Harry Pounding U From Behind 🥵🥵🥵

harry pounding u from behind 🥵🥵🥵

Harry loves bunching up Y/N's hair, tugging into it roughly as the other one snakes to her neck, lightly choking her as her moans would feel the room. Harry was pounding and ramming into her cunt so roughly that their bed would creak and their skins would slap harshly against each other. Harry would groan into her ear, nibbling on them, bitting, just to edge her on. His hand would leave her neck, coming down to her clit as he rapidly rubs the swollen puffy nub until she cries in pleasure. The fact that Harry felt so powerful when he slams his cock inside her cunt she knew she wouldn't be able to walk the next day. One thing Harry loves is going raw, feeling the walls of her pussy clenching on his thick and hard cock every time he hits the right spot. He loves cumming in her, filling his seed deep inside as he watches it leaks out right after. Harry would feel bold, swiping his tongue on her leaking pussy, tasting his own cum with hers.

Smut request is open!

MASTERLIST!!!

Aside — if you have a disability and would like me to write about Y/N having it, please send in a request!

Smut ❀

Fluff ☆

Angst ＊

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watermelon6ugar

3 years ago

~h.s. smut fic recs~

If you know me, you know that I adore smut, so I wanted to create a list of all my favorites. Some are entire masterlists and some are imagines or blurbs! I broke them down to categories to help navigate! All of these writers are some of my favs and so incredibly fucking talented!!!

Some of these fics didn’t have a word count, so I guessed about how long...some might be off!

I will be adding more as I read/remember more!

**EVERY FIC ON HERE IS NSFW**

Smut fics by me

- what i can’t have

- shame it’s not about me

- beauty papers: issue 9

- cloud 9

- morning sex blurb

- your shared onlyfans account

- temporary fix

Masterlist

- masterlist: by @floral-suits

- masterlist: by @jawllines

- masterlist: by @shawnsprincesse

- masterlist: by @avhrodite

- masterlist: by @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy

- masterlist: by @majorharry

- masterlist: by @floralsatin

- masterlist (sex bucket list challenge): by @berrynarrybanana

- masterlist: by @for-fucks-sake-h

Imagines (3k+)

- tell me you own me: by @darthstyles

- adieu: by @meetmeinfleetwood

- cause i’m high, chewing on your taste: by @harrysgucciloafers

- then again sometimes i get really sweet: by @harrysgucciloafers

- never coming back down: by @for-fucks-sake-h

- trouvaille: by @softforcal

- nfwmb: by @sunflowervolvimp3

- bang a gong: by @styleslovebot

- turpitudinem: by @toothpastekissy

- too tired: by @harryskalechips

- fix you: by @stellarboystyles

- sinful innocence: by @psychedelicharold

- roses and vanilla: by @goldenfeelin

- rosewater: by @stylesmuse

- gucci business dinner: by @and-im-okay-with-it

- good vibrations: by @styleslovebot

- something good: by @milkathedudz

One Shots/Blurbs (>3k)

- spit: by @meetmeinfleetwood

- baby momma: by @ciggylungz

- the quarantine couch: by @harrystylescherry

- bit o’ fun: by @strawberriestyles

- so pathetic, aren’t you?: by @sealion2003

- ‘tell me you love my cock’: by @stellarboystyles

- princess parts: by @haaarry

- i just wanna taste it: by @darthstyles

- overstimulation: by @majorharry

- squirt: by @floralsatin

- let me feel you: by @for-fucks-sake-h

- luna de amor: by @svnflowervol666

- watermelon sugar: by @fallinharry

- spin cycle: by @peppermintsmileharry

- daddy i need you to: by @harry-is-my-medicine

Series (Anything that’s multiple parts)

- you get me closer to god: by @darthstyles

- ceo harry styles: by @aestheticwritingz

- temptation: by @bopbopstyles

- choke me: by @harryforvogue

- cherry flavored sin: by @avhrodite

HERE ARE AMAZING ACCOUNTS THAT HELP ME FIND NEW WORKS/WRITERS!

- @harrystylesficrecs

- @harry-stylesarchives

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watermelon6ugar

3 years ago

Risk it - Harry Styles

a/n: this came so fast and typed most of it out at work lmao, but i kinda dig how it turned out!! hope you’ll like it too! as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

You shake yourself a little bit to get rid of the spicy coldness that’s been lingering around in the city in the past few days. It’s only the end of August, but feels more like late October, though they say the warmness will return for a few more weeks shortly. That would be much needed, you’d love to enjoy some more lunches out in a park or down near the river before you are forced to withdraw into the insides for the rest of the year.

Looking around in the packed pub you look for the familiar golden locks of Piper and you quickly spot her in one of the corner booths, laughing joyfully with pinked cheeks probably from the almost empty pint of beer in front of her. Marching through the place you slide into the booth joining the group of three.

“And there she is!” Piper cheers.

“We thought you’re gonna bail on us,” Abigail snickers and you just roll your eyes.

“I said I would come, just had some work to finish before,” you tell them, shaking your cardigan down your arms quickly, the air is thicker, mustier and much warmer in here, but it’s not surprising, the pub is packed, just as usual on a Friday evening.

“You work way too much,” Piper shakes her head in disapproval as she downs the rest of her drink.

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Tags

harry styles harry styles harry x reader harry styles imagine harry styles fanfiction harry styles x reader harry styles x you harry styles smut harry styles fanfic harry styles au harry styles one shot harry styles fluff harry styles angst harry styles x y/n harry styles fanfics harry styles oneshot professor!harry professor!harry au

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watermelon6ugar

3 years ago

Summary: Harry keeps dreaming of a woman he had never seen before.

Pairings: Harry Styles x Reader

Warnings/Tags: Daddy kink, SMUT, a lot of filthy stuff. Do not read if you are underage!

Song Fic:

"Fuck that feel so good baby... So fucking good for me" Harry threw his head back, eyes closed in euphoria. The pleasure coming straight from his cock, all the way up to his spine as he felt himself shivering at the sensation. Y/N bobs her head up and down, managing to swallow his hard length without any complications whatsoever. "So good for daddy..."

"Harry..." She called out, her voice slightly croaked.

"That's not what you're supposed to call me, sweetheart..." He warns running his hands through her head as he gave it a harsh tug, almost as if he wanted to punish her for it.

"Harry..."

"Be a good girl, Y/N" Harry warns once again as Y/N looks up to him with watery eyes and hallowed cheeks. Harry moans when he felt her tongue gliding underneath the slit of his tip, collecting all of his pre-cum as some of them drips down her chin. "Fuck, I'm close... I'm close pet"

"Who the hell is Y/N?" Harry's eyes shot up when he felt sprinkles of cold water hitting his face, waking him up from his perfect slumber. He groans, looking around as he noticed where he was.

"Shit, sorry Mitch... I think I overslept" Harry apologizes, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as he pulled off the covers from the body. The wet patch underneath him mapped the bed as if he ran a marathon and went straight to sleep. "Shit..." Harry cursed once again, looking down to his pants to see a large tent growing underneath. Mitch laughed, shaking his head as he got up.

"Hey... No shame man, we all went through that... But I gotta say, who the hell is Y/N? Are they your secret lover or something. Is there something you wanna tell us?" Mitch speculated as Harry sighed, taking the pillow with him to cover himself. "You've been saying their name in your sleep more than three times now"

"That's the thing... I don't even know myself"

Mitch may have caught him three times but Harry's had been dreaming of her since last month. He doesn't who she is, where she's from. All he knows is that he dreams some really explicit stuff and all of it seems too real. He thinks he has a problem but all he could think about is her.

Y/N.

Just one name.

Harry even went as far as googling the millions of Y/N's there is but none had matched her face. There's no way his brain could've just made up a pretty face like hers, his mind was not that complex.

"Maybe you saw her in one of the shows, those things happen to me sometimes" Mitch suggested, waiting for him to shower and get ready for breakfast.

"Yeah, maybe" He agreed, not wanting to in-depth with the secret girl he's dreaming about. The truth was, they hadn't performed in any shows last month so it was possible for Y/N to just be some girl in the crowd. If he was so captivated by her, he would've remembered her face and what row she was in. Hell, he would've even invited her backstage.

Mitch and Harry went out along with the others, grabbing a cup of coffee and maybe stop by the studio by any chance. He needs to distract himself from her. He needs to get her out of his mind because whatever it is, he wasn't sure it was healthy.

The night came, Harry and his friends thought it was a great idea to have some fun before they start their tour and he definitely agreed.

So here he was, dancing manically in the middle of the club with a cocktail in his hand.

A woman approached him, dancing slightly closer and closer to him the longer the music went on. Harry was buzzed and all he could think of was how flexible the woman looked grinding her body against his.

"I have a private booth, why don't you and I go somewhere a little bit quiet..." Harry whispered in the girl's ear, as she nodded, following him from behind as Harry closed the door behind them. The girl, who's named 'Layla' immediately sat on the cushioned chair, eyeing him up and down seductively.

Harry walked right up behind her, kissing the nape of her neck as she immediately whimpered underneath his touch. Their clothes were off on the floor and Harry wasted no time bending her over the chair, lining up his tip up to her soaking entrance.

His brain was buzzed from alcohol and he wasn't sure what happened. The next thing he knows, Layla's vibrant pink hair change colours and so did the shape of her body. The girl turned around, showing Harry the unfamiliar face his been stuck with for months.

Y/N...

Harry tried shaking his head trying to get rid of the vision but it only got clearer and clearer until he was almost convinced that Y/N was really writhing underneath him.

Harry pounded into Y/N mercilessly, feeling the warmth of her skin-soothing into his.

"Y/N... Fuck, I'm so close... I'm so close pet"

"What the fuck?!" Y/N's voice disappeared, replaced with a much more annoying one. Harry's eyes widened as his vision was clearing up and he immediately noticed who was truly in front of him. Layla picks up her clothes, quickly storming out of the room. "What a fucking dick"

Harry cursed underneath his breath, putting on his clothes as he sat there on the chair and think about what just happened.

Something was wrong and Harry needed to know who she is before he looses his mind.

Harry's hand were tight on his cock, fucking it roughly as he smothered the pre-cum that was dribbling out if the slit of his tip every now and then. “Y/N…” He whispered so lowly under his breath, the girl he fucked just right beside him, peacefully sleeping after Harry pounded her into the bed. The girl was such a deep sleeper that she didn’t even realize that Harry was jerking off to the thought of another woman that wasn't her. Harry imagined Y/N underneath him, at least this time he didn't accidentally say her name. “F-fuck, baby…”

Harry chased his orgasm, feeling the pit in his stomach growing bigger and bigger. He lifts his covers up slightly, points his hard cock right against his stomach as strings of cum paints his torso white. “So good, baby…” He whispered one last time, imagining Y/N cumming underneath him.

Y/N was the only thing that could keep him going, no one else. No one else but her.

Harry wakes up at nine o'clock in the morning, going at his usual routine as he steps out of his house going for a good jog and maybe find someplace to have a coffee alone.

He gets his trainers on, blaring a song in his headphones as he started running. He finds himself getting further away from his neighbourhood and somewhere much quieter and peaceful. The town was surrounded with modest houses and little shops that reminded him of his hometown back in England. It was unusual for L.A to have places like these.

Harry stops by a bakery, wanting to get a few pastries and maybe some good coffee. He queues right behind a woman, waiting patiently for her to be done with her order.

"That will be $10.99, please..." The woman in front of him nodded, fumbling through her purse looking for money.

Only to find none.

"Oh my god, I left my purse back at home" Harry knitted his eyebrows in confusion, feeling as if her voice was familiar and he had heard it before. "I'm so sorry, I guess I have to cancel all of this"

Harry steps in front, pulling out a couple of bills as he paid for the woman's food. "Is'alright, I got it..."

"Thank you so much, I promise I'll pay you back..." The woman turned her head to properly thank him and suddenly...

Both of their eyes widened at the same time.

No.

No it couldn't be.

"Y/N?..."

"Harry?..."

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watermelon6ugar

3 years ago

just something in the works :-)

“You want to be a brat? I’ll treat you like one,” He tells her, voice firm and eyes glinting with enmity and intention.

She releases a surprised squeak when he grapples her by the hip and flips her onto her stomach. Pinches her eyebrows as he knees his way onto the mattress and lands three slaps in concession, hard.

“Not being a brat,” she huffs, inhales sharply when another hit lands.

“Not being a brat? Is that just what you said?” His tone is incredulous, and she can imagine the disbelief his features shape, the way his lips tighten in resolve. “You don’t ever mouth off to me.”

She hums as he forcefully lifts her hips, lips parting when he delivers another blow with an open palm.

“What do little, insolent brats get, darling?” Harry slaps her again, “Hm?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m not a brat,” She quips, voice carrying a tune of attitude.

This time the smack makes her gasp, “Stop mouthing off.” She whines when a litany follows. “I’m sick of it. You want me to be mean? I can be very mean.”

“I don’t want you to be mean,” She squeels, “Ouch.”

“Then don’t make me,” He retorts sternly. Surely her skins reddened by now, she feels like she’s on fire. Harry’s following through, delivering more pain than pleasure.

“Stop it,” she huffs. Lets out a keen when he hits her again, hard. “Feels like needles.”

“That’s the point. You’re not supposed to like it.”

And. She could apologize. She could say, “sorry, I shouldn’t have called you stupid when you didn’t give me the remote so we could watch Toddlers and Tiaras.” But he is stupid.

“I still think you’re stupid,” she grunts.

There’s a sharp inhale behind her, a pause that lingers, almost thoughtful.

“You know what, baby? Raise your hips,” comes an order laced with malevolence.

She shouldn’t call him stupid. It’s one of his “rules.” They’re not...on that page. The novel hasn’t progressed from whatever their relationship is now into anything playful, he’s not her boyfriend. Even with the hankering on her part, though she’ll never express that to him. Maybe it never will.

For now, she respires deeply in annoyance, knees her way up. Lengthy digits curve around her thighs to maneuver her back. His rings are cold against her skin. And she lets out a high, started sound when the first strike lands.

“You’re going to understand your place by the time I’m done,” Harry affirms faux airily before he distributes another to her pussy.

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watermelon6ugar

2 years ago

can you please do a harry imagine where he's constantly touching your bum in public and stuff? that would be nice, thankyou :)

I….haven’t proofread this cause it’s really late and I have to be up in like 3 hours, oops. So pardon any mistakes <3 Oh and if you missed my previous post about this, this is heavily influenced by Nicki Minaj’s ‘Anaconda’ so if you haven’t heard the song you should at least go read the lyrics so things make more sense :)

OKAY ENJOY MY THIRSTY BIG BOOTY FRIENDS

“By the way, what he say? He could tell I ain’t missin’ no meals…” You continue to sing along and dance in the passenger seat of Harry’s very nice car as he drives through sunny LA, the addictive song making you feel particularly naughty. You had jumped at the chance to accompany him on a few errands, excited to be doing even the most mundane things with him now that he had a break from constant touring. It was also an opportunity to showcase your full, round ass in front of him in your new short shorts.

Harry loved every inch of you, a fact that he made a point to convince you of and made you giddy just to think about, but it was very early in your relationship with him that you found that he had a small obsession with your ass. After going through years of doing squats and leg lifts to try to minimize the size of your bum with little to no success, it was very nice and empowering to be with someone who couldn’t keep his hands off of it. He had already manhandled you as much as he could once you pulled the shorts on fresh out of the shower, and you were determined to milk it for all it’s worth.

Keep reading

557 notes View Post

watermelon6ugar

3 years ago

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watermelon6ugar

3 years ago

what about H playing with your boobs

What about this playing with my emotions 🙃

Listen..,.,.,he’d love it. Sucking on your nipples, tonguing at them lightly, flicking just the tip against them to tease you. And then he’s full on lapping at them with the thick of his tongue, feeling them get perky under his rough tastebuds.

His head ducked down to your chest as you sit against the headboard with a hand clutching the hair at the nape of his neck, eyeing him hazily as he sucks one entirely into his mouth, his huge hand cupping and massaging the other with his cold, chunky rings catching on the little bud and sending your spine shivering.

Harry would look up at you through his thick lashes, the damp corners of his swollen crimson lips quirking up in a cheeky simper. He’d hollow out his cheekbones as he sucks, lulling his eyes to the back of his head because he knows what it does to you, moaning all low and whiney. The vibrations wash goosebumps across the supple skin of your breasts, every cell in your body spazzing out of control.

He pulls back, a tiny thread of saliva dipping between his plumped lips and your pebbled nipple. He licks the excess wetness from his mouth, worrying his bottom lip between his two front teeth as he takes your chest into his humungous palms, squeezing both together and smirking softly. “Gonna miss these so much on tour.”

389 notes View Post

watermelon6ugar

2 years ago

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.”

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.

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.

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