the back of the class. Not that she was expecting sympathy, although she was definitely not expecting the next words to fly out of his mouth in front of her silent classmates viewing the exchange between them, “Really, you should stay unless you plan on getting another D on the next test.”

Y/N tried not to look as horrified as she felt, avoiding eye contact with Mallory completely. She failed to mention to her new friend that she was flunking Professor Smith’s class out of sheer embarrassment and the idea that it might get back to Harry, which would be mortifying in itself. 

“I’ll be fine,” was all she managed to say as she slipped from the back door of the classroom. Y/N managed to keep her tears at bay until she heard the door latch behind her, then let the silent tears create warm streams down her cheeks. In one swift motion, she lifted her hood up, concealing her face from the other students as she walked toward Harry’s classroom. 

It wasn’t a far walk, him being in the same department as Smith and all. She contemplated just sitting in a bathroom stall, the sharp pain in her abdomen and lower back was still going strong and the nausea stirring in her belly was still persistent, but the public humiliation she endured was definitely worse. She decided that the couch in the office was the better option, and if she was going to be sad and in pain, she might as well do it comfortably. 

The plan she concocted was this: She would walk into the room with her eyes glued to the floor and her hood up, ask Harry if it was okay if she laid down for a moment, and without making eye contact with him, she would quickly walk to the room then bury her face in the cushions.

So that is exactly what she did, barely peeking up from her hood.

“Is it okay if I lay down on the couch in the office?” she asked, internally grateful that the sob building in her throat hasn’t raked its way through her body. Another silent tear slid down her cheek, but because she was looking straight down, it splattered against his desk, causing him to cock an eyebrow that she couldn’t actually see. 

It seemed gravity was against her.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” his voice was softer than normal, and she heard the sound of his fingers tapping against the desk. 

Without another word, she turned on her heels and bolted toward the office door. Shutting it quickly behind her, she tore off her backpack and curled up into a ball on the couch. 

He didn’t even bother knocking like he normally did. Usually his knuckles would tap against the door, signifying he was about to answer. Not necessarily for permission, but just to give her, or Mallory, a heads up that he would be entering. 

The door locked behind him, but she didn’t look up as she heard the click of his dress shoes against the tile floor. “What’s going on?” He took a seat at the end of the couch she wasn’t occupying, near her head. 

With gentle and delicate fingers, he began to pull her limbs from the ball she had coerced herself into. “Hmmm.. Look at me, darling.” 

And how could she not? When he was asking so sweetly? The sound of his voice was like molten chocolate, or honey dripping straight from the pot. He was wearing her favorite shirt. The satin shirt that exposes his tattoos just a little bit. The same shirt he wore the first time she ever met him, when he caught her staring at his chest a little too much that he buttoned another button and gave her a somewhat disapproving but playful look. She thinks maybe if she could just run her hand over his chest she would forget about the terrible day she was having, but that was inappropriate and she shouldn’t think like that. 

“Oh, sweet thing you are,” his hand brushed a tear that fell from her cheek, “Come on, sit up for me now.”

She obliged, like she always does. As a child she never took a reprimand well, which must have bled into her adult life because she always did what she was told. It was something Harry picked up on rather quickly, she aimed to please, and the psychologist in him really wanted to get to the bottom of it, but the empath in him never wanted to make her uncomfortable by pointing it out. Sometimes he had to make a mental note that she was so receptive to the people around her, he had to choose his words carefully. 

She made a simple noise, between a yelp and a cry before wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. “In pain,” was all she said.

He reached over, pulling a couple tissues from the end table next to the couch. Harry wrinkled his nose, realizing that it’s not uncommon for students to shed tears in this office, whether it be a student overwhelmed with the course load, or something else. Typically, he’s able to get to the bottom of it, but now he’s got his TA in here with tears streaming like Niagara Falls, and she only says she’s in pain, except he doesn’t believe that’s the full truth. 

Her legs were tucked to the side bunched up, and she leaned on her left arm to support herself up. He didn’t want to pry, or tell her he didn’t think she was being completely honest, because that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead, he decided he wouldn’t treat her like a patient, because that’s not what she was to him. She is a graduate student, and he was in her same position just a little under two years ago. He once told her that he wanted her to call him Harry because she felt more like a colleague than a student, so instead, he would treat her like a friend. 

“Let me help you, hm?” His fingers grazed her arm that was supporting her up, his eyes locking with her red rimmed ones. “How can I help?”

And it was almost like she knew if her request crossed a line, he would still grant it because her voice was small but sure when she said, “I just want someone to hold me.”

So, that’s what he did. He pulled her up onto his lap, and grasped her in his arms. Her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and he could feel the slow breaths she was taking as the tears finally came to a halt. It was almost like he was holding her back together. If they were crossing lines, he might as well cross one more, “Are you gonna be honest with me now, hm?”

She nodded her head, deciding now was the time to come clean. A weight that was pushing down on her shoulders was about to be lifted and even though she would have a hard time stomaching the embarrassment that came with it, or the look he would give her that might indicate she was stupid, it was time that she just told him. Before Mallory beat her to it, even if she was sure in the deep pit of her gut that Mallory would simply never bring it up. 

Y/N lets out a slow, shaky breath before she begins explaining. “I wasn’t feeling too great when I got to school, and during my second hour of abnormal psych, Mallory told me I should come lay down because the pain was getting really intense, so I decided to slip out the backdoor…” She trailed off, not quite sure how to tell him the rest without having to relieve the situation. Some might say she was being a little dramatic, but she had every right to be upset. He stroked her sides as if to tell her “go on” without explicitly saying the words. 

“As I was walking out Professor Smith asked where I was going and I told him that I wasn’t feeling too well,” the tears pricked once more, “So he said that I should probably stay if I didn’t want to get a D on another test in front of everyone.”

The smooth stroking against her arm came to a halt, and she realized then that he was probably going to chastise her for leaving class too, but his voice was soft when he said, “He said that to you?”

She nodded, even though she could tell the question was rhetorical. Her eyes fluttered closed again, the tips of her eyelashes gently grazing against the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. That is never something you say to a student, especially in front of such a public audience.” His words flowed out, and she sensed the psychologist in him poking out.

“It was really, really embarrassing.” Y/N mumbled into the crook of his neck, and the feel of her lips against his neck made his body slightly tense up.

“Why didn't you tell me you got a D? I probably could have helped you work something out with him.” He reasoned with her, relaxing once more into the back of the couch. The encounter she was having with him right now was so much different than the encounter she had with him on Friday night, but neither of them brought it up.

She shook her head, nuzzling into him further and even though she knew it was inappropriate, she just wanted to breathe him in. They had already crossed those lines.

He wasn’t having it. He hooked his fingers below her chin, and pulled her face from his neck. “Hm? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell you because I’ve been flunking his tests all semester. There isn’t one test I got a decent grade on… And I was embarrassed, and I felt like a huge fraud sitting in this room, grading tests and not even understanding the content of them. And I just felt stupid. I didn’t want you to think I was stupid.”

“I would never think you’re stupid, Y/N. Surely you know that. I just wish you would have told me. There’s still time to turn your grade around, you and I will work together so that you start understanding the concepts. We’ll set up tutoring. Sweetheart, you’re so smart.” She knew he tacked on that last part for a little extra validation.

Now that she’s talked it out, she feels a little silly for letting so many tears spill over it. He was right, she wasn’t stupid. She just needed a little extra help, and he was willing to give it. She suddenly felt all too aware of her presence on his lap, and began to move herself off of it. Her eyes catching his lips as she shifted just a little, and the overwhelming urge to kiss him took over once more. If she could, she would grab his face then and there and plant one on him, but it felt demure and childish to lust in that way, even with Friday night playing in the back of her mind.

As if he could read the thoughts swimming through her brain, he brought his fingers to her lips and gently tugged at the pout. His fingers trailed down her jaw, and caressed an area of her neck. Her breathing began to pick up as her heart thumped against her ribcage. Sure, he would touch her every now and again when she was working alongside him, and as much as she wanted it to be intimate, it was never like this. She was almost halfway off his lap when he brought his lips— so soft, so gentle, and so pink— against her cool ones, leaving a slight tingling sensation behind. 

He gently pulled away, a sultry look dancing across his features. She felt the heat on her cheeks as she stared down into his lap, finally shifting herself completely off of his lap. When she looked up at him, she could tell the flush in his cheeks was not the same as the flush in hers. It was more desire than anything.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he breathed, his eyes fluttering closed with the end of his sentence.

No, no. Y/N didn’t want him to feel that way. He may have been a professor, but he wasn’t actually her professor, and they were so close in age. Surely if they were doing something wrong, it would have felt wrong. Last Friday would have felt wrong too, but it didn’t. If this wasn’t okay then it wouldn’t have felt so right, like his lips were made just for her and only her. “I wanted it.”

“I know you did,” he explained. “It was a vulnerable moment. It can’t happen again.”

She simply nodded in agreement, although she wanted to argue with him, even if it wasn’t in her nature to be so combative. Something washed over her because in that moment, the ache that was stabbing in her lower back didn’t matter, she just wanted to stomp her foot on the ground and tell him that wasn’t fair, but the worst part about it is that he would agree with her. That they had already beat the boundary down with a baseball bat. The moment he slipped his thigh in between her legs and pressed her against the wall of a bar, the boundary had vanished. When he brought his finger to her lips and she licked so slowly, so sensually, the boundary had been gone completely. How can they decide to put it back now? How could she when she finally knew what he tasted like. He knew it wasn’t fair to do that, but it shifted her feelings from sadness over her poor grades and the hostile situation she had just come from to placing her frustration toward him, and that was something he could deal with.

He stood up, a sudden aloofness filling the room. It was almost as if the tension was so thick it was banging on the doors and pushing at the windows to find its way out. Like he could feel its desperation to exit the room, he hooked his finger in the door knob and flung it open, cool air infiltrating the room and brushing over Y/N’s body.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, swiveling the chair near his desk around to face her. She knew he wasn’t talking about the kiss, the ever-so-soft-he-probably-didn't-mean-it-an unfriendly-way-kiss, he was talking about her cramps.

She held her lower belly, his eyes averting from how her hand slipped down her stomach and held, “Better. I think the pamprin is finally kicking in.”

“Good,” he offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and she wanted to pull her eyelashes out if the tension between them was going to cause a drift in their relationship, er? Friendship?

Y/N didn’t know what else to say, she didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already felt for her. Without looking at him directly, she gestured toward her shared desk with Mallory and made a slight shrugging motion with her shoulders. “Since I’m here I should probably just start working on what I’ll be starting in an hour anyway.”

He got up from the chair, and nodded in agreement. The aloofness was beginning to dissipate, as he offered up a grin that finally met his green eyes again. That’s the grin she looked forward to every single afternoon, though she didn't think she would ever be able to work up the courage to tell him. If there is one thing Harry picked up on in the short two months of her assisting him, she worked off of praise. The simplest thing, even just neatly organizing her and Mallory’s pens in a cup was something he would recognize and give her a thumbs up or mumble an appreciative wow, it looks great, Y/N, so that is what he was going to continue to do.

“You’re so efficient,” he praised, “But I don’t want you to start if you’re not feeling completely better yet. Why don’t you just take an hour or so to lay down, hm?”

Even though she wanted to start her work right away, she knew he was right and was only looking out for her, so she mumbled a small “okay” in a very reluctant tone.

He took a few steps in the direction toward the classroom and out of the office before quickly turning around and asking her a question he did not want to forget, “When are you available for tutoring?”

She wanted to tell him to just forget about it, and that she didn’t need his help as the pride twisted and turned in her brain, but she had a strong feeling that he was going to be disappointed in her if she said, forget it, and Y/N didn’t know if she could handle much more disappointment from the people around her in one day.

“Every day after I finish here, I’m free,” her words were small and slow as they fell from her lips.

“That’s perfect, after school we can either sit in here and work or the library, or even my flat if you’re not feeling comfortable in the library,” he listed quite a few options, then finally walked out of the office and shut the door behind him, leaving Y/N to her thoughts.

Her fingers slowly touched her lips, trying to remember the feeling of his lips against hers. She didn’t want to forget any details. His woodsy cologne filled her nostrils, and she could almost see that alluring look swimming in his eyes.

To put it plainly, she just wanted to scream in frustration.

___________

Harry was so screwed and he knew it from the second she stepped foot in the door of his classroom. The way her eyes averted from his and toward the plain wall behind him, the way she marveled at the tattoos that peaked from the tops of shirts (which he realized he would show them off more now, just so he could catch her lingering gaze and watch her quickly look away in embarrassment. Maybe it said something about him, but he loved to watch her become flustered), or the way her hand trembled just barely as she handed him the paper which confirmed she was his assistant that first day.

When he saw her at the bar on Friday night and the way her body responded to him, the way she was just so eager to please, he knew the thoughts he was having weren’t just one-sided. It was hard to get her off of his mind, he hadn’t experienced this kind of attraction in a long while. The psychologist in him tried to reason that it was because it felt somewhat forbidden— even though the school rules didn’t go completely against it, she just couldn’t TA for him anymore or ever take a class with him as her professor— he knew it was much more than that.

She spoke eloquently, her walk was captivating, her smile was innocent, and she just felt good to him. He thinks maybe whoever created the flowers that grew in the crevices of sidewalk, creating beauty in the most absurd places, possibly made her too. She was just like that, a captivating flower amongst the mundane world around her, blooming to the best of her ability and relying on the sunshine that sometimes came and went.

She was just special to him.

For the anon who wanted one in which Harry is obsessed with Y/N’s chubby cheeks!

Harry couldn’t stop touching Y/N’s face.

He loved running his fingers along her jaw, tracing it along it before pinching her cheek, squeezing the puffiness of it between his thumb and index. He loves that she had big cheeks (or chubby as she called them) and not slender, caved-in ones that girls on magazines had. Loves that her jawline had a bit of plushiness to it, cupping her cheeks with both hands and squishing them together so that she looked like a fish.

“Harry, m’tryna eat.”, she muffles through a mouthful of cereal. This was a normal morning for them; her sitting at the kitchen island (she was very happy she could afford an apartment with an island in the kitchen, she thinks they are very useful and just tie the room together) as Harry stood next to her, playing with her cheeks as she ate. He thought they were cute all the time but especially when she was eating. They looked extra puffy around mouthfuls of food, the chewing motion exciting him immensely.

“I’m not stopping you.” He massages his palms over her cheeks, rubbing in circles as he flattens out his hands. A bit of milk sputters out of her mouth, dribbling down her chin.

“I’m not stopping you”, she mimics him, although smiling as it drips down onto her breasts, the valley of them showing between her robe since it wasn’t closed all the way. She reaches for the tissue roll, about to rip one off as Harry reaches around the counter.

“I’ll get it.” He dips his head, licking right between her breasts and cleaning her up of the spilt milk. Y/N yelps, instinctively pushing her breasts together as she arches her back, squeezing his face between her tits and making him laugh. “I quite like it in here.”, his voice muffled.

Y/N giggles, pulling him by his hair so his face was level with hers again so she can kiss him. Gentle smacks are heard between little breaks in the kiss, her lips sticky from the milk. Harry can’t help himself, kissing the corners of her mouth before moving to her cheek, softly biting it and turning his head back and forth as if he were a dog with a chew-toy.

“Okay, okay, enough of that.” She stifles a laugh as Harry becomes pouty after removing his mouth from her, sitting in the seat next to her and slouching dramatically. “Budge up, eat some breakfast.”

Grabbing her cheek, he pinches it between his fingers. “I’d rather eat something else.”

Y/N flushes.

Bust (sculptor!harry) Masterlist

In which Y/N is an annoyance in Harry’s sculpting class.

“I, um… thank you.”

He was even more confused. “For what?”

She blinked, shivering when the cold breeze got to her, “For what you said back there.”

He easily glanced right over her head, down the hill at the little coffee shop, wondering what had happened to Rose and why Y/N was alone now.

She took a deep breath and got his attention again, “I uh… to be honest,” she stared at her feet, trying not to distract her train of thought by his lack of shoes, “when I first saw your sculptures they made me feel… seen. If that makes any sense at all.”

Part One: Chisel 

Part Two: Etch 

Part Three: Carve 

Part Four: Mold

Part Five: Blaze

info about this story: this idea came about because I was watching a lot of sculpting videos on youtube at one time. And so, if you’d like to have more of a visual of the type of things I imagine them creating in this story I would check out Ace of Clay or Tina Yu on Youtube! I’m not a sculptor nor am I super knowledgeable in it, so I apologize if I get details wrong. This story also deals with standards of beauty and includes a plus-sized Y/N.

Blurred Lines: Until They Met Again // h.s.

Italics sorted (someone tell me why Google Docs doesn’t love me like Microsoft Word did by letting me copy italics?)! Happy reading, all. See you next time x

“So, m’going to be back in New York soon.” Again, you said nothing, and after a beat he continued. “Just for a night or so — I’ll be flying into Philadelphia and then out to LA for some work stuff.”

“Philadelphia to New York to LA?” you asked.

“London to Philadelphia and Philadelphia to LA.”

“So—” Bless whatever and whoever it was that’d sicked the cat on you to catch your tongue before you could ask him why he was coming to New York if he was flying into and out of Philadelphia. “That’ll be nice.”

He cleared his throat again and you dropped your phone from your ear to take a deep breath, suddenly hot.

“Yeah, so,” he began, “I was thinkin’, y’know. If you’re free or you’d like to….”

You’d like to laugh, because this whole thing was wildly fucking funny. Harry Styles was dialing you for a booty call after a one night stand from months ago. Harry Styles was going to detour into the city for one night just for you, and it wasn’t because you’d had such riveting conversation last time.

“When?” Your fingers twitched at your side.

“When’s good for you?”

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Keep reading

the fall (part one)

summary: all y/n wants is to be his and all harry wants is to keep her at arm’s length

10k words or so!

warnings: ANGST !!! there’s a slight age gap (ten years). Arguing, a tiny bit of smut, and more arguing. So if you’re not in the mood for this train wreck, I understand completely, but enjoy if you are!!!

“Aren’t you going to eat something?” 

“I think I’d rather die, actually.” Shooting him a sarcastic smile, (Y/N) set her chin back in her hand, waiting for dinner to be over with. 

“What a waste of a night then.” He tossed his napkin on the table, looking pissed off like she knew he was. It had been simmering all night and her not eating was the icing on the cake. 

“That’s your fault. I told you I didn’t want to come.” 

The past week had been awful. After what she found out just the other night, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. But somehow, he always managed to get her to do what he wanted. And now he’s mad that she’s mad at him. He wants her to let it go but how could she? (Y/N) is not sure she can look past this even if she does care about him. 

Harry raised his hand for the check and set his eyes back on her. She looked just past him, refusing to meet his eye. He didn’t deserve an ounce of her attention, but for some reason, she’s still here. 

“Fucking ungrateful is what you are, (Y/N),” He spat out, not loud enough to catch the attention of any nearby tables, but enough for her to hear him clearly. “I bring you here, the most expensive restaurant in LA, and you can’t be bothered to even let me talk.” 

“I think we both said all we needed to say the other night,” This time, she looked him right in the eye. “I told you I was done with this game.”  

(Y/N) had thought about leaving several times throughout their silent dinner but she didn’t feel like putting in the effort to get herself a ride home. It’s a busy Friday night. Even an Uber would probably take ages. So, she was going to put up with him until he dropped her off. Just for the ride. 

“Yeah. I’ve heard that before.” He scoffed a laugh, bringing his glass to his mouth to finish off his drink. She glared at him because he was right. She’d told him ten times over that she wanted nothing to do with him and for some reason, she always came running back, almost feeling bad for being so cruel to him. But really, he was the one being cruel. 

“Just take me home already.” 

“Don’t fucking worry. As soon as possible.” 

The ride to her apartment was silent. She tried to keep remembering how much of a dick he was to help uphold her resolve. He’s a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve any of her time or attention. But he always gets it. And she tried to remember how angry and betrayed she felt three days ago when she found a woman sneaking out of his apartment. 

Things had been going well. She thought. And she’d come to his penthouse because he invited her, but he didn’t seem to remember that he did. Obviously. The doorman always let her up because she was on the very small list of people that Harry allowed to come up and right as she made it to his door, a woman, half dressed, was apologizing as she slipped past her to get to the elevator. And Harry was right behind her, only in a pair of briefs. 

He insisted that she was only there for a blowjob. That was it. Like it made a difference. But (Y/N) truly had no words for him. He thought he was allowed that because they weren’t exclusive. They could both see who they wanted because there were no strings. That was laughable because whenever (Y/N) tried to plan a date with someone else just out of spite, he was quick to steal her attention away from that and have her back in his bed and back under his spell.

Apparently, this dinner was supposed to make up for her storming out the other night refusing to hear what he had to say. There was nothing he could say. She was hurt and even though she wasn’t supposed to be, she was. And he knew that, he just didn’t care and always tried to make everything better with a fancy dinner or some other shallow, thoughtless gift. And (Y/N) normally wouldn’t let that slide. If anyone else tried to buy her affection with gifts, she’d never talk to them again. There’s just something about Harry. 

He parked, shutting off the engine, and turned to look at her. She didn’t pay him any mind, she already had a hand pushing the door open. 

“(Y/N), wait,” He rushed to say and she almost thought about slamming the door and walking away forever. “I didn’t mean for the other night to happen.” 

“Yeah. I know. You were hoping your little girlfriend would be gone before I got there.” She turned once again, just about to step out of the car, but he grasped her upper arm, stopping her movements. 

“We have an agreement.” 

“We do. And last time I checked, I can end it anytime I want.” She tried to pull her arm from his hand but his grip got tighter. 

“You don’t want to do that though. We’re good, aren’t we?” 

“We were. But I can’t do this for the rest of my life.” 

“Didn’t say you had to,” (Y/N) can swear that he just rolled his eyes but it’s a little too dark in the car right now. “I need you right now though. And I know you need me too.” 

Finally, she turned to meet his eyes. He had that pitiful little look he always gets when she’s on the cusp of telling him it’s over. His hand smoothed up her arm and around to the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him. For some reason, (Y/N) is weak when it comes to him. Even if he was horrible to her. She always bends to his will. 

Maybe one day she’ll be able to resist him. But right now is not the time. 

She leaned across the center console until her lips were pressed to his and she melted right into him. The kiss was slow as their mouths moved together in perfect sync. (Y/N) has never kissed someone like she kisses Harry. There’s always so much desire behind it and it always makes her skin hot. 

“Come up.” She said against his mouth. It was exactly what he wanted, he just needed her to initiate it. 

In record time, and not even out of her dress, Harry has her over the counter top, fucking her so hard and so well that she can’t see straight anymore. He’s got a handful of her hair while he mutters filthy things in her ear. Things along the lines of you can’t leave me, you need this and no one else can give you this like I can. Which is true. In her experience so far anyway. 

(Y/N) almost wished Harry didn’t know how to make her cum so fast. Then maybe it might be easier to ignore him and never see him again. But he’s so giving in that way. And that’s what has her in trouble. Because he knew all her favorite spots and how to use them to his advantage. She also wished she didn’t allow him to know her body so well, but it’s too late now. 

She cums, blinking stars out of her eyes. It’s the second time since he got her inside and while she knows he’ll want at least one more from her, she’s not sure she can. He pulled out once her walls stopped fluttering around him and grabbed her by the shoulders to spin her around. 

“Suck me,” 

(Y/N) should’ve taken a second to think about it. Maybe just to register what he was actually asking but she was already on her knees and stuffing him into her mouth before either of them could blink. It was one of her favorite things to do and he knew that very well and oftentimes took advantage of that too. That’s why he’d called her over the other day. Because he was hard and lonely. He wouldn’t admit the latter but she knew it was true. 

Apparently, she took too long to get there because he already had another girl filling her place. And while it stung, she knew that she was the best he ever had, he just had a hard time coming to terms with it. 

“Fuck, you’re so much better than she was.” 

It always fucks with her when he feels the need to bring up how someone else has done it when he has his dick in her mouth but she lets it go. Because if she ever brought it up, he’d just tell her to get over herself. If anything, his commentary is unnecessary when she does this. She’d rather him just moan and groan instead of speaking. 

“Then why’d you call her over if I do it better?” She pulled off of him to say, keeping a tight hand around his shaft. He’s leaning his hands against the counter top and trying to catch his breath. And she takes great pride in that. “I always take care of you, Harry. You don’t have to do that.” 

He watched as she licked over the tip of him and then his eyes screwed shut. 

“You do, I know. Won’t do it again.” 

She’s heard that more times than she can count but she doesn’t call him out. She just goes back to sucking him into her mouth. He came with his hands in her hair, shoving her mouth down on him as far as she could take it. 

When he finally pulled out, a hazy look in his eye, he fixed his belt back around his waist and waved her over to the couch. She was sensitive, of course, but she knew what he wanted to do and had no problem lying underneath him as he traced his tongue through her folds over and over again until she was cumming for the third time. 

(Y/N) convinced him to lay in her bed for a little bit. At least until she falls asleep. She’s cuddled into him with her cheek resting against his bicep as she stares tiredly at the ceiling. Harry isn’t one for having little moments like this so she knows he’s only doing it because he’s trying to make up for the other day. He did undress to his underwear like he had every intention of staying the night but she knows better. It’s fine. As long as he’s here now, she won’t complain. 

“Please just wait for me next time.” She tried to sound like she’s not pleading with him even though she is. He claims to be using condoms with anyone else he’s with but she just wants to be safe and she hopes he remembers that. 

“I will.” 

She turned to look up at him. He’s staring blankly at the ceiling as well. 

“I mean it,” She jabbed her finger into his side. “I know we have an agreement or whatever but for my peace of mind could you maybe…not be with other people for a little bit?” It was a big ask. Especially with Harry’s lifestyle and she knew he might not take kindly to her suggestion. 

“I’m not going to be tied down to you like I’m your boyfriend or something,” He moved out from under her head and turned to look at her. “I’ll just…be more mindful, I guess.” 

That answer satisfied her as she nuzzled her cheek back against his arm and shut her eyes. Maybe someday he’ll feel differently.  

(Y/N) wakes up alone which is not unusual. He got his fix and was gone as soon as she went to sleep.  

Somehow, that was good enough for (Y/N). Even though she knows she’s worth more than that. For now, she leaves it be. 

****

“We should go out tonight.” 

(Y/N) is laid across Harry’s couch as he does something work-related on his laptop. He’s next to her, typing away and not listening to a word she says as she rambled on about the tv show playing. 

He invited her over for a fuck but that quickly got sidetracked when he received a phone call and had to take care of something last minute. Since then, they’ve just been on the couch, lounging on a Friday night with nothing to do. 

“Mhm.” 

She knows he didn’t hear her because that’s probably the last thing he wants to do. It’s worth a shot though. 

“Really?” Sitting up to look at him in surprise, she was almost hopeful that he really meant it. 

“I have to get this done, (Y/N).” 

“When will you be done?” She peeked over his shoulder at the spreadsheet on the screen. She didn’t understand anything about it but it did give her a chance to rest her chin on his shoulder. 

“Not sure.” He was locked back into his computer, barely paying attention, once again, to what she was saying. 

“If you’re going to be working all night, maybe I’ll go out with Maria.” Really, she wanted to see what his thoughts on it would be. If he’d rather her stay here or if he’d rather take her out himself. 

“If you want.” 

“You’d just let me go?” She pouted at the side of his face. He sighed, glancing at her. 

“I want you to do what you want to do. If you’re bored, call Maria.” 

“Alright. I’ll call you later.” 

Rushing to grab her things, she left without so much as another word from him and caught a cab to get back to her apartment.

Texting Maria on the way, she was going to meet her at her apartment after she was done getting ready and they’d leave together to find a club to go to. 

She was in the middle of fixing the straps of her shoes when Maria came barging in and raiding her closet in search of a pair of heels that she just knew (Y/N) had. 

It wasn’t long before they were walking the street to get to one of their regular clubs. It was nice and they didn’t just let anyone come in. Not that it was exclusive but you definitely had to have a certain look to get in and both (Y/N) and Maria were easily let into the club after waiting in a short line. 

The bar was their first stop and then dancing. Whenever (Y/N) goes out without Harry, she likes to play a little game with him. She doesn’t have him added on any of her social media accounts, but somehow he’s always aware of what she was doing when she was away from him. So, while apart, she tries to post subtly but very intentionally. Like he’s the only one seeing her Instagram stories. 

The first post of the night is one of (Y/N) and Maria holding their drinks into the camera. And that will be the first of many, just to get his attention. Because she knows that he keeps tabs on her even though he says he doesn’t give a fuck. That’s why she has to make these stories count.

And Maria was in the know so she made sure to post on her stories as well. Because even there, she knew Harry would see it. She’s not sure how or what account he uses but he still finds out. 

They danced for a while, laughing at each other and singing along to the music, until they got thirsty and decided to get another drink. She checked who viewed her story and none of the accounts stood out so far. Not that she would ever know it’s him because she’s tried to find him and can’t. 

Maria got the perfect shot. She had been taking a selfie just as some guy sidled up beside (Y/N) at the bar. He was harmless, just asking what drink she’d recommend. He was young and it was probably his first time in the club, so she was picking something out on the menu for him. He was sweet and thanked her before going back to his table after getting his drink. And very discreetly, you can see (Y/N)’s manicured hand holding the tiny bar menu and a larger hand, that obviously belongs to a man, is grasping the other side of it. She was just looking at the menu with him and they both happened to be holding it together at the exact right time. It was perfect. Just subtle enough to look like it wasn’t done on purpose. 

(Y/N) would give it twenty minutes. Twenty minutes for him to see the story and get pissed and start blowing up her phone. It was her favorite part. Making him so jealous that he wouldn’t even admit it. All he’d do is make it seem like he’s mad because she’s drinking too much. She’s only had two drinks, so she’s still capable of making clear decisions, but he’s going to act like she’s gone way over the limit. But really, he’s just jealous and unwilling to tell her that. 

They went back to dance. And it didn’t take long for her phone that she had stashed away in the top of her dress to start buzzing. She grinned at Maria and quickly pulled out her phone so they could read over what he said. 

Where did you end up going? 

They laughed and she was in the middle of thinking what to say in response when another message came through. 

Need a ride home?

“He’s so obsessed with you.” Maria nudged her. She wanted to believe her but she’s not quite sure. He’s obsessed in all the wrong ways. 

What club?

(Y/N). 

Her phone started ringing. Her wide eyes met Maria’s and she panicked. Does she answer or just leave him hanging? He’s done it to her more times than she can count. She huffed before pressing her phone to her ear.  

“Hello?” She had to shout over the music and the rowdy people next to her, so she started making her way toward the bar to get away from the dance floor. 

“(Y/N). Where the fuck are you?” 

“Out like I told you I’d be.” 

“With who?” 

She paused, thinking for a moment. He’s acting like a boyfriend. A jealous boyfriend. 

“Does it…matter?” She wanted to remain nonchalant. Like Maria didn’t put that picture on her story for this exact reason. 

“Just answer the question, (Y/N).” 

“Maria.” 

“Who else?” 

“No one.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” 

(Y/N) really couldn’t keep a straight face. This just got so interesting and she’s really going to play it up and push him to his limit. All he does is toy with her emotions and it’s time he gets a taste of his own medicine. 

“I’m not lying. What the fuck are you talking about?” Leaving Maria near the bar, she went back toward the bathrooms so she could hear more clearly. The music was still loud but she had a little better of a time hearing him curse and mutter to himself. 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Yes. 

“Harry. Seriously. What are you talking about?” 

“You’re fucking wasted out of your mind, aren’t you?” Here we go. “What club are you at?” 

“I don’t have time for this. You’re ruining my night, Harry. We can talk later.” 

“No, no, no. What club, (Y/N)? I’m not playing with you right now.” 

“I have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow or something maybe.” 

“This is your last chance, (Y/N), I mean it—”

She ended the call. Just like that. If he wants her that bad, he can come and get her. 

(Y/N) met back with Maria and gave her a quick rundown of his demanding questions. She rolled her eyes. He had some nerve asking all of that when he wouldn’t even let her hold his hand in public. 

They get lost in the crowd and the music again and maybe thirty minutes pass before Maria stopped dancing and clutched onto her shoulder. 

“He’s here!” She shouted over the music. 

“What?” When Maria pointed over her shoulder, she turned to see Harry scanning the dance floor while standing next to the bar. He’s dressed in a button down and slacks, the same thing he was wearing back at the penthouse. 

“Uh oh.” She muttered just as his eyes met hers through the crowd. She wanted to take off running just because of the look on his face. He’s pissed in a way she’s never seen before. But it excites her some. He must give a shit a little bit. He has to. 

In three long strides, he’s standing before her with his hands balled into fists and a look on his face that had her shivering in the hot air of the club. 

“What is it that you think you’re doing?” Even with the music being so loud, she could hear the tone of his voice. He’s mad and she’s loving every second of it. 

“Dancing? What does it look like?” Only to fuck with him, she acted like she was going to walk off but he grabbed her arm, probably tighter than he needed to, to keep her in front of him. 

“You’re not going anywhere. We’re leaving.” 

Maria met her eyes before speaking up. 

“Excuse me, we were kind of in the middle of something. She’ll talk to you later.” She grabbed a hold of (Y/N)’s other arm and pulled her in the other direction. 

“I don’t recall speaking to you,” He replied coolly, barely giving her a glance. “Let’s go, (Y/N).” He tugged her back towards him. 

“Harry, I want to stay,” Trying to loosen her arm from his hand, he only secured his grip more. “I’m not doing this right now.” 

“You had a chance to tell me all of this over the phone and you refused. So I took it into my own hands and you just have to fucking deal with it.” 

“She doesn’t need a babysitter.” Maria tried to pry his hand from (Y/N)’s arm but it was no use. 

“I said fuck off, Maria. This has nothing to do with you.” He said through gritted teeth. (Y/N) knew that all of this was only riling him up more. And she knew she was in for it whenever he got her alone. Whether that be tonight or a week from now. He still wouldn’t be over it.

“It’s okay, Maria. I’ll call you tomorrow morning.” (Y/N) spoke up, wanting to diffuse the situation because as soon as Harry told her to fuck off, she saw the change on her face and she knew she only had seconds to spare Harry from the rant Maria was about to go on. She knew enough about Harry to do some damage and (Y/N) didn’t want to make it worse than it was. 

“Are you sure?” She asked, shooting a mean look at Harry. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I had fun.” She managed to give Maria a side hug with her one free arm, telling her to let her know when she made it home tonight, before Harry was dragging her off towards the club’s exit. 

It was silent on the way to the car as she expected. He’s fuming and has not let up on his grip on her arm once. She wants to tell him that it’s uncomfortable but she doesn’t think it’s a wise time to talk. Especially to complain about something. 

He’s taking them back to his place. She’s unsure why. She figured he’d drop her on the curb in front of her apartment and ignore her for a week but no. He’s going in the opposite direction. 

Whenever she snuck a glance at him, his jaw was locked and his eyes were forward and his brows were furrowed so fiercely it looks like it hurt. But she says nothing and waits until she’s on the couch at his place, watching him pace in front of her. 

His laptop must have been abandoned on the couch before he left to come get her because it’s on the cushion right beside her. She almost asked where he gets the nerve from but decided to let him speak first since he seems so out of sorts about it. 

“You are the most immature person I’ve ever met.” He finally said, stopping to stand directly in front of her. 

“Excuse me?” 

“None of that would’ve happened if you’d just used common sense. But apparently, you lack that, don’t you?” 

“Listen, I don’t need you to—”

“Who the fuck was that?” 

She knows he’s asking about the photo and she wants to ask him how he saw it but he’ll shut down immediately and call a cab to take her home. 

“Who?” 

“That—That guy with his hands all over you. While you’re drunk! How fucking irresponsible of you. It’s like you want to be taken advantage of.” He talks to her like he’s doing her a favor by lecturing her but the only thing it’s doing is making her mad. 

“Give me a fucking break. I can handle myself, thank you. I wasn’t drunk! I had two drinks, Harry. Two! I don’t need you to stand there and boss me around like I’m a child or something.” She wanted o stand and leave just so she can make him even more mad but she stays, just to see what he’s going to do. 

“That’s because you act like it!” He practically shouted back at her. “And you fucking wonder why I don’t want to be with you.” 

That stung. While she didn’t drink enough to be tipsy, she had plenty for her emotions to be out of whack. She felt her eyes get watery. 

“You’re an asshole.” This time, she did stand, with every intention of walking right out the door and not coming back. But he latched onto her shoulders, not letting her move from get spot. 

“You’re not leaving so I suggest you sit right back down.” 

“No.” 

“No?”

“No.”

“See, that’s your fucking problem. You don’t listen.” He emphasized the word, pushing at her shoulders until she was forced to sit back on his couch. 

“I don’t have to listen to a word you say, Harry. You’re not my father and you’re not my boyfriend, so fuck off.” Her arms crossed as she leaned back into his couch. He’s not going to let her go anywhere, so she might as well get comfortable. 

“But you want me to be your boyfriend, don’t you?” A smirk made its way to his mouth. “I know you do and you think you have to behave this way to get my attention and it’s fucking ridiculous.” 

“So you’re jealous? Is that what this is?” 

“Jealous? You know you’re not the only one I’m fucking, don’t you? I don’t have shit to be jealous over because there’s ten more numbers in my phone that can do it just as good as you can.” 

“That’s not what you were saying the other night.” 

“Sometimes people just say things. What did you want me to say when my dick was in your mouth?” 

For him to be so blunt about it was upsetting. She knew all of that, she just didn’t know why he needed to say it. It hurts. He has to know that it does, but maybe that’s why he’s saying it. 

“Why did you come to the club then? I thought you were busy working.” 

“Because you were making bad decisions.” 

(Y/N) could kill him. She really could. 

“How do you even know that? How do you know I was with a guy?”

He stopped right in front of her, still glaring. She’s got him in a corner. He pretty much has to admit that he watched her Instagram stories because how else would he have known? 

“You know what? This isn’t working. You should go,” He stepped away from her, shoving his hands into his pants pockets like he was being thoughtful or something. “I knew from the beginning. You’re too young for me and we’re not on the same level. I can’t play these petty games with you. I won’t.” 

All of that because he doesn’t want to tell her he stalks her Instagram because he is in fact jealous over any male attention she gets that’s not from him. 

“I’m too young for you? That’s what you think the problem is?” Pushing herself up from the couch, she stood in front of him again. “The problem is that you care about me but you just can’t tell me you do.” 

“Get the fuck over yourself.” He muttered, turning his back to her and starting for the kitchen. 

“It’s true! You’re so scared to commit to anyone that you’d rather push everyone away even when you really don’t want to.” She followed him as he grabbed a glass from his cabinet and started filling it with whiskey. Way more than he needed but she doesn’t tell him that. 

“Maybe it’s just you, (Y/N),” He set the bottle down, turning to meet her eye. “Maybe I just don’t want to commit to you.” 

“Then let me go.” It was almost a plea because she was tired of the back and forth with him. She wanted him entirely and he only wanted to fuck her. It’s not fair that he’s been stringing her along for nearly two years. This isn’t something that she wants anymore if it means she’ll never get to have him. 

“You could’ve gone whenever you wanted to. I’m not keeping you here.” He leaned against the counter, looking relaxed, like he didn’t care to have the conversation. 

“Sure,” He has to know that’s not how this has been going. She’s been trying to get away from him, he always finds a way back in. “Don’t call me when those other ten numbers are busy then.” 

Turning her back, she went directly to the door, ready for this to be the last time she ever sees him. Because he’s not giving her what she needs and she can’t be here anymore if that’s the case. 

A hand grabbed onto her shoulder and spun her around. 

“You get on nerves so fucking bad.” And then he was kissing her. 

This happened often. A heated argument where one of them is close to leaving for good turns into sex. She was steps from never seeing him again and now she’s riding him on his couch with her hands in his hair, kissing him like she’d die without him. 

Sometimes it felt like it but she tried her best not to be dependent on him in any way. It was hard because she really did like him. She wanted more with him and thought that they could be good together if he’d just give her a chance. As of now, this is the only thing she’s good for in his eyes. 

Before leaving, she freshened up in his bathroom. She wasn’t going to overstay her welcome. She just wanted to go home and try not to think much about him over the weekend. 

When she left the bathroom, he was in the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand, only in his underwear. 

“I’ll call you a ride.”

“Don’t bother, fucking jerk.” 

Snatching her purse from the armchair, she left his apartment. Just because he fucked her doesn’t mean she’s not mad at him. He interrupted her night because he was jealous. He’d never say that but she knows that he cares about her in some capacity. He doesn’t want anyone else to have her but he can go off with whoever he wants and she’s just supposed to be okay with that. It’s not right or fair. 

(Y/N) would say she’s never going to see him again but she knows the outcome will only be the opposite. It always is. 

***

It’s been a week. 

Not the longest they’ve gone without contacting each other but it’s killing her to know that he’s still getting his fix with other people and she’s sitting at home on a Friday night with nothing to do. 

She’s not certain he is but she knows that he has “needs” and she just can’t see him going a week without getting off. It’s not like him. She wished she had people on the side like he does but Harry takes up such a wide expanse of her brain, she hasn’t bothered with anyone else since they’ve been sleeping together. 

Harry was very clear from the start. He wanted to hook up, he just didn’t want the other stuff. (Y/N) thought she’d be alright with that but eventually, things shifted and she tried to tell him that she couldn’t do it anymore, she felt something for him, but the only thing he had to say was for her to get over it. Forget about it, it’s never happening. 

He thinks she’s too young for him. He’s got ten years on her. That doesn’t matter to her really but he thinks his reputation will suffer. People will think he’s shallow or something. She’s not quite sure exactly but that’s his reasoning for not wanting to be with her more intimately than he already is. 

She told him she loved him for christ’s sake, while he was inside of her, and she’s pretty sure he lost his hard on almost immediately. 

Twenty minutes was spent telling him she didn’t mean it and was just saying things. How could he blame her? She was on the edge of her fifth orgasm and he was pounding her into the mattress just the way she likes. What else was she supposed to say? 

He left after that with a gruff see you later and didn’t contact her for about two and a half weeks. It was grueling but (Y/N) did her best not to text first. One night at nearly midnight he sent her a message asking if she was “over that shit yet.” 

She said yes and he was at her door in less than ten minutes to fuck her hard and fast and then leave right after he came. She’d never felt so stupid and worthless. He always leaves her feeling that way but she still doesn’t hesitate to invite him over when he asks even though she knows this will all crash and burn soon. If she can have Harry like this, she’ll take it. For now. 

(Y/N) spent most of the night swiping left on a dating app. No one was peaking her interest. She’d gotten a few matches and had been chatting with a guy mindlessly but she wasn’t sure she wanted to take any further than messaging in the chat. He was nice but she’s a little bored. She considered just having a quick one night stand, just for something to do, but she really doesn’t want to have to meet someone new. It’s always incredibly awkward and tonight isn’t the night for that sort of thing. 

DON’T ANSWER: Still up?

She scoffed, swiping down on the message that popped up. She changed his contact name to try and remind herself not to answer him. But her fingers were itching to type something to him anyway. To tell him to leave her alone. Or to tell him to come over because she’s feeling lonely.

But she hesitated on answering. Because she knows how she’ll feel tomorrow if she answers him. To hate herself in the morning and spend all day punishing herself for something she could have avoided if she used a small bit of the common sense he says she lacks.

I’m outside and your lights are on.

Of course he is. She hates how persistent he’s being. If she denies him, he doesn’t push, ever. Because he doesn’t care enough. But he’s practically begging her to come inside, right? He’s outside of her building now. He’s getting desperate. 

Can I come up?

She wants to tell him to fuck off. He’s not worth it. But she is bored…so what harm will it really do? She’ll be in a bout of self-loathing tomorrow anyway. It doesn’t matter what she does. So, she sighed, quickly typing to him. 

(Y/N): I guess. 

Trying to keep it casual. She doesn’t want to seem like she’d been missing him after he left her on delivered for a week. And he’s the one that tracked her down at a club and dragged her out, only to almost end everything between them. For a moment, she wished he did end it all. It would make her life a little easier. 

A few minutes she waits in silence until there’s a knock on the door. Again, she hesitated. She can still turn him down if he’s outside. It’s when he gets inside and starts to sweet talk her that things get hard. She opened the door anyway and there he was, leaning against the door frame, a smirk already on his face. 

“How’ve you been?” 

To be completely honest, she almost slammed the door in his face, but decided to keep up her indifferent attitude instead. She turned on her heel, not answering him, and made her way back to her spot on the couch. 

She watched as he shut the door behind him and came to sit next to her, not deterred in the slightest. 

“What have you been up to?” Like they’re friends. Like he gives a fuck. 

“None of your business.” (Y/N) tried to keep her attention trained on the tv, despite him staring at the side of her face. She can’t look at him because that’s when everything will go downhill. 

“Oh, yeah? Thought we were friends.” His hand reached up to the back of her neck and he squeezed, lightly rubbing his thumb up and down the side. 

“You’re delusional.” 

He laughed, leaning closer toward her to set his arm over her shoulders. She’d been trying not to breathe in his cologne because it’s one of her favorites and he knows that. That’s probably why he’s wearing it in the first place. To soften her up and work his way back into her good graces after ignoring her for a week. 

“You’re a little mean tonight. What happened?” He tugged her into his side so her head rested on his shoulder. Immediately, she pressed her hand to his chest to push away from him. He didn’t let her get too far though. “(Y/N). Look at me.” 

He’s being so cruel. She knows if she looks in his eyes, her disinterested facade will melt and she’ll be a puddle right here on the couch beside him. And that’s just not a part of her plan tonight. She can’t. 

“Why are you here, Harry?” She asked instead, keeping her arms crossed to her chest. 

“I missed you.” 

“Yeah, right.” 

“I did. You don’t believe me?” 

“You haven’t messaged me back in a week. But you missed me so much you have to show up here unannounced and beg to come in?”

“Exactly,” His hand grabbed onto her knee and squeezed. “I was a little busy this week, that’s why I didn’t get back to you. But that happens sometimes and you know it.” 

“Hm.” She hummed, not believing a word he said. All she can really feel right now is his warm hand sliding from her knee further up her thigh. 

“I didn’t mean it. You missed me, didn’t you? That’s why you’re mad at me.” He leaned into her again, his mouth finding her neck and leaving kisses down the side of it. 

“Nope,” It was a bit harder to keep her composure with him pressing wet kisses to her skin, so she pushed herself away from him to give him a stern look. “I think you should go.” 

“Why? It’s been too long, I need you.” He tried to grab onto her shoulder but she moved off of the couch to stand in front of him. 

“I think it’s better if we don’t. I’m…I’m done with this. It’s not benefiting me in any way to be with you.” (Y/N) doesn’t have the exact words for how she’s feeling but she does know that if she’s strung along by Harry for much longer, she’ll probably lose her mind. Is it so bad that she wants a boyfriend? Is it so bad that she wants someone to commit to? Harry thinks so and she can’t do this back and forth anymore. 

“Are you kidding me? Not benefiting you? You’re getting the best sex of your life out of me and that’s not benefiting you?” He scoffed, like he was annoyed that just sex wasn’t something she wanted. 

“It’s not enough anymore.” 

“So, what? You want a boyfriend?” 

“I think so.” 

He blinked at her, seeming to be thinking about something. And then he sighed, clenching his jaw. 

“We’re good like this though, (Y/N). Come on.” He caught her hand in his and squeezed. She wanted to snatch her hand away immediately but if this is the last time, maybe she should hold on a little longer. 

“Maybe at first it was good but I can’t do it anymore. It’s not the same.” 

“What’s not the same?” 

“Harry. I told you I loved you and you fucking screamed at me for twenty minutes about how you don’t do relationships and how I knew what I was getting myself into.” 

He dropped her hand as soon as she reminded him of it. And then he rolled his eyes. 

“I didn’t scream at you—”

“Yes, you did.” 

“Whatever,” He said sharply. “It’s true though, isn’t it? And it’s not my fault you can’t control your emotions. You said you were over it.” 

“Well, I fucking lied,” Tears are quickly accumulating and she knows she only has so much time before she can’t contain them anymore. She doesn’t want Harry to see her cry ever again. “Just go, please. I can’t do this with you.” She turned her back to him, trying to quiet the sound of her sniffling but it was hard when all she wanted to do was break down. Harry is so mean. If he really wanted nothing to do with her, why doesn’t he leave her alone? Why does he show up out of nowhere and try to be nice and act like he wants her? She’ll never understand. 

“Here we fucking go,” He muttered behind her. “You’re crying now? (Y/N), you knew what this was supposed to be. You can’t be pissed at me because you took it too far.” 

“Go, Harry. I don’t want to talk.” Using the collar of her shirt, she wiped the single tear that fell, hoping the rest would hold off until he left. 

“What did I do wrong to make you love me? Hm?” He spun her around, almost forcing her to look up at him. She hated that he made her cry again and hated it even more that he got a front row seat as more tears came down her cheeks. 

“I’m not talking about it.” She stepped around him and started back toward her bedroom. He’d only follow her but maybe if she can get back there and hide away under her blankets, she can ignore him long enough for him to let himself out. 

“I think I deserve to know, don’t I?” His voice followed her, of course, and when she pulled the blankets over her head, he was ripping them right back off. “Why are you running from this? If you love me so much, tell me why.” 

“Leave me alone.” She tried pulling her blankets back but his grip on them was too tight, so she just turned over, shoving her face into her pillow. 

It was quiet for longer than she thought it’d be after she felt him settle down near the bottom of the bed. She wondered why he stuck around when she told him to leave. But she didn’t move her head from the pillow. 

“My place is getting renovated. I need somewhere to stay tonight. Do you mind?” 

“Fine.” She murmured, not daring to move. Not even when she heard him undress and slip into bed beside her. He could probably stay anywhere else in the city tonight but for some reason, he came here. To argue and eventually persuade his way into her bed. She doesn’t know how he does it. 

“I don’t like seeing you cry, you know. Even though you think I’m horrible.” He spoke up after some time. They hadn’t moved and the only thing she could hear was the ticking of the clock in the hallway and occasionally him breathing. 

“It’s fine. Maybe I should control my emotions better.” She said half-heartedly. Because she didn’t believe that at all but if that’s what he thinks this is, so be it. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“It’s fine.” Keeping her back to him, she reached over to click off the lamp beside her, enveloping the room in darkness. It was better this way. The further he kept himself away from her, the easier it will be when this is all over with. 

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” His arm slid across her waist to hold her to his chest but she didn’t bother responding, she just shut her eyes and hoped he’d be gone by morning. 

****

Harry woke up before (Y/N) and considered leaving, but when he looked down and saw her face still puffy from last night, he hesitated. 

She probably cried long after he’d been asleep and normally it wouldn’t bother him. But for some reason, he’s feeling a little more sympathetic than usual. 

Her phone buzzing three times on the nightstand on the other side of her caught his attention. It’s only six in the morning. Who could be messaging her like that at this hour? 

Harry’s nosy. He can admit it. That’s why he always knows where (Y/N) is, even when she doesn’t want him to. It might be a total invasion of privacy but he reached over her and grabbed her phone. He’s seen her type in her password more times than he can count so he’s easily let in. Once more glance at (Y/N) who is still sleeping and he’s swiping down to see her notifications. 

He sees the icon for a very popular dating site and a few messages from someone named Jace. He only reads the messages on the screen because if he opens them, she’ll know he was on her phone. 

Jace: Sorry for the late reply, I fell asleep. But your job sounds really cool. 

Jace: It’s been really nice talking to you, would you want to get breakfast sometime?

Jace: No pressure if not. We can keep talking like this :)

Harry scoffed as quietly as he could manage and locked her phone, setting it back next to her. He’s not even sure what (Y/N) does for work. He’s never asked. But it must be “really cool.” She can do better than that. 

Breakfast? How fucking cute. Is that really what she likes? Would that work on her? He doesn’t know and he honestly doesn’t care what she does in her spare time. 

He does contemplate deleting the messages and unmatching with the guy but that might be a little too far. He leaves it alone for now and goes back to staring at her ceiling. 

Five minutes later, he finds himself in her kitchen trying to make something to eat. He can’t cook for shit, he has someone else do it for him, so he does try but he ends up ordering in instead. And he pays a little extra so the food will be here as quickly as possible. 

A half an hour later, he’s plating the food when (Y/N) walks out of her room, rubbing her eyes. She stops suddenly when she spots him in her kitchen. 

“I got us breakfast.” 

She blinked her tired eyes a few more times before taking a few steps closer to him. 

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” 

Everything she does is hesitant. From standing next to him, to grabbing a plate and beginning to eat. It was quiet when they sat down at her small table to eat. Sometimes, Harry has no idea how to talk to her. Should he ask about her? That feels stupid. He’s known her for nearly two years and at the moment, he can’t recall a single thing about her. 

Her favorite color or favorite food. If she has a brother or a sister, what she does for work. Suddenly, he feels really shitty. He never takes her anywhere unless it’s him trying to make up for something he did to make her sad. And he knows their arrangement. He told her nothing like that would be a part of it. But thinking about it now, maybe he should be a little nicer. He likes her company and she’s always very sweet to him. He’s not sure why he can’t return it. 

“I can’t cook. I ordered in.” He blurted out, watching as she tried to keep a smile down when she looked at him. 

“I know, Harry.” She went back to her food and it was quiet again. He’s getting restless because she told him it was over last night and now she’s not saying anything. He doesn’t want their arrangement to end, he just often finds himself saying things he doesn’t mean and things that he knows will make her cry. There’s no logical reason for it, he doesn’t know why and wished he could stop. 

“Thank you for letting me stay last night,” He looked at her as she avoided eye contact, instead finding something to do in wringing a napkin in her hands. 

“Sure,” She shrugged. “What’s getting renovated?” 

“A lot. So I can’t really sleep there. They just finished up the bathroom yesterday but I have a whole list for them. It’ll probably take another week or so.” 

“Where are you staying?” 

“A hotel, probably. I can’t bother you anymore with it.” He chuckled, finishing off his plate in one more bite before pushing it away from him. 

“It’s not bothering me. I…like having you here. It’s nice to wake up warm,” She says this quietly, almost like she didn’t want him to even hear it but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how without making her frown, so he just hums. “But…um, okay. That’s probably best.” 

“I should get going.” He can’t bear to watch her face so downcast, so he leaves the table and goes to get dressed after scraping his plate clean and placing it in the sink. 

When he’s finished in her room, he comes out to see that she hasn’t moved from her spot at the table. She’s picking at her food now. He wanted to tell her to finish eating for his peace of mind, but all he does is send her a wave before leaving. 

(Y/N) messaged Jace back, telling him that she’d love nothing more than to get breakfast and talk more with him. He’s nice and full of compliments. And he actually listened to what she was saying and appeared interested. She can only hope that he’s as nice as he is through messaging as he is in real life. 

****

Harry: Brunch today?

(Y/N) froze when she saw his message. He’s never asked something like this before. 

She’s at work, slowly making her way through her to-do list when her phone buzzed in her desk drawer. Normally, she’d ignore it because she’s working but something had her opening the drawer and swiping on the screen. 

It’s a weird thing to ask. During the work week? Brunch? What does he really want? 

(Y/N): Where?

He’s typing immediately after the message is delivered.

Harry: My office. I already ordered food. See you at noon. 

She tossed her phone back in the drawer and shut it. She’s not a fan of him telling her to do things but for some reason, it always gets her to do whatever he wants. 

(Y/N) found herself standing outside of his tall office building five minutes till noon. She’s never been inside before and she really doesn’t know how to go about it. So, she texts him quickly, asking if reception is expecting her, but before she could send the message, Harry was pushing through the glass doors with a smile on his face. A pleasant one at that, so she couldn’t help but smile back. 

“How’s your week been?” And then he hugged her, right there on the street. When he pulled back he still held onto her shoulders, looking her over. 

“Uh, it’s okay. How’s yours?” 

He led her inside with his hand holding hers. She didn’t mean to look around to see if anyone noticed, but she did. Harry never touches her unless they’re alone, as if he doesn’t want anyone to see them interact. And now he’s dragging her through the lobby, to the elevators, all with a smile on his face. 

Once they were shut inside the elevator, she took her hand away, with some difficulty because of his grip, and then she shot him a look. 

“What’s going on?” 

“With what?” 

“Why are you so…” She trailed off, not having the right word. She didn’t know what to say. Why is acting like he gives a fuck all of a sudden? Some days she doubts he even likes her but now this? It’s strange and she can’t help but think he has some ulterior motive. Harry doesn’t do things like this without reason and she’s really confused. 

“So what, love?” He pressed a button to get to a floor so high she thinks she might be dizzy when she gets up there and then he turned to look at her, almost fondly. 

“Why did you invite me here?” Maybe if he can answer his question, this might all make sense. 

“Haven’t seen you in three days. I just thought you’d like to have lunch with me. You don’t work too far away, do you?” 

“Ten minutes or so.” She muttered, looking away from him to the shiny elevator doors in front of her. He’ll never give her a straight answer, so she might as well enjoy this while it lasts. Harry can switch on a dime and right now he’s almost being…sweet. She can’t ruin that. 

He introduced her to the receptionist on his floor even and she tried to keep her facial expression neutral. There’s no purpose behind it and she wonders why he does it if she’ll probably never be back. 

Her name is Becca and she’s very enthusiastic and shakes (Y/N)’s hand so eagerly she thought it might fall off. 

“You’re just as pretty as Harry says you are.” 

Another revelation she has to keep a straight face for. 

“Oh, thank you.” She tried to smile while shooting a glance in his direction, only to see him giving Becca his own look of disapproval. 

“I mean, he—he’s mentioned you once or twice. Not like…a lot or anything.” 

“Thank you, Becca. We’ll be going,” Harry spoke up, grabbing a hold of (Y/N)’s arm to lead her to his office. 

It’s exactly as she’d expect it to be. Sleek and modern, windows lining the wall behind his desk. He has a spread of food scattered across his desk and it all looks mouth watering. Even though she’s incredibly confused and a little concerned about where this new personality of Harry’s is coming from, she’s still going to eat because everything looks delicious and she’s starved. 

Brunch is similar to breakfast the other day at her apartment. It’s quiet, neither of them knowing what to say. She did thank him for the food and asked him where he got it because it was just as good as it looked and he responded with as few words as possible. 

“What are your plans for the weekend?” He asked, breaking the quiet in the room. 

“Um,” She thought it over. Breakfast with Jace on Saturday, but she didn’t want to tell him that because he’d probably flip. And while he won’t tell her why he’s got a problem with it, he’ll figure out a way to talk her out of it. “Going out with Maria Saturday morning but I think that’s it.” She lied, even though she wanted to rub it in his face that she had a date and there was nothing he could do or say about it. But again, he’d find a way to stop her from going. 

“I want to take you somewhere so cancel it.” 

Harry’s betting that (Y/N) has a date on Saturday morning with that guy from the app and the thought doesn’t sit right with him. She wouldn’t tell him that’s what she’s doing either. So instead, he’s going to take her out of the city so she doesn’t even have a chance to meet with him.

He can tell by the slightly shocked look on her face that she wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t either but he’d spent last night booking a hotel and arranging a flight for them. She pretty much has to go because it’s all already paid for. 

“What?” 

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll like it, trust me.” 

(Y/N) isn’t sure if she trusts Harry or not but she’s willing to give it one more chance. Maybe going away with him will be good for them and then he’ll realize that he actually does like her a little bit. 

And canceling the date with Jace…she did want to go, he’s been very nice and respectful so far. Definitely a change of pace. She can only hope that he’ll take kindly to a rain check because she does want to meet him, just not this weekend. 

“Um, I think that’s okay. Why so suddenly?” She doesn’t feel like eating anymore but not because she lost her appetite or anything. But she’s almost a little excited. She wished she wasn’t because Harry’s good for disappointing but she can’t help it. 

“Need to get out of this office for a bit. I was getting away anyway, just thought you’d like to come along.” He shrugged, relaxing back into his comfortable looking chair. 

“Hm. Alright, sounds fun,” She muttered, looking him over again. Harry isn’t spontaneous. She knows that for certain but this isn’t like him. Something out of the blue, taking her somewhere with him. It’s strange and she wants to interrogate him until she gets an answer from him that makes sense but instead, she just agrees, wanting to keep the peace. 

When she told him she had to be on her way back to work, he offered to walk her back down to the street. She wanted to decline, just so she could go beg Becca to tell her what else Harry says about her but he doesn’t really give her a choice.

But before they could get to the elevator, Becca stopped them anyway.

“You should come to the event next Friday, (Y/N). I’d love to see you there!” She smiled sweetly and (Y/N) couldn’t help returning it before glancing discreetly at Harry.

“Um, not sure yet.” An event? She knows Harry would never invite her to something like that but the thought is nice.

“Well, think about it. This is your formal invitation—”

“We’ve got to go, Becca. I’ll be right back.” Again, Becca is receiving a pointed look from Harry that (Y/N) is pretty sure she knows what it means. He didn’t want her to know about the event or whatever is going on. And that is very clear.

“Tell Harry to give you my number.” Becca waved, as the elevator doors shut.

“She’s nice,” She commented, trying to dispel the awkwardness that flooded the elevator. He had no intention of telling her that and now that Becca said something, he probably felt just as uncomfortable as she did. Time for a change of subject she guesses. “You really aren’t going to tell me where you’re taking me?”

“Not yet, no. Let it be a surprise, okay?” Harry walked her all the way back to the street and they parted with a promise to see each other later. He even kissed her cheek before she could get too far and that had her practically running from him as she rushed out another goodbye. 

There’s so much for her to think about, her head is beginning to hurt but there’s still a hint of warmth swirling in her stomach from that tiny display of affection on the street. But while things do seem to be up in the air, maybe they really are getting somewhere.

****

A nice i-“don't”-want-you-but-no-one-else-can-have-you fic!! I tried to make him a little forgivable in this one!! This is the fourth version of this and somehow he’s the nicest of them all lol. I hope you enjoy, sorry it took so long 😁

tags: @vamprry @1un4zsq @marzhshaim @sunflowersloverr @tenaciousperfectionunknown @caynonmoondreams @elidoho @peterbenjaminparke07 @daydreamingofmatilda @kissitnhekitchen @amberbambridge @danaehldy @straightontilmornin @forgetdelaney @harrysonlylover @idrawshapesonpeople07 @me-undiscovered @llina01 @80s-outsiders @littlenatilda @outofthisworl-d @butdaddyilovehim-hs @cherrys4suckers @harrystylessslut @sceleratuspoeta @hssunflowervol6 @indierockgirrl @honeyharlows @satellitelh @daphnesutton @tfharries @opheliaofficial07 @hermionelove @nathalielovesonedirection @velvetballaspark @watermelonlover @kathb59 @theofficialprongs @myloveforrreadingspost @harryshousewhore @harrysolaf @szoszi2004 @buckyssbestgirl @ellaorchard @trooooye @daylighthazzz @prettytulips @stylesfever @mayamonroem @fake-coolbeans @slut-for-artists @kailaxharlow @i-do-dumb-shit @lunaharrygurl

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Okay but tanktoprry sitting you on his lap and burying his cock deep inside your pussy but he tells you that you cant move. Makes you stick your tongue out so he can suck on it and pinch your nipples until you squirt on his cock🤭

ur sick..... i like it

--

"I said sit still," His voice was firm as his nails dug into her skin tightly, his jaw clenched as he felt her walls pulse around his cock. She let out a soft whine, clutching his forearms tightly. She panted out, feeling Harry start to rock his hips back and forth slowly as the tip of his cock hit her spot over and over again.

"It feels--god!" She cried out, pinching her eyes shut tightly. Harry chuckled darkly, one of his hands roaming to the back of her neck to grasp the roots of her hair. "Neeuugghh..."

"Be a good girl and shut up f'me, okay? Tongue out," He used his other finger to tap her lips slowly. She whimpered, doe eyes glued down to him as she poked her tongue out slowly. He smirked, forcing her head to come closer before sliding her tongue past his lips.

He sucked her tongue, massaging his own against it before flicking and kitten licking it carefully as he started to fuck his pulsing cock up into her with much force. Her stomach was on fire, feeling like she was going to explode into a million pieces. Harry's hand slowly roamed up to her stomach, past her belly button and to her nipples.

His two fingers pinched, twisted and flicked at them as his other hand took her hip and made her grind against his cock at a quicker pace. She cried out, nearing in tears as pants left her. Harry felt her pussy start to become drenched, knowing she was going to bust at any moment now.

Taking a handful of her breasts, he squeezed it harshly as he started to buck his hips up into her pussy over and over again. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, crying out as her head nearly tilted back from the pleasure. Harry smirked slowly, letting go of her tongue before taking her hips into his hands and watched as she fell apart on his cock.

"Fucked dumb, baby?" He chuckled out.

She couldn't even reply. The feeling of his large cock had her nearly in tears, her fingernails digging deep into his skin as she felt her orgasm burst through her.

"Harry! Oh my--god!!" She nearly screamed as she felt a pool of wetness start to drip from her, onto his cock and thighs. Harry pursed his lips, brows furrowed as he watched her squirt on his cock. Making a mess was always one of the--most fun things that Harry enjoyed.

"Mm, fuckin' hell, good girl--make a mess all over my cock," He said as he stroked her hair slowly, tilting his head as he watched her crumble until she collapsed onto him. Harry hummed as she continued to fuck her into her pussy, feeling his stomach twist in knots as the newfound wetness made his cock throb harder until he came thick long ropes into her.

He hissed out, biting down onto her shoulder as his eyes rolled back into his head.

It was a good fuck.