#harry styles x professor yn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gurugirl · 8 months

Text

Bad Morning

professor!harry x professor!y/n

A/N: Started writing this a few days ago and then I got a request just now that just went so well with what I was already writing and this pic is giving these vibes so... here is the result. + a little background if you're interested.

Summary: You run late to an important meeting with your colleagues and Professor Styles decides to punish you.

Word Count: 3650

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, spanking with a paddle, slight degradation, punishment, barely proofread

It really had been just a shitty morning all around. Your alarm went off on time but in your half haze of sleep, you shut it off instead of snoozing it and so when you finally did bolt out of your bed to get ready you knew you’d be late for your meeting.

You didn’t even have time to button up your shirt properly. Running to your car carrying your bags in one arm with your mug of coffee in your free hand sloshing all over the ground and a toothbrush stuck in your mouth you knew you looked like a maniac.

Speeding down the street to get to the university (you were lucky it was only a 15-minute drive) you found a hair elastic to pull your strands into a bun the moment you parked. You’d barely touched your coffee, well, most of it was on your skirt, and your toothbrush fell into the floorboard below your feet when you opened your mouth to curse at the slow driver in front of you.

Parking in the closest spot you could find you quickly smoothed your hair down and tied it back with the elastic, thankful that you’d even found one, and grabbed your bags before running at full speed to enter the building and run through the hallways toward the science labs where Mr. Styles and the rest of the science and tech professors were likely waiting for you.

Today was a big day. You would be settling on a plan for the range of your experiments and choosing which students to bring along the following week to the energy conversion laboratory in Colorado.

“Ms. Y/L/N. How nice of you to finally join us.”

You rolled your eyes as you quickly sat down on the floor, dropping your bags down before you crossed your legs and raised your brows at your devastatingly handsome colleague, “Sorry. Bad morning.” Was all you could say as you dug your notebook out. You hated how attractive he was. That you noticed how well-built he was and how he carried himself like he owned everything around him. And as much as you hated it (mostly because he was such a dick) you often imagined him taking you into his office out of nowhere. Spanking you and spitting dirty words into your ears. You even imagined him slapping you with those ringed fingers and fucking you with what you were sure was a nice big cock.

Professor Harry Styles was quite intimidating, though. You and all the staff thought so. He wasn’t unreasonable but he was very strict. Your teaching and working style was totally opposite of his but since you were both in the same department, your paths crossed often. Daily. Which meant you had plenty of fodder for yourself late at night when you were alone.

You shook your head at your dirty thoughts.

You and the other science and tech professors were in the process of planning a huge trip to a specialty lab your university didn’t have. It would be a costly trip and the school was footing most of the bill after raising close to a quarter of a million dollars for the “excursion”.

Everyone spoke in turn with their ideas and shared which of their students they’d like to bring. Each professor would choose two students (of those who volunteered to take part in the trip and experiment).

You’d selected your two and then offered an idea about coordinating schedules for the experiments and taking turns. You opened your notebook and explained your thoughts based on the notes you’d taken, “So, then on the third day, the third group can follow the timeline we set in place for group number 1–“ you continued to rattle off timelines, and looked up at Harry who did not appear impressed by you at all. In fact, his glare had you forgetting for a moment where you were going with what you were saying and you paused briefly before finally finishing your thought.

The entire meeting went like that. Glares from the head science professor aimed at you, making you feel tiny and unwelcome. You were a new professor but you’d earned your spot and you weren’t going to let him intimidate you (except for in your fantasies). You’d apologized for being tardy and while it was unfortunate that you’d showed up nearly thirty minutes late to a very important scheduled meeting, what was done was done. You couldn’t go back in time and have a redo. Though, you wished you could.

Everyone stood up when Harry clapped his big hands together and indicated that the meeting was over. You had no classes that day, as it was Saturday (another reason you’d slept through your alarm because you’d been out the night before).

You stuffed your notebooks into your bags and stood up, pushing your glasses back up to the bridge of your nose after they’d slipped the tiniest bit. You also hadn’t had time to put your contacts in. Obviously.

And just as you were about to make a beeline for the door and get out of there before anyone could talk to you, you were stopped in your tracks when you heard the low baritone of Harry calmly speaking your name.

You turned to look behind you at the tall man and realized he was dressed quite casually in a Mickey Mouse t-shirt that said I love you, the love being a red heart balloon. It was cute. And it almost made him less intimidating. Almost.

“Yes, Harry.” You addressed him by his first name the way he had just addressed you by yours as you turned to face him. He was already taking long-legged strides toward you, his face set in a serious expression, just as it had been for the duration of the meeting.

You stood in your spot as three teachers left the room and Harry stood over you, “Come to my office.”

That was all he said. And it wasn’t a question, but rather a command, which honestly you were used to with him by that point.

Harry had been at the university for quite some time. His office was one of the nicer and bigger ones. You’d seen it before in passing but had never stepped in until that day.

“You were late today,” Harry spoke as he closed his door behind him and then made his way across his office toward you. He sat at the edge of his desk and crossed his ankles together.

“Yeah, I know.” You scoffed. What was he playing at?

“Care to explain to me why you were so late to such an important group meeting?”

You blinked your eyes and began to sit in one of the chairs he had in front of his desk but he stood quickly and grasped your elbow, “I didn’t say you could sit.”

You looked down to where he was touching your arm and back to his face, “What are you doing?”

Harry pulled you to stand facing his desk and brought your arm down so your palm was flat on his desk, “Teaching you a lesson. If you want to survive being a professor at this university you need to learn discipline and respect.”

You turned to watch him as he stood behind you. You honestly were so confused by what was happening but when you looked at his eyes and noticed that he was dragging his gaze down your backside you stood up straight and removed your palm from the desk, “Mr. Styles! You are out of line. I was late, yes, but–“

He stepped in toward you, pressing his chest to your back, grasping your wrists, and making you place your palms back down onto the wood, “Do not move, Y/N. Not until I tell you to.”

He moved away from you and circled his desk to face you, opening a drawer with a key as he spoke, “We both know you have an attitude that needs fixing.”

You were suddenly feeling hot and embarrassed as your breaths deepened. Everything that was happening was straight out of your fantasy. It was as if you were writing this whole scene out from start to finish. You wondered where this was going. You were curious what he would do next.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open as you watched him lay a paddle across his desk in front of you.

“Couldn’t even dress yourself properly. Look at you,” he gestured to your haphazard buttoning job and you realized your bra was exposed as you looked down over yourself. You laughed and looked back up at him but his face was not amused.

“I was in a hurry. I’m sorry if this offends–“

“Please stop talking.” He lifted the paddle up and rounded his desk to stand behind you.

The sudden awareness of what was going on had your skin pimpling with goosebumps. You were wearing a knee-length skirt and realized that all he had to do was lift it to expose your bottom to him. Your white panties covered your bum but it wouldn’t be hard for him to paddle you right through the thin material.

As your thoughts grew lewder about what was coming and what Mr. Styles would do you squished your thighs together and adjusted your palms as you turned to look over your shoulder at the professor.

“I’m going to give you 30 paddles to your bottom. One for every minute you were late. How does that sound for a punishment?”

You inhaled deeply and looked down at the leather-wrapped paddle and back to his eyes. It was wild that he’d even suggest it all. And so casually too? But of course, you understood that he was asking permission. Perhaps this was the beginning of some sort of thing you and he would have in secret.

You nodded slowly, “Yes, professor. I think that’s fair.” You gulped down your saliva. You had never been spanked with a paddle before so you hoped saying yes was the right choice.

Harry grunted as he let his eyes drop to your ass and when you felt him pull at your skirt and lift it up ward you held your breath and closed your eyes, turning to face his desk again.

But the small little groan you heard from behind you had your eyes popping open. It sounded like the groan of a man who was turned on. Frustrated. You sure hoped that was the case.

“Can you keep quiet like a good girl?” His dark tone was pinched as you felt his warm hand brush over your ass before pushing the material of your skirt up to your waist.

“Yes, sir.”

The shuttered breath he let out as he groped your ass, palming at the material of your panties had your heart thumping hard under your ribs. He was enjoying this.

“Good.”

The suddenness of the first hit had you rocking forward quickly and yelping. You hadn’t been prepared for it. You’d been spanked with bare hands before. Not with a paddle.

“Shh… said you could be a good girl for me. One more outburst and I’ll stuff these panties into your mouth.”

You didn’t know why but that idea had you moaning softly and rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

The next strike you were prepared for. You gritted your teeth and panted as he brought it down again on the other side, “That’s three. From now on, I need you to count for me. Keep track so I don’t. have to.”

You breathed out heavily and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

4, 5, 6, 7… All within range of you being able to tolerate the pain and keep your little noises in.

But 8? For some reason 8 came down especially hard and stung like a mother fucker so you gasped and cried out loudly.

The paddle was suddenly placed on the desk next to your hand and you tilted your head to look at your colleague as he met your eyes. Blown-out pupils and puffy, bitten lips. He looked like sex. He’d always looked like sex but in that moment…

“Tell me what happens when you can’t keep quiet.” He leaned over you, one palm down on the desk, his other smoothing over the cotton of your panties softly.

You gulped hard and blinked the tiny bit of tears away that had formed in your eyes, “You said you’d stuff my panties into my mouth.”

“S’right. At least you know how to listen. Too bad you don’t know how to keep quiet.”

You nodded, “I’m sorry, sir.” You really didn’t want him to stop. It hurt but you loved the way it felt to have this man standing over you and spanking you. Watching you. Enjoying the view he had of you.

“So what should I do, then?”

You gasped when you felt his thumb push under the elastic of your panties and slip over your bottom, “Take my panties off and put them into my mouth. Like you said.”

Harry’s lips turned up into a sinister grin and you watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip before he nodded and moved behind you, both hands now in the elastic of your cotton panties as he dragged them down your thighs.

You felt him pause his motions and once your ass was fully bare to him. You were sure with the way you were leaned over his desk that he could see your pussy too.

“Fuck…” his words were whispered into the room before he gently tugged your panties the rest of the way down your legs and you stepped, one foot at a time to have them removed completely.

When his hands found your bottom you felt him massage your cheeks and suck in a sharp breath, “You okay?”

It was the first time he sounded as if he were truly concerned about you. Perhaps he could see the marks he’d given you with the paddle. Or maybe it was just that you were so exposed to him in that moment.

“Yes, sir. I’m fine.” Your voice was a little shaky. You were on edge completely. You’d be thinking about this tonight for sure, and for many nights to come. But you still hadn’t determined if it was even really happening.

Harry leaned over you and you felt the cloth of his pants brush against your ass, “Mrs. Y/L/N, you are absolutely soaked. Did you know that? Had to be careful pulling your wet panties down your legs and now looking between your thighs I can see how much you are enjoying this. Not much of a punishment is it?”

His deep voice traveled down the shell of your ear and to your neck as you softly moaned and shook your head, “No. It’s not much of a punishment. I like it.”

You heard him chuckle before lifting your messy panties up to your face, “Open.”

You complied as he shoved the cotton into your mouth and then returned to his position behind you.

“Since you can’t count for me anymore I’m going to do it for you now.”

The 9th swat came down and the sting of the paddle against your bare bottom made you yelp out, though it was nice and muffled just as Harry had hoped.

The progression of each of his swats only made you drippier and pushed you further away from reality. And as he counted, the higher the numbers rose, you could hear the lust and pain in his voice. He was putting himself on edge by just watching you squirm and get wetter and wetter between your thighs.

At number 21 you didn’t know what you were doing anymore. You needed to end your misery. Without much of a thought in your brain (you were hardly able to connect your thoughts together by that point) you removed one hand from the desk as you leaned forward further over the wood and spread your legs before you began rubbing your clit.

Harry stopped quickly and you heard the clunk of the paddle fall to the floor and then his hand was grasping your wrist, yanking it away from your pussy, “What the fuck are you doing?”

You felt fuzzy and so far beyond caring about anything but coming you moaned in muffled words as you tried to speak through your panties. You could barely open your eyes as you felt his hand on your chin to turn your face toward him.

“You are dirty, aren’t you? Naughty, dirty, disrespectful professor,” Harry pulled the panties from your mouth and you gasped softly, drool falling from your mouth over his hand that remained at your jaw.

“Is there no punishment that will set you right?”

His own face was flushed and his eyelids were heavy with lust.

You thought about his question but you had no answer for him. You couldn’t put your thoughts together to form a sentence even if you wanted to. You moaned and reached a hand for his forearm as you turned your body toward his, causing your skirt to fall and cover your bits.

Harry pulled you in close and pressed your bottom into his desk, spreading your legs and lifting your skirt back up to expose you to him. He kept his eyes on yours as he used his free hand to softly swipe at the damp skin just next to your pussy. You bucked your hips into his hand and he laughed, “And desperate too.”

The hand he had at your jaw smushed your cheeks together harshly, “And because I’ve been so good I think I deserve a treat. Don’t you?”

You moaned again and nodded, “Yes, sir.”

He grunted as he moved his hand from your face and began to unbuckle his pants. You looked down to where his cock was clearly engorged and pushing against the material of his pants, He got his zipper down and found his way back between your thighs, pushing you down flat to your back, “Can I have a treat?” He thumbed at your clit as he looked into your eyes and you nodded, “Yes. Please.”

“You sure? Because I have something very specific in mind. Want to know what it is?”

Nodding your head you reached for the collar of his t-shirt and pleaded with him, “I want to know. Please…” you hoped he’d fuck you. Hoped he’d rail you right on his desk just as you often imagined him doing.

He laughed darkly as he pulled his briefs down and his cock came in your view. He began stroking himself right over you, using his foreskin to pump his cock quickly and upward over his tip, repeatedly yanking and pulling as he looked from your pussy to your face, “This is my treat. Gonna fuck my fist and come all over your pussy.”

You watched in awe. His long cock and his fist jerking himself was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You groaned and bucked your hips upward, “Please, Harry…” you whined.

Harry had one palm flat on the desk as he kept himself angled over you, his cock above your pussy, so close but not close enough for your liking. You wanted him inside of you.

He laughed as he continued pulling at his shaft and he began to pant his next words, “Not gonna fuck you because that would be a nice treat for you too. And you’ve been naughty, Y/n. So you don’t get my cock.”

You scrunched your brows together with a pout and brought your own hand down to your clit and moaned. Harry gasped as he neared his end but slowed his pumping as he slapped your hand away from your pussy, “You don’t get to come. This is your punishment,” he grunted as he got back to fucking himself with his fist.

You watched in awe as he began to slightly tremble and his soft moans got more frequent.

And just as you heard him cough out one loud moan you knew he was coming before you even felt the first drop of come spurt over your pussy. You took the moment to swipe his come up and your arousal and lift your fingers to his mouth, shoving your digits past his lips as he poured his hot sperm all over your wet pussy and down your thighs.

You moaned as he wrapped his mouth around your fingers, his palm still milking his cock, draining everything he had all over your labia. You felt his come drip down past your entrance and to your bum as he licked and sucked your fingers.

You’d never seen anything more erotic in your life. You wanted to come too but to watch him come on your pussy as he sucked on your fingers was worth it.

When he’d finally emptied everything he had he let go of his dick and you pulled your fingers from his mouth with a smirk on your face.

He pulled his pants back up and looked at the mess he’d made, “Guess you’re gonna have to go home and clean that up aren’t you?”

You sat up and watched him as he lifted your panties up and handed them to you, “Was thinking I’d just run to the bathroom first–“ “No. I want my come smeared all over your pussy and those panties full of your spit and your arousal. Want to know you had to sit in traffic all dirty and desperate.”

You scoffed but began to pull the panties up your legs anyway.

When you stood up and turned to look at the professor he was tucking his laptop into his bag, his eyes already on you, “Maybe next time, if you’re good for me, I’ll let you come.”

Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @michellekstyles @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @harrys-foxy @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs

1K notes · View notes

purplekiwis · 1 year

Text

You've got a new professor, and an obsession with his hands...

Genre: Sculptor!Harry | Professor!Harry x Student!Y/N

Warnings: +18 (smut... but not yet)

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: i'm not the best at photomontages so please don't roast me, I tried 😅

THIS IS A MULTI-PART SERIES. YOU CAN CHECK THE SERIES MASTERPOST : HERE AND PART 2 HERE

•·················•·················•

Hands.

His were artful,

Perhaps even an art form in and of themselves: smooth, veiny, with steady joints and capable and patient fingertips.

The hands of a craftsman - suitable for creating planets, galaxies, and even entire universes if they so desired. Both harsh and gentle, they tore, kneaded, and poked… only to stroke softly in the end.

The hands of a lover,

Those were my ceramics professor’s hands.

I bit the hidden part of my lip as I watched them move with conviction. Across the slickness, bare and sticky as they pried deeper and deeper, widening as they went and doing as they pleased.

I felt the urge to push my thighs together as I seemingly always did whenever my professor came closer, but I couldn’t because of the potter's wheel blocking my way - the one where he was fixing the crooked clay pot I had tried to make. “Next time, try using a little less water, okay? Your clay has gotten too soft… that’s why you're having trouble getting it even.”

“So less water than this time, but more than last time?” My struggle to get it right made me feel a little embarrassed, but I wanted him to know that I was listening and trying my best. He nodded in response to my question. “Okay, um- I'll try to do it correctly next time. Thanks for resurrecting my project and making it right again.”

My professor smiled warmly at me, noticing I was becoming discouraged by making so many mistakes. “No worries, I’m happy to help.” I watched him as he stood up, washed his hands in my water bowl and dried them on the rag he kept in his pottery apron. “Don't be afraid to muck around with what I've made. You're supposed to take it apart and rebuild it.”

“If I touch it, I'll ruin it and you'll need to come back for assistance again.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head. “I don't want you worrying about that. That’s why I’m here, to fix up your messes.” He sat on the stool next to me again for a moment, and when he spoke, he kept his voice low. “I want you to take it less seriously. Have fun with it — work it ‘til your wreck it. Don’t beat yourself up about it. That’s common blunder for someone who’s starting. We’ve all been there.”

“Thanks,” I smiled a little more assuredly. “I'll try to keep that in mind.”

He smiled back as he stood up from the stool. “No problem, just ask if you need anything.”

While I wasn’t sure how I got into the habit of fantasizing about my professor's hands, I did know how I ended up in his class.

I was a Product Design student.

Frankly, only because I didn’t have the grades to enroll in Interior Design like I’d always aspired to. Product Design was the second-best option that would still give me a chance of breaking into the field if I chose my classes wisely.

In order to achieve that goal, I had been planning to take a class on inclusive design this year. However, as I was about to submit my application, my computer crashed, forcing me to reenter all of my information again. Because of this, by the time I made it back to the page, most of the students had already chosen, leaving only statistical literacy and ceramics as open options.

None of those options had even the slightest appeal to me, which naturally made me incredibly frustrated at the time but, at least the choice was clear between them. Anything with the word statistics in it sounded absolutely dreadful and combining it with the word literacy somehow made it sound even worse… so I chose ceramics, despite the fact that I had never tried my hand at it.

That was why I was now behind all of my classmates, which didn't make me feel great, even though no one had made me feel inferior about my lack of skill yet… not even our professor. He was very sweet and attentive, without always being on top of me, which I appreciated. He gave me the freedom to try things on my own, but as soon as he noticed my eyes searching for him, he'd come over to check things out and lend a helping hand.

This wasn't always a positive thing because sometimes the only reason I was looking was because I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It wasn't just his hands that I kept staring at; I found him captivating in all aspects.

His hair was cool. I liked how he kept it in a messy bun and tucked flyaways behind his ears when they landed on his face. He dressed really cute too, I thought — creative yet casual, and the stubble he occasionally sported when he neglected to shave was sexy as hell.

I wasn’t fully aware of his age, but he couldn't have been much older than me when he had finished his Ph.D. in Fine Arts the previous year. In the rumor mill, he had been invited to teach shortly after earning his degree due to his extraordinary talent for clay sculpting, that had made him stand out at our university ever since he started studying there.

He hadn't shown much of his personal work outside of what he did during his school years, but I had heard through the grapevine that erotic themes were his specialty. Another thing I had heard was that because he made art under a pseudonym that he kept as a secret from most people, his work was very difficult to find online.

That bothered me a little because I was interested and wanted to see it, especially after learning that pleasure was the subject he enjoyed exploring the most. Among my classmates, I knew some made jokes about him being a pervert who had only wanted to come teach to score with the female students. My gut told me that wasn't the case, and I was miffed by those people who couldn’t comprehend that someone could find sex fascinating enough to want to depict it in most of their art without being sleazy. Fortunately, I wasn't one of them. I found sex to be an intriguing topic as well… I enjoyed having it, looking at it, and having thoughtful conversations about it.

“Professor,” I called as we finished class. I was still sat by my wheel, while everyone was cleaning and washing up. Being completely honest, I wanted to leave as well… but I made myself stay so I could make my pot look more presentable. “If you're leaving, could you please leave the room key with me? I was planning to stay a little longer.”

He seemed surprised that I wanted to stay.

I noticed his gaze fall on the collapsing walls of my pot as he handed me the key, but he was merciful enough not to comment. “Feel free to stay as long as you like. I'm taking a coffee break, but I'll be back as well.”

Finding that my professor was coming back made the prospect of staying more enticing. I wasn't expecting a lot of interaction with him, though… I didn't want to be a bother, so I would avoid requesting his assistance. It was already embarrassing enough to ask for it in class, even if he kept assuring me it was perfectly okay to do so…

Professor Harry returned to the classroom after about 10 minutes, seeming happy to find me still there. As he walked inside, he cracked a lighthearted joke about how surprised he was that I hadn't destroyed anything yet. I snorted a laugh and said that I was surprised too.

I observed him carefully as he re-tied his apron around his waist. It seemed like everything the man did attracted me. The way his triceps flexed with movement, the contours of his back, the ease with which his fingers tied the knot. None of these things escaped my attention.

“Would it be okay if I turned on some music?” Due to my dry mouth, it took me longer than it should have to answer his question. “I'm not a big fan of working in silence, but it’s okay if you are…”

“Oh, please, go ahead.” I was finally able to react, but my voice came out weird. “I don't particularly enjoy working in silence either...”

My professor smiled, then walked over to his desk and sat down at his laptop. “Have you got any special requests?”

I pretended to contemplate for a moment, but I didn't want to be the one picking the music. I wanted him to choose because I was nervous about accidentally having him listen to something he didn't like… and I was also curious about his musical tastes. “Not really, no. I'm not picky. I like most music.” That part was true, but he seemed skeptical. “Just pretend I'm not here and play whatever music you normally listen to.”

The look on his face was still skeptical, but he agreed. “Okay, I will. Just let me know if you don't like it so I can switch to something you like best.”

He put on Woodkid's Warm Core album and looked at me to see if I was keen on the choice. “This is cool. I like it.” It was the kind of alternative music I anticipated he would listen to, being an artist and all, and it made me happy because I also liked it.

“Alright, good. If at any point you decide that you no longer like it, feel free to request a change.” I was getting a little hot over how much he was focusing on making sure I liked his music. I’d always had this conviction that one of the ways to tell if a guy is good in bed is to look for signs that he is considerate and eager to please – and already, my professor was scoring points in that department. I glanced at him, and I believe he noticed because he asked, “Is there anything you need help with, or should I just let you do your thing and keep to myself?”

“Um…” I stammered, returning my attention to the horrible looking pot I was working on. I had been right the first time. I shouldn't have touched it after he fixed it for me. “I'm holding up for now. Thanks, professor.”

He smiled at me. “You can leave out the “professor” when we're outside of class. That term is still settling in for me… it's a bit off-putting to be addressed that way when I was also a student here just a year ago - especially when I can't be that much older than you, right?”

I joined him in his smile. “Yeah, I get what you mean. I suppose it's not weird for me because I don't remember seeing you at school last year. How old are you, though, just out of curiosity?”

“I’m 27, you?”

“Wow, you’re really old...” He wasn’t, really… especially since I had assumed he would be in his thirties, given that he was a professor and all. I snorted when he side-eyed me from across the room, where he’d been tidying up and organizing the equipment the students had left behind. “I was just kidding. I'm 22, so...”

His brows furrowed slightly in response to my reveal. “So you're a little older than the rest of the class. Makes sense, you seem a bit more grown-up in comparison to them.” I took that as a compliment because, while my classmates weren't much younger than me – they had to be around 19 – some still acted like teenagers in many ways. “Also, since you mentioned not seeing me at school last year… that’s because I went abroad for a few months to study, and then I had to wrap up my thesis, so I didn't come very often.”

“Oh, that's cool. Where did you go?”

“Norway, to Oslo more specifically. It's a city I think everyone should visit if they ever get the chance to. I had a wonderful time there.” He turned his head away from what he was doing to look at me. “Have you ever thought about going abroad for school?”

“I've thought about it, but I don’t know. It doesn't really call to me right now, to be honest... maybe next year.” I was really interested in hearing more about Harry's experience in Norway, so I shifted the focus of the conversation back to that. “What was the best part of it for you?”

I could tell he was excited to talk about it, as evidenced by the sparkle in his eye. “A difficult question, that. I loved the landscapes and food there, as well as the people. Oslo’s a beautiful city, and it has an amazing art scene that's definitely worth exploring.” He paused for a moment, laughed, and then spoke again, “But I guess I should say that meeting Astrid, my girlfriend, was probably the best part.”

“Wow, that's... something.” Something I'd rather he didn't have, I thought to myself despite my amenable expression. “Has she traveled all the way here with you?”

“Oh no, she stayed in Oslo. We've been doing long-distance and stuff… it isn't always easy, but we make it work.” I could tell by the look on his face that he had somewhat regretted sharing that with me. “Anyway, you should give the studying abroad thing some more thought... you seem like someone who would enjoy that kind of thing. You give off a good vibe.”

“Ha, thanks... so do you. I really like your style.”

I saw his cheeks flush at my compliment. “I don’t put a lot of thought into my clothes, to be honest. Most of the time, I just throw on whatever.”

“Well, it works, so...” Seeing me shrug, he smiled, but said nothing further. I figured the conversation was over and got back to my work. Harry did the same thing; except he was no longer cleaning up and was instead using his laptop. Even though I stayed another hour, he didn't leave until I did, which made me feel bad because it made me wonder if he had stayed on purpose to be there in case I needed anything. “Do you usually stay here until this late?” I inquired as he closed the classroom door.

“Um… it depends, sometimes I do, but if you weren't here I would’ve probably left earlier.”

His confession caused a small contraction in my heart. I now regretted staying for so long, especially since I had spent some of that time merely acting as though I was working. “Oh, I'm so sorry. You didn’t have to do that. I would have been fine by myself. I just wanted to practice.”

“Oh no, don't get me wrong. I stayed longer because I wanted to. I live alone, so… I am by myself a lot. It was nice to have company for a change.”

“Ah, I see...” That was something I hadn’t considered before, but it made sense. Most of Harry’s university friends were probably no longer around, or if they were, perhaps he'd lost touch with them after going away for so many months. That had happened to me with my high school friends, so I knew how it felt. “I was actually planning on doing this more frequently to see if I could improve my pottery skills, so… you're welcome to keep me company if that's something you'd like to do.”

He acknowledged my invitation with a courteous smile. “Ah, thanks. I appreciate that.” When he didn't respond right away, I assumed he wasn't interested, which made me feel stupid for having suggested it. Why would he want to spend time with a student five years his junior? He was probably cringing at the thought. That was what I was assuming, until he started speaking again after a pause. “I reckon as long as you really don't mind me being around, that could be something that works for me.”

•·················•·················•

Over the course of a couple of weeks, it became a habit for me and Harry to spend time together after class. Most times, more than once a week. The days when I didn’t have class until late, I would wander to the atelier after his class and spend the next few hours there. It was really easy to get along despite our slight age difference.

I didn't know Harry well enough to say that we had a lot in common, but we just clicked really well. Having a conversation with him was easy, and his presence was warm and reassuring.

We would sometimes work separately, but Harry had taken it upon himself to teach me the things I had been falling behind on. He taught me how to use a kiln to fire and glaze pottery, as well as a bunch of different building and decorating techniques. I liked the last one most because he got to sit next to me and help me paint and texturize. I was really proud of a mug we had made together. Harry had commented that the wavy handle I had made for it looked like the tail of a fish when we put it in, so we went on to decorate the rest of the mug to fit that concept.

“You’re a good painter…” He complimented me as I painted the fish’s fins. I wrinkled my nose at him. Painting had always been a fun activity for me, but I had never considered myself good at it. Harry, on the other hand, was a true artist, thanks to his Fine Arts training and skillful hands…

I looked at the fin I'd drawn and noticed that it was unmistakably more unsightly than the one on the picture I was taking inspiration from. Harry couldn't possibly believe I was talented as a painter. He was just trying to say something nice.

“What? I'm serious…” He assured me, appearing a little surprised by my doubtful demeanor. “And you have a great eye for color too.”

“Hmm, I find that last one is a little more believable; I'll take it.” I said before returning to straightening out my wonkiest brush strokes. I'd spent enough time designing pretty rooms in Intericad Lite to feel reasonably confident on my ability to mix and match colors so, accepting that compliment wasn't too difficult. Besides that isn’t really a talent, is it? It's something a lot of people have.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice drew my attention back to him. “I meant both of the things I said. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t.”

The seriousness I was met with when I looked into Harry's eyes made me feel emotional and flustered at the same time. “Thanks,” I smiled a little before looking down at my mug. “I think I haven't gotten a compliment on my painting skills since I was a little kid…”

“You used to get compliments on it when you were little?”

“Sometimes, yeah… mainly from teachers because I always colored inside the lines.”

“I think it's really unfortunate that we stop getting compliments as we get older… I can't really complain because I've been lucky to grow up in a supportive environment, but I know that after a certain point in most people’s lives criticism becomes the norm, while praise for rightdoing is never given.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” I grabbed another brush and continued to color my mug because the topic we were discussing was now making me feel like I might actually start crying if I didn't keep my emotions under control, and I didn’t want Harry to see that. “My parents were never particularly supportive of me or my interests, so I haven’t felt much of a difference as I grew older… I think that’s why I find it a bit difficult to accept people’s compliments nowadays, though. I tend to doubt myself and others a lot.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I had a hunch that was the case with you.” Harry’s statement surprised me a bit. I knew professors could usually read their students well, but I wasn't aware of how see-through I was. “When we first started class, I was a little nervous because I could tell that you were lost at times and could use some help, but I wasn't sure of how to approach you. I was afraid that if I made it known that I could tell you were struggling, you would withdraw even further. I didn’t want that. I wanted you to feel comfortable and know that I wouldn't judge you.”

“You never made me feel uncomfortable… I just felt embarrassed to ask for help because everyone in your class comes from an arts background and knows more than me. I didn't want you to think I was dumb or that I was wasting your time with questions that I should have known the answers to.”

“You could never waste my time. I like teaching you a lot… you always listen and all the questions you ask are perfectly normal.” He gave me a reassuring smile and I felt my insecurities melt away with the rest of my body. “And on top of that, it's easier for me to teach you since you are a blank slate, as opposed to some of the art students who come with stubborn vices they won't get rid of. Experience isn’t always an advantage.”

“You're a really good professor, Harry.” I said truthfully. “I'm really glad I ended up in your class, even if it wasn’t my first choice.”

“It wasn't your first choice?” His face pretended to be shocked, but I knew he wasn't. Given that I had told him about my goal to pursue a career in Interior Design, I knew he had to have known by that point that there was no reason for me to be in his class other than by chance. “Okay, now I'm offended, and no amount of ego-puffing will help you remedy that…”

I shook my head and smiled at his antics as I dipped my brush back into the paint palette. “Not even if I admit you're really cool to talk to and have great musical taste?”

Following my brush dip, Harry dipped his as well. “Give me a little more detail on that and I might re-consider.”

•·················•·················•

I hope you guys liked this first part 💜

PART 2

842 notes · View notes

hsjazebel · 1 year

Text

LITTLE GIRL (professor!harry au)

masterlist

warnings: age gap, daddy kink, unprotected sex

I was sat at my tall desk. It was a late Friday evening, 1 AM last time I checked.

I wanted to get all these papers graded and out of the way so I could spend the rest of my weekend with my angel who I tucked into bed two hours ago. I admit, it feels wrong sometimes, dating someone I was supposed to simply teach and keep safe.

The situation of us dating never crossed my mind until she confronted me about her feelings. It was mutual.

The more I see her at school, knowing I can look, but not touch drove me mad. Although our 'afterschool' activities seemed to relieve all the tension.

Only a few more papers left before I could finally join my darling y/n in bed.

My eyelids were starting to feel heavy. I must've memorized the answer key by heart.

I continue grading with my red pen, somehow still in my grip, handwriting becoming sloppier with each passing minute.

The sound of the door creaking open catches my attention. I look up. Y/n.

"Darling, what are you doing out of bed?" I ask, putting down my pen, focusing my attention on the young girl walking toward me.

"I missed you." She smiles sweetly. I scoot the chair back as she climbs on my lap, facing me and wrapping her small arms around my neck.

"I'm almost finished up here." I smirk and continue grading the papers with her on my lap. I didn't mind that she sort of blocked my view a bit. Her presence was always welcomed.

She seemed quite bored, as she played with the ends of my short hair and the bottom of my t-shirt. Y/n wanted my attention. I could tell. She would do small things to annoy me so i would focus on her.

"I'm bored, daddy." She whispered in my ear, biting the soft skin of my lobe.

"I'm almost done, give me ten minutes, little girl."

She frowned at my words, removing her arms from my neck and crossing them over her chest.

I chuckle a bit at how bratty she was being.

Maybe i should punish her.

But i continue to focus on getting this work done.

She can't always have her way. That's when she became angry. Her hands grip on my shoulders. She gives me an innocent smile before moving her hips against mine.

"Fuck, stop that, baby." I protest, dropping the pen and gripping her hips to stop her movements.

She giggles and bats my hands away, this time grinding harder onto my restrained cock.

I bite back a moan and give in, sitting back on the leather chair, watching her pleasure the both of us.

"Can we play now, daddy? I've waited long enough, please?" She begs, lookin up at me with puppy like eyes.

"Fuck, yes." I groan and aid her in her movements, pushing her down hard.

Y/n throws her head back, mouth agape from the friction between us.

I decide to let her have control for a bit.

"Baby, ride me, be a good little girl for me." I whisper i to her ear.

She excitedly nods and tugs off my shirt, kissing down my neck while she continues moving her hips teasingly.

I remove her shirt to reveal her perfect tits, they weren't huge, but they flattered her frame perfectly.

My mouth immediately attaches to her right nipple, tongue flicking it and teeth tugging at it.

She moans softly and tugs at my messy curls.

My hand tugs at the drawstring of her tiny shorts and tug them down. She rises to her knees to drag them down the rest of the way.

I reach between her tan thighs, feeling how wet she's gotten from grinding on me.

"This all for me?" I smirk and rub her pussy through the soaked blue cotton.

"Yes-" she moans and plays with her tits, gripping them in both hands and squeezing.

"Good girl." I say and tug them down. They join her pile of clothes on the floor.

I stare at her heat, all wet and ready for me.

I bite my lip and pull down my shorts and tight boxers.

"Ready baby?" She nods and grips my cock in her hand, giving it a few tugs. Y/n lowers herself, teasing me by dragging the tip back and forth down her slit, collecting her arousal.

"Ride me, darling."

She smiles and sinks down onto my shaft, gasping.

Her mouth falls open as she takes all of me inside her, her ass touching my thighs.

"So big-" she whimpers and begins slowly sliding herself up and down my hard erection.

"You're doing so well, my love." I whisper and lick my thumb, bringing it down to her favorite spot.

I rub small circles onto her swollen clit, causing her to whimper and speed up her movements.

She's full on bouncing on my dick, her wetness making me slip in and out with ease.

"Oh my god-feels, so good-" she whimpers and scrunches her eyes shut.

"You pussy feels incredible baby." I groan and smack her ass.

"Again"

I smirk and bring my hand down harshly onto her other ass cheek.

She loves when i spanks her.

I stop her movements. She stares at me with a flushed and confused expression.

I pull out and lift her up to sit on the desk.

With my index finger, i slowly push her down, her back meeting the flat surface.

My arms hook underneath her knees, holding up her smooth legs.

"I've always wanted to fuck you on this desk." I smirk and slip myself back into her soaking pussy.

Her head tips back when i'm fully inside her again. Her warmth wrapping tightly around me.

I begin thrusting deeply into her, never breaking eye contact. Our erratic movements echoing throughout the small home office.

She moans loudly, beads of sweat forming at her hairline.

"Are you gonna cum?" I ask, snapping my hips to hers harder than before.

"Fuck-yes- i'm cumming-" she gasps.

"Hold it". I demand and slow my thrusting, pulling out completely before pushing back in hard.

She whines and bucks her hips up.

I deliver a hard smack the side of her thigh.

"Behave."

She nods and keeps her hips down, waiting patiently for me to make her cum.

I drop to my knees and plant kisses to her inner thighs.

She gasps when i finally reach her heat. I lick a long stripe up her entirety. Her thighs wrap around my head at how sensitive her clit is from my teasing earlier.

I lap up her arousal, poking my tongue into her entrance and back up to her clit before she pulls me back up to kiss her.

"No, i want you to fuck me." She demands.

"Sorry, baby, i couldn't help myself. You're so wet and taste so sweet." I smile and align my cock to her again, pushing in and thrusting hard.

"Come on baby, cum for me." She was closer to cumming now.

Her nails rake down my back as she releases with a sting of moans and shaky thighs.

I thrust a few more times feeling myself pulse from how close i am.

I pull out and tug my cock, releasing all over her tits and stomach, moaning her name.

"Fuck baby, thats was amazing." I laugh and fall back onto my chair.

I open my eyes and see her collect my cum with her finger and bring it up to her lips.

She licks it up.

"Thank you, daddy"

"The pleasure is mine, little girl."

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #professor!harry

590 notes · View notes

gumballavocadoharry · 5 months

Text

First lesson; wit:

*This is Yn's POV*

The tall stone building seemed to collapse around me. I was standing in front of the castle like university in front of me, my legs trembling in discomfort, heart pounding out of my chest and stomach turning like I saw a billion maggots sliter under my shoes. My backpack was slung around me, and my suitcase full of my clothes and other things were tightly gripped into my hand. Any minute, I could tumble over and it would be the first embarrassment of my new school as luck would have all my classmates see the clumsy schmuck fall onto the hard pavement of concrete mixed in stone.

This was my first choice. I never had to face the despair of not being accepted into the school of my dreams, considering how much work I would have to put in to be a exceptional author. This was one of the best schools that was a recommendation from high school once I graduated. A chill crept down my spine before I carefully opened the large green tinted doors and walked into something so futuristic, that it shouldn't be exposed to the public now. Like Black Panther type technology. I swallowed my breath and managed to make it into the main office where I was given a number to my dorm room and and passes to the cafeteria, the library, gym, special classes and of course my main class. I was also handed three sheets of paper; one with the list of classes I had, the second was the classes I took and the third was a mini map of the entire school.

"I'm Mrs. Beachem, just let me know if you need anything." The older lady flashed a kind smile, which I courteously reciprocated. "Thank you very much." I gasped before darting off the elevators and taking the bridge to the dorms. 825, My room. A solo room; no roommates or anyone, just me. I laid out some cheap lavender sheets with a plum quilt over the mattress and started adding pictures on my walls. The frames complimented the room decor I was going for and the aesthetic. Lavender, plum purple, blue and gray were all the colors that took my plain white dorm to the next level. Classes didn't start until tomorrow, so that left me plenty of time to scan the different classrooms and shortcuts on how to get to them.

I sat on my bed and looked at the first paper that was stapled to the other two of my classes. My homeroom teacher- main class I took- was directed by Mr. Styles. He was one of the new professors on campus, only starting here three years before I did. I had heard about him from other students who went here and said he was one of the best teachers and that he was very resourceful in his knowledge of writing. The other two classes were taught by Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. Vincent. I grew nervous just thinking about the morning ahead of me tomorrow. The thick river of vile held me at knife-point to spill up from my stomach in complete fussiness.

Maybe it was just my stomach gurgling in hunger. I checked the map again and practically uprooted myself from the soft mattress and walked to the cafeteria.

After filling my belly with banana pudding, a chicken burrito, diet coke and a bag of fritos, I promptly started walking through corridors to find the complex classes I was destined to take. I found Mrs. Vincent's class first. It had this cozy, quell aroma to it. The room was a piece of Mrs. Vincent, making the class as relaxing and educational as possible. Next was Mrs. Campbell's room which looked like any classroom. But with elfin traces of friendliness. Last was Mr. Styles's class. Entering it was like entering a lecture hall from a movie. This was nothing like some little kiddie high school classroom, but something from a movie. The class was the size of an auditorium with seats that has tables attached to them in rows. It wasn't stadium huge, but big enough to feel overwhelmed by it all.

I ventured back to my dorm across the bridge and settled into bed for the night as the sky was turning it's dark navy blue color with faint glint twinkles spotting around in the background. I took one last look around the room, darting my eyes all over the walls of my brand new shelter for the next year or so. I crawled into bed and rubbed my eyes hard enough to fall asleep.

I awoke to the sound of my blaring alarm and the morning birds chirping their usual matinal melodies. My first class, Mrs. Campbell's, started around 9:30. It was 8:30 now, so I didn't hesitate to rush into the shower, change clothes and run across the bridge to the cafeteria for a small bowl of cereal. I scanned my pass, grabbed a tray and plopped a bowl, a carton of milk and a small buffet box of cereal onto my tray and picked a random table by the window. I consumed my breakfast before grabbing a small cup of coffee and leaving straight after for class. Upon entering the first classroom of the day, I was greeted with cheerful smiles and the smell of cake.

My eyebrows pinched themselves together wondering where that smell was coming from until I realized it was a lit candle that was blooming on Mrs. Campbell's desk. I took my seat towards the back and unpacked my yellow notebook with a pattern of daisies and hearts. I assigned this particular one to the English class because it had a springtime theme to it, while my teddy bear one was assigned to Mrs. Vincent and a stone royal blue was to Mr. Styles. "Hello class." She walked in; floral print dress, beige cardigan and black flats with the most cheerful smile and professional demeanor. She took her stance at her chalkboard, writing her name and introducing herself to everyone.

"I'm Mrs. Ann Campbell, but you can all call me Mrs. Campbell." She sat perfectly ladylike at her desk, shining off the top layer of it for any dust particles that may have collected. Her perky tone in describing the basics of English literature made it seem anything but a dull pointless subject. At least, not to the credits who predicted that English was a key point in writing......which was correct. I jotted down as many notes as I possibly could before the bell rung and the class was dismissed. I slung my bag over my shoulder and followed the stream of students pouring out of the door. My next was Mr. Styles.

I entered the classroom-styled lecture hall- and took my seat towards the middle. A slew of students crammed themselves into the large hall, taking their seats just as the young teacher entered the class. He wore this white dress shirt tucked into some black slacks with a thick black watch almost riveting up his entire wrist. "Hello, I'm Mr. Styles," He wrote his name slickly across the chalkboard in a tight pinched manner. "And this is creative writing." His voice almost had this monotone echo that snapped all eyes in his direction. He was nothing like Mrs. Campbell, and her warm cheerful smile and cake scented classroom. No, this was a rigid college class that expected...demanded full attention and the best of your intelligence. And Mr. Styles fit that description perfectly.

The man's chalk sketched across the green board with speed; not stopping to take a breather in for even a slight pause for the sake of his wrist. "Mark Twain was a famous author; famous for writing short humoristic stories about his character's misadven-" Mr. Styles paused to see a boy in his front row giggling from a note he passed. He didn't hesitate to snatch the note, rip it up and slam the pieces of it back on the boy's desk.

"Young man, your first day of kindergarten is over. This is a complex class that details writing, its history of it and knowledge to be a writer," He leaned in closer, eyes squinting only a little, "You can come to this class fully prepared or not at all to this class, this school, this university. But don't think for a minute I'll tolerate anything in between!" He sneered spitefully, before gathering back over to the chalkboard and continuing the lesson.

He cleared his throat and continued his Mark Twain lesson, despite leaving the boy in such engrossed humiliation that tears torrent over. But no one was watching him....they were all focused on Mr. Styles and his very comprehensive speech of how Mark Twain's writing influenced how much nuance writers used to this day. The class was of a quiet echo; only Mr. Styles's voice was heard throughout the class. I looked down at the royal blue notebook on my desk.....Yep. The notebook matched the class's theme perfectly; straight to the point, no nonsense, and solid. If there were any mistakes, there would be a whip across the back....if not a flat out execution.

The bell had rung, stripping everyone's cast iron focus on Mr. Styles to their bags and books. I scampered out with everyone else, only glancing back to see Mr. Styles looking upon his pupils in a now deserted lecture hall.

I took a breath in, trying hard to release the pent up tension from the suffocating walls of Mr. Styles class. I've had strict and unruly teachers before....but this was something singular. With the snap of his fingers, Mr. Styles could make the universe look into his aloof, stolid eyes. A chill quivered through my body like a snake slithering against its tree. It was lunch time, and then next would be Mrs. Vincent's class.

I managed to make it to the cafeteria where it seemed like everyone was on the dot. I grabbed a tray and plopped a couple sandwiches, a bottle of gatorade, doritos and blueberry yogurt onto my tray before snatching a table by the back windows. My neighbor was no other than the boy who had his handed to him by Mr. Styles. We were both diffident, reserving our eyes to our plates that we somehow had a hard time manipulating into moving the food into our mouths untouched.

"That's some class?" I finally broke the ice, showing the boy that I wasn't a snoot who blindly agreed with Mr. Styles harsh correction. "Yeah," He gave a soft chuckle, still in shame from the latter incident, "The guy seems to be fond of Mark Twain right?"

I giggled, "Yeah. He described him so vividly and passionately, that I was beginning to wonder if he was there with him in person and had a personal conversation with him." The boy laughed, "Yeah....." He was still unsure of my interaction, so I had to let my cards fall onto his lap. "Look, what happened in class....I didn't agree with. Mr. Styles seems like one of those teachers and you seem really nice. I'm Yn by the way." The boy finally gave a full beam. "I'm Lucus." I returned the smile and suddenly stuffed my sandwich into my mouth, finally enjoying the savoring flavor of a mitigate stomach. And I think Lucus did too.

I remembered my shortcut across the way to Mrs. Vincent's class. The motherly like class that had the aura of protection, yet didn't slack in education. But I knew this would be the easiest class. It was nice break from the parky dry institution that was to be Mr. Styles class. Speaking of the devil, on my way to Mrs. Vincent's class, Mr. Styles walked past me; skimming a tight lipped smile with quiescent intractable eyes. But even his polite expression was dry. There was no real passion inside of it. But yet, the very presence of this man demanded obedience and austere behaviour. The aura of his presence still haunted me as I took shattered steps into Mrs. Vincent's cozy haven. "Good afternoon class!" She squealed with such warm sugary vocals.

"I'm Mrs. Vincent. And this is American literature," She wrote it on her whiteboard, easing the eardrums of the brash blackboard sounds of the chalk against a chalkboard. "Before we start, does anyone have any questions?" I held back from anything as I just wanted to get this class over with so I could squirm back into my dorm and bury my head in my studies. Mrs. Vincent started the class and from I learned so far- her class was the easiest. Not too much homework, nor too much fast talking and just an overall laxed mien in the environment. I took notes and once I finished my last page, class was over. The bell rang and we were dismissed.

I followed the wave of students out of Mrs. Vincent's classroom before breaking off independently onto the bridge. It was like a glass tunnel where you could see everyone on campus walking around with their schoolbags and their schedules. I made it back to my dorm where solitude surrounded me. There was no chatting or yelling among students, teachers, or staff members....just peace. In exhaustion, I flopped onto my bed after dropping my bag on the floor. I circled face up and stared at the ceiling. Can I do this? Is this worth it? Two classes are amazing and the other....no....I took his class to challenge myself. He's one of the best professors on campus....give it a chance. Besides....you didn't screw up with him...yet.

Those thoughts raced through my head like a hamster on a wheel. But my mind couldn't help but ruminate over Mr. Styles. He's a demanding to please....but what about everyone else? Was he married? Did he have kids? I bet he's a total sweetheart to them; giving them big hugs and using a more soothing reserved tone, never daring to speak one harsh critical word to them. I uprooted myself from the bed and glued myself to the cotton swivel chair at my desk and took out my first book of creative writing. After all, Mr. Styles said either "come to the class prepared or not all" but he will refuse to "tolerate anything in between." Out of sheer fear, I swallowed as much information about Mark Twain that I could cram into my brain.

I almost missed dinner. I sped down to the cafeteria and grabbed leftover lasagna with a glass of lemonade and salad. I figured I needed the brain food. The cafeteria was mostly empty except for the last few people trying to gather in the last traces of their meal. I ate quickly before taking my tray up to the counter and returning to my dorm. "Yn!" I turned to see Lucus heading towards me on the bridge. "Hey," He caught his breath a little, "I just wanted to say thank you again for being so nice to me. It was a rough day but.....I appreciate your kindness," I smiled, "You're welcome Lucas....I know....I took Mr. Styles class for the challenge. I knew he was an excellent teacher and very detailed in teaching creative writing....if you can ignore his style of teaching that is....you'll make it."

Lucas swallowed hard, "You're right. I shouldn't have passed that note in class," "That doesn't excuse Mr. Styles of course, but.....you seem really smart. My point is- don't let that get to you or ruin the class. Give yourself a chance to rise up to the challenge and make it worth your while."

Lucas looked at me like I was some all knowing elder. "Thank you again Yn...you're so wise." I knew it. I smiled and gave Lucas a pat on the shoulder. I watched as he walked away to the left side of the dorm area. I turned right to mine and locked myself in for the night. My studies continued until I fell asleep after barely taking off my clothes.

I arose to the freckled spots of sun hitting my face. I rung into the shower, got dressed, grabbed my backpack and headed to the cafeteria. Everyone seemed to be celebrating Friday. I guess me and Lucas weren't the only ones who had a grueling first day. Tomorrow would be the weekend and that meant I was free to visit friends, family go to the movies or even just study. I know how it sounded. I didn't want to be one of those book dependent people where you only ever just studied and totally shut out life itself. But it was just creative writing. The thought of it made my heart beat faster and my stomach twist itself into my throat. Even if I wasn't the one getting scolded, just the thought of some clown deliberately testing the waters with Mr. Styles made my legs ping.

That man could stare Satan in the eyes and make the devil himself shudder in terror. The hand-me-down feeling of watching someone get punished by him was different than some uptight high school teacher letting one of her students have it. They usually deserved it. But the slightest offense in Mr. Styles class would be a lesson that one would learn very quickly: Your second chance is sitting in that chair and still being able to finish the class. Not taps on the wrist, no timeouts. Nothing. Either you sink or swim.

This chapter is sooooo long that I figured I'd make a part two...

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles and yn #professor harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagines #harry one shot #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles oneshot #harry styles love #harry and yn #harry x yn #harry x reader

23 notes · View notes

cupid-styles · 2 months

Text

daisy 2 (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)

she's alive and I hope you like it 🩷 I think there will be a short epilogue wrapping everything up after this :)

part one

word count: 7.9k

content warnings: a bit of angst (nothing too crazy), smut (f receiving oral, penetration, size kink/belly bulge, dirty talk, a tiny bit of cum play), and — as stated in the first part — massive, big fat warning for an inappropriate power imbalance.

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Y/N had tried to talk herself out of it. Several times, actually. For hours.

But at a certain point, she realized all she was doing was driving herself insane with a nonstop, hamster wheel of thinking. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Professor Styles — or Harry, rather, as he’d said earlier — over and over, nitpicking at every tiny detail. She wished she had someone to go to — an unbiased, neutral third party who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, but she doubted that even if she did have that, they’d think her analysis of their discussion would be appropriate.

Because she had a huge, obvious, stupid crush on her professor.

Well, he wasn’t technically her professor. She was just the professor she was… assisting, and that technicality is the only thing that gave her enough courage to bundle up beneath layers of thermal wear and her forest green puffer jacket, hiking through the chilly winter evening to see if, by some miracle, Harry was still in his office.

On the way there, she spoke to herself sternly. She needed to have a goal in mind — an intention, really, of what exactly she was going there for. It wasn’t a normal thing to go see a professor in his office on a Monday at 6:40 pm.

It wasn’t normal to think about his grumpy face and even crankier demeanor; the way his lips pursed thoughtfully around wordy responses about a student’s answer to an essay question, or his long, calloused fingers that wrapped around the same gel ink pens he always used for grading.

It wasn’t normal for her to fall asleep imagining herself pressing her own plush lips to the same ones that nearly begged for an apology just a few hours ago.

And it certainly wasn’t normal for her professor to admit that he’d spent the weekend thinking of her, either.

The English building stays unlocked until around 9 pm on weekdays, just in case professors end up hauling their grading into late nights or students have group projects. She hurries through the wooden doors as soon as she arrives, hurriedly yanking her mittens off and stuffing them in her coat pockets as she walks the familiar journey down to Harry’s office. She’s unsurprised that most of the offices and classrooms have already gone dim, but the closer she gets to Harry’s, the sooner she realizes that his is the exception. With the bleak, yellowed light from the lamp she’d picked out a few weeks back, she sees a faint luminance from his office’s frosted window. Swallowing, she decides against her better judgment before waltzing in like she owns the place, and instead opts for a hesitant knock, punctuating it with a call of his name.

“Profess— Harry? Are you in there?” she nibbles on her lip before tacking on a, "It's Y/N."

She hopes he recognizes her voice as she wrings her fingers together in front of her. She thinks she hears muffled movement on the other side of the door, but she’s not entirely sure. It never occurred to her that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see her — maybe he’d peek through the crack of the door, see her face, and widen his own eyes in shock and embarrassment, maintaining silence until she eventually gave up and walked away. Her throat bobs nervously at the imagery.

She’s ready to give up when the door swings open, revealing a rather flushed looking version of the typically neat, well-kept professor she’s used to seeing. His cheeks don a splotchy pink hue that speckles down to his neck, where his usual button down is currently undone. Underneath, he wears a plain white tee-shirt. She blinks at the small display of intimacy before snapping her eyes back up to his face. He’s running his finger through his messy curls, tugging lightly at the base of the locks.

“Is everything alright?” he asks through a slightly nervous voice. With furrowed eyebrows, she nods her head slowly.

“Yes— well, no, I guess. I feel bad about earlier.”

She chokes the words out in hopes that she can keep her humiliation at bay. She’s unsure if her eyes deceive her, but it seems as though his face relaxes some before he quickly nods, stepping aside to let her in.

“Um, you have nothing to feel bad about,” he says, shutting the door quietly behind her. She shrugs her shoulders as she stands in the middle of his small office, avoiding his gaze. “I was out of line, Y/N.”

“What did you mean by it?” she rushes out, facing him with a leery expression. “That you spent the weekend thinking of me. And feeling awful about how you’ve treated me.”

His mouth opens and closes, and she can’t help the way she glances down at his raspberry-hued lips. She swallows tightly, biting on her own bottom lip.

“This isn’t something we can do,” he mumbles out breathily with a shake of his head. “You know that, right?”

They’re dancing around the obvious. Her stomach lurches at the low, groveled volume of his voice, and her fingers twitch at her sides as she resists the urge to step closer to him. She’s never been forward with a romantic interest before — she’s never had a reason to be, to uphold a certain level of confidence.

But she can’t help herself.

“Tell me, then. Tell me what you thought of this weekend.”

Harry’s nostrils flare.

“If it’s not something we can do,” Y/N says softly, licking over her lips, “Then whatever you thought about should be nothing, right?”

He’s torn. He’s so utterly torn that it feels like his brain is being split in half. He knows what he should do — he should tell her she’s wrong and that she should leave. He should leave this entire situation behind him, chalk it up to him being a touch-deprived idiot, and move on with his life. Join a few dating apps and find someone decent to settle down with.

But why would he do what he’s supposed to do?

“I thought about how fucking shitty I felt for ignoring you for weeks after you told me you just wanted my praise,” Harry blurts, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly starts to close the gap between their bodies. “I thought about how much I like having you around — how smart and talented you are, how beautiful and creative your brain is.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m not finished,” he replies curtly, making Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. “I thought about how pretty you are. I thought about how I’m thankful to have you as my assistant, because no one has ever been able to meet me on the same level. I thought about… how I’d be taking advantage of you if I told you any of those things, so I promised that I’d keep them to myself.”

He’s standing directly before her now. He’s so close that she can smell the warm musk of his cologne and see the freckles dotted over his nose. It makes her stomach churn in the best way.

“Why didn’t you?” she finally breathes out.

A smirk forms at the edges of his lips. He looks down at her as if he wants to swallow her whole, and she’s not sure that she doesn’t want him to.

“You asked me to tell you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and her skin zips with electricity. “‘S not much of my fault now, is it?”

Quickly, she shakes her head. She swallows nervously and hopes he doesn’t notice her picking at her nails as she waits for him to surge forward and press a messy kiss to her lips.

But instead, he stops.

A look of clarity ghosts over his face and his throat bobs. It doesn’t stop him from thumbing over her chin with sorrowed eyes.

“We’ll wait until the end of the semester,” he murmurs out. The look of disappointment on Y/N’s face must be obvious because his eyebrows furrow in dejection. “It’s the safest way, okay? After that… after that, I’m yours.”

I’m yours. It echoes through her brain, making her heart thump rapidly in her chest. She feels it everywhere, but the hesitancy remains.

“Promise me,” she whispers, pressing a wary hand to the expanse of his chest. “Promise me I’m not wasting my time. Promise me that you mean this.”

He can’t help it — before he can even contemplate the consequences, he ducks down to connect their lips. It takes her by surprise but she immediately kisses him back, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Despite the reluctant context, the physical bond is anything but. Harry kisses her unhurriedly, like he has years to worship every bit of her lips. He dips his tongue into her mouth the second she grants him the opportunity, and her chest feels like it’s ready to explode when he squeezes her hip. His large palm easily finds its way to her ass and she whimpers breathily into the seal of his mouth. It’s the only thing that brings him back down to earth — a reminder that he’s no longer daydreaming but experiencing the real thing. He forces himself to break the kiss but leans his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes shuttered closed.

“I promise you,” he exhales, and he feels her nod. “I’m yours.”

. . .

Attempting to act normal around Harry is harder than Y/N had anticipated.

In hindsight, the evening consisted of a half-assed confession and a rather… intimate kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. If it had been with anyone else — someone her age, a fellow student or peer, maybe — she, of course, would be anxious over it. But the fact that she had to see him a day later in class was… well, somehow embarrassing.

She contemplates her outfit for hours, wanting to seem cute and put-together without overly desperate. She was scared it would be written all over her face the second she walked in and sat at her seat beside his podium — "I made out with Professor Styles in his office a day and a half ago and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for more than two seconds since it happened" may as well have been written across her forehead.

When she finally does show up to class, Harry looks… well, he looks like his usual self. He’s wearing those wide-legged trousers that she thinks he must have in at least a dozen colors, matched with a button down and a sweater vest overtop. He’s standing at the podium with his back to the entrance as he waits for students to filter in, squeezing his bottom lip between his fingers. He’s reading something, Y/N’s unsure what it is, but when he hears the less than graceful clatter of her setting her things down at the table, he glances over to her and flashes her a smile.

A smile.

“Hey,” he greets. His voice is low and gruff and if she hadn’t been looking for it, she surely would’ve missed it. But she doesn’t, and it instead sends a zap of lovesick energy thrumming through her body.

“Hi.” she mumbles back, waving as she leans over to pull her laptop from her bag.

That’s the extent of the interaction, but it’s far more than she’s ever received from him. Normally, when she arrives at class, he fully ignores her. She only began to take issue with it when she figured out she was growing feelings for him, but somehow the quiet utterance of hey feels like a public acknowledgement of what occurred just a day prior. In some crazy way, it seems like it’s just as open as grabbing her and smacking a hard kiss to her lips. She finds herself wishing he would as he begins today’s lecture on male writers in feminist discourse.

As written on the schedule, Harry’s taking the time to discuss authors like George Herbert, John Berryman, and Leo Tolstoy. Y/N doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of those figures, though a few weeks back when she and Harry were discussing this unit, they did find a mutual appreciation for Jacques Lacan. He wasn’t originally in the lesson plan — Y/N remembers it vividly, because she can recall saying that he would be a great fit. Her heart had expanded in her chest with praise when Harry agreed.

And yet… Harry’s standing up there in front of the lecture hall, waxing poetic in the dreamiest way possible, about Jacques Lacan.

“Lacan was incredibly controversial, so I don’t expect all of us to feel comfortable with translating his viewpoints to modern day psychology,” Harry explains as he hovers over the old, wooden podium, “But what I do want to dig into is his basic idea of the symbolic register. Does anyone know what that is?”

Yes, Y/N wants to say. It’s the concept that our existence as humans includes language, culture, and rituals.

“Lacan came up with this idea that he thought was waiting for us the second we were born. He felt that the symbolic register encompassed maybe more artsy, culture-based facets, and that was one of the most important parts of the human existence. We won’t get too far into it because this isn’t a psychology course, and frankly, I could give a shit if you truly understand this or not.” The class, including Y/N, laughs quietly. Harry rolls his lips into a thin line to avoid a smirk from appearing.

When the huffed merriment tapers off, he continues. “What I want you to take away as writers is this: Lacan’s symbolic register essentially implies that our lives, from the very start, are swamped with uncertainty. There’s no path for us. As you write your characters, consider that. Lacan thought that life experiences, specifically lack and desire, were what impacted the course we go on.”

As expected, the class is silent. Y/N’s found that students are typically too nervous or intimidated to contribute to conversations during Harry’s lectures, and she’s been on the receiving end of many, many emails asking things that could have been resolved in class.

“Think about what your characters lack. What are they missing? What are they unable to receive access to? Is it a resistance to pleasure, to giving in?”

Y/N swallows harshly at that. She pretends like she doesn’t hear it, instead focusing in on typing a response to an email in her inbox.

“And then, consider their desires. Their deepest, darkest wants. No one has to know them — in real life, no one truly knows our truest desires, anyway,” she swears her eyes squeeze closed at that, but she quickly snaps them open, “But use it as an exercise for this weekend. Don’t forget, second drafts are due on Monday. Class is dismissed.”

Y/N swear she feels a second heartbeat in her core as the lecture hall begins to trickle out with students.

. . .

“I thought we were waiting until the semester is over.” Y/N blurts it out when she can’t focus on grading Ren Wei's draft.

Slowly, Harry glances up from the stack of papers he’s currently grading. With confused eyebrows, he sets his pen down.

“We are,” he says softly.

“Then what were you talking about in class today?” She hisses lowly. She keeps her voice quiet even though the door to Harry’s office is shut closed.

“What do you mean?”

Y/N sighs frustratedly and sits back in her seat. She avoids Harry’s confused gaze as she crosses her arms over her chest. He ignores the way it pushes her breasts up through the soft fabric of her sweater.

“The whole lack and desire thing. You know you weren’t planning on talking about Lacan until I brought him up a few weeks ago.”

Harry’s throat bobs and she licks over her lips, quickly glancing back up to his face. She’s right — they both know she’s right, but Harry’s reluctant to admit it. He’s stubborn — he’s always been this way in relationships, and it tends to be one of his greater downfalls as a partner. Deep in the pit of his heart, he knows Y/N deserves better. She wouldn’t be worth putting his job or her status as a student in danger if she wasn’t.

“You’re right,” he finally admits as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. It was out of line and I won’t do that anymore.”

She pauses for a beat. And then, “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

His shoulders deflate and she suddenly feels embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to reveal, she decides, and she picks at the skin surrounding her fingernails as she mentally beats herself up for it.

And for a moment, Harry contemplates it. He knows it hasn’t been that long since he told her they have to wait, but he’d be a ridiculous liar if he didn’t admit that she’s all he’s been thinking about ever since they kissed in his office. Nervously, he reaches across the length of his wooden desk and takes her hand into his. He intertwines their fingers together and gives her hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. It makes his heart warm.

“You know this is incredibly difficult for me, right?” he asks. Y/N shakes her head and he scoffs in response. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”

She blushes. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. She nods. “When we kissed, it… it was so good, y’know? It just… it felt good.”

“I know,” she breathes. She squeezes his fingers lightly before retracting her own hand and placing it in her lap. She may look naive, but she's already decided that she won't let him have the upper hand – not when it comes to something she can actually have control over, like teasing.

The movement surprises him but he chooses not to acknowledge it. “But this is what we decided on, right? It’s better this way. It’s kind of like edging, hm?”

His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as she glances down at her phone to look at the time.

“Anyway, I have to head out to class. Text me if you need anything, Professor Styles.”

She waltzes out of his office with a snarky, knowing grin on her lips, and Harry has to do a series of deep breathing to stop his cock from exploding in his trousers.

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N is a complete and utter minx.

Harry has no choice but to come to this conclusion because in the weeks that follow their agreement, he swears she does everything she can to try and make him break. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if she’s doing it intentionally. But every time they’re in the same room, all he can think about is hauling her over his shoulder, locking her in his office, and stretching her body over the length of his desk so he can fuck her until she can’t even think straight.

And there’s still three months left of the semester.

Admittedly, nothing ever really happens between them. Despite the apparent and blatant flirting that occurs on both sides, they keep things surprisingly professional, even behind closed doors. For the first time in his teaching career, Harry is actually ahead of grading. For some reason, he feels as though it’s a testament to how well he and Y/N actually work together.

But then there’s the matter of her teasing, which drives him up a fucking wall — the cute little mini skirts she almost always wears, the batting of her eyelashes at students in his class, followed by the wide-eyed smile she flashes Harry as soon as she knows he’s seen it. She even out-smarted him on Ursula LeGuin the other day and, as dorky as it seems, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life.

It’s a series of back-and-forth. When Y/N has to leave his office for class, he’ll thumb at her chin or her cheeks so she gets all flustered before she heads out. Later that night, she’ll text him an innocent question with some sort of “typo”:

can’t stop thinking about your lips

oops! list* not lips! your list of grades — it’s due next friday, right??

It’s a stupid, risky game that neither of them can stop playing.

Even when they’re sitting in Harry’s office that Wednesday afternoon, buried beneath piles of final drafts for the midterm paper, he can’t help but gnaw on his bottom lip as she sits across from him. She’s focused — the cute furrow between her brows is the primary tell — but every now and then she’ll bring her pen up to her mouth to bite on it or poke her tongue out to lick over her lips.

Despite the chill of the day, she’s wearing a wool mini skirt atop sheer black tights, and he hasn’t been able to stop glancing down at the soft skin of her thighs since she showed up to campus hours ago. He wants nothing more than to rip a hole in the fabric, pull her into his lap, and kiss her until she’s a whimpering, breathless mess.

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the clock is steadily ticking towards 5 pm and, technically, Y/N should’ve left an hour ago. With wide eyes, he drops his pen on the pile of papers in front of him.

“Shit,” he curses, “You should go. Your hours ended at 4.”

She taps her phone screen beside her, “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I got in the groove with grading.”

“It happens.” He says understandingly as he leans back against his chair, stretching his achy back out some. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

She peers up at him through her lashes. “It’s 5 pm on a Friday, Harry. You should leave, too.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth. She’s right, especially since he’s been attempting to distract himself from his crush on Y/N by doing late grading sessions in his office.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbles as he grabs his large tote bag. “I’ll walk you out, if that’s okay.”

They both know that it’s perhaps a cross of the boundary they’ve been trying to firmly maintain, but how harmful could a walk be?

Y/N flashes him a small smile. Silently, they each pack their things up, and she follows him out of this office as he locks his door. They walk side-by-side, Y/N nibbling on her bottom lip as Harry tries to resist the urge to grab the hand that he keeps accidentally brushing with his own knuckles.

“Do you have any weekend plans?” She suddenly asks softly, glancing up at the taller male.

He hums, “Nothing too exciting. Probably just gonna catch up on TV and reading. You?”

“The secret life of an English professor, hm?” Y/N teases and he chuckles. “I have to start prepping for midterms. Laundry, too. I guess nothing more fun than your plans.”

He laughs and her stomach erupts into flutters as he holds the front door for her. She smiles in gratitude, but her steps come to a stop when she witnesses the state of the weather.

It’s nearly a white out. A snowstorm must have barreled through while they were busy grading, because now it’s dark, flurries of snow instantly landing on Y/N’s eyelashes and jacket.

“Y/N,” Harry appears at her side, “You’re not planning on walking through this, are you?”

“I-I don’t have a car.” She mumbles, stuffing her already freezing cold hands into her pockets. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far.”

“No, but I wouldn’t feel okay with sending you home in this,” he replies. She blinks when she feels his hand reach out to her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Would you let me drive you home, please? Just so I know you get home safely.”

Her stomach turns. This would officially cross the student/teacher boundary, but he’s right — it’s frigid out, and she always hates walking home in the dark anyway. Swallowing tightly, she nods.

“Yeah, please. I’ll take a ride.”

“Good,” he exhales with a nod, “My car’s just over in the faculty lot.”

With the both of them slowly shuffling through the snowy ground, they eventually make it to Harry’s car. As expected, it’s covered in snow, but he turns it on and blasts the heat so she can sit inside while he uses a brush to clear it off. She picks at her fingernails as she watches him through the foggy front window, her chest continuing to grow with nerves. She knows that this is all she’s wanted for weeks — to be alone with Harry, outside of the confines of his office — so why is she so scared?

Luckily, he gets in the car before she has more time to contemplate it. Blowing warm air into his cupped hands, he shivers dramatically.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” he whines, making her giggle. “Something funny about that, passenger princess?”

“No!” She exclaims with a laugh, “I’m sorry I didn’t help clear your car off. I’m sure that was awful.”

His eyes crinkle teasingly as he chuckles along with her. As he backs up out of the parking spot with ease, he presses the palm of his hand to the back of Y/N’s headrest, checking to make sure he’s clear. She wonders if he’s used to driving in the snow, but lets the question die in her throat instead of pushing the conversation.

“Sorry, I didn’t ask where you live,” he says when he turns onto the main road. “I think you mentioned once that you’re not too far from campus?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m on Maple. It’s a single-person house, I’ll tell you where to turn.”

“You live alone?”

She doesn’t think the question is meant to be inherently suggestive, but there’s something about his immediate response that has her teetering on feeling that way. Swallowing, she nods again.

“Mhm. Most of my friends graduated or moved away when we finished undergrad, so it’s just me.”

“No pets or anything? You seem like the type to own one of those bald cats.”

Y/N balks at his reply, a peel of laughter bubbling from her chest. “What?”

Harry’s cheeks warm as he slowly drives down the snow-covered street. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he thinks about what kind of person she is when she’s not around — he knows it probably sounds creepy, but it’s how he’s been entertaining himself in the meantime.

“I just… feel like you’d like those things,” he treads lightly, shrugging his shoulders, “Is my assumption wrong?”

“Very much so. I’ve only had dogs,” she giggles, “Are there any other assumptions I should know about?”

His throat bobs. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she quirks a brow. “Turn at the light.”

He flicks his right signal on, “I may have tried to figure you out a bit in my… spare time.”

He cringes, but the sound of her laughter quickly pulls him from his embarrassment.

“Well now I have to know.”

“Fine,” he decides, finding himself drawn to her little game, “I think you prefer matcha or hot chocolate over coffee.”

“True, but that’s only because you watch me cringe every time you drink your stupid black coffee.”

Harry snorts, “Okay, fair. I think you’re a homebody.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N nods. “True. Go on.”

“You prefer chocolate to vanilla.”

“Strawberry, actually.”

He hums. “You read period piece smut for fun.”

Y/N lets out a loud cackle. “What about my personality makes you think that?”

“You just seem like the type to go to the romance section at the bookstore, but only buy dirty books that are set in the 1800s,” he replies easily, a smirk edging at his lips, “Am I wrong?”

She ignores the way her cheeks flair with warmth. “I’m not opposed to it, but it’s not the only thing I read.”

“Sure,” he laughs. She rolls her eyes before pointing to a house down at the end of the road.

“I’m right over there.”

Harry nods and pulls up in front of it. The snow is only worse on the residential streets, likely because there haven’t been many cars going through to clear the roads. She nibbles on her lip as she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at him.

“Thank you for the ride.” she says softly.

“Of course.”

They stare at each other for a beat before Y/N tears her gaze away from him. She glances out through the front window, watching momentarily as snowflakes continue to beat down on the exterior of his car.

“It’s not safe,” she mumbles breathily, facing him again. “You shouldn’t drive in this.”

He swallows. He knows what he should say: No, it’s okay. I should go home. We said we’d wait, remember?

But he doesn’t want to. Not when she’s dangling alone time, off campus, right in front of his face. He can’t resist her — he doesn’t want to resist her.

“Can I come inside, then?”

. . .

Y/N’s house is everything Harry would have expected it to be.

She has two huge bookshelves that are overflowing with worn novels, Post-It’s and folded-down pages sticking out of nearly every page. She has plants and candles, cuddly blankets thrown askew over her couch, and a sink filled with half-consumed cups of tea. There are framed pictures and Polaroids tacked up on her fridge of people Harry assumes are her friends and family. He smiles gently as he passes by an image of her wedged between two older people who have some of her same features. It’s all very her, which means it’s all entirely too comforting.

“Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asks, nibbling on her bottom lip as she glances up at the man before her. It’s an unusual sight; one that makes her feel like she has to blink a few times to ensure she isn’t dreaming.

“Not unless you’re willing me to make my ‘stupid black coffee’, as you affectionately referred to it in the car.”

Y/N blushes, “I don’t have any coffee here, but I can make you tea. Or hot chocolate.”

“Tea is good, sweetheart.”

The flush only deepens at the pet name. He’s not sure where it comes from — maybe easing into a relationship-type dynamic is easier than he thought, especially considering he’s been pushing it down since their kiss. He watches as she turns to face the kitchen counter, occupying herself with turning the kettle on and retrieving two tea bags and mugs. He wants nothing more than to hug her from behind, pressing his fingertips into her hips to squeeze them teasingly. To dip his head to the crook of her neck and press kisses along her delicate skin. He swallows and adjusts his trousers, willing the thickening erection tucked underneath to go away.

“How do you want it?” she asks, glancing behind her to look at him.

He coughs. “Sorry? How do I want what?”

“Your tea,” Y/N replies slowly, a small smile on her lips, “How do you want your tea, Harry?”

“Oh— um, however you take it is fine.”

She nods and busies herself with filling the mugs up with the boiling water. Once she’s finished, she slowly hands him the steaming cup. He smiles in gratitude, allowing their fingers to brush against one another in the pass-off.

“By the way,” she says lowly, blinking at him, “You’re doing a shit job of hiding your boner.”

Her eyes crinkle in a smirk as she lifts the mug to take a sip of the warm liquid. Harry’s cheeks instantly warm and he stutters over his words, attempting to force out an apology. She lets him scramble for a moment before reaching out to curl her fingers over his wrist with a smile.

“I’m just teasing you. I hope you know I don’t care.”

He huffs, setting his cup down on the dining room table, “Yeah, but I’m the one who told you we have to wait. And now I’m standing in your kitchen, getting hard over you making me tea.”

She giggles. “I consider that a compliment, to be honest.”

“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles, “You make me feel like a doped up, lovesick teenager.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he scoffs, “Everything you do does something to me. Even if you don’t mean it. It’s ridiculous.”

“What do you mean?”

He sends her a knowing look and she grins.

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“You know I’m not good at reading between the lines, Harry.”

He sighs. “You turn me on. Even by doing the stupidest shit— knowing more about me in certain subjects, wearing those cute little skirts… it all drives me insane. I’ve been trying to keep it together, but I can’t.”

“Then don’t,” she replies almost instantly, placing her mug on the table next to his, “I don’t want to wait, Harry. I feel… I feel so stupidly desperate for you. And I want this— I want you.”

“I know, but—”

“But in any other context, if we didn’t meet this way, there wouldn’t be an issue,” she points out stubbornly, “If we had come back to mine after a date, we’d already be upstairs with our clothes off.”

He can’t help the way his cock jumps at her words and he mentally groans. He wants to yell into one of those cute throw pillows on her couch, or maybe lay face down on the fluffy carpet in her hallway.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m crossing boundaries, we can just watch TV or something—”

“Stop,” he cuts her off with a shake of his head. “Can we just… Can I just kiss you again? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Y/N blinks owlishly. Surprise is clear on her face, but it doesn’t stop her from nodding her head. As corny as it sounds — and Y/N knows it’s corny — it feels like magnets being pulled together. It’s not a moment longer before Harry’s palm is pressed gently against her cheek, his lips brushing up against hers. She’s nearly salivating at the thought of closing the gap between them and yet, at the same time, her brain is melting with lust.

This kiss, unlike their first, is riddled with want. It’s hurried and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues dipping into each other’s mouth. Harry’s hand slips from her cheek and down to the back of her neck, giving it a small, testing squeeze. She presses her chest impossibly closer to his, eyelashes flittering at the warmth radiating from the button-down he wears. She’s desperate to feel him, to eliminate any boundaries or distances between them — for the first time, she’s sick of playing games.

“Upstairs,” she pants out through swollen lips. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls playfully, allowing it to snap back in place, “Take me upstairs, please.”

He swallows and her eyes find his Adam’s apple, nervousness settling in her chest. He gives her neck another squeeze.

“Are you sure?” he breathes. She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck and presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

“If you’ll have me, I’m yours, Harry.”

“You’ve always been mine,” he mutters with his forehead against hers, “Show me the way, sweetheart.”

She grabs his hand in hers and lightly tugs him out of the kitchen. If she’s being honest, she’s fantasized of this moment for months now. She was never sure of how it would happen (the logistics never mattered in her daydreams), but having him here, standing in her bedroom, feels like some kind of joke her mind conjured up.

But when he lays her back against the mattress, elbows digging into the soft tufts of her bedding, it feels a little like a hazy fantasy.

When he parts her thighs and kneels down between them, pressing a smattering of kisses along her neck as his hands push the fabric of her thick sweater up, her labored breathing is the only anchor she has in reality.

And when he finds himself between her thighs, tugging her black tights down to reveal a sodden pair of underwear, a hiss sounding out from her mouth when he bares her center to the cool air of her bedroom, things begin to feel very, very serious.

“Is this okay?” he asks huskily. He’s since moved down to kneeling on the carpet of her room, his large palms parting the insides of her thighs. Every single move he makes drives her insane.

“Yes,” she breathes, fingers gripping the blanket beneath her.

He’s less calculated now that he’s received her consent. She instantly mewls the second he puts his mouth over her, licking through the wet fabric of her underwear. Her eyes roll back just from the muffled sensation, especially when he allows a low moan to vibrate from his chest.

“Need more,” he mutters against the soft skin of his thigh as he pulls the material to the side. He inhales sharply at the sight of how wet she is, his fingertip gently tracing over the tip of her swollen clit. “You were hiding all this from me for months.”

He states it as if it’s a fact — like she’d been doing it intentionally, when all she’s been doing is dreaming of the day he’d finally be the one to break. Through a shaky swallow, she parts her lips.

“Didn’t mean it,” she murmurs, sitting up slightly to look down at him. It’s a heavenly vision — the image of the professor she’s been crushing on, on his knees for her in her bedroom. He sends a smirk her way as if he can read her thoughts (and maybe he can, she’s truly not sure anymore), and surges forward to dip his tongue through her folds, licking up the heady arousal dripping from her hole. It makes her gasp and reach down to grab his hair, a tight fistful of locks in her hand.

“Doubt it,” he says into her core. His fingertip continues tracing tight circles into her clit as he begins to flex his tongue inside of her, and Y/N’s back is arching against the expanse of her mattress from the wet, intoxicating sensations of it all. It’s nearly too overwhelming for her, especially given the sensitivity of her clit — but Harry can feel her tensing beneath his grasp, a delicious telltale sign that her peak is quickly rising.

“Harry— oh my god—”

“I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. He presses against her g-spot and she gasps, grinding her hips down against his hands, “There you go, angel girl, cum on my fingers. That’s it, good girl.”

If his hands weren’t currently occupied, one would undoubtedly be wrapped around his length right now, twisting and pumping until he emptied himself to the sight of Y/N’s coming, pulsating pussy. It's better than any daydream he ever could have thought of — her moans are beautiful and whimpery, her body warm and pliant beneath his touch as she comes down. Sensitivity immediately takes over and she gently bats his hands away, panting out loudly from above.

“Alright?” He asks softly, placing a light kiss to her thigh. He hears her swallow loudly.

“Jelly,” she mumbles, “Limbs are jelly.”

That makes him chuckle as he sits back up on his knees. He hovers over the length of her body and smiles at her fucked out expression.

“You’re pretty when you come.” He says before leaning down to peck her lips.

“Yeah?” She asks teasingly, “Show me what you look like?”

Harry stills but she nips at his bottom lip playfully, “You didn’t cum in your pants just from eating me out, did you?”

“Got pretty close to it.” He confesses, eyes falling shut as she continues pressing kisses to his jawline and down to his neck.

She hums at the admittance as her hands rake down his chest, “Do you wanna fuck me?”

“Whatever you want,” he swallows, the answer sounding far more submissive out loud than he’d intentioned, “Fine with… I’m fine with whatever.”

“I want you to fuck me.” She says, looking up at him. “Is that okay?”

“That’s perfectly okay.”

Y/N grins and begins to make quick work of shedding his layers of clothes. His button-down is the first to go, followed by his trousers and belt. Once he’s down to his briefs, she gently hints at wanting to climb on top. He has no reservations with that so he helps her straddle his thighs, watching as her eyes peer down at his covered length.

“You look big.” She admits.

He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment or a nervous comment, so he silently issues a small squeeze to her hip.

“Seriously,” she continues with a frown. “Other girls have taken you no problem?”

This makes him laugh. “Generally, yeah.”

“I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

Harry smirks. “This isn’t your way of telling me you’re a virgin, right?”

“No!” She exclaims theatrically, and that only amplifies his laughter. “I’m just… I’m nervous! You look really big Harry, seriously.”

“Take me out then,” he instructs lowly and the tone of his voice zips straight to Y/N’s center, “I promise, you’re freaking yourself out over nothing.”

She grumbles as he pulls his underwear down his legs. Harry kicks them off his ankles and she sighs as she takes him into her hand. He has to make an effort not to hiss at the feeling of it.

“Still huge,” she mutters, “My hand barely fits around you, Harry.”

“You’re making my ego insane, angel.”

She peers up at him, where his arm is tucked behind his head like he’s lounging the day away. She gives the head of his cock a small squeeze.

“Do you really think it’ll fit?”

“Yes,” he chuckles, “If not, I’ll just go down on you for an hour and by then you’ll be open and wet enough.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, the thought of him spending an hour of his time between her thighs almost being too much to fathom. “‘M gonna try to put you in.”

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just breathe and take your time. We can do a different position—“

“No,” she quickly shakes her head. “Wanna ride you. This is how I envisioned it.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks at that but his curiosity is quickly replaced by pleasure when she hovers her hips over his length. The warmth from her previous orgasm is radiating off of her and he breathes out sharply when she pushes the tip in, her fingertips covering the sight. Harry reaches out to move them. “Need to see,” he grunts.

Her jaw drops open as she slowly lowers onto him. Neither of them speak — it’s all entirely too consuming; her getting filled to the brim and him being surrounded by the tightest heat he’s ever felt. When she finally sinks down to his pelvic bone, her eyelashes flutter.

“Can you move?” He asks through a slightly clenched jaw, “Or— do you need me to—“

“I can do it.” She replies as she steadily attempts to move her hips up. “Oh, that’s a lot.”

“Too much?”

She shakes her head, “It’s good. Is it good?”

“It’s amazing.” He breaths out, gritting his teeth as she moves up and down.

With his reassurance under her belt, it’s easier for her to find a bit of rhythm, even if she has to place her hands down on his chest for stability. He happily places his own palms on top of them, curling his fingers around her wrists to help her.

“There you go,” he encourages, leaning his head back against the pillow as he watches her. “You look so beautiful, holy shit.”

She moans when she finally figures out a pace that hits that soft spot inside of her, eyelashes fluttering from the constant pressure. Harry moves his hands down to her hips to assist in the maneuvers, but mainly because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get sick of seeing his touch on her skin. She swallows harshly when she lifts a hand to coax at her swollen clit, a wet gasp sounding from her lips. Harry’s gaze lifts from where they’re connected to see widened eyes.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He asks in immediate panic.

She nods quickly and reaches out to grab his hand and place it over his stomach.

He thinks he may pass out.

Beneath the soft, dimpled skin of her stomach, he can feel his length bulging in her tummy. If he looks close enough, he can see the faint outline. It takes everything in him not to snap.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters as she resumes her pace of bouncing on his cock.

“Told you you were— oh— big,” she says stubbornly, and if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with the current state of her body, he probably would have had a comeback. But right now, all he can focus on is not blowing his load inside her.

“Need you to come,” he grunts. She nods eagerly like a puppy and he smirks when her fingers return to her clit, rubbing tight circles. “Need you to come so I can paint that pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes,” she mewls desperately. Her movements get jerkier and sloppier, but Harry has no problem meeting her hips. He thrusts up inside of her to hopefully reach the same spot, though his worry is quickly wiped away when he feels her muscles contract, her face twisting beautifully.

He can barely help her through her orgasm before he’s pushing her into her side. He’s no longer inside and his hand has switched to keeping her thigh up as he pumps himself, groaning at the sticky mess between them.

“Wanna feel it,” she whimpers almost pathetically, “Please Professor Styles, cum all over my pussy.”

That’s all he needs before he’s bursting at the seams, ropes of thick, white cum covering her. He’s a groaning mess and he doesn’t even notice that she’s running her hand through his hair, playing with it gently, until he has nothing left to give. With a final whimper, he lays back against her bed, completely spent.

When they’ve both caught their breath, Harry turns back onto his side to face her.

“You alright?” he asks softly. He’s nervous to reach out and thumb at her cheek or press a kiss to her hand. For some reason, he feels like the situation is too delicate right now and he’s at risk of fucking it all up.

Y/N hums, “Mhm. Are you?”

“I am.” he answers with a thick swallow. “Is it okay if I hold you?”

“Please.”

His heart jumps and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. He leans down and kisses her hair.

They sit in the silence for a bit, Y/N finding comfort in Harry’s constant breathing, the sound of his heartbeat.

And then: “So you envisioned this?”

She bites at the smile on her lips before she bats at his pecs, “Shut up. I know you did too.”

Harry has no problem admitting that she’s right.

1K notes · View notes

alonetimelover · 9 months

Text

pairing: Harry Styles x scientist(physicist)!reader

summary: There is this one professor at Oxford that can explain physics theorems with help of POP culture. What happens when she uses Harry's music to explain one of the themes?

a/n: It took me definitely much more time than I anticipated... I hope I didn't butchered the theorem explanation in this fic (if so, make me aware, please).

masterlist

——————————————————————————————

Messages between Jeff and Harry

reyJeff sent an attachment somehow you're useful for science...

my responsibility what is it? last time you sent me a link I got an hour long scolding from my mum and she's somewhere in the house

reyJeff nothing bad this time just some professor is explaining a theorem while using your music she's good, i now know what is the Higgs mechanism

my responsibility there's no way you understand physics, they must be a miracle worker... I'll check the video out see you tomorrow at the office? reyJeff reacted to the message

——————————————————————————————

TikTok

“But, Dr YSN, the Higgs mechanism does not make sense?” said or rather asked the voice behind the recording phone.

“Syrup allegory did not help at all?” Dr YSN turned from the blackboard, looking directly at the asking student.

“I mean, I understand that when the Universe’s temperature cooled down the Higgs field condensed in all volume and scattered across it like a fog. But what and how and - ugh - why?” The student grew impatient and angry in her incomprehension.

“It’s okay, Lauren. I understand that this subject wasn’t the one you expected while choosing to study biology. And unfortunately it is important, it will help you connect quite a few dots while learning about cell division and bioprocesses. But going back to the Higgs problem.” Doctor cleared her throat and stood near her desk. One hand holding onto the oak surface, drumming her fingers in thought of how to help those young people.

“Dr YSN," interrupted her thought process some other student. "If the particles are getting stuck why not photons?” They connotated the allegory that Dr YSN wanted to primarily help them with understanding.

“It all comes to the mass of the particle, and just like you all know now - photons do not have mass. They are, according to quantum mechanics, a portion of energy. Yes?”

The whole room nodded their heads, suddenly remembering the lecture from just two days ago.

“Okay, now back to the Higgs problem. Do you guys have a favourite artist?”

The lecture room erupted with not so hushed whispers about who should tell the name of their idol. Doctor patiently waited for one of the young men to grow courage and speak up.

“Harry Styles?”

“Perfect!” Exclaimed lecturer. “Now, do we have people here that do not like Mr Styles’ music?”

On the screen overlooking more than enough of the lecture room could be seen a few of raised hands (a definite minority).

“Okay, listen carefully. We’re imagining it now."

Doctor strolled from behind her desk and moved forward as to be closer to her students.

"Let’s say that Mr Harry Styles’ music is our Higgs field. Can you do that? Amazing. Now, when he got his latest album out it spread around the world. Everyone liked it, right?"

Seeing some of the student nodding their heads, she exclaimed, "not right. You," she pointed at the student that previously raised their hands. "You all didn’t know. And that's why you are photons in our experiment. Photons, like we already relearned today, are without mass and in our example they are without love or interest in Mr Styles’ music. Everything is clear for now?”

After getting an approval of nodding heads, YN anyway moved to the blackboard and wrote:

mass = love for Mr Styles' music

photons = not-fans of Mr Styles' music

“Fantastic. Any particle that has some mass, so love for that music, will find itself stuck. You’re stuck because you love that music -” she pointed to the student that had said Harry’s name, “- so you listen to it, analyse and appreciate. The appreciation grows with love so the resistance grows with mass."

appreciation = resistance

"All in all, the current love is the measure of appreciation. So?”

“The current mass of the particle is the measure of resistance that the Higgs field can withstand,” said almost everyone present in the room, making the doctor smile from ear to ear. She had already written it down on the board.

“Excuse me? If Harry’s music is the Higgs field then Harry alone is the Higgs particle - the God Particle, right?” Asked someone from the first row.

“That is correct. Excellent, Madeline! Now, you all understand the basics of the Higgs mechanism and field?”

view all comments

wtf, how did i just understand physics???? im a sociology major

can we talk about how she took her time to explain instead of yelling for not understanding? it's sad that we need to point that out

harry + physics ??? never thought i would experience it

as a physics student - WHY CAN'T I HAVE THIS LECTURER?? - she's soooo good

im 15 and understood this shit, holy moly

it's going viral so HELLO HARRY i know that someone sent it to him and he's sitting under his little blanket, watching it

——————————————————————————————

Instagram

scienceandharstyles

liked by harrysmoustache, harrystyles and 23 381 others

scienceandharstyles I don't know how many of you know but my physics lecturer is literally the 'viral Higgs professor'. Today, after the lecture, she was kind enough to explain to me this awful mathematics (I hate maths) even though it was late (8:30 PM) and she had plans. I just thought I would post about it here (I have her consent for uploading this photo) to show how amazing she is.

view all 3 032 comments

sciencestudent we need more professors like her!

harryupdates I'd love to have this type of lecturers at my Uni...

⤷ scienceandharstyles she really is amazing! after a few examples she wanted me to do to see if i understood the topic, she just flawlessly moved the convo towards my interests, like??? she's so attentive and warm and sweet? i obviously started talking about harry...

hArrysbtch does she know how tiktok is simping over her???

⤷ scienceandharstyles she said that as long as people could take something from those videos, she didn't mind

⤷ hArrysbtch tbh i don't blame those people... she's gorgeous

harrysmylife HARRY LIKED

helloitsharry guys, remember that tiktok account we thought was harrys? maybe it is and he started it just to watch her videos??

⤷ hArrysbtch no way... it makes sense. i checked and that account liked almost all videos that are about dr ysn

⤷ harrysmoustache plus it was created around the time the first video of her started going viral. coincidence? i think not!

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, scienceandharstyles and 43 492 others

harryupdates HARRY was seen arriving at the Oppenheimer's after party in London!!!

view all 2 201 comments

hArrysbtch him and Nolan are besties. CONFIRMED

harrysmoustache wearing all black??? he knows it's serious

⤷ harrysfan82 did you want him to wear pink?

⤷ harrysmylife harry would be able to pull that off

scienceandharstyles guys, my professor was the consultant on that movie!!!!

⤷ harrysmoustache you mean THE professor? the higgs professor???

⤷ scienceandharstyles yes! she and one of our older professors were providing knowledge for the director and actors on set. Dr YSN was working with Nolan since he started writing the script!

⤷ hArrysbtch i need them together. i need to know everything about them interacting

⤷ harrysmoustache can you imagine harry trying to justify him literally stalking all those videos of her explaining her lectures??

⤷ hArrysbtch ohhhh, id die to be next to them while they were talking!!!!

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by scienceandharstyles, hArrysbtch and 58 303 others

harryupdates HARRY AND DR YN YSN at the after party!

view all 4 402 comments

hArrysbtch NO WAY

hArrysbtch look at his face!!!! he was blushing!!!!

hArrysbtch she's so beautiful 😍

scienceandharstyles the god particle and his creator!

harrysmoustache i need videos to see if he was shy 🤭 if so, i know for sure he has a BIG crush on her

harrysmylife guys there was a video going all over twitter! after he was introduced to dr yn and the other professor, she was like, "i've never thought i would see the god particle in person"

⤷ hArrysbtch oh she was flirting too

——————————————————————————————

scienceandharstyles

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 34 201 others

scienceandharstyles guys, i met harry today....

view all 2 589 comments

scienceandharstyles ok, story time! 1) it was at this very cute cat cafe in Oxford, very close to my campus. they serve those beautiful coffee with drawn cats on the foam!! super cute! but back to the story, i was just petting one of the cats - Murphy - when i heard the bells. and I am super noisy and needed to know who entered the cafe

scienceandharstyles 2) i looked up and it was dr YSN (tiktoks higgs professor but i really don't like calling her that). when she saw me she just immediately walked up to me and asked if she could seat with me while she waited for her friend to arrive. i, of course, agreed (i literally love her).

scienceandharstyles 3) she then helped me with some of my work for uni (maths again...) and while explaining she was so attentive and asked about my day. she asked if i got the tickets for the concert i wanted (i didn't say it was for harry) and when I said I did, she was so happy for me!

scienceandharstyles 4) after about 30 minutes of talking someone else entered the cafe and, you guessed it, it was harry. what's more, he walked up to us because HE WAS THE FRIEND MY RPOFESSOR WAS WAITING FOR. he greeted her with a hug and introduced himself to me. i was so shocked i couldn't form a sentence. dr ysn helped me calm down and said a few words for me.

scienceandharstyles 5) they both then moved to the other table to actually enjoy their time together. but before that harry offered to take the photo with me but only if he could wear my hat!!!! yeah, it was a wild day

hArrysbtch oh, that's first date harry, I'm telling you

harryupdates madeline im so happy for you!

harrysmoustache if he dressed like that for our first date, i wouldn't be able to form a sentence... he looks so handsome

harrysmoustache AND HE HAS THE MOUSTACHE AGAIN, LET'S RAISE MOUSTACHE STANS

harrysmylife the tattoos, the chains, the nail polish, the hat, the bicep????? im dead

——————————————————————————————

physics_oxford

liked by scienceandharstyles, harrystyles and 10 301 others

physics_oxford Dr YN YSN would like to invite 'anybody that craves knowledge' to the open lecture about Robbert J Oppenheimer's work described in the film Oppenheimer. As the science consultant during the filming, Dr YSN invited the writer and director of the movie - Christopher Nolan, as well as the lead actor - Cillian Murphy. We cannot wait to see you next Friday at the main hall!

view all 982 comments

scienceandharstyles Can't wait to attend this!

⤷ yourinstagram Can't wait to see you, Madeline! ❤️

student21 Dr YSN to the rescue to everyone that didn't understand the movie!!!

studen45 it's amazing that more people can experience the brilliance of Dr YSN teaching! Great move from the Dean.

harrysmoustache i think im going there... fingers crossed

student23 CILLIAN???

harrysfan21 i bet that harry's attending it!

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 46 502 others

harryupdates HARRY arriving at Dr YN YSN lecture at Oxford University!

view all 4 201 comments

hArrysbtch who predicted that???

harrysmoustache HARRY AND CILLIAN REUNION

harrysmylife we stay winning, my soldiers

stylesbabie he looks good 🫠

harrysfan82 he's so supportive of dr ysn

hArrysbtch scienceandharstyles were you there???

⤷ scienceandharstyles i was!!! and he literally greeted me by my name?? like, he remembered... After the lecture ended he waited for dr ysn and others from the panel and left with them! even gave me a wave then!

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by scienceandharstyles, harrysmylife and 56 492 others

harryupdates HARRY VIA DELETED IG STORIES !!!

view all 5 011 comments

hArrysbtch can you guys imagine what he's posting to his close friends ig stories? I WANT TO BE THERE

harrysmoustache the hugging sticker???

harrysmylife i love how he appreciates dr ysn way of showing that she cares... i love then

scienceandharstyles that was my latest lecture with dr ysn! it was a tough one, im wondering how Harry understood it

⤷ stylesbabie what was it about?

⤷ scienceandharstyles literally, bunch of maths equations that we need to understand and then use in practice!

——————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 310 others

yourinstagram this is what i'm dealing with instead of checking the papers and giving grades...

view all 34 comments

annetwist He's going to break his neck one day!

⤷ yourinstagram please, tell him, Anne. he's not listening to me...

⤷ harrystyles I am well coordinated, thank you.

gemmastyles he has some connections with your students. be careful, ynn

⤷ yourinstagram they all love him! im already loosing!

yourbestfriend glad to see those plants alive

⤷ yourinstagram thank you, im a very good plant mommy

harrystyles who is this dancer? he seems exeptional.

⤷ yourinstagram remember the book about ego i wanted to lend to you?

⤷ jeffazoff ohhhh, burnt to ashes!

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by scienceandharstyles, hArrysbtch and 23 301 others

harryupdates HARRY was seen at the Oxfords library!!

view all 2 402 comments

hArrysbtch oh wattpad girlies open the documents and write about professorry!!!!

harrysmoustache it's giving dark academia

scienceandharstyles guys, he's literally hanging out at our campus. it's so cute!

⤷ harrysmylife is he there often?

⤷ scienceandharstyles yes! a few times a week. he's bringing lunch or coffee to dr ysn office. sometimes they have lunch together somewhere on the campus. he's now treated here just like any other student. most people don't even pay attention to him!

⤷ harryupdates im so glad people don't bother them

⤷ user46 is it even allowed?

⤷ scienceandharstyles if he's doing it, there must be the dean's consent!

stylesbabie he even dresses like those old-school professors!

——————————————————————————————

yourbestfriend

liked by yourinstagram, harrystyles, scienceandharstyles and 32 492 others

yourbestfriend Dr YN YSN reading her graduate's research paper and finding out that they, indeed, included her boyfriend as one of the examples.

view all 5 402 comments

yourinstagram I am a PROUD supervisor!!!

harrystyles I am, indeed, helping science. Will I also get a Nobel prize?

⤷ yourinstagram No, baby. You won't.

⤷ harrystyles :(((

scienceandharstyles ohhhh god!!! my thesis!!!

⤷ yourinstagram I sent you an email with all comments about the paper, Madeline. You are on the right track! ❤️

hArrysbtch she is SOOO BREATHTAKING

⤷ harrystyles agreed.

⤷ hArrysbtch Harry?!

user492 Isn’t it confidential?

⤷ scienceandharstyles Well, they didn't say whose paper was it. I commented that, and I don't mind people knowing. Besides, it will be published soon.

——————————————————————————————

wired

liked by yourinstagram, harrystyles and 381 492 others

wired It's been only 12 hours and our newest video of Dr YN YSN answering your questions has over 2,5M views! Should I (the intern) ask THE boss for PART 2? Link in bio.

view all 10 391 comments

yourinstagram It was an absolute pleasure to film this video! I wouldn't be opposite to doing a part 2 👀

harrystyles Boycotting! There was no God particle!

⤷ yourinstagram So, part 2?

⤷ harrystyles Part 2.

harrystyles The best Doctor out there! 👸🏻

⤷ yourinstagram ❤️❤️

scienceandharstyles our dr is getting famous!!!!

harryupdates Woah, this video singlehandedly is convincing me to change majors!

user49 one of the best videos in the series!

user78 Can't remember seeing someone being this enthusiastic about physics theorems.

yourbestfriend bestie getting famous... i love it

⤷ yourinstagram thanks to you and encouraging me!

⤷ harrystyles *clearing throat*

⤷ yourinstagram and thanks to my wonderful, one and only, best in the whole world boyfriend

⤷ hArrysbtch oh he loves attention!

——————————————————————————————

a/n: would you like to see more of physicist!reader?

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles instagram #harry styles fake ig #scientist!reader #physicist!reader

1K notes · View notes

banggyu0308 · 8 months

Text

Berry Sorbet // Huening Kai

huening kai x fem!reader

summary: in which you share one of the five senses with your soulmate, and the taste of your lipgloss is on Kai's tongue all week.

genre: soulmate au, uni au, slight reincarnation au, non idol au, fluff, humor, skippable smut (will be marked by blue borders) (for your convenience, it is still sfw a little bit after the first border, just in case you don't see it. it is also slightly sfw before the last border, in case you don't scroll far enough)

warnings: cursing, both their friend groups are VERY annoying, some suggestive dialogue from said friends in friend groups (and a reference to taehyun being a tutor and occasionally making out w the people he tutors), some texting scenes, alcohol consumption, both kai and reader are idiots when it comes to their feelings, both kai and reader are very touchy-feely, mentions of kiss-like birthmarks, slight nudity (NOT IN A SEXUAL WAY AT ALL. you'll see when you get to it...)

word count: 9k

🎶 - LIP GLOSS (the boyz) + i don't understand but i luv u (seventeen) + watermelon sugar (harry styles)

an- happy twenty-first birthday hyuka ❤️ + if your name is Madelyne and you're a Tyun bias, i'm telepathic and this is for you

Kai's late. Or- almost. Sliding into his seat at the last minute was not what he had planned to do today, but it's what's ended up happening. His professor shoots him a sharp look over the other students heads, but turns back to the class without a word at his tardiness.

He puts his face in his hands and lets out a slow exhale, opening his notes to focus on the lecture instead of the thoughts running inside his head. His pencil scratches against the paper, his eraser squeaks slightly when he moves to get rid of a word, and the thoughts pause momentarily.

The girl seated in front of him raises her hand with what both Kai and the professor assume is a question, but is actually her CORRECTING what the professor has just told them. Kai expects the professor to get a little more than frustrated at being told she's wrong, but instead she's calm addressing the student. "Thank you for your contribution, Yn. I was unaware that this was a recent development of this topic, and I will further research and fact check it at a later time."

Yn looks up at the teacher with a smile. "I could email you my sources, if you want."

To Kai's surprise, his professor returns the smile, says, "Thank you very much," and continues on with her lesson.

He tries to focus again on the professor's words but a slight fruity taste settles on his tongue. That's strange- he didn't have any fruit today that he can think of.

Lunch break rolls around and as he takes a bite of his store-bought sandwich, he finds that instead of the sandwich's taste, it's the same fruity flavor that takes over his tastebuds.

It's subtle, but it's there, and it's a little annoying. Kai forces himself to finish half of his sandwich with a groan of annoyance, laying with his head in the crook of his arm once he's done.

He sits up to look around after a moment. The cafeteria is loud, but he can pick out some of the voices closest to him. There's Beomgyu, of course he's the loudest. Yeonjun's sitting next to him- they're arguing about something. Kai smiles slightly and shifts his gaze. They'll resolve whatever they're fighting about later. It's almost always something stupid.

Soobin meets Kai's gaze when it shifts to him instead, and without a word, stands and joins him at his table.

"Why are you sitting all alone?" He jokes with a soft smile. Even the small twitch of his lips sets off his dimple, and the expression makes Kai smile back.

"Just wasn't feeling it today. Here, try this... does it taste normal to you?"

Kai holds out the other half of the sandwich and Soobin takes a bite, food shifting to his cheek as he chews. He hands it back with a shrug. "Tastes normal to me."

"Not... fruity or anything?" Kai raises a confused eyebrow and Soobin shakes his head.

"Nope."

Kai stands and tosses the sandwich in the trash, lips pursed in frustration, and sits back down to pull out his phone. The situation is weird enough that he decides to google it, because his friend Soojin had been complaining about a weird taste in her mouth just weeks ago.

The first few articles are about food poisoning, of course, but the ones a little further down are almost all on the same topic, and suddenly it clicks in his brain.

Of course. Didn't Soojin tell him just last week that she'd found her soulmate, a girl in their class named Aurora?

You get linked to your soulmate at random times. Kai knows this. He just hadn't expected it to be, well, now? He's only twenty, he's still in college for pete's sake.

And now he has to figure out the next thing.

Who in hell was eating so much fruit???

You sit down with a sigh in the front of your classroom. You're early- punctuality is important.

Obviously, the boy sitting behind you doesn't know that. He's seated a split second before the bell rings and you resist a disapproving look his way. His bleached-blonde hair is grown out slightly, mussed in the back like he just rolled out of bed. Jeez, your class isn't even that early...

He's quiet all throughout class, something you notice, although it's not a surprise. If class participation were a grade, he'd fail. You're pretty sure you've only heard him talk once.

The sweet taste of your lipgloss is still slightly unfamiliar when you swipe your tongue over your lips, and you apply another coat with one slick movement. The girl next to you looks at you with a question in her eyes, and you show her the lip gloss tube momentarily before turning back to the lecture.

The class ends with only one incident: a case of misinformation, which you swiftly correct. Lunch is next, and your lipgloss smears pink on your napkin when you wipe it off. Your mouth still tastes like it slightly when you bite into your apple, but it's fine.

You've packed yourself a normal lunch and when you finish, you check the time. Aw shit.

You almost run to your next class, which luckily goes by like a flash; it's one of your easiest ones.

Your next class is one you've just started and you're unfamiliar with. Both the classmates and the actual concept itself are new to you, and you look up from your notes to find the teacher's paired you with the boy from earlier. Instead of your look of annoyance from before, you send a small smile his way.

It's received and returned, and he finds his seat next to you. "I'm Kai," he says, a slight nervous note to his voice. You smile again.

"I'm Yn, nice to finally meet you for real, Kai."

You've been aware of him, of course. One of your best friend's is practically obsessed with one of HIS friends, Taehyun, which means you've spent many a lunch break observing the group, all for Madelyne's sake.

When Kai leans over you slightly to look at your notes, you catch a slight scent of something that almost smells like baby powder. You smile to yourself- it reminds you of your family.

It is strange, though, the way the smell of him lingers even after your numbers are exchanged, after the class ends, after you go back to your room for the day...

And still there when a text from him lights up your phone.

huening project partner 📖🖊️ i forgot to ask this but, could you send me a copy of your notes? i'm not good at remembering things without looking at them

You laugh slightly at this, take a few photos of each one of your sheets of notes, and send it to him.

you is that all you need?

huening project partner 📖🖊️ yes, thank you 🙏 well... no.

you what else? the punctuation is scaring me

huening project partner 📖🖊️ NO DON'T BE SCARED OF MY PUNCTUATION 😭 I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY I PUT IT IN THE FIRST PLACE 😭

you NO NO ITS OKAY I WAS MAKING A JOKE BECAUSE NONE OF MY FRIEND EVER USE PERIODS AT THE END OF OUR SENTENCES AHSBHWBS 😭

huening project partner 📖🖊️ wait really???????? taehyun usually does, the smarty-pants he is (can't be normal like the rest of us...) but it makes him seem like a really dry texter 😭

you exactly why we DON'T most of my friends are already dry asf when it comes to texting punctuation makes it worse

huening project partner 📖🖊️ i'm sure your friends cannot be worse than taehyun-

you BIANCA IS SO BAD AT IT ISTG like over here you and i are having a conversation and i don't just think you're sitting on the other end like an npc

huening project partner 📖🖊️ ... you're welcome?

you 😭😭😭 IT DID FEEL LIKE IM THANKING YOU FOR NOT BEING BORING 😭 THANK YOU FOR NOT BEING BORING!!!!! AND NOT BEING AN NPC!!!!

huening project partner 📖🖊️ YOU'RE WELCOME!!!! and thank YOU!!!!

you oh my goodness i cannot breathe right nowwww 😭 madelyne is looking at me like i'm CRAZY

huening project partner 📖🖊️ ...is she wrong though....

you HEY!!! YOU'RE NEW!!! YOU DON'T GET TO DISS ME LIKE THAT JUST YET but tbh takes one to know one 🤭

huening project partner 📖🖊️ exactly, you idiot/lh sorry that was mean 😊 goodnight now, i don't even remember why i was texting you in the first place, no way i'm doing homework at 1am 😭

you well, me neither, even though i am right now goodnight kai :) i think i'm going to enjoy being partners with you

You're cleaning in a rush, throwing things into bins, under your bed, under MADELYNE'S bed, but to be honest, who cares right now??? You'd known Kai'd be over today but it didn't hit you until this morning, THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE HE SHOWS UP, and now, rightfully so, you're in a panic.

You're shoving the last thing into your drawer right as there's a knock at the door. "Coming!!"

You take a moment to dab at your sweaty face and smooth your hair in the slightest. You reach a hand and turn the doorknob, swallowing the little anxiety crawling its way up your throat. "Hello hello!!" You grin at him, taking him by the shoulder and leading him in. "Welcome to my humble abode."

In any other circumstance, you'd be joking. But your room was quite literally the definition of 'humble', even after you cleaned up slightly. You'd done the best you could when you first moved in, adding dainty, pastel curtains that reminded you of fairies, other little details to your bed and side table, but it was hard to cover up the fact of how old this room really was.

Kai cracks a small smile and bends to take his laptop from his bag. You do the same. He joins you on the edge of your bed a moment later and it's all but silent, the only sound the clicking of your keyboards. Not that you mind!! You know the best way to get things done is in silence, for you at least.

He breaks it a moment later, leaning slightly to point at your screen. "I was thinking we could put this over here?"

His chin is practically on your shoulder and you nod slightly, dragging the text box to the other side of the screen. You look up to a loud bang, jumping slightly, which knocks your face into Kai's just as Madelyne walks in.

"OH-!" Her face is a devious grin when she looks at you two. "What do we have here~?"

You quickly shove yourself away from Kai, face hot. "This-" You gesture pointedly at him. "Is my partner on a project for school. Kai, Madelyne. Madelyne, Kai."

"Hey," Kai says. Other than a slightly embarrassed smile on his face, he doesn't look uncomfortable otherwise, and you let out a small breath of relief. The last thing you needed right now was your partner uncomfortable with you.

You stand and push Madelyne away, not leaving room for silence, and say, "Alright, goodbye now!"

Once she leaves again with a backwards glance to you and a "It's my room too," you flop back onto the bed.

"I'm sorry she's like that," you apologize, face buried in one of your pillows.

"No, it's alright, I really don't mind. My friends are the same way. Taehyun's a tutor, for crying out loud, we all know what he gets up to."

A wry grin is sent your direction when you lift your head again, and you have a split second thought of 'I should sign Madelyne up for Taehyun to tutor.' She'd love you forever if you did.

"Thank god," you smile back, settling back in front of your computer, a little closer to Kai this time.

Introduction to your best friend: check.

Maybe this whole project thing won't be so bad.

Kai is surprised when you sit next to him during your Monday class, and even more surprised when, halfway through your lesson, you lean over to invite him back to your room soon.

He barely processes the words coming from your mouth. He's too focused on the fact that now that you're this close, he can smell your lipgloss, and it's all too familiar to him. It almost exactly matches what he's been tasting on his tongue for almost two weeks.

When he gets out of class, his mind is still running with thoughts tripping over themselves. WHY would he be tasting your lip gloss? When he didn't even know you? And why, the same day he does, does he get partnered with you for your project?

He plops onto his bed with a small sigh. His phone is alight with multiple messages from Yeonjun, asking where he was.

3:57PM

yeonjun 🙄/j KAIIIIIII DID YOU FORGET TO MEET US :((

kai well... yes. sorry?

yeonjun 🙄/j You SHOULD be sorry, you meanie >:( WHAT is so important that you would forget????

kai what does it mean when you can taste a girls lip gloss but you've never kissed her or another girl with the same lipgloss?

yeonjun 🙄/j you're not making any sense i don't think it can be the same lipgloss then, or even lipgloss, if you've never kissed or anything

kai yeah... i guess that makes sense sorry for bothering you XD

yeonjun 🙄/j no no it's alright!! who's the girl?

kai you know yn..? super smart, takes a few classes with me, has the friend who's infatuated with taehyun?

yeonjun 🙄/j OH HERRRRR OMG yes i know her!! do you like her?

kai i- NO?????? I WAS JUST ASKING BECAUSE

yeonjun 🙄/j because...?

kai nothing

yeonjun 🙄/j you totally like her.

kai i don't

yeonjun 🙄/j mhmmmm anyways, are you gonna meet us or not?

kai not i've got work to do

yeonjun 🙄/j fine.

4:11PM

yeonjun 🙄/j and one more question... do you have her number?

kai yes...?

yeonjun 🙄/j can i have it?

kai why?? do YOU like her?

yeonjun 🙄/j no i don't can i have it?

kai fine...

kai shared a contact: yn

4:23PM

kai YEONJUN NOT FUCKING COOL YEONJUN AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I HATE YOU I HATE YOU SO MUCH WHY WOULD YOU AJHBVSHJABSJWBSUWBDSUW

yeonjun 🙄/j thought you didn't like her 🤭

You have no idea what just happened.

First of all, WHO added you to this group thread? Why are you here??

And second of all, Kai was one hundred percent right. Why does Taehyun text like that????

4:20PM

unknown added yn

unknown HIIIII

you who. the FUCK. are you?????

unknown WOAH CALM DOWN CALM DOWN LANGUAGE >:((

unknown beomgyu, you know you're just the same. 🙄

you okay, so i know ONE person here, i guess... WHO ADDED ME????

unknown me!! the one who said hi first..?

beomgyu 🐻 that's yeonjun

you see, that's all i needed FUCKING NAMES

jjun 🙄 IM SORRY ALRIGHT???? I DIDNT THINK ABT NAMES????

unknown you never think.

you that is totally, 100% taehyun

unknown ... correct. and scary.

taehyun 😏 i feel nervous now.

you dont be kai told me abt y'all so :D

huening project partner 📖🖊️ i did huh?

you oh HIIIII is soobin here too then?

unknown that's me <3 hi yn

you hi soob!! now, WHY am i here? and why does yeonjun have my number?

huening project partner 📖🖊️ that's my fault jjun asked ;-;

you and OFC you had to give in, because it's yeonjun, right? 🙄

huening project partner 📖🖊️ he's hard to say no to i didn't think he'd do this!!

you it's fine it's fine so. how is everyone?

soob soob ❤️ im good!

taehyun 😏 eh. could be better.

jjun 🙄 he's being dramatic, he's fine so am i

beomgyu 🐻 im good too!!!

huening project partner 📖🖊️ ... bad :D

you whats wrong hyuka? :((

huening project partner 📖🖊️ yeonjun :D

you ah, i see we should just get rid of him, shouldn't we?

jjun 🙄 you can't just get rid of me??? i MADE the gc therefore, by law, i CANNOT be removed!!

you i'm sure you thought this through beforehand ;-;

soob soob ❤️ he totally did

jjun 🙄 i did NOT so anyways :D yn, how is your project w kai going? 😏😏

huening project partner 📖🖊️ the emojis are SO unnecessary

jjun 🙄 that's why i used them, kai

beomgyu 🐻 he is nothing but unnecessary

you 🤭 BEOMGYU WE SHOULD HANG OUT

beomgyu 🐻 i've always thought you match my energy :D let's do it :D ... if huening doesn't steal you away...

you he wouldn't dare >:(( would you, kai?

huening project partner 📖🖊️ ...no?

taehyun 😏 LMAO.

soob soob ❤️ kai needs to be reminded he doesn't own yn

huening project partner 📖🖊️ I do NOT?????

jjun 🙄 mhm sureeee 🙄

you i feel like *I* should be the one who's scared here...

huening project partner 📖🖊️ NO YOU'RE FINE

beomgyu 🐻 we're completely normal :D

you that was the last straw the grinning emoji says otherwise GOODBYE-

'hey, it's kai... was wondering if we could spend some study time in the library together sometime soon? just to do a little extra research, plus it's quiet and that way neither of us need to worry about hosting and cleaning and stuff. call me or text me when you get this. bye.'

You put your phone facedown on the table after listening to the voicemail. It's not that you don't WANT to study with him, in fact you probably NEED to, it's just that you hadn't planned for it. Today or any day. But honestly, today would probably work best... so, you text him back.

you i could do today!! project's due in a week anyways, so it's probably a good time to finalize some stuff and practice presenting.

huening project partner 📖🖊️ okay!! I'll bring my stuff in 15?

you sounds good!! see you then

You grab your books and your computer, shove them in your backpack, and make your way to the library. It seems as if Kai's borrowed your punctuality today- he's there when you show up.

That's new, but he doesn't bring it up to you, only waving you over to his table. "Alright, so, we should divvy up the actual presentation bit, and then I can double check the slides I'm working on, and then you can do the ones you are?"

You smile and nod, logging into your computer and opening the shared Powerpoint.

The two of you are working peacefully in silence, side by side at your desk, until you hear whispered giggling. Now, usually you'd roll your eyes at the disruption and ignore it, but the giggles sound too familiar.

Except... it wouldn't make sense for that to be the laughter you hear. There's more than one voice, and it sounds a lot like Beomgyu, Yeonjun... and Bianca and Madelyne??

Two more voices who, until then, had been unheard, grow louder to shush the others, and you place who they belong to when you see two sets of dark eyes and dark hair peeking from behind a bookshelf.

Funny that Soobin and Taehyun are trying to be the ones to keep the others quiet, but are also the ones that get them seen.

You duck your head and try to ignore them. You don't alert Kai to exactly what his friends are up to, or the fact that your friends are with them too... how the heck did that even HAPPEN??? You bet Madelyne's feeling VERY happy right now, you can tell everyone's pushed up against everyone behind that bookshelf.

One whisper cuts through the others, louder than the rest. "Guys, they look kinda cute together..."

Your head jolts up at the sound and Kai looks over at you in concern, but you shake your head. "Nothing, thought I heard something..."

When he turns back to his computer, you side-eye him, scanning him in a way you hope is subtle. Your gaze catches on a scattering of moles across his neck, a few on his cheeks too, but the ones on his neck catch your eyes the most. It almost seems like there are lip-stick marks on them, and you feel something that almost feels like jealousy in the pit of your stomach. Someone's obviously gotten to him recently and done exactly what had flicked through your brain a second ago.

But then again... When you lean closer, pretending to itch your leg, you notice that said marks are faint and almost match his skin tone, which throws you off. There are a few just like that smattered across your own body too, and they've been there since as long as you can remember.

Now you're curious.

"Kai?" You ask, facing your computer and whispering out of the corner of your mouth.

"Mm?"

"Are those birthmarks? Around the moles on your neck?"

He looks at you quickly, a faint blush on his cheeks. "They are, actually... most people assume they're like, hickies or something? They're not, though. So."

You smile at him, tugging the collar of your shirt down so he can see the few on your own neck. "I have some other places too. My mom says they're where your soulmate kissed you most in your past life, which makes me a little suspicious of my soulmate's preferences." Your smile turns a little wry, and then you look away.

"Mine too, actually," he smiles to himself. "A lot on my moles, which are a lot of places, so..."

Your eyes widen at both the whisper of "they look like they're gonna kiss..." coming from the bookshelves and the thought running through your head of wanting to press your own lips to his moles, regardless of their placements. His soulmate was one relatable bastard.

You stand quickly, shoving your things in your bag, and murmur a small apology of your quick departure to Kai. No doubt he'll think he'd driven you off with his confession, but that works for you. No need to tell him the real reason.

You hear multiple groans of annoyance when you pass the bookshelf your friends are behind, and you slam your hand against it for a quick second, sending a glare to whoever's eyes you meet on the other side.

You'll be having words with them all later.

WHY couldn't they let you have your words with them????

Madelyne inviting Bianca to your dorm the next day was practically the perfect opportunity to chew them both out. You'd already gotten mad at the others on the group chat (you're sure Yeonjun regrets adding you).

But!! Before you can even open your mouth to say something, they're both pulling open your drawers and closet doors, throwing clothes at you. You're stunned into silence until a sock flies into your mouth, which you spit out, and yell, "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?????"

They both pause and look at you with confused expressions. "Did you not get our texts? We've sent, like, thirty in the past 10 minutes," Bianca says. Her hands are full with a few of your skirts that you've shoved in the back of your closet, and you snatch them from her.

"OBVIOUSLY not? What did you say????"

When neither respond, gesturing to your phone, you open it and read through. "I am NOT going to a party. No way. I've got things to do!"

Madelyne rolls her eyes. "Yn. This is your second year in college and you haven't been to a single party."

"I have!!" you protest, moving to shove your clothes back in the drawers.

"Katie Milewicz's birthday party does not count."

"Whether it counts or not, I'm NOT going to this one!"

"What if we told you all the guys will be there and you can bash them about the library incident?" Bianca's smooth voice chimes in with Madelyne's, and it makes you look up momentarily.

"Fine. It'll be fun to do it in person." You sigh in defeat, then grab one of your pairs of jeans and a T-shirt. "But I am NOT dressing up!!"

"There we go..." They both grin at you and wait outside the bathroom as you change and do your hair. Taking your hands and dragging you to the dorm where said party is being held, you press your lips closed in frustration.

When you open the door, it feels like a wall has hit you. A wall that is far too loud, smells like alcohol, and feels like a heat wave.

"On second thought... I might just stay out here." You turn from the door, a little overwhelmed, but Madelyne tugs you back to it.

"I promise it's not as bad when you get inside, okay? And we can find you a corner you can hang out in, with a drink or without."

You take a deep breath, making sure to let it out as a frustrated sigh, but you allow them to bring you inside.

Almost every face is unfamiliar to you, and you suddenly understand the meaning of the phrase 'this is not my crowd'. Remembering Bianca's words from earlier, you peer around for Kai and his friends, but the room is so filled, you have no hopes of spotting them.

You grab a coke and retreat to a corner, so close to it that your hip is pressed right where the two walls meet. Even in your little solitary area, you're bumped up against every now and then.

You hate it, you hate this.

Someone's hand finds your waist momentarily and that's it, you're out of here. You have to finish your project anyways, both you and Kai are counting on you for this.

Turning from the wall to find the doorway, you're met with the first familiar face you've seen all night, the person said face belongs to moving some dude away from you.

"Hey," Kai says, slightly breathless, and he leans against the wall next to you. Your heartbeat spikes at his proximity, and you swallow slightly, moving backwards away from him just the slightest.

He looks just as out of place as you, but the one thing that catches your eye is how someone's angled their colored phone light just right so that it somehow catches Kai's hair, making it look like a blue halo. You giggle slightly at it, and you double check your cup to make sure you haven't accidentally given yourself something that's not coke.

A smile crosses Kai's expression and it makes your heart flutter again, moving a little closer to him.

"So." You say in his ear, loud enough that he can hear but no one else can. "How'd you get here?"

"Do I really look that out of place?" He says in your own ear, lips brushing against your skin, and you swear you feel an actual spark. You feel a sudden need to have him closer, but you ignore it, smiling up at him. "One hundred percent. So who dragged you here?"

"Two guesses."

"Hmm... Yeonjun and Taehyun?"

"Close. Yeonjun and Beomgyu."

"Damn. Maybe me and Beomgyu are less similar than I thought."

"Maybe you're more similar to Soobin... it seems like the two of you get along well."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like you've done something wrong, even though you know you haven't. What IS that?

Whatever it is, it renders you completely tongue tied, and Kai can tell. "Should we get out of here?"

You can only nod, and when he takes your hand to drag you out, you definitely feel something stirring inside you this time.

He stops just outside of the room, close enough that if someone came looking for you two, they'd be able to find you. You both slump against the wall and slide down it, sitting on the floor. Your sides are pressed close, and the writhing under your skin is only growing the longer he's touching you.

"What were you saying?" You ask, and now it's your turn to sound breathless.

"Oh, nothing... Something about you and Soobin getting on?"

"Oh, yeah. We went to middle school together. It's not like we were ever close, but it's like we have one familiar face from our childhood, you know?"

Your hand feels like it's moving of its own accord, playing with Kai's hair when he leans his head on your shoulder. "I get it. Me and my friend Soojin's girlfriend, Aurora, are like that. She was in my eighth grade class."

You nod slightly, your eyes shutting, and your hand slips farther down to his back. You can feel where his waist dips to his hips through his t-shirt and you press your fingers right there gently.

Your mind feels so fuzzy, you swear you feel like you're drunk. You don't know what possesses you to kiss Kai, but you know the moment you do that there's no way you can ever stop. His lips are soft, pressing against yours so perfectly, it's like you were made for each other. You're giggling into the kiss, eyes wide open, and you know that's a weird way to kiss someone, but you don't want to miss a single thing about his expression right now. His hair tickles your forehead and you can feel his breath on your cheek, along with his eyelashes, but it's perfect.

It's absolutely, 100% perfect.

When he breaks the kiss, forehead against yours, you don't allow space to say anything, tugging him back into the dorm and to the bathroom. You have him against the wall, lips against his, against his neck, the bit of collarbone that peeks from the collar of his shirt... there's a primal need deep inside you to have your lips on his and it's insatiable, tugging you back to him for more more more, and the way he's responding you can tell he can feel it too.

Kai lowers his head to press soft kisses against your neck, one after another, and someone pounds their fist against the door after attempting to turn the locked knob.

You only giggle, and a voice follows the knock. "Are you screwing in there?"

Kai lets out a surprised and amused breath at the incorrect assumption. One last kiss to your jawline that does nothing to quell the need of his lips and he's dragging you back out of the bathroom and to his room, and let's just say... there's no need to worry about him not kissing you tonight.

The sun is too bright.

That's your first thought when you wake up with a splitting headache, in a room that is very unfamiliar to you. You feel so horrible that you'd think you'd had at least three drinks last night.

You look around the room to find Kai asleep on the floor in a tangle of blankets. With his tall frame, the sight is almost funny. But it's also your only relief about what the last night consisted of, because waking up in his clothes had put more than a few running thoughts inside your head. At least now you can have a feeling nothing happened.

But looking at Kai and knowing what you did last night, what the both of you did... you have to get out of here. You can't change out of the clothes, but you grab yours and your shoes, and you quietly leave the room, heading back to your dorm.

Madelyne and Bianca are waiting there, surprisingly sober, although they look a lot like they hadn't slept at all last night. Bianca's usually perfectly-picked afro is smushed on one side and not the other, like she'd laid on it all night, and Madelyne's makeup is smeared all over her face.

"Oh, thank God you're okay!" They both fling themselves up from the bed and into your arms, then pause and take in your current state. "Are you okay?"

You nod quickly. "I just slept over at Kai's."

Bianca looks at Madelyne with a sly grin, then back at you. "Mhmmmm..."

You roll your eyes, then head to the fridge to get a bottle of water. "Did you guys get any sleep last night?"

"Not a wink."

Madelyne seems almost proud to admit her commitment to worrying about you, but it only makes your heart hurt. You were so busy with Kai you hadn't even sent them a text to explain.

"Guys... I'm sorry, I should've told you I was leaving. It won't happen again."

You look down at your feet while you say it, cheeks hot with embarrassment, and Madelyne pulls you into a hug by your arm. "Hey, yn, it's alright, okay? We're fine, you're fine, everyone's fine."

"That's true." You smile a little, then take a sip of your water. "I'm gonna lay down, okay? Let me know if Kai texts, I may have left without telling him..."

You're not afraid of leaving your phone with them. A, because they don't know your password, and B, because they're your best friends in the whole wide world and you trust them.

The water helps your headache go down and you're nodding off to sleep when your friends barge in. "He texted!!!"

You groan and fling your arm out for your phone. "Gimme..."

Bianca puts it in your hand and giggles slightly, bumping hips with Madelyne.

huening project partner 📖🖊️ hey, just wanted to check in after last night since you didn't tell me you were leaving... is everything all right? text or call me when you get this <3

You put your face in your hands with a sigh, and drop your phone on the side of the bed. "Not right now. Too much thinking involved in responding."

"He sent you a heeEeEeeEaaRrrT!" Madelyne giggles, raising her eyebrows repeatedly.

"Because. We kissed. And kissed again. And again. AND AGAIN. And now I don't want to talk to him because I don't have the emotional capacity, so please leave me alone right now."

You pout at them at your last sentence and then roll over in your bed, signifying the end of your conversation.

You'll text him later, of course you will. You just need to find a way to think with your brain, not your lips, because there's an actual ache inside you that needs him next to you.

You don't text him later. It's not your fault you slept for hours, and then went to eat lunch and go to an arcade and then got dinner and went back to sleep!! But you forgot that your presentation is tomorrow, and now, standing next to Kai at the front of the room, it's more than a little awkward.

You can see a littering of kiss marks on his neck and wonder how they even showed up like that. But that's not the point right now. The point is that you need to recite this presentation but your mind is blank. It's like every time Kai steps closer to you, something from him makes you go dizzy and numb and unable to form normal human words.

It doesn't seem like he's fairing much better... he keeps looking behind him at the presentation, which is bullet-pointed to keep it small, instead of the full paragraphs you were supposed to memorize.

Finally ending the project, you're more than a little relieved. It was not good, at all. You'd be surprised if you got anything higher than a B. You're more frustrated than mad at the result of your work. You both worked hard on this, you know you did. Things just happened at the wrong times and messed everything else up.

You're ready to leave at the end of class, but the teacher stops both you and Kai. They lean over their desk to whisper to you, even though the rest of the class is gone, and their dark silver hair catches the light just so to make it look like it's sparkling.

"Yn, Kai... I don't know what happened today, but I trust that it was something bad enough to cause this, because I am genuinely surprised at your outcome of this project. I saw the two of you working on it together. The Powerpoint was done very well. But the actual oral part of your presentation... was not. And for that, I can't give you any higher than a C-."

They look genuinely apologetic when they usher you out of the room, and when Kai tries to say something to you, you brush past him and head to your room. Thank god that was your last class of the day... you have no idea if you could've handled having any more after that disaster.

You're not necessarily... upset, so to say. Right now, you just feel in shock. Shocked that you let something as stupid as making out with your partner on this project give you a C-.

Your plan is already in action when you fall into the comfort of your bed: let it sink in, cry, sleep, eat, sleep, sleep.

You're just getting comfortable, tucking yourself under your covers and wrapping them around you, when a sharp, burning sensation on your neck makes you hiss through your teeth. You swat at your neck. Is it a bug??? When you feel nothing there, yet the burning doesn't cease, you groan and get out of your bed, trudging to your bathroom.

You look in the mirror, tug down your shirt's neckline, and-

"What the fuck is that???"

You have lines of bright red kiss marks on your neck, like some sort of fucking rash, and every time you touch them they start stinging. The sting must be getting to your head because the first thing you think of is, 'does kai have some sort of weird poison on his lips???'

You giggle at your own thoughts, take a photo of your neck, and send him a text saying just that.

huening project partner 📖🖊️ funny, i was just thinking the same about you can you come over, please? it's really really important

You almost type no, but then the sting turns to an ache that you can feel in the pit of your stomach, and you hit send.

you yes

The moment you open the door it feels like the ache is tugging you towards Kai by a string, like you're some sort of puppet. The moment your palm meets his shoulder, the burn on your throat ceases and a small gasp leaves your lips.

"This is not normal," you mumble, pressing a kiss to his lower lip.

"Not at all," he agrees, lips finding yours when you part.

Your gaze drops to his neck to find the remnants of your kisses from the night before. "So then... It's been happening to you too?"

He nods, one hand on your cheek, and when he kisses you again, it feels like your heart is being wrenched from your chest. In a good way.

"I- please, do that again?" You whisper, chest pressed against his.

He complies with no protest, his breath shaking against your skin.

The burn is less, but still there, and you remember something you've read. "Kai?"

"Hm?"

"I think... I think you're my soulmate."

He smiles at you and kisses you again. "Yeah, I've been figuring the same thing. It hurts, doesn't it?"

For a moment, you think he's talking about finding out who your soulmate is, but then you realize he's referring to each of the kisses burning against your skin. "It does.. do you know what we're supposed to do?"

He nods, and lowers his lips to your neck again. You smile to yourself at the fact that he knows, and quickly tug your shirt off, followed by your shorts, and he follows suit. Moments later, you're laying side-by-side in his bed, and, just as everything you've read has promised, when his bare skin meets you, the burn disappears completely.

And, well, with that taken care of, you go back to kissing him with a small giggle. You're more than a little surprised at finding your soulmate and you can tell Kai is too, his heartbeat fluttering under your palm.

His skin is smooth beneath your fingers, and you barely process when your lips lower to mark it, sucking splotchy purple hickeys across the broad plane of his chest. Kai shudders slightly when you do, and you look up at him, nervous you made a mistake.

He shakes his head the slightest, closing his eyes briefly. "I'm just... getting used to how it feels when you touch me."

Your cheeks grow hot. You thought it was just you who noticed, the way everything gets a little warmer when his body is touching yours.

The burn under your skin returns when you move away from him slightly, and when you gasp, Kai tugs you back down onto him, a little smile dancing across his face. "I think we're gonna have to stay like this for a while..~"

There's a teasing note to his voice that wasn't there just a second ago, and it makes you do a double take to be sure this was the same shy boy who smelled (and still smells) like baby powder. "I don't think I'll mind~"

His cheeks go pink, like he hadn't expected you to flirt back at all. It makes you laugh, the flustered look on his face that makes it seem like he's forgotten that you're in his bed, practically naked.

You press your forehead to his and leave a small kiss on one of the moles on his cheek. Kai's hands move to your hips, moving you just a little bit so you're situated on his stomach, and the way he looks up at you through the pieces of hair in his face makes your breath catch. This man right here wants you, needs you, and it's so blatantly obvious from the look in his eye that you have no idea if he's messing with you or not.

You tentatively move your hips back so you're straddling him, and run a slow hand down his torso, and when he closes his eyes, you can feel the emotions radiating off of him in your own body. That's new.

His emotions feel so warm, like he's happy just being here with you, and he almost feels like he's mentally nuzzling you when you run a hand through his hair. "I think I like this..." you murmur, laying down on top of him and looping your arms under his back. You note the way his head falls immediately to the crook of your neck, not to give you any more kisses, but just to breathe you.

He whines when you sit back up, but the moment your lips meet his again, you can feel him go fuzzy, like he can't quite think straight when you're kissing him, and... well, you're almost completely sure that he can feel you feeling the same way.

"Kai, I..." You try to catch your breath when he breaks the kiss, but he chases your lips so desperately that you can't help but fall back into him.

A soft whimper from him surprises you, and, if even possible, you feel his mind go even fuzzier. Dizzy too, almost. Like his head has gone underwater and everything he's hearing has gone muffled, along with everything he says, too.

"Wan', please?" he hums, lips finding your neck again.

You almost ask what he wants, but you can feel it, and your cheeks grow hot before you oblige, your hand slipping beneath his boxers to take him in your hands. His tip is dribbling clear precum when you tug his boxers down, and when you stroke him once, you can feel the pleasure coursing through his body.

The achy burn is back, a little more fervent, like some sort of primal animal instinct, and it needs him closer, more, this close is nowhere near close enough, and before you can even comprehend it, you're whispering in Kai's ear and he's nodding and you notice that the burn only goes away completely once he's inside you.

Oh fuck.

It's not like you haven't done this before. It's not like you haven't enjoyed doing it before. But nothing has ever come even close to this. You can feel him, not just inside you but around you and with you and everything else. It's like every other time you've had sex all pushed into one thing and multiplied by ten.

And it's not just your experience you're feeling, it's like you're in Kai's head and not only feeling what you're feeling but also what it feels like to him. How it feels to be inside you. The same experience, backwards.

People have told you how much better it feels with your soulmate, but you just scoffed. How is something going to feel better with some random person you have a connection with?

But now you understand.

It's not just some random hookup with some random person. Nowhere near that at all. It's with someone who feels both new and familiar because you've crossed lifetime after lifetime together and now you've finally found each other again. It's like kissing someone that you know you can give up all control to, and they'd still hold you and take care of you and it just feels right.

You can tell Kai's new to this. His body is at an awkward angle beneath you, his arms looped over your legs, and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut. You can hear his shaky inhales and exhales, and his lips curl into a soft smile when you press a small kiss to them.

"Good?" You ask, and you can tell without him answering that yes, he's feeling very good, indeed.

"Very... 've never before, didn't know it felt like this..."

You giggle, which comes out wrong with how fucking breathless you feel, the burn of the kisses on your neck replaced by the burn in your thighs. "Trust me... doesn't usually feel like this."

He laughs, a quiet sound, his hips rocking up against yours. "'M I that good?"

"Ah, I don't know about that..." You tease, licking up the side of his neck. You smirk when his hands find purchase on your ass, moving you up and down in time with his thrusts, but the cocky look on your face slips when you feel him hit that spongy spot inside you, gummy walls tightening around him desperately.

Kai hisses through his teeth, then smiles up at you. "What were you just saying~?"

You smack him on his shoulder. "Shut up."

"What was that? Sorry, couldn't hear you over the sounds you're making~" He gives you a shit-eating grin that reminds you oh-so-much of his friend.

"You're acting like Beomgyu. Maybe I should take your favorite plushies and give them to him, considering you've swapped personalities today."

He feigns a shocked expression. "You would never!!!"

"I would!"

"You know... I could totally take my dick out right now and make you go back to your dorm.."

Contrary to his words, he only quickens his pace, repeatedly hitting the spot that makes your breath hitch. "Please don't."

"Hm? What was that~?"

"Don't stop, please, 'm so close, Kai..."

"Thought you said I wasn't good..." He catches your earlobe in his teeth briefly before his face falls to your neck, breathy pants against your skin betraying his facade.

You pull away from him and he whines slightly, looking up at you with a pout. "I think you should stop talking and just make me cum, Hyuka."

"I thought, ah, you liked when i- fuck- when i talk..."

"Mmm... debatable." You smirk down at him and the cocky smile plastered on an otherwise fucked-out face. The poor boy has tears wetting his lashes from your combined pleasure, his cheeks flushed.

"However, I do like this," you add, hands gripping at his upper arms. "I like this a lot."

"If you wanted me to shut up, then w-why are you talking to me?"

"I decided that actually, I'd rather hear you try to talk to me while you cum."

His eyes go wide at that, blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. "I- I, ah, I-"

"'I, I, I,'" You mock, pursing your lips into a pitying pout. "Are you even trying?"

He nods pathetically, hands tightening on your hips. "I can't, I, feels so, so-" Kai cuts himself off with a whimper, hips twitching up against yours in a desperate attempt to pull himself closer to the edge.

"How does it feel, baby?" You coo, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"Jus', ah, just wan' cum, 'm so close, feels so good, yn..."

A wide smile spreads its way over your lips, and your eyes narrow, almost like you're a predator looking at its prey. "See, baby? Wasn't that easy? That's all I wanted..."

He nods quickly, a watery sob pulled from his chest, and you press a soft kiss to his awaiting lips. "Doing so good, alright? Making me feel perfect, so so good."

Kai nods again, his breath shuddering in and out against your neck, his torso tensing up before his warm cum spurts inside you, cutting off whatever words you were about to say because holy shit, you can feel it. Not his cum painting the walls of your cunt, but the sheer ecstasy in his body from the force of his orgasm.

It's so overwhelming that you feel as if you might pass out when your own high washes over you. You go limp against Kai, cheek against his chest because all you can feel right now is exhaustion.

His arms lazily wrap around you, holding you close, and you roll off of his dick and onto the bed next to him, still panting. "So."

"So?"

You smile up at him, left hand running through his hair. "That was fun, right?"

"Very fun. I don't think I'm gonna be able to recover for another few hours."

You laugh, nuzzling into his neck. "I don't think so, either. If ever. I think I get the hype behind finding your soulmate now."

"Yeah? Did your super-awesome-amazing-boyfriend-slash-soulmate convince you of that?"

"Who said you were my boyfriend? Maybe I just fucked you because you're cute and you're my soulmate and now I'm going to ditch you for Soobin."

"Why is it always Soobin??? What obsession do you have with Soobin???" He looks genuinely hurt, and you stifle a laugh.

"I'm not obsessed with him, you idiot. I'm obsessed with my super-awesome-amazing-boyfriend-slash-soulmate who convinced me to enjoy having him as a soulmate."

This is new to you, unfamiliar territory. You've never walked into class holding hands with anyone, let alone your soulmate. Madelyne and Bianca are hovering behind you both the whole time, squealing and giggling and occasionally whisper-yelling their brand new shipname just for you and Kai.

And as for SooTaeJunGyu... when you happened to let a casual message to Kai slip out in the groupchat, they were quick to pick up on it and even quicker to realize you two were not just dating, but soulmates. (You still regret them finding out this way.)

Beomgyu's been the most annoying, as expected, posting whiny messages about how you spend all your time with Kai, and remember what you said about hanging out with him?

Of course, you haven't forgotten... it just so happens that every time you're away from Kai for more than a few hours, his most recent kisses start to burn again. Which means, wherever you go, Kai goes if you're going to be there for longer than two hours.

Kai gives your hand a gentle squeeze, still unsure of how much PDA you want, but when you give him a quick peck on the cheek, he goes slightly pink.

Your professor only smiles at your linked hands when you enter the classroom. They'd had more than an inkling of your connection, which is exactly why they paired you two together for this project. Obviously, they hadn't expected you to almost fail the presentation, but, oh well, things happen.

Should you thank them if you ever find out? Yes. But will they ever tell you? No way, at all, ever. There's no reason for you two to ever know.

The most surprising occurrence today is most likely lunch, when you wipe off your lipgloss to take a bite of your lunch, and Kai has one request for you.

"Can I taste your lipgloss real quickly?"

The tips of his ears are red, and it's so endearing that the question doesn't even faze you. You smirk lightly, applying a fresh coat just to kiss him on the lips, and when he swipes his tongue over his lower lip after you pull away, you can't help but giggle at the surprised look on his face.

"Soobin-hyung, Soobin-hyung, I figured out why my sandwich tasted weird the other day!!"

Soobin looks up from his own lunch to catch the tail-end of Kai's sentence. He chews for a second, then speaks. "Hm?"

"My sandwich, remember???? The one I had you try and you said it tasted normal???"

Soobin shrugs, and Kai sighs, picking up your tube of lipgloss. "It tasted fruity to me. Like berries. And this lipgloss is called berry sorbet, Soobin! Because Yn's my soulmate, and she was wearing this lipgloss!!"

You facepalm at his excitement and Soobin's amused expression. Kai's in such shock, you can only expect to be hearing about this all day.

And sure enough, when Kai's walking by himself ahead of you, on your way to your last class of the day, you can hear him mumble to himself, "Berry sorbet... I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner..."

taglist: @isitthemoon @sunnibearr @beomsitez @agustdiv1ne @mixtape-racha @hyewka @dido-of-the-endless @fairyofshampgyu @huckleberrykai @yaekounzn @prodsh00ky @yo-yo-yeonjun @sofiw0rld @strawberry-kirby @certifiedmoa @txtistheloml @shytubatu @sunnibearr @soobhns @beargyuu311 @napofamoon @zeecarus @gyuthmics @ohmahgods @notevenheretbh1 @crispymicrowave @junoswrlld @ningka @5xiang @hyungpo

388 notes · View notes

hstylesloverr · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER ONE: CALIFORNIA.

stranger things!harry x mayfield!yn

y/n, the new girl, meets harry and is interested in him (she insists she is not interested).

When Steve Harrington was no longer the king of Hawkins High, Harry Styles immediately became the king.

Harry had always been Steve's handsome friend. Yes, girls flirted with him and he had fucked more than one, but a girl who wanted to be with him for more than his looks? Harry couldn't even remember anyone complimenting him on anything other than his looks.

That's why he had stopped dating. Temporarily, at least. Sure, he still had one-night stands or hang-outs, but he really forced himself not to develop feelings for any girl. That way, when rejection comes, it won't hurt.

So when the headmaster showed up at his classroom with a skinny blonde girl behind him, Harry looked at her for a second and continued to doodle in his notebook, chewing gum.

“So guys, your new partner just flew in from California. Be nice to her " Said the teacher in a monotone voice.

Immediately all eyes - except Harry's - were directed at the blonde girl, who entered the classroom clearly uncomfortable and sat down in the first empty seat she saw. Behind short brown hair.

“Could you tell me your name? " asked the teacher " I have to write it down, you know.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N what?”

“Y/N Mayfield.” the girl growled reluctantly.

The professor nodded and wrote it down in his notebook. After a couple of minutes, he continued teaching the class.

The girl in front of Y/N turned to her and saw a white face with freckles, perfect nose, very blue eyes and thin pink lips.

“I'm Nancy Wheeler, nice to meet you,” she said, giving her a smile.

Y/N forced a smile. Sure, she was aware that she couldn't afford to be mean to people either, and that she was the new girl, so she needed to make friends.

“Hello” Y/N put on her nicest voice “nice to meet you too.”

“Are you liking Hawkins? I know it sucks compared to California but…”

The truth was yes. The only mall the town had was scheduled to open in July, and there were more grandparents than teens, so yeah, Hawkins sucked.

"Well, it's not the same as California but it's not bad." Y/N answered finally. Nancy smiled.

"I think I should give you my notes," Nancy said, turning to her desk to pick up her notebook so she could give it to Y/N "The test is next week, and I'm sure you'll have to do it." She grimaced, as did Y/N at the thought of an exam.

"Thank you" that time the smile that Y/N gave Nancy was full of sincere thanks.

The rest of the class, Y/N spent scribbling on the already shabby school table. When the teacher announced that the class was over, all the students quickly headed towards the corridors, going to their lockers to put away the things for that subject and take out the things for the other.

Y/N, with the paper in her hand that indicated the number of her locker and the key number to open it, spent 10 minutes looking for the specific order before finding it and opening it.

She was so busy putting her things away and looking for her other books for the new class that she didn't realize that, in fact, her waiting time was running out and the students were making their way to their next class, albeit at a slow pace.

The girl grunted when she saw in her schedule the class and classroom that she was assigned. It was worth saying that she was completely unfamiliar with the building and its layout. So she approached the person closest to her.

A guy with his back turned talking to a girl, who, from the way the girl was looking at him, Y/N guessed they were a couple or something.

"Excuse me" the boy turned and focused his full attention on her. Y/N felt the air escape from her lungs.

The boy was tall, much taller than her, athletic, in fact, very well endowed with muscle. With an apparently symmetrical face, a large nose, with a straight bridge and a pointed end; impossibly green eyes, a mouth the perfect thickness, heart-shaped and pink. His brown hair, totally unruly and that made him look much more attractive.

Y/N was intimidated by that perfection.

"Can I help you with something?" The boy's voice made Y/N's knees go weak. From his accent, Y/N could tell that he wasn't American, he had more of a British accent. And his voice was deep and nasal.

"Uhm... yeah yeah. Now I'm supposed to have American History and I have no idea where the classroom is. I'm new and..." The boy nodded at the brown-haired girl and she left, but not before rolling her eyes, clearly upset that Y/N had interrupted them.

Before Y/N could add anything else, the boy spoke again.

"I'll walk you to the classroom myself, I have a free hour now anyway" he shrugged.

Y/N felt butterflies flutter at the thought that such a handsome boy had decided to help her so kindly.

He led the way through the halls, with Y/N following close behind, not a single topic of conversation she could think of to start talking about. If Y/N was completely honest, she had already guessed the social status that boy had in high school, and she didn't like that at all.

"You come from California, don't you?" the boy asked suddenly, making Y/N jump a bit.

"Uhm... yeah, I'm from California."

"That's good, it's a very nice state." he said, turning to look directly into her eyes. Y/N I was beginning to think that maybe he was wearing contacts or something, his eyes just couldn't be that pretty color.

"Have you ever been to California?" she asked.

Harry turned a corner and stood in front of a door. Y/N guessed that they had already reached her destination. Harry gave her a lazy smile that made Y/N's heart stop for a moment and her whole body tingled.

"Just on vacation. Here's your class, have a nice day, Californian." he waved her goodbye and before Y/N could ask for his name, he had already rounded the corner and was out of sight.

Coming out of her American History class (her teacher had scolded her for being so late, but she excused herself by saying she didn't know the building), Y/N was determined to find out the boy's name, so she went to the only person who was remotely her friend and who surely knew who that boy was: Nancy.

"Nancy" Y/N quickened her pace towards the short-haired brunette, who was standing next to a tall, athletic boy with the most perfect hair Y/N had ever seen.

"Y/N! Hi! Where were you? I've been looking for you." Y/N walked over to the girl and the friend of hers, who was standing next to her. "Uhm... Y/N, this is Steve, my boyfriend. Steve, this is Y/N, she's from California."

"Hello." Steve said politely, greeting which Y/N returned.

"I need to talk with you." Y/N told Nancy, who nodded and gave Steve a look telling him to go away.

"Okay, see you later, Nance. Goodbye, Y/N."

Nancy decided that the best place to talk about a boy from school without anyone listening would be in the car park. Y/N told Nancy about the physicality of the boy who had helped her find her class today: his unruly hair, his incredibly green eyes, his deep, nasal voice, his perfect nose, and his height. When she finished, Nancy looked at her almost pityingly.

"Y/N...forget about him, I'm serious."

"What?" Y/N frowned "No, I'm not saying that."

"Nope?"

"No! I don't want to have sex with him or anything like that, I just wanted to know his name, we'll probably never speak again, I don't care, I just want to know his name."

"Harry. His name is Harry Styles."

"Okay, okay, thanks." Y/N smiled at Nancy. However, the short-haired girl was not happy at all.

"I'm serious, Y/N. You shouldn't talk to him much. Harry doesn't go out with anyone, all he has is one night stands and then he leaves. Don't fall for him, he's going to break your heart."

"Nancy" Y/N frowned "I won't, I don't even know him."

I think it goes without saying that the mental note Y/N made to herself not to speak to Harry Styles again was forgotten and deeply buried.

#harry styles #as it was #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harrys house #harry styles fluff #stranger things!harry #stranger things imagine #stranger things #aesthetic #paige reifler harry styles #paige reifler

270 notes · View notes

sunflowerkiwis · 2 years

Text

Not Lizzo

This is my first fic! any and all feedback is appreciated - part 2

This part is just singer!yn x bestfriend!nick grimshaw but in he future it will be singer!yn x harry styles

Also Cleo Torres is your best friend and this is not proofread

Word Count: 1k

Happy reading! :)

She stayed up until eleven fifty-four p.m. that night. Usually, Y/N went to bed around ten or eleven p.m. to get some rest. Tomorrow it was her first day teaching her... creative writing class? Honestly, she didn’t even know what to call it. Essentially, she would help people write and maybe sing, just do some fun stuff and help people write their songs or poems or stories better if she could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, she sat on her desk waiting for people to come in. Was she ready thirty minutes early? Yes. Did she care? No, not really.

A few Hi's and Hey's were exchanged here and there as she waited. The class started at ten in the morning. It was now nine forty-five and there were six people of fourteen here. That was alright. It was a small course; it didn’t really mean anything.

Y/N looked around and took in the room. It was an auditorium, really. It was actually the same building the studio she worked at was in and nobody was using it so this worked perfectly. It was just an advantage people didn’t really know that this was her studio since that’s not really something you want people knowing as an internationally known singer.

Her desk sat on the stage in front of all the seats. It was a small auditorium with about two hundred seats—twenty rows, ten seats each.

Eventually, everyone arrived. Honestly, she was surprised everyone showed up. Was it the fact that she was Y/N Y/L/N? Or maybe they were just excited to learn? It didn’t matter. They all showed up and that was great.

“Okay,” she started, dragging out the y in thought. “Hi guys!”

A collection of greetings followed.

“I’m Y/N, or Professor Y/L/N, if you want—it really doesn’t matter as long as it’s my name and not some rando’s like John or Lisa.” She joked and rolled her eyes.

Some laughs came from the audience—her students—at her joke, knowing there were, in fact, a John and a Lisa in this class.

Y/N smiled at them. “How ‘bout we start?” She clapped her hands together. “...Actually, no. Let’s all introduce ourselves a little.”

Some groans were heard here and there.

“I know it’s not something we all like. I know I definitely didn’t like that part of school, but honestly, I really wanna get to know you guys.” She cocked her head to the side. “I’m gonna make it easy for Ya'll. Just your name, something you like, and your favorite word, if you want to say why, you may. For example, hi, I’m Y/N, I like photography and my favorite word is pomegranate because I like how it looks when it’s spelt in cursive.”

Everyone stared back at her as if waiting for further instruction.

“Okay, you guys look really lost right now so we’re going to start like this, your chairs all have numbers on the back. I want you to look that number and raise your hand once you’ve got it.”

In a couple of seconds everybody raised their hands.

She pointed at someone.

“Two.”

“Kk.” She spoke.

“Six.”

“Got it.”

“Nine.”

“Fourteen.”

“Fifteen.”

“Nineteen.”

“Twenty-two.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Forty-five”

“Forty-seven.”

“Fifty.”

“Sixty-two”

“Sixty-four.”

She finished writing the numbers on a post-It she found and looked over it. Fourteen numbers. “Wow, quite the variety we’ve got here. M’kay, let’s begin.”

Y/N grabbed her clipboard with her roster. “Number two, introduce yourself please.” She flashed a smile toward the young lady sitting there.

The dirty blonde girl stood and looked around. “Hey, I’m Kaylee, I like butterflies, and my favorite word is recyclable because I like how it looks in hand-writing.”

“Alright, Kaylee, love the butterfly thing. Although, personally I think recyclable is quite the wonky word,” Y/N said, writing the seat number and the facts Kaylee had said on her roster. She did the same thing for the other thirteen students.

“Alright, now, let's actually get started.” Y/N stood from atop her desk and turned to her computer, turning it on and pulling up her PowerPoint from last night. “We have notes to take. Just a bit of vocab. I know it may seem like a lot but trust me—it’s not. The website I used had over five hundred words, not kidding.”

She gave them about ten minutes to copy everything down.

Y/N told herself over and over she wouldn’t bring it up. Nothing about her career unless absolutely necessary. She tried, but curiosity got the best of her.

“Uh, really quick guys, by a show of hands, how many of you know who I am?”

They raised their hands. All of them.

“Oh, fourteen hands, okay then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, to be completely honest, that’s all I had planned for today. So, do any of you have any suggestions on what we could do in the meantime?”

Some people raised their hands.

“Umm...” she thought about the young man’s name for a second, “Trevor?”

“Yep,” the brunette confirmed she was right. “We could do a q&a?”

“Q&a, that sounds fun. Anything else?” Y/N skimmed the room. “Yes, Autumn?”

“We could, I don’t know how to put it, ‘hang out’ kinda?”

“Okay, just kind of chill for a bit.” Y/N nodded. “Autumn and Trevor, I really like both of your ideas so we’re going to go with those.”

Y/N proceeded to get up from her chair at her desk and walked over to the edge of the stage, sitting down there and keeping her legs dangling off the edge.

“As you guys may know, I like having fun when I’m on stage and sometimes I like to call people out, and well, I’m on stage right now and I want to call some of you out.” She flashed them a genuine smile, she was truly enjoying this and her class. “First, Autumn and Caleb, you guys obviously came together, didn’t you?”

Autumn smiled and put her hand over her mouth, “No, we didn’t, actually.”

Caleb shook his head laughing. “Nope.”

“No?” Y/N asked. “So, how come you’re the only two people in this entire room, sitting directly next to each other and you’re wearing the same outfits.”

The two of them laughed, along with Y/N and some of the class.

“I--what I’m getting from this is that you’re both either very nice and, y’know, basic—hence the outfits—or, you came together.” She said between laughs.

“Technically, we didn’t come together,” Caleb spoke up, “but we are together.” He finished, grabbing Autumn’s hand.

“Aww, look at you two, being all cute and a happy couple—it's disgusting!”

The interaction gained a laugh from both the class and the couple.

“Anyways...” Y/N said, dragging out the y at the end, again, “Carey! Did you know, your last name is part of one of my very much liked song’s lyrics by Mr. Harry Styles?”

“I do,” Carey smiled at her from her seat.

“Do you...which one?’

“Carolina, from his self-titled album,” she proudly responded.

“Great, you get candy!” Y/N perked up and tossed a jolly rancher at her from her pocket, like she’d been doing all day, every time someone did something right or impressive or any other thing of the sorts.

Y/N took her phone from her pocket—everyone admiring her infamous flower phone case with the yellow flower sticker on the corner opposite the camera, a reference to her friendship with author Cleo Torres, and her first album—and checked the time, 11:30 am.

“Hm, okay guys, it is now eleven thirty, which means you have until twelve to eat or take a break, then you can come back, even if you don’t leave, and get your homework or ask any questions you may have about the class, I promise we’ll do q&a next week.”

Once all the students were gone Y/N sat there for a minute before packing up her things into her tote bag, whilst possibly humming the lyrics to My Sunflower, one of her own songs. When she finished both packing and humming, Y/N took her phone from her pocket to check the time—11:36 and two missed calls from Grimz.

“That’s weird,” she said under her breath, opening her messages to text him. Nick Grimshaw, or Grimmy, or as she saved him, Grimz, had been one of her first friends since she first moved to London. He was one of the few people whose number she saved that actually kept up with her and chatted with her frequently. Nick was also never one to call her out of the blue, especially today, since he knew she had her first class he wouldn’t call if he was on air.

“What’s wrong?” A familiar voice said from the doors.

Y/N flinched and quickly looked up at her surprise visitor. “I swear to god, you’re going to give me a heart attack if you do that again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dear, that wouldn’t be good,” Nick chuckled from his place at the doorway.

Y/N smiled at him and walked down the stage steps, “Hi,” she hugged him, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, I am here to make you an offer that you can’t-”

“No.”

“No?” He gasped with his hand to his chest in mock offense. “Will you let me finish?”

“Fine, but Nicholas if you ask me to go on air with you tomorrow and ask me to cancel my plans with Cleo, I will actually murder you.”

“Cleo is here for another four days, and it’s not every day you get to go on air at the BBC Radio 1 Breakfast Show and perform a song on air,” he continued his offer as they walked out of the auditorium. “Plus, I have a special surprise for you if you come.”

“You’re not gonna let me say no, are you?”

“No, I will not.”

She bit her lip in thought and sighed. “Fine.”

Nick flashed her another smile, “Great!”

“Shut up.”

“Well, that’s not very nice, is it?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone again, as they walked out of the building. Soon, Nick’s own phone ringed with a message.

Y/N

i'll be nice if u buy me a coffee and a croissant :)

Grimz

This is manipulation.

Y/N

idk what ur talking about

Grimz

And gaslighting.

But, of course I’ll buy you a coffee, dear.

Y/N

and a croissant?

Grimz

And a croissant

Y/N

They both chuckled at each other and walked across a cross walk once the cars passed by.

“Where are we even going?” Nick finally asked, truly he was just following Y/N around.

“A café I found when I first moved here.” She smiled at him. “Remember the one we went to once when I ranted to you about how cool I found England and how I was so excited and all that?”

“Oh, when you told me your undying love for Cleo? Yes, I think I remember.’

“When will you stop with that? I told you I don’t like her in that way, it’s just a joke with the fans, she’s literally my best friend, and has been for the past ten years.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, sure.”

“Anyway, what’s your surprise?”

“It’s not a surprise anymore if I tell you, Y/N,” he shook his head, teasing her a bit.

“I’ll come even if you tell me, though.”

“And I would’ve given it to you even if you didn’t agree to come.”

“What is it?”

“I am not going to tell you.”

“Why,” she pouted.

“Because.”

“That’s not a reason.’

“What song are you going to do tomorrow?” Nick asked in an attempt to change the topic.

She smirked at him. “I’d tell you if you would just tell me.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you...”

She softened her smirk to a smile of excitement and waited for Nick to tell her. And she waited. And waited a bit more.

“Dude,” she looked at him, “what is it?”

“Tomorrow,” he gave her a smirk of his own.

“I don’t like you; you know that?”

“That’s because you love me.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’ll have a cappuccino and a blueberry bagel please,” Nick told the cashier and looked over to Y/N. “And what would you like, Dear?”

“Can I have a French vanilla with a toasted cheese croissant, please?”

“Of course,” Nick said as he gave the cashier his card and led Y/N to a seat, afterwards.

“Running on Sunshine.” She said as she took a seat.

“Excuse me?” He asked from across her

“That’s the song, I want to do tomorrow. Running on Sunshine by Jesus Jackson.”

“Ooh, good song,” He raised his eyebrows, nodding in approval. “It’s a special guest.”

“Huh?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him.

“The surprise, it’s a special guess, whom I know you will love, or do love.”

“Hmm... Ariana Grande?” She smiled.

Nick chuckled. “Not Ariana Grande.”

She opened her mouth in fake shock. “How are so sure I’ll love them if they’re not Ariana Grande—wait is it Lizzo?”

“Don’t be daft, it’s not Lizzo--”

“Ugh, who could be so good?”

“--It’s not Lizzo but you’re very close.”

“If I’m so close, why won’t you just tell me. Y’know in this very moment I could call you a twit.”

“Haha!” Nick cackled. “You’re learning your slang I see, quite honestly, I think you’re catching on the accent too.”

“Am not.”

“You just did it!”

“Did not.”

“Again!”

“Shut up!”

“Order for Nicholas!”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #nick grimshaw #harry styles fanfiction #singer!reader #harry styles x singer!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles x fem!reader

101 notes · View notes

avatar-anna · 10 months

Note

Ithink the first time professor interrupts one of harry’s workout sessions, she definitely gets all blushy and bashful, and he definitely notices and loves it.// can you make it a blurb pleaseee with harry teasing prof about oggling him, only if you're comfy with that?? thanks!!

Let's Get Physical

The Professor Series

You didn't know how he did it.

Here you were, body bent over as you heaved—even though you knew it would be easier to get air in your lungs if you stood up straight—hair falling out of your ponytail and sticking to your sweaty cheeks, which were probably an angry shade of red. Your legs had been the consistency of jello twenty minutes ago, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to walk back to the car without falling over or passing out or both.

In other words, you were an absolute disaster.

Turning your head to the side, you looked at your boyfriend, who had broken a sweat but otherwise looked almost exactly the same as when he woke up this morning and suggested you go on this infernal run with him. He looked better even. His sleeveless shirt revealed muscles that were glistening with sweat, and when he lifted the hem to wipe his brow, your eyes zeroed in on his stomach, the butterfly tattoo, the trail of hair that led down to—

And now your face was red for a completely different reason.

"You okay down there?"

You rested wobbly arms on your hips and slowly straightened to look Harry in the eye. "No."

Harry grinned, clearly amused by your disheveled appearance. He looked too good for someone who just went on a run. You knew how you felt on the inside, which probably translated pretty well to how you looked physically, and Harry was just standing there fresh as a daisy.

Running. In the morning. You'd never been much of a morning person, but you were definitely not the type to exercise regularly. You got your fix by riding your bike around, and you made sure you got your steps in at work, but physical exertion? On purpose? And once again, in the morning? Absolutely not.

The things you did for love.

"You did really well," Harry said, stretching his arms above his head as he did so. While his head was tilted up, you couldn't help but stare, your mouth hanging open slightly.

You'd never been the type of person who based your affection for someone solely on looks. You valued relationships of the mind, being with someone who could somewhat keep up with you when you spoke to them. Harry was one hundred percent that person, but right now the only words that came to mind were two that you overheard your students using a few weeks ago: stupid hot.

"My whole body hurts," you managed to say, unable to keep the slight whine out of your voice. "I'm overheating, I probably have blisters, and these shorts are riding up my ass. Meanwhile, you look like one of the marble statues in the Classics Department—it's unfair."

You could tell Harry was trying to hold back a laugh as he digested your mini rant. You didn't mean for all of that to come out, but you were tired, and maybe a little delirious. He was making you delirious. You knew Harry was handsome, you saw him nearly every day, but something about his post workout appearance was putting you on edge. How his shorts weren't driving you crazy was also plaguing your mind, but mostly it was the overall look of him that had you at a loss for words.

"I think there was a compliment in there somewhere, so thank you," he said. When all you did was huff and glare at him, he took a couple steps closer to you. "I know those red cheeks of yours are from more than just the run. I can see right through your huffing and puffing, darling."

Your heart fluttered even more at the way his breath tickled your ear, but you were still cross with him for getting you out of bed to go on this run in the first place. Your perfectly soft bed in your temperature controlled bedroom. His teasing was noted and not appreciated.

"You're so—"

"Sexy? Devastatingly handsome? Hot?"

"Yes—No—Don't put words in my mouth!"

Harry's grin was smug as he said, "Doctor Y/l/n, are you getting a little hot?"

"I've been hot, that's what I've been trying to say! And you—you're not helping!"

He finally did let out a laugh then before leaning over and kissing your cheek. "Let's get you home."

"Please," you said gratefully, wanting to launch yourself at him the minute you returned and lie down and never get back up at the same time. Cardio had never really been your thing, but for some reason you let Harry pull you out of bed way before you should've been awake. Why you'd gotten up before your alarm at all was a mystery, but here you were, and now you were wondering if you'd ever catch your breath.

With Harry looking the way you did, you didn't think that outcome was likely.

You settled for holding Harry's hand as you walked back to his car, putting all your focus into not tripping over your feet. Your heart finally stopped beating wildly in your chest, which was a nice feeling, though now you were aware of all the sweat—on your back, your hair, your arms and legs. There was simply no way people actually endured this kind of physical exertion for fun.

"I love you, but I don't think I'll be joining you again," you said as you slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car. Once he was in and had his seatbelt on, you rested your head on his shoulder. "I don't think I'll be doing anything ever again."

"You could've stayed home," Harry said, resting a hand on your knee as he peeled onto the street. "Don't get me wrong, I love seeing you all hot and bothered—"

"Shut up," you said, moving his hand off your knee, even if, but he only moved it back.

"But," he continued, rubbing his thumb on the inside of your leg. It was such a casual touch, and he wasn't even looking over at you as he did it. He was just...happy to be near you. Harry always was. So even though he'd made you all flustered and promptly teased you for it, you rested your hand over his and patiently waited for him to continue. "Exercise means a post-workout shower."

There was a suggestion in Harry's tone that made your stomach flip and your heart pound the way it had been when you'd been desperately trying to keep up with him this morning. As he let his clear offer to take a post-workout shower together settle in, you just looked at him and sighed breathily through your nose.

He truly was the most handsome person you met. The hair under his ratty blue baseball cap curled perfectly, his jaw had just the right amount of stubble covering it, and there was a bead of sweat that was trailing down his neck, drawing your eyes as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he hummed along to the song playing from the car's speakers.

If you knew how to draw, you would capture this moment with a pen and paper. You technically had a perfect memory, but there was something so much more intimate about recalling each detail you loved about Harry and using it to create rather than just pulling it from where your brain had stored it. But your line of thinking was just so clinical. People often found your intelligence remarkable, but you'd always admired the kind of genius that lied in art and creativity. It was why Harry intrigued you so much when you met. He was so different from you, yet was so remarkable in his own right. He could express himself in ways that you couldn't, he saw things differently than you did, approached the world and his life at a different angle than you did, but was no less precise or right.

But he was different, today was clearly an example of that. Sometimes you were surprised by how well you and Harry seemed to get along when he was just so—

"Did I lose you?"

Blinking, you blushed and said, "No. I'm right here."

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said, voice soft and curious, the way it always was when he said those five words.

"Lots of things," you said honestly. "How I'm going to get out of this car let alone up the stairs to shower, for one."

"I'll carry you, of course," Harry said, smiling as he neared the street leading up to his house. A few moments of silence passed before he continued. Squeezing your leg, he said, "Don't hide from me, love. Tell me what you were thinking about."

You flipped the hand that was on your leg so that his palm was facing up and began to trace the lines on it. Parts of his hand were callused and rough, something that you weren't quite used to when you first met. But now you found Harry's hand steady and reliable, a source of comfort whenever you became nervous or overwhelmed. It didn't take a long time to realize you didn't want to hold anyone else's hand but his for the rest of your life.

"Did you know that Julius Caesar chose his soldiers by reading their palms?" you asked instead of answering his question.

"A sound military plan," Harry replied, knowing you weren't ignoring his request, just taking your time getting there.

You shrugged. "Not the worst in history."

Harry hummed, then asked, "Do you ever think about teaching history?"

"Instead of psychology?" you asked.

Now Harry shrugged. "I don't know. You seem passionate about it. Might be an interesting change."

You did like history, and you loved talking about it. It would be hard to narrow down what subject you actually wanted to focus on, especially when there were so many to pick from. But ultimately, "I kind of just like talking about it with you."

You were still looking down at Harry's hand, thinking of all the precision it would take to sketch the lines and creases in it. You were so transfixed that you didn't even realize the car had come to a stop in front of his house, or that Harry was blushing all the way down to his neck.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. No one ever listens to me the way you do, you know?"

"Well, that's because no one explains it to me like you do."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Harry's hand slipped from yours as he opened the door on his side of the car. As promised, he came around and opened yours, arms outstretched like he was fully prepared to carry your jelly limbs into the house.

"What do you mean?"

Harry tucked a strand of hair that had fallen from your ponytail on your run this morning. Most of your hair had fallen out, actually, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"You explain it like you were actually there. It's cute, and interesting, like I'm listening to a story."

"A good one?"

"The best."

You couldn't help but smile wide at that. Instead of letting Harry carry you out of the car, you leaned forward and kissed him, your hands cupping his cheeks and rubbing your thumbs against his skin affectionately. Harry didn't hesitate to rest his own hands on your waist before creeping under your sweater.

All those thoughts you had about him this morning came flooding back to you in one huge rush, making you wrap your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. Your lips hastily moved to his jaw, then his neck, trailing down and nipping at skin until—

Harry's breath hitched and you grinned as he lifted you out of the car, closing the door behind you with a definitive slam. Peals of laughter left you as Harry began to nuzzle your neck, his stubble tickling your skin the way you both knew it would as he made his way into the house.

*.*

A few weeks later, you stirred from sleep as you felt the bed shift as Harry sat up. Through squinted eyes, you watched as he stretched his arms above his head, the muscles in his back flexing and popping rolled the sleep out of his shoulders. You watched for a minute, admiring your boyfriend while still half asleep before reaching a hand out and lightly running a hand along his back.

Only startling slightly, he turned around, grinning down at you when he saw your half open eyes.

"Morning, Professor. I was gonna head out for a run this morning if you wanted to—"

Your hand had been trailing up his arm and across his shoulder until your index finger found the gold chain of his necklace. With one swift tug, you pulled his lips onto yours and his body until it was hovering over you.

"No, you're not," you said.

Harry grinned into the kiss, his hands already searching for the hem of your shirt. "No, I'm not."

#harry styles #harry styles x professor y/n #harry styles x professor yn #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

595 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 1 year

Note

Hi I just read your one shot with angel, harry and y/n. I was wondering if you could write about them again, that they touch each other in class and h gets all jealous and punish the both of them

A/N: This one has been in my drafts for months!!! Sorry for taking so long to complete it but here you go!! Enjoy 😈 2125 words

Warning: 18+ ONLY, smut, exhibitionism, cuckholding, punishment

Professory Masterlist

Harry was having a difficult time paying attention to what he was saying during the lecture. You had been spending a little more time with Angel lately, and he didn’t mind that, but he did mind when you canceled plans with him last night because you were with Angel.

And now here you were, sitting next to Angel during lecture and whispering into her ear, not paying any attention to what was being said.

“Ms. Y/l/n, & Ms. García,” Harry spoke loudly to get your attention.

You and Angel turned abruptly to see Harry looking at you both with a scowl, “See me after class.”

You looked at Angel and she widened her eyes and then you both giggled quietly. You knew you were in for it.

The moment the last student had cleared from the room, Harry motioned toward you and Angel to follow him. You silently followed him to his office where he opened the door and let you both in before himself.

He locked the door behind him and leaned his back to the wood, crossing his arms over his chest, “Angel, go sit down in front of my desk. I’ll deal with you in a minute. Y/n, come here.”

You slowly moved to stand in front of Harry, keeping your eyes on him. You weren’t sure what he’d planned on doing.

“So you two sounded like you were having a jolly old time during my lecture today. What was so funny?”

You looked to Angel and then back to Harry, “We were just talking about last night, Professor.”

Harry’s brow quirked up, “And what happened last night that was so funny you had to interrupt my class giggling like grade-schoolers?”

You swallowed and balled your fists to your sides nervously, “Well… we just had some fun and we were talking about it. We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Harry’s nostrils flared, “What kind of fun?”

“Maybe, um… just… Well, Angel and I were just kind of playing is all … “

“Spit it out Y/n. Tell me how you and Angel played last night. What did you do?”

You looked over your shoulder at Angel again but then you felt a big palm grasp your neck and pull your attention back to him, “Why are you looking at her? I’m the one asking you the questions, Y/n. Keep your eyes on me and answer the question.”

You squeezed your eyes closed for a second before opening them up, forcing yourself to look him in his eyes. You felt your body begin to tremble as you opened your mouth. Harry kept his hand on your neck and his green eyes searing into yours.

“We kissed. And I fingered her. But that’s all we did!” You spit out quickly.

Harry let go of your neck but swiftly grabbed onto your ponytail, yanking your head back as he stood over you, “So you get to play with her by yourself now? Is that it? Because if we’re changing the rules here then I get to play with her while you sit and watch. It’s only fair.”

You stayed silent as Harry pushed you to the chair next to Angel that faced his desk. Harry released your hair and you watched him remove his laptop and the books and files he had on the desk.

You figured you deserved this. You did go against the rules. Angela was for the both of you to play with together. Mostly for you, but Harry liked watching and he liked fucking you while you ate her out. Once you rode him while she sat on his face and kissed you. That was fun. But not being able to be in on the action, you supposed it was only fair. And you had fantasized a few times about this. Harry making you watch. It made you jealous but it turned you on at the same time.

Sitting quietly, you watched as Harry brought Angel to his desk and began removing her clothes, kissing her newly exposed skin as he did so until she was naked, her bare bottom pressed into the desktop.

“Angel, bend over the desk. I’m gonna start off by spanking you for being sneaky with Y/n last night.”

Angel nodded and did as he said.

The first crack that sounded in the room made Angel jump. Harry’s palm left a red handprint and then he repeated to the other side, a big red palmprint to match.

Harry swatted her bottom for a bit, small moans coming from her mouth and you watched as her pussy began to glisten. Your heart rate increased. You knew how it felt to be on the receiving end of a good spanking from Harry. It made you feel hot but you kept quiet.

Harry backed away and began unbuttoning his shirt as he turned to look at you with his brows raised as if to say, this is what you deserve. Harry unbuckled his belt and then released his button then pulled his zipper down. He walked past you and stood directly behind Angel, rubbing his palms over her bottom soothingly, like he’d done to you so many times.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, Angel. Understood?”

Angel nodded as she turned her head to look at Harry behind her.

Then you watched with your mouth dropped open as he knelt behind her and spread her cheeks and swiped his tongue over her drenched pussy. Angel spread her legs and panted as your boyfriend licked into her slick crease, up and down and then he plunged two fingers in and leaned back as he watched his fingers disappear to the knuckle.

Her moans were muffled as she had her mouth in the crook of her arm but you could hear how wet she was with Harry’s fingers stuffing into her and pushing her arousal in on his coated fingers.

Harry stood up and turned to look at you and then walked to the opposite side of the desk.

“On your back angel… there you go,” Harry helped her get positioned on her back and then he pulled her so her head was hanging off the edge of the desk and you had a good view of her shiny pussy.

Harry noticed where your eyes had settled between Angel’s legs, “S’pretty isn’t is? See what I did to her? How turned on she got because of me? That’s all for me, Y/n.”

Harry spoke gruffly as he pulled his cock out of his briefs and slapped the tip over Angel’s mouth. With her head hanging off the desk, Harry had the perfect angle. He grasped his cock and pumped himself as he watched you before pushing the tip into Angel’s plump lips.

Harry keened at the feeling of the warm, wet mouth on his cock. He placed his palm down on the desktop next to Angel’s shoulder as he began to thrust into her mouth. Angel was hanging onto the desk and her body was being rocked by the force of Harry’s hips.

You whimpered as you watched the spectacle. You loved Harry’s cock in your mouth. You wished you could suck him too, but he was clearly too busy with Angel as he squeezed her breasts and moaned as he bucked his cock down her throat.

But he kept his eyes on yours as he thrusted. You sat with your legs crossed and your mouth closed. You shifted your gaze from Harry’s hooded eyes to Angel’s wet pussy.

“Did you let her touch you, Y/N?”

You shook your head as you watched Harry’s cock sink into Angel’s mouth, her throat bulging where his thick head was pressing, “No! That’s only for you.”

Harry hissed as he continued rocking his hips down into Angel’s mouth, “Good girl. At least you remembered that rule.”

Suddenly, Harry pulled himself out, grasping his cock, and helped Angel sit up, “Can you stand up, Angel?”

She quickly complied, her face flushed and wet.

“Y/N, take your clothes off, and then I want you up here lying on your back like Angel did.”

You lifted your dress off over your head and pulled your panties down your legs (you weren’t wearing a bra) and settled onto the desk on your back, head hanging off the edge.

Harry stood over you, his cock hanging heavy over your face, the shaft on your nose and his pubic hair at your eye level.

“Angel, want you to finger Y/N and eat her out, however, you want to do it, just don’t let her come.”

You felt Angel’s lips on your clit before Harry plunged himself down into your throat. You’d gotten used to Harry’s girth and length. He’d trained you to take him. But you struggled this time. You were emotional and horny and Angel’s soft lips at your pussy made you feel like you were floating away into outer space.

Harry stuffed himself into your throat and you gurgled and drooled down your cheek to your jaw and your ears. But the soft lapping of Angel’s tongue was quite the juxtaposition. It felt incredible.

You moaned around his cock and choked as he got as deep as he could push and paused his hips, grinding into you to get his point across. Your eyes bulged as you struggled to hold your breath and tried to cough around him but he didn’t move.

Angela plunged two slender fingers into your pussy and you arched your back at the feel of her fingers and Harry’s cock deep inside of you.

Suddenly Harry began moving again, allowing air to be sucked into your lungs and you began to shake when Angela sucked on your clit. You gagged and moaned over Harry’s cock and felt tears pour from your face but your pussy was buzzing in ecstasy.

You began to buck your hips gently, writhing into Angela’s face as you felt your end near. Harry didn’t let up with the force at which he was fucking your face.

“Good job, Angela, you can sit down now. Y/N won’t be having an orgasm today.”

You felt the loss of Angela’s fingers and mouth and Harry continued slipping his thick cock into your throat.

You stabilized yourself, hands gripping the edge of the desk, and crossed your legs to squeeze your thighs together at the loss of your orgasm, having been so close.

“My naughty, dirty girl wanted to play with someone else last night. Maybe I should fuck her in front of you next time, hmm?” Harry grunted as he spoke his words. You could tell he was about to flood your throat with his hot come.

Harry moaned and wrapped his hand around the front of your throat as he felt himself dipping down into you. You were resigned to yourself at that moment. Just a mouth for Harry to fuck and nothing more. Liquid poured from your mouth, your eyes, and your nose as Harry began to finally released into you.

It was a mess. You knew your mascara was running and your face was puffy and swollen after the treatment Harry had given you.

You choked down his warm come, feeling some of it come out onto your face and drip down into your hair. Harry moaned and you felt him thumb at your cheek and move your hair away. A small sweet gesture to tell you he was still there with you.

When Harry pulled out you remained lying on your back, head hanging off the desk in a daze, gasping for breath.

Soon Harry was helping you sit up and pulling your dress over your head to dress you. You looked across the room to see Angel already dressed. You hadn’t even realized enough time had passed for her to dress.

“Are you okay, pet?” Harry spoke into your ear.

You nodded and looked up at him with sorrowful eyes.

Harry tsk’d at you, “None of that. We were all just having a bit of fun, weren’t we? You had your fun and I had mine,” he said as he smoothed your disheveled hair back.

You nodded and noticed Angel moving in your peripheral. Turning your head to the girl you both smiled at one another.

“Angel. Thank you for staying after. You are free to go,” Harry spoke.

Angel quickly walked to the door and left quietly.

“Let’s go back to mine now. Unless you’re planning on seeing Angel again tonight?”

You shook your head, “No. Just you. I was only having fun with Angel. That wasn’t… it’s not like this,” you spoke quietly as you gestured between yourself and Harry.

Harry grasped your jaw and kissed you hard before parting from you, “I know, my love.”

Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @michellekstyles @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @yousunshineyoutempter @the-gardener-31 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @harrys-foxy @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @evelynlarue @chaptersleftunwritten @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysmimi @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @sagcas-latte @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus

#harry styles smut #professor!harry #professorry #professor!harry x student!reader #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles x yn #harry x yn #harry x y/n #firstpost #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfic #older harry fic

449 notes · View notes

purplekiwis · 1 year

Text

You've got a new professor, and an obsession with his hands...

Genre: Sculptor!Harry | Professor!Harry x Student!Y/N

Warnings: +18, smut and sexual themes

Credits: AI pic posted by f4lling28 on tiktok

•·················•·················•

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

312 notes · View notes

havethetimeofyourstyles · 3 years

Text

in which harry’s your soulmate and you don’t quite know that yet.

a/n: hello angels! i bring you soulmate!harry for my loveliest friend @sweetcreatureinthedark ‘s fic party! i chose the prompt “i’ve been in love with you, i’ll be in love with you.” i’ll be honest, this was tough to write, and somewhat was testing my writing abilities lol, but we made it through and I love it! so i hope you all do too! be kind and pls leave feedback and rb! :’)

thank you to @sunflowers-styles for beta reading and putting up with the mess lol love you always <3

WORD COUNT: 15.4k of friends to lovers, soulmates, physicaltherapist!harry x professor!yn

WARNINGS: slight angst, mentions of heart condition and flatlining

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘YOUR BEATING HEART’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

There was a saying that your Nonna had always said to you ever since you were a little girl, one that she made sure was ingrained into your mind for the rest of your life.

‘Someone is destined to your mind, soul, and heart.’

Your mother, Kath, had told you that she had repeated those words ever since you were barely a year old. Nonna had said them so much that they could’ve practically been your first words. She would say that statement along with: ‘There is someone out there who already loves you, they’re just waiting for the right moment. That right moment will be up to the universe.’

The concept of soulmates has been around for thousands of years, and Nonna was such a sucker for it. Having met hers when she was sixteen years old, she made sure she taught her family the power of having a soulmate. She told Kath that if she wasn’t around for you, then Kath was supposed to teach you. Luckily, she’s still around though because that woman is one of the best you’ll ever know.

When you were old enough to go to school, the teachers taught you about soulmates as well. When you turn thirteen, you’re able to find who your soulmate is because the power inside of you ignites, guiding you through the world to find your person. The universe was…weird like that; teaching children that they were going to find love at such a young age. You were taught that you were born to be loved by someone, and since you didn’t know any better, you listened. Nonna then started to explain the meaning and importance of soulmates. You were fascinated by it as she would explain it so enthusiastically to you while you listened with wide and curious eyes, making sure you didn’t miss a single word of what she said.

As a shy ten-year-old, you couldn’t wait till you were older so you could find your soulmate, thinking it would be a fun adventure to see who you would click with. Nonna always said that ‘when you know, you know.’

Once you hit seventeen, however, you slowly believed less and less in the idea of a soulmate, and maybe that was because you were trying to force the feeling of trying to click with every person you met, but you lived through your adolescent years listening to your friends rave about how their soulmate was so perfect when yours hadn’t even shown up. They were all smiles while you were all frowns, a disappointed look was planted on your face when you would come to realize you were probably going to be alone and that the universe had forgotten about you.

At eighteen, living in a world of soulmates, you believed you didn’t have one.

That’s how you lived your life.

When you went to college, the idea of being bound to another person was pushed to the back of your mind and you started to live your life more freely. You didn’t have the constant pressure in your head, telling you to find your one true love because you believed there wasn’t a ‘one true love.’ Your Nonna was a bit sad to see you live thinking that no one was out there to love you, but you realized that you didn’t want to sit and wait around for the perfect person, you wanted to venture out.

Throughout college, you lived…a lot. You met new people, hooked up a bit, and didn’t have the recurring thought in your head about your particular soulmate.

That was until you met Eric.

You met him your last year of college; and he was a year older than you. You met him on campus while he was meeting up with one of his old professors whose classroom you just happened to be in as he walked in, and you had immediately taken a liking to him. Besides the fact that you were sexually attracted to him, you didn’t think you would see him again until you met him again at a coffee shop that was not too far from campus. Eric invited you to take a seat with him, to which you said yes, and the rest was history. You and Eric were together for three years. In that time you were able to find a stable job, and you lived life together before he proposed to you. You thought life couldn’t get better than this--you had the greatest fiance and a job you didn’t hate, which was teaching Anatomy at a community college.

Eric had made you believe in love. Soulmates, however? Not quite. Although at times it felt like he was your soulmate, that was just you trying to force something again. He was your soulmate without all of the characteristics a soulmate would have.

Nonna had always told you that your eyes would sparkle while looking at them, so intently to where you couldn’t stop staring at them, thinking you two were the only ones in the room even with so many people around. That you would feel the spark igniting between you and your soulmate, causing your body to feel warm as the physical pull would bring you together. That your heart would beat ten times faster when you knew who that person was, and that the erratic beating wouldn't seem to stop because your soulmate’s heart was also beating at the same pace.

When it came to Eric, you were able to look away and you were aware of your surroundings. When you were close to him, you didn’t feel that magnetic pull. When you looked at him, your heart seemed to calm down to where you didn’t feel like it was pounding through your chest. When you looked at him…you didn’t think he was your soulmate anymore. It’s crazy to even think that you thought he was before when you didn’t believe in the concept, but there was no attraction or pull towards him, and the timing could have been better. Actually, it could be so much better.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” you muttered into the mic as several gasps were heard from the family and friends that had gathered for the moment.

You were dressed in a white, lace dress with a veil clipped onto the top of your head. It was your wedding day, and you were telling the supposed love of your life that you couldn’t marry him anymore because the thoughts about soulmates had barged inside of your mind during Eric’s vows, making you think thoughts that you wished you wouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it. Eric wasn’t your soulmate, and you damn well knew that you weren’t his either.

“W-What are you doing?” Eric whispered as he looked at you with wide eyes that told you not to embarrass him right here, right now.

“I’m so sorry, Eric. I can’t marry you,” you said more clearly, not really telling him but also telling the crowd.

The officiant of your wedding was your friend, Vic, and she looked at you with a shocked expression as she was just as speechless as everyone else. You knew they didn’t have to say or ask anything for you to know what they really wanted to say; they wanted to ask you what you were doing and what caused the sudden decision to not marry someone you’ve been with for four years.

You could ask yourself the same question. Better yet, you would like to ask the universe why, especially on your wedding day, why they decided to suddenly pop inside your head, reminding you all of the bullshit people feel when they find their soulmate.

Eric looked at you with worry, eyes slightly watering as if it was his worst nightmare come true. But you couldn’t carry on with this while neglecting the feeling that was inside your heart and mind. You couldn’t marry him as those thoughts were screaming at you, telling you that you made the wrong decision. Those said thoughts were telling you that your true soulmate was out there somewhere, physically and emotionally hurting because their soulmate decided to marry someone else. Your marriage would be ruined entirely if you went through with it.

“I-I’m sorry…” is what you said to him with a pout on your face as he shook his head. You started heading down the aisle, ignoring the disappointed, sad, and angry looks your guests, especially his family, were giving you as you walked away from the altar that held the man you had given four years of your life to.

Once you reached the middle of the aisle, you started to jog. Picking up your dress so you wouldn't trip over it, you started to run as you couldn’t take the way the people were looking at you.

Without glancing back, you headed over to the black Mercedes that waited for the newlyweds on the curb. Your driver, Jackson, had turned around in his seat, smiling but when he didn’t see the groom, his smile disappeared, also noticing that you had a disappointed look on your face as well. You found a clean napkin on the side of the door, asking him if he had a pen.

“How long are you willing to drive?” You asked.

“I’ll take you to wherever you need me to,” he replied. You smiled gratefully, writing down the address that made you feel at home before handing him the napkin.

He immediately started the car before typing in the address into his phone, driving away from the venue that had relied and counted on you being a wife today.

And you didn’t regret your actions for one second.

Soft, cold winds rushed through you as your skin pebbled from the sudden draft while standing against the white wooden railing of the balcony in the main bedroom. The calm waves immediately put you at ease from the anxiety that you were feeling hours prior, as harsh thoughts pushed their way through your head, telling yourself that you were a disappointment—that you disappointed everyone at the venue.

The shakiness of your hands was replaced by the grasp of the railing as you looked out to the distant sunset. The day wasn’t all that sunny, since the sun was setting behind the clouds. There weren’t that many people out on the beach either, but you were glad because you needed to feel like you were the only person on this Earth.

Coming to the beach house was the first thing that came to your mind when you decided to walk out. You knew that Eric wouldn’t find you here because he didn’t know about it, plus you just wanted to be alone without the constant questions that came from your ex-fiancé and your family.

You felt bad, of course you did, and you didn’t know how to begin explaining to Eric that he was just someone that you couldn’t marry because the previously pushed thoughts had come back to your mind right as you stood at the altar. But right now, you were wallowing in fears that overtook your mind, thinking that everyone was going to absolutely hate you, which you think they did anyway once you walked out.

Setting the wine glass down onto the railing, you looked down at the few pedestrians who walked by on the beach, getting in a last-minute venture before it got too dark. You smiled, thinking about the soulmate crap the universe had made you think about your entire life because any of these people could be the person you would love for your entire life, and you wouldn’t even know.

You groaned to yourself, leaning your body away from the railing and putting your forehead on your forearms. You stayed there for a moment, thinking about how exhausted you were, especially since wine makes you tired, including the long day of getting ready all for nothing.

When you stood back up, you had accidentally knocked your glass over the railing, the glass barely making a sound once it landed on the sand.

“Fuck…” you looked over the railing to see where your glass landed before you headed down the stairs. Once you made it near the bottom, you hadn’t seen the last two steps because they were covered by sand, so you completely fell on your face into the sand, making you gasp loudly from the sudden fall.

Laughing hysterically at your fall as you felt the embarrassment on your cheeks, you rolled over onto your back as you closed your eyes and laughed until you cried. You covered your face as you began to sob, feeling truly sorry for yourself. You never meant for this to happen. You were supposed to be happy, and you were sure you ruined someone else’s happiness.

After a few moments, you got up and brushed the sand off your clothes and face, and shook your hair so the excess sand could fall out. You sniffled, walking over to where your wine glass landed before your phone rang in your pocket. It was your mom calling, and you knew you couldn’t ignore it. You were planning to ignore everyone’s calls and texts before you went back to your hometown in just a few days, but it was your mother--you couldn’t hit decline, especially right now.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hi, my lovely. You okay?” Kath was surprisingly calm because you thought she would’ve been freaking out.

“Hi, Mom. Yeah, I’m good.” You walked back to the stairs and decided to sit on the bottom of the steps as you watched the calming ocean in front of you.

“Can I ask where you are?” She asked hesitantly.

“I’m at Papa’s house and I’m safe. No need to worry,” you reassured, smiling softly, even though she couldn’t see you.

“Okay, good. I figured you were there. I understand you need space, but call me if you need anything, got it?” Kath was always a worrier, like every mom, but she seemed to worry about you a lot more than usual.

“Got it. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, my lovely. Oh, and,” she caught you before you were able to hang up. “I get why you did what you did, and I’m not mad. You’ll find them soon, okay?” Your eyes watered a bit, and you nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. You heard Kath blow a kiss through the phone before she hung up. You always loved how your mom was always able to understand you without you having to say anything at all. She was great like that, and you loved her dearly for it.

Pressing decline to what felt like the hundredth call from your in-laws and friends in the last two weeks made you roll your eyes and want to turn your phone off completely.

You knew that you had to call and text these people back eventually, but right now, you didn’t want to explain. You already had the anxiety from your actions weighing you down already, and these people would most likely scream over the phone as they demanded an explanation as to why you did what you did, and you really didn’t need that at the moment.

All you wanted to do was go back to the beach house and sit on the balcony as you watched the ocean; all far away from your problems.

You were unofficially a single woman, and you could look at all the men and women you wanted now that you were single. The nagging voice in your head was constantly bothering you, leaving you no room to think about what you might say to Eric when you meet up with him. He had stopped calling you a week ago, and since you weren’t entirely cruel, you shot him a text, saying that you were fine and that you’ll talk to him when you were ready because quite frankly, you needed to wrap your head around your thoughts. He was a sweetheart in that way, giving you space when you were the one to walk out on him and needed to explain things. You truly didn’t deserve him.

Unlocking the door to Nonna’s house with your spare key, you found her sitting on the couch watching TV. “Hey, Nonna,” you greeted, and she perked her head towards the door.

She softly smiled, getting up from the couch before she walked over to you. She didn’t greet you like she always did, which made you a little nervous because you thought she might be mad at you, but when her arms wrapped around your body, pulling you into a hug, you relaxed.

“Hi, Chip.” Her nickname for you came out with a smile against your shoulder. She had started calling you ‘Chip’ ever since you were a toddler. You had always wanted a bag of chips to munch on, and the nickname seemed to stick because you were still the same.

Nonna pulled back, guiding you to sit with her on the couch. “How are you, love? I haven’t seen you in weeks,” she asked as she pouted, giving you a look of concern.

You smiled to ease her worry. “I’m doing okay. How are you?” You grabbed her hand from her lap to hold it, the gesture making her smile a bit.

“Okay as well. Worried about you. Haven’t seen you since the wedding…”

You huffed out. “Yeah, Nonna, I just wanted to say I’m sorry-”

“Chip, what do you need to be sorry for? It wasn’t like it was my wedding. I understand why you did that,” she reassured you.

“You do?” You looked at her with a soft look. If there was anyone that you wanted approval or reassurance from, it was your Nonna.

“Of course, I do. Look, I know I told you about soulmates ever since you were younger, and throughout the years, it pained me to see you think that you didn’t have one. So, I didn’t push the idea onto you anymore. I wanted you to live your life, and when you met Eric, I thought he was nice, but I just knew he wasn’t the one,” she explained, making your brows raise.

“You knew?” Nonna nodded. “H-How?”

“Because you would’ve told me right away when you met him. You would’ve told me that you felt everything that I had told you for years, and suddenly when you met Eric, you didn’t talk about those things. I knew on the outside, you made it seem like you weren’t into the idea of soulmates, and that may be the case, but I know deep down that you still care about it. You want someone to cherish you and love you as we all do. You were excited up until you were seventeen because your friends had found theirs already, and all of a sudden you didn’t care. I know you’re still looking, but just wait a little, yeah?” Nonna always had a way with her wisdom, and she had that kind of intuition that made you feel a little less worried. The words that came out of your mouth weren’t much of a shock to you because Nonna was smart like that. You hadn’t realized all of the things she had picked up throughout your relationship with Eric, but you were grateful that she caught those things because it made it easier to talk to her.

“You know way too much, stop,” you joked, making her laugh. You laid your head on her shoulder, embracing the moment with her as you thought about how grateful you are for her. She was truly the closest person to you, and you didn’t know what you would do without her. Suddenly, the doorbell rang as she got up from the couch. “Expecting someone?”

“Must be my personal delivery boy,” she raised her brows teasingly, and you furrowed your brows in confusion. She had always mentioned someone dropping by to drop some things off from her next-door neighbor, and yet, you hadn’t met this neighbor of hers. Nonna opened the door and the person behind it wasn’t someone you were expecting. “Oh, thank you, dear!” She grabbed the set of glass bowls. “Would you like to come in?”

The man behind the door said, “I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“No, please! Come and meet my granddaughter.” Nonna opened the door wider, so her guest could look into her house, and that was when he saw you, standing in the entryway with your mouth slightly open. “Harry, this is my lovely granddaughter--the one I’ve been telling you about.”

“Hi, I’m Harry,” he said breathlessly. His gaze was trained right on you, and Nonna looked between you two as the both of you looked at one another with shock.

“Hi, uh, Y/N,” you shook his hand as you were quite speechless. He was quite attractive and looked young. He had short, curly brown hair that was pushed back with a red patterned bandana. He wore a black Nike jacket, shorts, and running shoes.

There was a moment of silence between you two as the both of you looked at each other. His expression was soft as his eyes seemed to burn into you, making you captivated by his stare. It felt like time had stopped for a moment as you two looked into each other’s eyes, trying to map out what the intent stare really meant. Could it be? Before you allowed yourself to feel the imaginative spark, you broke out of your trance, placing your head down as you thought for a moment. He cleared his throat to relieve the silence as he scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere other than you.

“I’m just going to put these away,” Nonna broke the silence as she smirked to herself while leaving the room and to the kitchen before you let out a breath.

Harry smiled amusingly, chuckling a tad bit. His dimples popped out when he did so and you thought he was the cutest thing to ever walk the Earth. You walked closer to him so you were in the spot Nonna was prior as Harry was still standing on the doorstep.

“Hi,” you simply greeted.

Harry’s smile widened. “Hello.”

“So, uh, how do you know Nonna again?” You asked curiously, tilting your head as you placed your hand on the doorknob on the other side, leaning against the door.

“My mum lives next door actually. She and Tallie are quite close friends, so I would see your Nonna every time I would visit Mum, and Mum would have me bring things over sometimes—whatever the two talked about,” he explained, and you nodded understandingly, thinking that it was truly a small world.

“How long has your mom lived there?” You wondered.

“About a year and a half now,” he answered. Your brows furrowed as you were genuinely confused about why you haven’t met Harry before because you would always visit Nonna. He looked at you oddly as well, wondering the same thing.

He’s known Tallie ever since Anne moved next door, and also found it strange that he’s never met you before. Tallie had mentioned her daughter, which was your mother, and has met Kath before--many times. She also mentioned you briefly, but he’s never seen any pictures of you, so he wouldn’t have recognized you if he met you.

“That’s strange, isn’t it?” You suddenly asked, and Harry nodded his head. Before he could say anything more, Nonna walked into the room.

“You kids doing okay?” She asked, and you smiled at her, nodding your head. “Do you two want to make some bread?” She suggested enthusiastically. You and Harry both chuckled, looking at one another briefly before you both said yes. Nonna clapped her hands, urging you two to follow her into the kitchen. “The dough has been resting for an hour already, so if you two could do me a favor and knead it for me, that would be great.”

After the three of you washed your hands, Nonna instructed you on how she would like her bread to be shaped like breadsticks. You and Harry complied as she was making the butter.

“So, Y/N, what do you do for a living?” He sparked up a conversation as he kneaded the dough; you were doing the same.

“I teach at the college about an hour away. Anatomy and Physiology professor,” you said humbly, and his brows raised.

“You sure know a lot about the body then…” he suddenly pointed out, eyes widening immediately as he stopped kneading. “That was really weird, I’m sorry.” You laughed loudly as he cringed at himself. “I was just trying to state the obvious since you studied anatomy, and it went smoother in my head.” His cheeks turned into a pink tint color as he scratched his neck--something that you already noticed he did when he felt nervous or awkward--feeling the embarrassment rush through him.

You chuckled, looking up from the dough. “No worries. You’re…cute.” Harry didn’t say anything but shyly smile.

“What about you?”

“Besides living in general,” he started, and you laughed. “I’m a physical therapist. I work at the hospital downtown.”

“Ah, interesting. So, you would know a lot about the body too then, huh?” You teased, placing his words in your mouth.

Harry genuinely laughed loudly, filling the kitchen with his sounds. “Perhaps I do. That was a good one,” he said once he calmed down from his laughter. You beamed at him before you studied him a bit, trying not to get caught.

You were so caught up in how focused he looked while kneading the dough, and the way his lips curled in as he rolled it between his hands. His hands were naked from the rings that you had seen prior before he took them off for this task, but the way his hands were built and what they could do had you limitlessly daydreaming for what seemed like forever. They looked strong, but they were pretty. The orange nail polish contrasted between the bulging veins in his hands, leaving a very fine line between it all.

If you looked any longer, you would be drooling at the thought of this man’s hands, but luckily, Nonna tapped you and by the look on her face, she had caught you eyeing her delivery boy. “Yes, Nonna?”

“Might wanna speed up the process, yeah?” She suggested, with her voice in a teasing manner. All you did was nod as you huffed out a chuckle before proceeding.

After a bit more conversation with Harry, the dough was finally going into the oven, leaving an excited Nonna while Harry was placing the tray onto the rack.

“Tallie, I would hate to not try the bread after it’s done, but I should probably get back to my Mum…”

“Oh, go ahead, dear! I’m sorry to keep you for so long. I’ll be sure to bring some by when it’s done.” She reached up to hug him. “Be sure to tell Anne I said thank you for lending me the bowls, and thanks to you for delivering it.”

“Always a pleasure. I’ll see you soon. Uh, Y/N,” he called out as you gave him your attention. “Walk me out?” You smiled, nodding your head. Harry said one last goodbye to Nonna before you followed him out of the house.

“It was nice meeting you,” you told him, walking onto the sidewalk. You two were walking slowly since Anne’s house was right next door, and it seemed like you two wanted more time with one another even though it wasn’t said out loud. It was like you two already knew.

“You as well,” he said honestly. You were standing right in front of you in Anne’s driveway, not quite wanting to leave just yet.

Your heart started racing uncontrollably fast as you looked up at him. His green eyes still shined bright in the gloomy sky that looked like it was about to downpour any second, but they had caught your eye immediately, and you were completely lost in them. You weren’t able to look away and think how alluring his trance was. Your mind had stopped itself from long jumping into the conclusion that was begging you to finish the story, so you pulled your stare away instantly.

“Uh, well. I’ll see you soon probably?” You asked, backing away from him. Harry slightly frowned but made sure not to make it obvious.

“Yeah, you will,” he nodded, stepping back as he offered a friendly smile.

“Bye, Harry,” you waved at him before you turned around and walked away.

Harry walked into Anne’s home and straight to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He took a deep breath as he tried to calm down, heart beating outstandingly out of his chest that he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. When Harry walked into Tallie’s home, his heart was beating ten times faster ever since he saw you. He simply couldn’t stop staring at you, and the only way he stopped was when you had broken the stare. He definitely felt the spark there, and he wondered if you did too. He sure hoped so because he had never felt that strong of a feeling inside of him with anyone else.

Anne walked into the kitchen once she heard the commotion from upstairs, and saw her son leaning against the counter, head down and eyes closed, and that’s when she began to worry.

“Harry? Love, are you okay?” She ran to his side, placing her hand on his arm. Harry continued to take deep breaths, increasing Anne’s concern. “Answer me, please. You’re scaring me.” The sound of her voice was breaking Harry’s heart as he never wanted his mother to be concerned or scared, but naturally, as a mom, it was her job to be.

“Mum, it’s her. It’s really her,” he breathed out a laugh as his voice was strained from the lack of breath he had.

“What?”

“Her name’s Y/N. She’s Tallie’s granddaughter. My soulmate.” His eyes watered that was quickly followed by slight tears that streamed down his face, feeling so overwhelmed by the joy that overtook him.

“She’s here, huh?” Anne had tears in her eyes as she felt extremely happy for her son. All the heartbreaks and search for his soulmate had ended once he met you, knowing that it was going to change his life forever. Harry nodded, brushing the tears away from his face.

All the signs were there; the gleaming stare, the spark that shocked him, the magnetic pull between you two, his heart rate rising, and he felt like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you. That’s when he knew.

You were his soulmate.

The rain had poured down quite heavily as Harry ran inside the apartment complex with his small umbrella that had barely kept him dry.

Shaking the excess water on his umbrella and wiping his shoes onto the floor mat, he rushed towards the open elevator before it closed because it always took a while to land in the lobby.

“Hold the doors, please!” He called out, quickly running his fastest while trying not to slip. A hand was seen between the doors as the doors reopened. Harry got into the elevator, taking a deep breath.

“Harry?” He looked back at the other person who was in the elevator, and you were softly smiling at him as you took off your hood. You were wearing a burnt orange raincoat that he thought looked absolutely adorable on you, a university sweater underneath, black pants, along with black leather boots. Your eyes lit up at the presence of him, making him smile widely, feeling the attraction from you once again.

“H-Hi,” he stumbled over his words, to which he mentally slapped himself. He cleared his throat, “How are you?” I miss you, he wanted to say. It had been about two weeks since he last saw you at Tallie’s house, and considering you were his soulmate, that seemed like a very long time. There was no doubt that Harry had been on your mind since you met him. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you overthink every possible thing he could mean to you. It was crazy to think that he wouldn’t leave your brain considering you had just met him. You concluded that Harry was just an attractive man, the first man you’ve ever looked at that way since Eric.

“Good!” You said too overly excited, making Harry chuckle at your chirpy voice. You fake coughed, making your voice a tad bit lower. “Good, yeah. What about you?”

“Doing great!” The elevator doors open, and Harry stepped aside, letting you in first before he followed. “Do you live here?”

“Yeah, I do. This is me,” you stopped walking and stood in front of apartment 425 as you fiddled with your keys, nervously. You’ve been living here ever since you graduated college, and you didn’t fully move in with Eric because you planned to move in with him after you two got married, so luckily, you didn’t get rid of this place. “Do you also live here or are you visiting someone?”

“I live here too. I’m actually on the floor above yours, like directly above.” Harry realized that he didn’t even press the button to his floor in the elevator.

“525?” You asked as your brows furrowed. Harry nodded, giving you a small smile. “No way! Guess we’re neighbors…in a way?” You chuckled, and Harry grinned.

“Guess we are,” he slightly giggled.

“Uh, did you want to come in?” You asked. Harry’s eyes widened a bit, surprised by your offer, and you saw how shocked he was. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s raining and thought it’d be nice to have some company.”

“I’d love to. Thank you,” he responded, nodding his head. You smiled as you proceeded to unlock the door, stepping inside as Harry followed behind you.

The layout of your apartment was the same as his since he was on the same side and right above you, but there was something about your apartment that felt like…home to him. He thought it had to do with the fact that it’s your space and you were in it because no one’s home felt like this besides yours. You had a few small potted plants along the windowsill along with a large one in the corner. Right next to the plant was a small wooden table with your red record player on top of it. A mustard yellow velvet couch was pushed against the wall facing the TV that rested on a white shelf bookcase that held many books and vinyl records in the cubbies along with random knick-knacks on the surface. A wooden round coffee table was placed in the middle with a vanilla candle on top of a few fashion magazines. Underneath the table was a white rug that looked warm to dig his feet in on a cold day. Three concert posters that were framed were hung on the wall, and he knew you were his soulmate because the three bands that you had on your wall were his absolute favorite; Fleetwood Mac, Queen, and The Beatles.

His heart fluttered as he looked around, feeling like this was a part of you that he finally knew now. This part of you felt like home to him as he was immediately washed over with the feeling of comfort right when he stepped into your apartment. He felt so welcomed that it was going to be difficult for him to leave your space.

“Make yourself at home.” Definitely home, he thought. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” You asked, taking out a saucepan from the cupboards.

“I would love some,” he smiled, sitting on the couch where he could see you pour the milk into the pot. After a few moments, he saw you rush back into the living area.

“Sorry, let me put some music on.” You kneeled on the hardwood floors to look at your collection before you turned your head back to him. “Any requests?”

“Any Christmas song would be lovely and very fitting,” he requested. It was the beginning of December, and Harry was in the holiday mood. Plus, you were preparing hot chocolate, so it is more than appropriate.

You smiled, nodding your head as you ran your fingers along your selection before pulling one out. Harry noticed the cover art as you pulled the record out. Ultimate Christmas by Frank Sinatra played on the record player, filling the room with melodious tunes. You walked back to the kitchen before flashing him a smile. He sat on the couch and soaked in the music as he heard humming from the kitchen, and he grinned. Harry felt a warm feeling in his chest as he saw you stir in the hot cocoa into the hot milk as you hummed White Christmas. This moment right here and right now was something he wanted to experience every single day--where you would make hot cocoa as he would watch you with sparkling eyes, thinking how Frank Sinatra’s voice fitted so well with the holiday vibe.

You came back with two red mugs with a bright smile on your face. “Do you mind placing the coasters on the table?” Your eyes pointed at the coasters underneath the candle. Harry nodded and placed two glass coasters onto the table, and he took a good look at both of them. One of the coasters stated ‘Be Kind’ in pink, and the other printed ‘Love Wins’ in multiple colors. He smiled, knowing the smallest things in your apartment was making him fall for you even more.

“Hope you like it. I also should’ve asked what you liked with your hot chocolate but I just assumed you liked the same thing as me,” you chuckled nervously. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, but you think it had to do with the fact that another man was in your apartment that wasn’t Eric.

Harry looked down at his hot chocolate. There were several marshmallows in the hot drink and a scoop of whipped cream with chocolate shavings to complete the drink. He smiled to himself as he took a sip, covering up his flustered demeanor.

“It’s exactly what I wanted. I drink mine the same way,” he replied, and you smirked.

“Glad I know a man with great taste,” you teasingly winked at him, and Harry nearly melted in his seat, and it for sure wasn’t from the hot cocoa because he wanted to reply with ‘More like your soulmate.’ He wanted to know what you were thinking in that beautiful head of yours.

He wanted to know if you felt the same things he does. Did your heart beat uncontrollably fast every time he looked at you? Did you get sucked into a different dimension every time you looked at him? Did you have the urge to move closer to him, closing the gap between you two? Because Harry felt all those things with the simple act of you sitting next to him, and he really wanted to know if you felt the same way.

You crossed your arms as the chilly weather rushed through you. “To be honest, I’m quite shocked that we live in the same building. I wasn’t planning on going back to Nonna’s until the end of the month, so I didn’t expect to see you.”

“So, you were thinking about me?” He raised his brows teasingly.

“And if I was?” You decided to tease back but came out more like flirting.

Harry paused for a moment, drinking his hot drink as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Then…I would say I was thinking about you too.” You nodded slightly, quickly grabbing your drink as you took a sip from it, hiding away your blush behind the mug. “What’s it like being a teacher? Can’t imagine standing in front of everyone and practically perform, I guess.”

You breathed out a laugh, thinking the opposite. He had the look of a rockstar, and his name sounded badass.

“It’s great. I try being their friend rather than a teacher because I feel like if they’re comfortable with me, they’ll retain and understand the material better. I learned that if you’re comfortable with someone, you’ll listen to them, so that’s what I did. And most of them are doing exceptionally well. Some of my colleagues are always surprised with how many students I get during office hours because I encourage using office hours and my email, so I’m quite busy,” you explained humbly. Harry admired your hard work and dedication, and he already knew you were a great professor just by what you told him.

“So, what made you want to become an anatomy professor?” Harry changed the subject, feeling a bit flustered himself.

“I was undecided with my major in college until I had to take a few science classes. One of them was anatomy, and I just fell in love with it. I really enjoyed learning it, and just fell in love with the subject,” you explained.

“The professor part?”

“My anatomy professor was the best. She made teaching look so fun and enjoyable. Plus, I’ve heard one too many stories about students having teachers who weren’t compassionate or sympathetic, and I didn’t like that at all. So, I wanted to be one of those teachers who made sure students learned and have a professor who was understanding,” you said humbly.

“That’s very sweet of you. Unfortunately, I’ve had those professors who were pretty tough and not so compassionate.” You pouted. You always hated hearing or reading tweets when students would type out an email and express what they were currently going through to their professor, only for their professor to lack compassion and support to students who were trying to do their best.

That’s why you wanted to become an educator. You wanted to make learning fun for your students and have them enjoy going to class rather than dreading it and being nervous to walk in.

“What about you? What made you want to become a physical therapist?” You asked.

Harry set his mug down onto the coaster. “The same as you. Something about bones and the muscles fascinated me and how they worked. I grew up loving sports, so that helped a bit, but wanting to help people recover properly was a main goal as well.”

“You’re kind like that; someone who wants to help out others,” you complimented, and Harry blushed.

“Thank you. It also has to do with the fact that one of my friends in secondary school, Max. He got injured pretty badly. He played football, or soccer, and he tore his ACL, which you probably know already, but it takes about six to twelve months to recover from that—physically and mentally. He loved the sport like no other, and couldn’t wait to get into it. His doctor cleared him when he was four months into therapy. Four. Doctor said he was looking good, so he cleared him earlier than usual.” Harry shook his head in disbelief as he told the story and you sat next to him, listening as your mouth was slightly open. “Like most of us, we listen to doctors more than we listen to our bodies. So, Max started to play again, and as expected, he hurt himself again…” he trailed off.

You placed your hand on his knee, comforting him. You could tell that Max meant a lot to him, and by the way he was acting at the moment, he cared enough to dedicate his life towards wanting to be better to people who rely on him.

“And he couldn’t play again. That was when I realized that I wanted to study the body. It was a long journey to get my doctorate, but I eventually got it at twenty-seven, and I’ve been working as a therapist for about a year and a half now; the same amount of time I’ve been here,” he said humbly.

“That’s great, Harry. You must be so proud of yourself,” you offered him a smile.

“I am, yeah. You must be too. Guess we both have a knack for changing some perspective, huh?” He softly smiled.

“Yeah, we do.”

Throughout the rest of the night, both of you got to know one another. You found out that you had a lot in common with him, such as your interests in the body (given both of your careers), movies and TV shows, books, and food; told each other childhood stories, and talked about your families. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t judge you, especially with what happened a month ago.

It was nearing midnight as the time seemed to go by quicker than usual. After two more glasses of hot cocoa, Harry let out a yawn as he checked the time on his phone.

“I should probably get going--let you rest up,” he said politely, grabbing his mug.

You nodded, agreeing as you didn’t realize how late it was. “Okay. Oh, you could just leave it there; I’ll clean up.” Harry was too tired to debate, so he put the mug down before you walked him to the door. “I had a great time. Thank you for inviting me in and giving me hot chocolate.”

“Of course. I had a lovely time as well. Maybe…we should do it again sometime?” You suggested. Harry’s eyes gleamed as he slightly smirked; a tint of pink formed on his cheeks.

“I would love that.” You said a soft ‘okay’ as you smiled. He looked at you for a moment, noticing your eyes sparkling in the dim light of your apartment as you stared up at him in such fondness, making his heart melt in every way possible. Harry cleared his throat as he was so caught up in your stare that almost hypnotized him. “Well, you know where I live, so come visit if you want or maybe I’ll see you on another elevator ride,” he playfully joked, earning a giggle from you.

“Sleep well, Harry,” you told him as he walked out the door, away from the space that felt most comforting to him.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” He flashed you another smile, and your knees nearly melted at the sight of his gorgeousness. Your grip on the door handle tightened, holding you up from falling to the ground.

You waited for him to turn the corner to head to the elevator before you closed your door. Placing your back flat against the door, you covered your face as a rush of giddiness hit you as your face began to warm up. That was the most fun you had in a while, even if it was just as simple as a long conversation.

You thought about Harry as you cleaned up and got ready for bed. Thinking about how sweet and kind he was. You never had met anymore who was so polite and nice while looking like that. There was no denying that you found Harry attractive--anyone with eyes could see that, but there was something about his inner aura and personality that you found extremely alluring and intriguing. You wanted to uncover and unravel all of his traits. That was when you knew you were collectively fucked.

As you went to bed, you dreamt of his green eyes and beautiful smile; drifting off to sleep, unaware that your heart was completing the gaps of Harry’s heartbeat.

Two weeks had passed since your first hangout with Harry, and you two had been hanging out ever since. Throughout those two weeks, you’d seen him at Nonna’s three times. The first time was unexpected, when you pulled into her driveway, you saw Harry helping her walk. Nonna had a sprained ankle from missing a step when she was walking down the stairs, and luckily, Harry was a physical therapist. Seeing the sight made your heart warm. The other two times were planned and you two decided to drive to her home together. It was very domestic of you two, and the level of comfort was something you never experienced with someone you just met. Nonna was happy to see you two getting along so well, she obviously knew something you were yet to figure out.

It was nice hanging out with him, you thought. He was a great and funny friend that could make you laugh for hours. But he was also someone you trusted that you could talk to about anything. It was bizarre to think considering you’d only known him for a short amount of time. Harry was just so open-minded, exciting, and new. Plus, you didn’t have many friends that lived close to you, so Harry living upstairs was just a walk in the park.

You were getting ready to have brunch with Harry and Anne. It was your first time meeting her, and you were a bit nervous if you were being honest. As Harry’s friend, you wanted Anne to like you, and you really hoped Nonna had talked you up a bit.

A knock was heard on your front door, and you took a deep breath before answering. Harry was standing behind it, wearing a plain white t-shirt, pink corduroy pants, and a black coat. Something that took you by surprise was that he was wearing brown tortoise framed glasses that fit him so well and nearly made you melt.

“Harry, you look very…nice.” Your breath hitched in your throat causing you to choke up a breath as he was completely breathless.

The corner of his lips turned up. “Thank you, so do you.” You smiled. Shall we go?” You nodded and followed him out, locking your door.

The restaurant Anne picked was not too far from your apartment complex—about 20 minutes. The entire drive to the restaurant, you and Harry sang your heart out to ABBA, pointing at each other as you both screamed out ‘You can dance, you can jive!’

“Y/N, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Anne greeted you with a hug, and your nerves slightly dropped as she welcomed you with a hug. “Harry’s told me so much about you!”

Harry gave Anne a knowing look as a way to tell his mum ‘don’t tell her everything,’ and Anne gave him the same look saying ‘I won’t.’

“I can’t wait to get to know you. Our table is ready,” Anne said as she pulled away from you. You nodded your head in agreement as you all followed the hostess to your table.

Talking to Anne was something so refreshing. She was so sweet and kind, and you immediately knew where Harry got his best traits from. She also knew how to crack a few jokes here and there, making you almost spit your mimosa out or choke on your food.

Harry watched you two interact and his eyes watched with so much fondness. His mum and soulmate getting along was something he was so grateful for because he wouldn’t know what he would do if you two hated each other. The interaction was so natural between you two that he thought you were going to be the best of friends.

“So, I hope this is not a personal question, but have you found your soulmate, sweetheart!” Anne suddenly asked, and Harry choked on his water, making him cough reluctantly as he struggled to breathe. Anne rose from her chair as you gently slapped his back a few times to help him out. Once he was okay from his cough attack, he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Darling, are you okay?” She gave him a concerning look.

Harry nodded, his face slightly red from the lack of air. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good, yeah.”

“You sure?” You asked. Your hand hadn’t left his back, and you could immediately feel the tingly feeling that spread throughout your arm like his touch shocked you throughout. Harry nodded again, reassuring you and Anne. You turned back to Anne, realizing that she had an unanswered question. “Uh, back to your question—no I haven’t found my soulmate.”

“Really?” Her tone coming out surprising.

You nodded. “Yeah. I thought I did, turns out he wasn’t the one.” Harry was eyeing you nervously as he sat beside you. He gulped, wanting to know everything.

“I’m sure you’ll find them soon, sweetheart,” Anne reassured, and you gave her an appreciating smile. “Your Nonna seems quite keen on soulmates,” she pointed out.

You nodded. “Yeah, she is. She started talking about soulmates since I was young. She found hers when she was sixteen. Her and Papa’s love was so special. Unfortunately, he passed away about five years ago you explained, and Anne frowned slightly.

“I’m sorry to hear that, love.”

“It’s okay! Feel like he’s always somewhat around. He owned a beach house that he passed down to me, and I go there every month, but I never change the furniture or take anything down, so it very much feels like he’s still with me,” you smiled as you told them.

“That’s lovely, sweetheart. I’m sure he is, and I’m sure he’s proud of you.” You softly smiled at Anne’s words, appreciative of them. You felt Harry’s hand on yours that was resting on the table, and you warmed up at his touch. Turning your head towards him, you flashed him a smile and he sent you a subtle and innocent wink, making your stomach turn into knots. Luckily, you were sitting because you would have surely fallen if you were standing.

“Where’s your beach house located, by the way?” Harry asked.

“Monterey.” You answered and you noticed Harry’s eyes widen, glancing towards Anne. “What?”

“I actually have a house there.” Now, that was new news.

“Really?” He nodded.

“Yeah, it’s in Pebble Beach. Where’s yours?”

“New Monterey.” Pebble Beach was about a fifteen-minute drive from where your beach house was at, on opposite ends of the coast.

Something was interesting about the fact that Harry was on the other side of your beach house. You’d been to Pebble Beach many times, sometimes walking the hour walk there to get away. If you hadn’t met Harry at Nonna’s, would you have met him at the beach house?

You shook off the thought, realizing that Anne had changed the subject, so you listened.

Brunch went by, and you were parting ways with Anne. You promised you would visit her when you visited Nonna, to which she beamed and hugged you tightly. Harry and Anne hugged, and they said ‘I love you’ to each other. Your heart warmed at the mother and son duo, thinking they had the best dynamic.

You and Harry drove back to the apartment complex in comfortable silence, all the way up to his apartment. You two would take turns sharing your apartments because they both made a great hang out spot. His place was your favorite, though. The first time you stepped in it, you felt an immediate calmness to the disarray of what your reality felt like. It was like you never wanted to leave his apartment, simply wanting to cuddle into his couch with a soft blanket over you. You could possibly stay there forever, you thought.

Harry made you both a cup of hot chocolate as it was starting to become thing for you both. It was nice; having a thing with you. It made him feel involved and important in your life.

“Do you want to have an honesty hour?” You asked once he set your mug onto the coaster before he took a seat right beside you.

He raised his brows. “Were you not being honest with me before?” He teased, and you nudged his shoulder.

“I’m serious,” you giggled, and it was music to his ears.

“I am too, but yes we could always have an honest hour. Tell me something.” He curled his lips in, and you couldn’t help but look at his mouth before you quickly glanced back up to his eyes.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me. I’d be happy to listen,” he reassured. You decided you wanted to tell him what happened a month ago with the whole Eric situation. It was something you could open up to him about since he wasn’t at the wedding, so you knew he wouldn’t judge you.

You smiled softly. “It’s funny how we live in a world full of soulmates, huh?” You started. Harry’s breath hitched into his throat. He started to feel anxious right as you mentioned soulmates that led him to be speechless; he nodded instead. “Well, my Nonna has been telling me everything about soulmates ever since I was born. She constantly went on and on about it--always asking me if I’ve found mine ever since I turned thirteen. I was excited, y’know? She hyped it up so much that I couldn’t wait until I was older to find my soulmate.” Harry gulped, not saying anything. He felt a ‘but’ coming in, so he waited until you were finished. “I went through my teenage years with my friends talking about their soulmates that had found them when they were fifteen or sixteen. I was the only one alone. I don’t know why, but the universe must hate me.”

“The universe does not hate you,” he disagreed, shaking his head at the hateful words as he slightly frowned.

“No, it does. When I went to college, I stopped believing in the soulmate shit. I dated whoever I wanted without that pressure. But there was this one person that almost made me believe in soulmates…” you trailed off, and Harry took a deep breath. Maybe she does feel all those things for me? He thought. “His name’s Eric. I met him my last year of college…and we’re engaged--or were engaged.” Harry’s eyes widened as they slightly watered. His heart pounded through his chest as if he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Y-You were engaged?” He stuttered, holding back his tears.

“Yeah. I said the universe hated me because I ran out and left him at the altar. When he was saying his vows, I thought of everything Nonna had told me. The heartbeat, the stare, the pull, everything. I didn’t feel that with him, and it was shit timing as well, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t feel the same way for me too,” you explained before taking another sip.

“So, do you believe in it now?” He slipped in the question.

“I mean…possibly. I know there’s someone out there for me--maybe. But I really pushed back the idea of my soulmate ever since I felt left out when I was a teenager, so I’m not entirely sure what the exact feeling you feel when you see your soulmate because I just pushed it out of my head and forgot about it.” Harry nodded understandingly.

It made much more sense to him, and you answered all of his questions. He knew that you weren’t feeling all of those things with him. It definitely hurt him, but he’d hoped that those feelings would come around soon because he’d sat right in front of you, waiting for the right moment to tell you that he was yours.

“Have you seen him since?” He carried on the conversation, wanting to know all the details and information that he could get.

“Since the wedding?” Harry nodded, and you shook his head. “No, I haven’t. It’s been about a month since I saw him last. I’ve just been texting him to see if he’s doing okay because I don’t know where his head’s at, but he told me that he would call me when he’s ready to talk, which I have to respect and understand.”

“A month?”

Your brows raised slightly. “Hmm, yeah, a month.” Harry's heart began to beat faster, and he clasped his hands together to prevent them from shaking. “I feel bad, y’know? I feel like I’m now painted as this horrible person, but I know I am-”

“Hey, no, you’re not,” Harry disagreed, shaking his head. “You’re pretty amazing.” Your eyes lightened up a bit. “I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks, and you’re possibly the sweetest person I’ve met. You’re funny, smart, and really fuckin’ kind. You made a decision that was going to affect your entire life. That doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person.” You didn’t say anything but nodded your head slightly with a small smile at his words. He didn’t need to hear anything from you to know that you were appreciative of his words.

“I wanna know everything about you, H.” You changed the subject, not wanting to talk more about your failed relationship.

His body turned warm at the sudden nickname. “Everything?” He raised his brows as he took a sip of his drink. He was a bit wary about your sudden want, but he knew that he could trust you.

You nodded. “Tell me all your secrets,” you whispered. Your words came out seductive, which you didn’t mean to, but by the way he was looking at you, it seemed like your words had some effect on him.

He curled his lips into his mouth as you pierced your eyes into his as his heart began to beat harder. He smirked a little, chuckling to himself at his reaction.

“You're in for it, love. Have a lot to cover.”

A blush formed onto your cheeks. “The floor’s yours.” He took a deep breath before he proceeding to tell you something very important to him. and he hoped he wouldn’t overwhelm you with this information.

“When I moved here, a year and a half ago, I was diagnosed with Bradycardia Arrhythmia—my heart would beat slowly as you know. They put a pacemaker in after my second collapse. It was so sudden, and I have no idea where it came from, maybe smoking for an entire year when I was in uni, I’m not sure. But I moved here in August, so around that time, I collapsed. Mum rushed me to the hospital and they did a bunch of tests and diagnosed me, and now I have a pacemaker,” he explained calmly.

The feeling in your chest was something you’ve never felt before. The heart tightened as he spoke every word, causing the pain to increase as your heart sank. Your eyes watered, not wanting them to fall because he didn’t need your pity.

“Harry, a-are you okay now?” You asked, voice small.

“Yeah, I think so. Uh, on Saturday at around eleven in the morning, two weeks before we met, I collapsed again. This time, I really couldn’t breathe. It genuinely felt like it was my last day on Earth. My lungs were closing in and my heart was slowing down. My mum was with me at my beach house, and I was lucky that she was there because she immediately called 911 and got me to the hospital.” You looked at him with fear in your eyes as you listened to the gut wrenching story. “I was gone for fifteen minutes, Y/N. Fifteen. It was some sort of miracle…”

Then it suddenly hit you.

It all made sense.

Your heart suddenly opened up fully and the traces of doubt were left behind. Your mind started to piece together the reasons why you haven’t met your soulmate, and it was all right in front of you. The stories and journeys Harry had gone through had all added up.

The beating organ in your chest had pounded so hard that you felt the beat through your ears, making it impossibly hard to hear, but your heart was fluttering uncontrollably that you couldn’t help but smile and blush. You could see it now—his stare. His eyes captivated yours as he looked so deeply into your eyes that you could stay lost in them forever and never worry about a thing. The magnetic pull and attraction towards him felt like you couldn’t hold back; that you wanted to continue being close to him as you inched closer to him.

Your mind was coming up with different theories on why your soulmate was taking so long, but they all concluded to him. To Harry.

It all made sense.

The reason why it took so long for your soulmate to show was because Harry hadn’t moved here until a year and a half ago. He was still back in England getting his doctorate, and the separation between you two made it impossible to meet. Somehow your mind made up the conclusion that the only reason why you two met after Harry living here, in the same building, for a year and a half was because you were still with Eric; your time was spent on someone who wasn’t your soulmate.

“Harry…” you whispered.

His brows raised. “I’m okay now! Really, I am. I don’t think I’ll have any more collapses…” he said knowingly. His tone was like he knew something you didn’t, like he knew you were his soulmate.

“Harry…” you repeated.

“Yeah?” You reached forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Your actions took him by surprise, but he immediately hugged you back, hurrying his face into your shoulder.

You had instantly felt the warmth that he provided, not wanting to pull back. You took deep breaths, and you could physically feel Harry’s heart beating in sync with yours as you two sat in front of each other.

“Why didn’t…you tell me?” You breathed out, eyes glossy as you pulled away from the hug.

Harry noticed your change of emotion and he looked at you with a concerned face. He gently placed his hands on the sides of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb as your tears spilled out.

“Tell you what?” He asked, still clueless.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were my soulmate?” You questioned.

Harry’s breath was caught in his throat. He didn’t know if you were angry or disappointed with him, but you didn’t show any sign of anger, so he slightly relaxed. Your face was filled with confusion, and he wanted to take that away quickly.

“You know?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, tears threatening to spill out.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I felt it immediately when I first met you, and I didn’t think you did yet. I should’ve told you…” he grabbed both of your hands and brought them up to his lips, kissing the back of your hand sweetly.

Harry’s eyes watered. He didn’t know if you were happy that he was your soulmate because you haven’t said anything, so he anxiously kept kissing your hand.

You inched forward, placing your forehead against his as both of your hands were in between you two. Your lips met with his hand before you pulled away.

“I felt it. I felt it all when you told me your story and about your condition. It was like your heart opened up for me and my heart finally had the realization that you were right in front of me—this whole time.” You sniffled. Harry’s tears streamed down his face as the overwhelming feeling was present in his chest, making his heart pound through his chest. Your hearts were in sync with one another, so you placed your hand flat on his chest, feeling the beating organ that was giving you so much life.

“I can’t believe this is happening…” he said in disbelief.

“Harry…I should tell you that, uh, the first time you collapsed—when you were diagnosed with your condition, that was when Eric proposed to me. Your second collapse, a month ago, that was my wedding day. The time you collapsed was when I was at the altar. There were just so many thoughts running around in my head that I physically and mentally couldn’t be in front of my ex because I just knew he wanted the one for me,” you explained.

Harry’s mind immediately clicked. “Then when you left the altar was when I was brought back to life…” he pieced together like a puzzle. His missing puzzle piece was you. Your eyes softened, smiling at him because at least you did some good in the last month. “You saved me.”

“I can’t help but think that I was the one that caused all of this,” you poured, and he shook his head.

“No, no. You didn’t. If you’re going to blame yourself for that, then I’m going to blame myself for getting together with other people back in England, causing you to not believe that you have a soulmate,” he challenged. You shook your head in disagreement. “Then we have nothing to blame ourselves for, okay? We’re here now.”

You placed your forehead against his as you whispered,” Yeah, we are.” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to take in the events. You couldn’t believe that after knowing Harry for more than two weeks, he was your soulmate this entire time.

Pulling away a bit, you looked at him as your eyes glimmered. The tips of your noses touched in the most delicate way as you looked at each other. The room was filled with so much clarity, light, and…love. You smiled softly as the corners of Harry’s lips turned up into a grin, dimples poking out.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked, eyes looking down at your lips and back to your eyes.

You nodded, your heart beating ten times faster. He moved your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear before gently placing his hands on your cheeks as he moved forward to capture his lips with yours. His touch and lips ignited you as the sparks ran through your body, making you pull him closer. His lips were something you’d never felt before. They were soft, gentle, and loving as he moved in sync with you, meeting your tongue with his in such a passionate and deep way.

You felt completely overwhelmed with happiness as you smiled into the kiss, tears rushing down your face as you knew the wait was finally over. He was here.

Harry moved you on your back as he hovered over you, lips never disconnecting as it was something he wanted to do forever. You ran your fingers through his hair, slightly grabbing onto his curls as you earned a moan against your mouth from him. Involuntarily bucking your hips against him, you felt him grow between your legs in his flared pants as he grinded against your leg.

He pulled away from the kiss only to kiss your jaw and neck, nibbling and sucking your skin, leaving a decent hickey on your skin. Your hands raked his clothed back, and Harry felt the way your nails dragged against his shirt, making his excitement increase because he couldn’t wait to actually feel it against his skin, only if you’d let him.

“C-Can I, uh,” he stumbled with his words.

“Harry, do you think we could wait?” You asked, indicating sex. His eyes widened, immediately getting off of you.

“Oh, yeah! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, don’t be sorry. I just want to wait to do that with you,” you caressed his cheek.

“Okay, that’s fair.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips to see if he wasn’t dreaming.

The rest of the night was like this—you laid in his arms, stealing kisses from one another. He held you tightly, afraid that you would leave once he loosened his grip, but you were right where you needed to be.

A week went by, and you were happier than ever. You were in complete bliss with Harry, and you never wanted that feeling to stop. It seemed like Nonna was happier than you because she’d been waiting for this moment for so long. She wanted to see you happy, even Harry, you being happy together just made her heart warm.

You were just getting back home from doing some shopping when your phone rang. Assuming that it was your soulmate, you smiled as you searched for your phone through your purse. But what you didn’t expect was to see the contact that you have been waiting a month for.

“Eric? Hi,” you said surprisingly.

“Hey. Uh,” he chuckled. “This is a bit weird, isn’t it? I just wanted to call to see if you were free to talk.”

Your eyes widened. “Yeah! I just got home. Do you want to swing by right now if you’re available?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. The same apartment, right?”

“The same one. I’ll see you soon,” you confirmed before you bid each other goodbye.

You waited for Eric for about thirty minutes, distracting yourself by cleaning and tidying up your place as you constantly overthought what you were going to say to him. This was going to be the first real conversation you were going to have with him in a month, not to mention the first time you’re seeing him after you ran away and left him at the altar.

There was a hard knock on your door, startling you. You took a deep breath before you answered it, revealing your ex-fiancé.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled, giving you a hug. He seemed happier and in a better mood than you’d expected.

“Hi, how are you?” You invited him into your home. It still looked the same the last time he came over, which had been quite a while.

“I’m doing good, you?”

“Good as well. Coffee?” You offered.

“Please.”

You made him a cup of coffee, remembering the way he liked it because of the amount of times you’d made it for him in the morning. Setting it on the coaster, you sat on the other end of the couch, facing him. There was a bit of silence between you two—both not knowing where to start the conversation, but you figured you needed to get everything out of your system, so you went first.

“Eric, I’m really sorry for how I left things. I shouldn’t have done it the way I did, and I should’ve talked to you first before we even proceeded to the wedding, but all of a sudden, it clicked. When you were reading your vows, I was just thinking of all the things Nonna said to me, and I realized…you weren’t the one. You weren’t my soulmate,” you explained. Your shoulders relaxed, finally feeling like this was the first step before you got to live your life with Harry.

“Hey,” he reached over to grab your hand. Now, you could say that you really don’t feel the same love as before. His touch wasn’t the same as Harry’s. Eric didn't give you the spark that crawled up your skin, only Harry did. “It’s totally okay. I mean that. I understand why you did that, and I’m glad you did because I knew you weren’t the one for me either, and it took me a while to realize that until…” he trailed.

“Until?” You encouraged him to continue, but it clicked so quickly for you. “You met someone?” He smiled, nodded his head. “Holy shit! What?!” You exclaimed surprisingly. You were the furthest from mad, and you were actually really happy for him.

“I did, yeah. She’s great, honestly. Her name is Mandy and I met her the night of our wedding,” he chuckled. “I went to a bar and met her there. And then I felt it. It’s the most exciting and exhilarating feeling in the world,” he excitedly said.

“Isn’t it?” You raised your brows, and Eric furrowed his brows until he got what you meant.

“Hold on…you…wait…you met yours didn’t you?” He speculated, and you laughed.

“Yeah, I did. Two weeks after our wedding. Actually met him at Nonna’s. Turns out, they’ve known each other for a year and a half. Can you believe that?”

“Actually, I can. Nonna Tallie knows everything. I’m pretty sure she knew that I wasn’t your soulmate too,” he said, laughing. You laughed along, deciding not to tell him that she actually did know.

The rest of the night went on like this. You two caught up, and shared stories and memories that made you laugh when you looked back while pouring yourselves glasses on glasses of wine. You realized that you and Eric were much better as friends, and you’re glad that it didn’t end in a horrendous way because you really cherished and appreciated him.

The night was getting late, and you two were giggling your tipsy hearts out as your eyes were trying theirs best to stay open. You realized you couldn’t fight over your exhausted and drunk self, so you decided to call it a night.

“Uh, you could take the couch since it’s late and you can’t drive,” you offered.

“Really? Thank you,” he smiled. You grabbed him an extra blanket and pillow, and bid him goodnight because you went to the restroom to do your skincare because you never forget to do your night routine no matter how drunk you are.

You crashed onto your bed, closing your eyes as you let sleep and your dreams take over you, dreaming about the loveliest man just above you and how you couldn’t wait to see him again.

When you wanted to see Harry again, you didn’t expect it to be the way you did.

After a long eight hours of dreaming of him, you heard a loud knock on the door, causing you to jolt awake. Still groggy as you were sitting up in bed, you heard footsteps walking towards the door, and you had nearly forgotten Eric was still in your apartment and that he was going to answer the door.

What you didn’t expect was to hear the familiar raspy and deep voice that said ‘Who the fuck are you?’ making you quickly get out of bed and heading towards the door. Eric was shirtless, clearly still sleepy, and Harry was standing on your doorstep with a bag of food in his hands.

The picture looked bad and wrong. With you and Eric just getting out of separate beds, respectfully, and Eric not wearing a shirt, it really wasn’t what it looked like.

“Harry-”

“A-Are you cheating on me?” Harry asked, not knowing if those were the right words. Sure, you were his soulmate, but he hadn’t made things official yet.

“Hey, man-”

“I’m clearly not talking to you,” he interrupted Eric, giving him a stern look.

You gently pulled his face down so he could look at you. “Listen to me, please?” He didn’t say anything, so you continued. “This is Eric, my ex. He came here to talk last night and we had a few glasses of wine and I let him crash on the couch, that’s all.”

Harry nodded, but his face clearly said that he wasn’t convinced. You looked at him with a sad expression, feeling useless on what you could do to get him to believe you.

“You know…” he started. His face looked disappointed, and you wished he flashed you his smile. “I found it odd that you didn’t know I was your soulmate when I first met you, and it hurt me, to be honest. It broke my heart. I waited patiently for you for my entire life, and I waited even more when I met you and you didn’t know that it was me. I get that if you’re still in love with him, I get it. You were together for years, almost forever. But this…” he gestured towards you two. “It looks bad and it hurts me more than ever.”

With that, he walked away. Rushing towards the staircase, you ran after him, calling for him, but he ignored you. His long strides beat yours as he took two steps at a time, and you barely kept up with him, so you just let him be for now. You sat on the cemented stairs, placing your face in your hands as you cried. Your sobs echoed throughout the empty staircase, and your heart felt like it was ripping in half—Harry’s heart breaking just added to your pain as well.

And just when you had gotten your soulmate, you felt like you lost him.

A week had passed since you last saw Harry, and it was one of the longest, frustrating, and painful weeks you ever had to live through.

The face Harry had given you was something you never wanted to see. The displeasurable look made your heart drop every time you thought about it, closing your eyes, it was the only thing you could see.

He wasn’t talking to you, no matter how many times you knocked on his door and said sorry to him through the door that most likely came out muffled from the other side. Throughout the week, you tried your hardest not to get angry for being ignored as you refrained from telling him how unreasonable he was being. But you looked at things from his perspective, and you understood why he felt that certain anxiety of seeing Eric in your apartment…shirtless, might you add.

It took you a while to figure out how that Harry was your soulmate, and you couldn’t imagine the doubt and discouraging feeling he had when you didn’t figure it out right away. You couldn’t imagine what he felt like when he first met you and felt everything indescribable.

For what seemed like the millionth time this week, you walked into Nonna’s house, immediately feeling the warmth and comfort you felt every single time. But it wasn’t the kind of warmth you longed for from a certain someone.

“Hey, Nonna,” you greeted once you entered, finding her on the couch, looking through her photo albums.

“Hi, Chip. Come in and sit with me,” she patted the space next to her, and you gladly walked over, taking a seat, looking at the pictures of her and your grandfather when they were younger.

“My soulmate. Miss you so much,” she said to the picture of the two of them smiling at the camera, touching Papa’s face.

Nonna flipped through the album, telling you stories about every single picture. You loved hearing memories about your grandparents as they brought so much joy to you. Nonna’s stories were the last bit of hope you had in soulmates, and you made sure to never let it go.

You saw Nonna take out a picture out of the slip, pointing at it as she told you another story. “This was me and your Papa when we went to the beach. We were with some friends, and he told me he was going to marry me. This wasn’t where he proposed, but this was when I heard it for the first time. I was surprised, but so in love.” She smiled at the photo of her and her soulmate. Nonna handed you the picture so you could get a better look.

In the picture, they were both sitting in the sand and she was smiling at the camera while Papa was holding her waist, looking at her with so much love. They were such a beautiful couple and quite the lookers.

As you studied the photograph, you noticed a couple in the back who equally looked in love as Nonna and Papa were. But to what shocked you was that the couple in the back looked just like you and Harry. You softly gasped, bringing the picture closer to your eyes, making sure you weren’t just imagining things, but sure enough, the couple looked exactly like the two of you.

“Nonna, look at this. This couple right here,” you pointed at the picture.

She squinted before she gasped herself. “Well, that looks quite like you and my delivery boy.”

“W-Why is that exactly us?” You stuttered, a bit spooked out.

Nonna grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. “Soulmates are destined for your future. What they didn’t tell you, or what I didn’t tell you was that, before you’re born or even conceived, the universe already plans for your soulmate because they’re quick like that. They have this stronghold that they can’t help but put together two people who are made for each other, even if they’re not even on this earth yet. In your case, the universe put you and Harry together in your past lives, way before you both were born. You and Harry were made for each other. Don’t let him go, ever.”

Without even realizing, you felt tears fall from your eyes as she explained. Your heart felt like it was exploding with so much love.

You needed him. You needed the air he provided. The light in your darkest days. The love that fulfilled your heart.

You handed Nonna the picture back, but she waved you off. “Keep it. Go get him, yeah?”

Kissing her cheek in gratefulness, you sniffled as you headed to your home.

You found yourself exactly where you needed to be, knocking on the dark green door with the number 525 in gold.

“Harry, please open the door,” you called out from outside. A frown settled upon your face as you continued to knock. The thought of Harry being on the other side of the door and ignoring you, made your heart ache.

“Can't do that when I’m out here.” You turned your head to see Harry fiddling with his keys with a bag of groceries in his other hand.

You smiled softly, rushing towards him before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him. “Missed you so much.” Your heart warmed when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, and you smiled into his shoulder. “Can we talk? Please?” You asked once you pulled away, looking at him with pleading eyes. And who was he to say no to that?

“Let’s go inside.” He walked past you, opening the door to let you in. You missed the homey feeling, and one week was too long without stepping foot into his place. He offered you a drink, but you declined, and he joined you on his sofa.

There was an unfamiliar silence where you didn’t know if you should speak or let the silence take over you until the tension finally breaks. Harry wasn’t speaking either as he was waiting for you to speak since you were the one who almost knocked down his door with your fist with the constant knocking.

“I’m sorry, Harry. This week has been brutal and I never want to go without you ever again. I looked at things from your perspective, and yeah, I would be frustrated and disappointed and hurt at me too. I couldn’t imagine what you were going through when you finally found me and I didn’t even know you were right in front of me. And I just want to say I’m sorry. Eric and I are over, and I don’t love him anymore. He’s already found his soulmate, and I have you…at least I think I still have you…” you said all in one breath, and your mind had gone into a spiral because you really didn’t know if you screwed things up.

Harry breathed out a chuckle, smiling to himself as he looked down at his lap. You knew you hadn’t convinced him enough just by the way he’s silent, probably debating with himself in his head if he should believe you. So, you took out the picture Nonna had shown you from your purse, hesitantly giving it to him.

He grabbed the picture and looked at him before he asked, “Who’s this?”

“That’s my Nonna and Papa. Think they were, like, twenty here. But that’s besides the point…look at the couple in the back.” Harry squinted, observing the couple behind Nonna and Papa. The couple were facing the ocean; the woman was sitting in front of the man as his arms were warmed around her body. They were looking at one another, smiling brightly when the world was right in front of them. But their worlds were right in their arms.

You noticed Harry’s eyes widen, looking at the couple again just as you did to make sure he’s not just hallucinating. He turned back to you, speechless, and you nodded.

“That’s us in our past life. Nonna told me that the universe puts couples together even if they’re not born yet. Our souls were born to the stars and the moon. We were destined to be together decades ago, and we are now,” you hesitantly grabbed his hand, and you’re grateful that he didn’t pull away. His touch was on fire that the spark ignited into something so relieving. You looked at him so intently, and you couldn’t pull away. No matter how disappointed he was in you, there was still that sparkle when he looked at you. “Harry, I’m sorry if I made you think that I wasn’t in love with you. There is nothing more in the world than you, and you’re all I want. We’re made for each other, baby. I’ve been in love with you, I’ll be in love with you. Forever.”

Silent tears streamed down Harry’s face as he curled his lips in. His heart was beating at a normal pace, only because it was now filled with the love and warmth that he’s asked for, and it all came from you. You filled that hole in his heart that’s been waiting to be sealed, and now you vowed to take care of it, and love and cherish it.

Harry shifted closer to you and you smiled through your tears. He delicately touched your cheek like you were fragile glass, and you soaked in his touch that made your cheeks warm. You turned your head to kiss his palm as he cradled your face. He brought his face closer to yours and kissed the tip of your nose before resting his forehead against yours. You smiled to yourself; you thought the gesture was sweet and you missed his touch and lips so much that it had made your heart physically ache.

“I’m gonna make you happy, baby, I promise.”

He nodded as his heart forgave you. “And I’ll do the same. Forever.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he spoke so softly, and his voice was deeper and raspier. “I was overreacting the last time--I’m sorry. I just closed myself off and-”

“Hey, it’s okay. Your feelings are valid. Let’s talk about it next time, okay?” You softly suggested, and he offered you a small smile of acceptance.

“I’m gonna love you forever,” he said.

“You better,” you teased, smirking slightly as he chuckled.

The tip of your noses touches as you closed your eyes before Harry leaned in and connected your lips together. The lips that were molding with yours had taken you back years, and it was like you had been kissing his lips for the entirety of your life, along with your beating heart that was beating for him all along.

pls let me know your thoughts and feelings on this! thank you for reading <3

#caitlin's fic party #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles ff #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #solo harry #doctor!harry #professor!yn #harry styles friends to lovers #friends to lovers #soulmate!harry #soulmate!au

1K notes · View notes

cupid-styles · 3 months

Text

daisy (english profrry x TA!yn)

part one of english profrry is here!!!!!

word count: 6.3k

BIG content warnings: massive, glaring warning for an inappropriate relationship. y/n is a graduate student in this and of legal consenting age, but there's an age gap of four years between her and harry. she is his TA, which means there's a big power imbalance between them. bc this is fic we'll pretend it's romantic and all very consensual but if this is triggering to you in any way, DO NOT READ IT. it's not worth hurting your mental health. also, if anything remotely like this happens in your personal life, IT IS NOT OKAY.

other CWs: small smut scene at the end (m masturbation with descriptions of m receiving oral, slight cum play), y/n alludes to having seasonal depression but it's never outwardly said (just be aware since the descriptions of it could be triggering to some!), a bit of angst but nothing crazy

with all that out of the way, if you still choose to read, I hope you enjoy :) love you all lots!!

masterlist | talk to me

patreon

. . .

Professor Styles is a dick.

That’s what the entire English department said when it was announced that Y/N would be his newest teaching assistant for the spring semester.

They all sneered at her, throwing what they pretended to be caring warnings her way, claiming that he was impossible to work with and he didn’t even actually need a TA, he just liked picking students to embarrass. With their noses upturned at Y/N but not actually offering any kind of advice, she left the small English building shortly after the Dean unveiled the new schedule for TAs, anxiety bubbling in her stomach and thick, salty tears in her waterline.

She knows Professor Styles doesn’t have the greatest reputation on campus. She actually actively avoided taking any classes with him throughout the duration of her bachelor’s degree, and even as she chose to stay on to enter her first year of graduate school, she picked any other available professors over him.

He was known for his less-than-personable demeanor and the way he picked apart students’ essays, leaving them questioning their entire life path. Y/N has never felt much insecurity about her career — she’s always wanted to go into English, maybe opting for a small but impactful job in publishing or editing — but having a professional ruin her writing sounded… well, awful.

In reality, Y/N didn’t have much of a choice when it came to her teaching assistant preferences. She needed a job that wouldn’t take up too much of her time. Her first semester of grad school was difficult and stressful. All of her friends graduated and went on to cool jobs all over the country, while Y/N just stayed in the same apartment. She was homesick for her family and walked through a campus every day that reminded her of a better version of herself — one who had a flourishing social life and excellent grades. Just a few months of working on her masters degree had worn her down.

Despite the slight dip in her grades from university to graduate school (an expected change, her advisor had explained), she was still recommended as a TA for the English department in the spring. She’d really been gunning after Professor Rooney, a kind, middle-aged woman who had spent years working glamorous jobs in the publishing world. She had connections everywhere and was incredibly sweet, and Y/N knew she would feel comfortable working in her sections for the semester. All winter break, she imagined how wonderful it could be; that maybe it was the huge win she needed after such a shitty fall.

But Professor Rooney didn’t choose her. Professor Styles did.

Even with a promise of a reasonable stipend contingent on the completion of her TA position, Y/N’s world felt like it came crashing down just a little bit — but she knew better than to complain or blubber on about not getting her way. Instead, she chose to just get through it.

In the final days of winter break, Professor Styles emailed her to meet in his office the day before classes began. He didn’t ask if she was back on campus or if she had a good break. Y/N wanted to resent that, but chose to swallow it down.

When she got to his small office in the department, she gently knocked on the open door, signaling her arrival. He peered up from whatever book he was hunched over on his deck, straightened his posture, and checked his watch.

“You’re late.” he said flatly, shutting the paperback with a force she didn’t even know was possible. With furrowed brows, she glanced at the lockscreen on the phone she held.

“You said 10:30, right? It’s 10:30 now.”

“On time is late,” he muttered, folding his hands on his desk, “Early is on time.”

She swallowed, her lips parting like a guppy. He rolled his eyes and motioned to the seat on the other side of her desk. Quickly, she took it, placing her tote bag at her feet and making a mental reminder to arrive at his classes five minutes early from this point on.

“Right, so you’re my TA, then?”

She nodded, “Yes, for the spring semester.”

He hummed, though she couldn’t tell if it was a sound of approval or discontent. He moved his computer mouse over the surface of the university provided mouse pad, making his computer buzz to life. With an awkward silence settling between them, the sound of the mouse clicking was the only thing that filled the dim office.

“You just graduated from the English department last spring,” he said, eyes scanning over what she now assumed was her student file, “3.8 GPA. That’s fine.”

She blinked at that, resisting the urge to balk at him. 3.8 was .2 away from a perfect GPA. It was more than fine.

“You didn’t take any classes with me during your time as an undergrad.”

“Um, your sections were always full—”

“I don’t really care what your reasoning is,” he cut her off, continuing to scroll down the screen. A lump formed in her throat but she tried to swallow it down. Nothing sounded more embarrassing than crying in front of Professor Styles. “And now you’re getting your masters in English with a concentration in Feminist Literature. That’s an unusual one. Why?”

She’s surprised he’s bothered to ask her a question, so it takes her a moment to form a cohesive answer on her tongue. She’s flailing a bit and she knows he can tell, based on the unamused expression on his face.

“I’ve read a lot of literature where there’s a female main character and she’s just used to state a point or some sort of backwards lesson that was considered modernized for the time,” Y/N speaks softly, picking at her nails in her lap, “I’m interested in studying that more.”

“What kind of literature?” Professor Styles instantly fires back.

“Well, I wrote my undergraduate thesis on The Scarlet Letter, but I’ve also been thinking about basing my graduate capstone on Ophelia from Hamlet.”

He makes that annoying humming noise again, and she’s still unsure if he’s pleased or thinks she’s an idiot. She wasn’t unused to the latter — a lot of snobs in the English department thought it was stupid of her to care for critiquing older pieces of writing from an argumentative, feminist perspective, even if they acted like The Odyssey was an “absolute must-read” for everyone.

(It’s not. Y/N thinks The Odyssey is dumb and boring, but she’ll never say that, especially not to Professor Styles.)

“Right, well,” he lifts a white ceramic coffee cup to his mouth and swallows briefly. She glances down to see he’s drinking hot black coffee, and her lips furl into a quick, involuntary wince. “You’ll be with me three days a week. You are to attend the daily lectures — Mondays and Wednesdays are the shorter section and Friday is the long, three-hour one. Helping out with grading and holding office hours will be your primary tasks. If you fall ill or need to take a day off, I need at least 24 hours notice. If I receive any complaints from students, you’re out. Otherwise, it should be a fine semester. Any questions?”

She shakes her head, hoping he’ll show some inkling of delight at her quick ability to understand and process. Instead, his lips remain in a flat line and he nods, taking another sip of his coffee.

“You can go now. See you tomorrow.”

She scrambles to leave his office as quickly as possible.

. . .

Professor Styles barely speaks to Y/N for the first few weeks.

It’s unsettling in a way, especially because she doesn’t know if she’s doing a good job. She thrives off of reassurance, but every time she hands him a neat stack of newly graded papers or drafts, he simply waves her off with an, “alright, thanks.”

If she’s being honest, it makes her want to try even harder, though she’s not entirely sure why. She has the urge to claw her way to the very top of Professor Styles’ repertoire of students and assistants — a need for perfectionism that can only be quelled by the person least likely to give it to her.

And it’s driving her absolutely insane.

She wants to ask, straight out, “am I doing an alright job? Do you need anything more from me?”, but she’s positive that will only make her glow with insecurity. He’d probably laugh in her face and call her a baby for needing his acceptance.

It eats her alive as she sits at the front of the lecture hall, watching his female students stare at him with hearts in their eyes as he discusses the politics of Ursula Le Guin. It bugs her only more than he's one of the most attractive people she's ever seen, always impeccably dressed with long, ring-clad fingers.

Grumbling, she realizes that she probably looks just as pathetic, so she quickly straightens her posture and runs her fingertips over the mousepad of her laptop so it glows back to life. She’s supposed to be going over the grades of the students’ first essays — her and Professor Styles were meeting after class to discuss them in the event that anyone needed additional assistance for the upcoming paper.

She busies herself with that until he ends class, creating a list of a few names that would potentially need to be met with one-on-one. He doesn’t say anything as he gathers his own materials from the lecture, and she follows him out of the hall and to his office just as silently, carrying her laptop in one hand and her tote bag on her shoulder.

Professor Styles’ office is always cold and dark, never failing to send a shiver down her spine when he unlocks the door. Today, her shoulders shudder involuntarily and she pushes her sweater sleeves down to cover her hands. With a rumple in his eyebrows, he sits down.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

Y/N snaps her head up in surprise. She doesn’t mean to look shocked, so she quickly revises her facial features in an attempt to look collected.

“Oh, it’s just cold,” she says, waving him off nonchalantly, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah. I think this winter has been especially brutal.”

His reply especially dazes her — she’s unsure if that’s an attempt at making small talk, something Professor Styles has never done with her before, but she instantly nods her head, as if she’s speaking with a toddler who’s expressing their emotions for the first time.

“Yeah, I think so,” she says softly, “The snow is awful to walk through.”

“Do you live far from campus?”

She shakes her head and sets her laptop and planner on her side of the desk, across from Professor Styles and his things.

“No, just a 10 minute walk or so, but I don’t have a car.”

He hums at that — that stupid, unassuming hum that contributes absolutely nothing to the conversation. She wonders if she’s in her head about it, but she feels his eyes linger just a beat longer on her face before tearing them away. He licks over his teeth as he taps on his laptop to wake it back up.

“Right, then. Did you go over their grades?”

As she pulls her things out from her bag, she tries to ignore the small pit of disappointment in her tummy from Professor Styles shifting their conversation back over to class.

. . .

That weekend, Y/N thinks she’s hallucinating as she meanders up and down the aisles at Target.

She’s not really looking for anything in particular. Sometimes she just comes here for something to do. Her bank account isn't exactly flowing in a way that permits her to buy all the cute home decor she gazes at, which is why her basket currently consists of the following: pads, a new pack of her favorite gel pens, cookie dough, and a lip balm that she’ll probably put back before she checks out.

It’s another harsh, cold day out, the freezing temperatures refusing to let up as the days of the month flit by. This is Y/N’s least favorite time of year — when winter sticks around despite the holidays being long gone. All that’s left between now and spring is pesky snow and fake Hallmark holidays, and she yearns for the days where she can walk to campus and admire the tulips peeking out from the damp soil. By then, she’ll be closer to returning to her hometown for the summer, where she’ll likely get a job for a few months working in the local library or bookstore.

It’ll be good — she’ll get to see her friends and spend time with family and save up some money, and maybe the hopefulness of life warming up in a few months will be enough to get her through this semester.

And as she’s daydreaming of brighter days, that’s when it happens — when she thinks she must be fully hallucinating, because as she strolls down one aisle in particular, Professor Styles is standing there, his bottom lip pinched between his fingers as he stares at space heaters.

She’s never seen him off campus. Sometimes that happens since a lot of professors live close by, so it’s not unheard of to pass by an advisor or faculty member at the supermarket or through the park. But seeing Professor Styles here feels… illegal, somehow, especially given his casual, dressed down attire. He’s wearing what looks to be a cozy sweatshirt and a pair of athletic shorts, despite the temperature nearing the 20s today. (Y/N is bundled up in three sweaters, a jacket, a scarf, gloves, and leggings beneath her jeans.) White socks go just above his ankles, and the running shoes on his feet make her wonder if he’s insane enough to actually be working out in this weather.

She must be analyzing his form for a beat too long — maybe it’s the shock from it that still hasn’t worn off — because he feels her gaze, eyes veering to his peripheral, realizing that his teaching assistant is standing there as if she’s waiting for permission to enter the aisle.

“Hey,” she blurts out when she realizes she’s been caught.

Confused by her frank, laidback greeting, he lifts his head to face her. “Hey.” he echoes awkwardly.

“Um, sorry.”

He quirks an eyebrow and Y/N’s body heats with embarrassment. “Sorry?”

“Sorry… I-I should’ve just walked away when I saw you,” Y/N quickly attempts to revise, but she realizes it’s just making her sound stupider, “I was just surprised to see you here.”

“In a public store?”

“Right,” she nods curtly, turning on her heel, “Have a good rest of your weekend—”

“Wait, did you need something down here?” he rushes out, almost as if he’s fearful she’ll leave. She pushes the thought down but parts her lips nervously, eyes scanning over the contents on the shelves. She doesn’t need anything, she was just putting off having to brave the cold weather on her walk home.

“Yes,” she says slowly because, once again, she’s suddenly stupefied and enamored by the prospect of small talk with Professor Styles, “I needed… lighters. For my candles.”

He nods, a quiet “ah,” sounding from his lips, and they stand there like they’re doing some sort of parallel play; Y/N pretending to look at the long, safety lighters while Professor Styles continues to look at space heaters. She wonders if he for some reason is pretending, too, but then he’ll squat down to look at the features on one box, making a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, and straighten back up to analyze a different model.

When he finally decides on an option that’s best fit, he grabs the box and places it in his cart. Quickly, Y/N plucks a random display of lighters and throws them in her basket.

“Hope you found a good one,” she mutters out dumbly, feeling the need to interject one last sentence into their silence. He glances down at his cart, then at her basket, and then, finally, at her.

“It’s for the office,” he says. “You said it was cold.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“This should help with that.”

“Sure, yeah. I have one at home, it helps a lot with the draftiness.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Maybe you can get an extra lamp in there, too. Spruce it up a bit.”

A wrinkle forms between his brows, “What do you mean?”

Y/N wishes the ground would swallow her up whole.

“Nothing! I just meant— like, sometimes it’s a bit cold, and with the weather, it can get dark, too. The winter’s tough, don’t you think? That’s all I meant, I’m sorry—”

“No, you’re right,” he says with a decisive nod. “You’re the only other person that really spends time there besides students. Do you want to help pick one out?”

“Sure, okay.”

They walk in silence to the lighting display, which is filled with a myriad of different options. Professor Styles looks semi-overwhelmed by it all and Y/N has to bite her lip so she doesn’t smile too widely at his confused expression. She points to a simple, inexpensive standing lamp.

“I think something like this would be good, in the corner or something. Just for some extra brightness.”

“Is that the one you like?”

Y/N doesn’t have strong lamp preferences, especially when it comes to a space that she’s not even living in, but for some reason, it seems important that she says yes. So she nods her head, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and she realizes that’s the first time he’s ever smiled at her.

“Okay. I’ll have this stuff set up for when you come in on Monday.”

She swallows, feeling the mountain of adoration in her stomach grow. She shoves it down.

“Thank you, that’s really kind of you,” she says.

“Sure. I’ll see you then. Have a good rest of your weekend.”

She hides in the lamp aisle for another 15 minutes, until she’s positive he’s left the store.

. . .

Professor Styles and Y/N are working in their typical silence when he says something that makes her jaw nearly drop to the floor.

She thought that after their short but personable interaction at the store, things would change a bit. Maybe he would feel more comfortable talking to her outside of monotone grunts or the occasional “are they failing my class?”, but things remained the same. When she came in that Monday, the space heater and lamp were both on and running as he promised, but it was as if nothing happened.

It irks Y/N to no end.

She assumes that he sincerely doesn’t care for her, which she supposes is fine considering kindness or approval aren’t part of the job description. That’s why she’s shocked when he says it a few weeks after the weekend they saw one another in public.

“I think you should ask to change your advisor to me.”

Y/N chokes on her spit, hurriedly coughing into her hand so she doesn’t spray saliva all over his desk. Once she recovers, he’s staring at her expectedly, as if what he said was completely and utterly sane.

“Sorry?” she asks, “Why would I do that?”

She doesn’t mean it to sound rude, but it’s a genuine question. Typically, there’s some type of rapport between a grad student and their advisor, and she and Professor Styles have absolutely none of that.

Professor Styles clears his throat and folds his hands on his desk. “Because I got my masters degree in the same thing, so I spent four years studying exactly what you’re studying. I think you’ve been doing very well as my TA and I would like to advise you.”

“Why would you ask me why I was studying that, then?” she blurts out, confusion apparent on her face. “The first day we met, you told me it was unusual.”

“It is.”

“But you studied it.”

“I did.”

“So why would you say that?”

Professor Styles sighs as if this is the most boring and obvious conversation he’s had all day.

“I wanted to hear you defend it. See why you’re interested and make sure it’s not all bullshit.”

Y/N shakes her head, “So you were playing some kind of mind game with me? For fun?”

“It wasn’t a mind game, Y/N. I just wanted to know why you’re interested in it.”

She bites her lip and looks down at her laptop screen, which has since gone dim since they began talking. If she’s being truthful, she’s grown tired of Professor Styles. Up until now, she was positive she was doing things wrong and he just didn’t care enough to correct her — only to find out that he wanted to work with her even more. It made zero sense.

“Are you going to do it, then?” he asks, tearing her from her thoughts. Her expression pinches as she rolls her lips into a thin line.

“I don’t know.” she answers in a watery voice. “I like my advisor, and I assumed you didn’t like me very much.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I like you?”

“You barely utter three words to me on a daily basis and never tell me if you’re happy with my work.”

Professor Styles scoffs, leaning back against his leather computer chair.

“You need regular approval from me to know whether or not I like you?”

“Yes,” she admits, anger building in her chest until she can’t help but blurt out what she’s thinking, “It’s how I work. If you were a good professor, you would’ve asked how I best function at the beginning of the semester. Instead, you ignore me for fun.”

“You don’t think I’m a good professor.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “I didn’t mean that. I think you are. I just don’t think you’re the best at managing teaching assistants.”

He shrugs, but she notices a slight wince in his features. “We can’t all be good at everything, can we?”

“Right,” she mumbles, drumming her fingers on the edge of his desk. When he doesn’t reply, she shuts her laptop and stuffs it in her bag. “I’m gonna go then. I’ll see you next week.”

He’s silent as she gets her things together and pulls her jacket on, wrapping her scarf around her neck and zipping it on top of her sweater for extra warmth. As her boots carry her across the length of his office and to the door, he stands from his seat.

“Y/N,” he says, and she turns to look at him. “The deadline to change your advisor is next Friday. I hope you’ll still consider it.”

. . .

That evening, all Harry can think about is his sweet, quiet TA. The one who he undoubtedly offended earlier today — he cringes at the thought of it, replaying their conversation over and over in his head. He can’t stop thinking about the upset look on her face. When she asked if he was playing mind games with her, he wanted to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He never meant to hurt her, not one bit.

He sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. He’s had reruns of some shitty sitcom on since he got home from work a few hours ago. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, but even a laugh track and ‘90s era merriment couldn’t distract him from thinking about her.

He considers the things she said about wanting his approval. He’s never been well-liked in the English department, likely because of his rough exterior. He’s not immune to the things he hears from students and faculty, about how he’s grumpy and someone to be feared, even if he didn’t even intend to come off that way. In all honesty, he never wanted to be perceived in that matter — but once his reputation began to precede him a year or two ago, he figured there was no use in trying to convince people otherwise.

That's how it had always gone, anyway — in high school, when he started experimenting with different styles of clothing, everyone assumed he was gay. He'd desperately tried to refute those claims, even if he wasn't completely sure of his sexuality himself. But no one cared — they'd already made up their minds, and it seemed useless to attempt to change their ways of thinking.

And when people spoke here, mumbling about how mean and terrible he was... well, what was the point?

Y/N was the only person he cared to win over, and it was eating him alive.

So much so that he made the blind decision to maybe, possibly cross a very clear boundary between professor and TA. Despite Y/N being of legal, consenting age (after looking at her student file, he found that he’s only four years older), he still attempted to prioritize maintaining a professional relationship with every one of his students and TAs.

He couldn’t help himself with her, though. He knew it was bad — he could feel his heart thumping quickly in his chest, the logical part of his brain telling him to stop while he’s ahead, but he couldn’t. Not as he grabbed his laptop, logged into his work email, and composed a message to her student address. Not when his fingers danced over the keyboard and resisted the urge to implore her to start fresh with him. Not when he clicked ‘send’ without even proofreading to make sure it sounded appropriate, not creepy or weird.

He pushed his laptop away and got up to pour himself some wine, attempting to rid himself of any lingering guilt.

. . .

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Today

Time: 9:57 p.m.

Hi Y/N,

I wanted to apologize for how I acted today. It wasn’t kind of me and you deserve far better than that. I understand if you have no interest in changing your advisor. Please know that whatever you decide, your TA position will not be in danger, should you choose to continue working with me.

Thank you for all of your hard work. You’ve been doing an excellent job and I’ve very much enjoyed having you this semester. Have a good weekend.

x Harry Styles

. . .

On Monday, Y/N’s mind is whirring.

It’s not because the semester is nearing midterm season, although that’s part of it. It’s because Professor Styles emailed her an apology at almost 10 pm on Friday evening, and she’s repeatedly read it over at least 50 times since receiving it.

She didn’t reply because she wasn’t sure what to say — and, most shockingly, he didn’t sign it as Professor Styles. Instead, he ended the message with a kiss, for crying out loud, followed by his name. His name!

It’s all she’s been able to focus on for days, to the point where she contemplates not showing up to his lecture on Monday. But she’s better than that — she’s stronger, and she’s smarter, and she doesn’t want to hide.

She avoids Professor Styles’ gaze all throughout his lecture, instead focusing on grading first drafts for the class’ midterm paper. She knows she’ll have to sit with him in his office afterwards, and her stomach churns at the thought. In some way, she feels ashamed that she said anything to begin with. Her comments about him not managing TAs properly have made her shrivel into a mortified version of herself, and she’s shocked he didn’t fire her on the spot.

Worst of all, she hates the way her heart jumped into her throat when his name popped up on her screen on Friday night. She craved the feeling, hoping he would, for some reason, do it again, even though she never responded. She wasn’t playing hard to get by any means, but the fact that her brain even veered in that direction proved one thing to be true: she has a big, fat crush on Professor Styles.

The knowledge sits like a rock in her stomach, especially as they walk in silence to his office after class. The air between them feels awkward, but she’s not sure that there’s ever been a time where it hasn’t felt odd between them. When he unlocks the door, she quietly steps inside, her heart skipping a beat at the space heater and lamp already turned on.

Usually, he keeps the door open while they work. Today, he shuts it, the soft click of the lock making her jump.

“Can we talk?”

Y/N’s throat dries but she nods, gripping the strap of her tote bag close to her arm. She turns to face him, and for the first time ever, she notices that he looks… nervous.

“About last week. I’m sorry, but I’m even more sorry for emailing you that on Friday,” he rushes the words out like he wrote a script out and was waiting to perform them, “It was completely inappropriate, and I got the hint when you didn’t reply.”

“The hint?” she peeps out, her voice squeaky and embarrassing.

“Yeah,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “About not wanting me to advise you and… you probably found my email to be weird, right?”

Quickly, she shakes her head. “No, no. I.. I actually haven’t given much thought to the advisor thing, but I didn’t think it was weird. I just didn’t know how to respond.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Why’s that?”

“Because I felt guilty about what I said to begin with! A-and you could’ve fired me if you wanted to, but instead you apologized and said that I’m doing a good job—”

“You are.”

“Exactly!” she exclaims frustratedly. “I didn’t know how to respond to that.”

“To me being… kind?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at her, the crinkle between his brows deepening.

“I’m just not used to it, Professor Styles.” she says with a sigh.

“Harry,” he corrects.

“What?”

“My name is Harry. I don’t want you to call me Professor Styles.”

Y/N ignores the quickening of her heartbeat and shifts her stance from foot to foot.

“Why are you doing this?” she eventually blurts as she crosses her arms over her sweater-clad form. She’s not sure if she detects an inkling of pity in his face, but if she does, she wants nothing more than to run for the hills and never return. For some reason, the thought of Professor— Harry feeling bad for her makes her shoulders shudder, a prickly sensation tip-toeing down her spine, as if shame is completely and utterly eating her alive.

His lips part in a quiet sigh. “I just… I spent the weekend thinking of you and feeling awful for the way I’ve treated you.”

Thinking of you.

I spent the weekend thinking of you.

Her stomach turns as his words echo throughout the chambers of her brain. But then there’s a click — like the second part of the sentence just ekes its way through, planting a seed of self-doubt and insecurity. And she backs away like he may explode at any moment.

“You shouldn’t— no, that’s alright,” she shakes her head, gaze set low on the carpeted floors of his tiny office.

“Y/N—”

Again, she cuts him off with a shake of her head, raising her eyes to look at him. His expression is pained and she wonders if hers is any better, though she assumes for different reasons: He doesn’t want to get fired for torturing another grad student. She has an inappropriate crush on the professor she works for.

“It’s all good. Call it even?” she rushes out, leaning over to grab her things from her chair, “Fresh start on Wednesday. Don’t mention it again, alright?”

She’s gone before he can stop her.

. . .

Harry accidentally falls asleep in his office that evening.

It’s half because he’s absolutely swamped with work, too fearful to email Y/N and add things to her grading pile after the way she all but ran away earlier today. He’s terrified he made her uncomfortable.

He doesn’t want to return to the quiet loneliness of his apartment, where he’s constantly faced to force the reality of his life: A man in his early 30s with a job that he likes, but no one actually likes him at it. His entire family resides in London and with the exception of a few friends from his schooling years, he’s alone. Especially in the romance department.

His heart aches for Y/N. He realizes it’s a bit dramatic, even slightly taboo given the nature of their professional relationship, but he likes her. He likes her so much that he doesn’t want to go home and think about how badly he messed things up, so he falls asleep face-down on his desk, his cranium wedged between piles of pens and a Post-It list of to-do’s.

When he wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for. The soft, golden light from the lamp is still just barely bathing the circumference of the room, but as he blinks his eyes open, he realizes that it’s silent. He can see through the small frosted window that the hallways are dim, which means it’s most definitely sometime in the evening.

He feels… somewhat guilty but charged as he wakes from the fog of his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as he stretches his arms out. His neck already aches from the discomfort of his sleeping position and he groans, lifting a palm to sort the knot out.

And that’s when he realizes it — why he feels as if his body is buzzing, his hands sweaty and his throat dry. He’d woken up in the middle of a sex dream and, like a pathetic teenager, the star of it had been his crush. Y/N.

He scoffs to himself as he glances down at his crotch where, sure enough, his length is painfully hard beneath the constriction of his trousers and underwear. He swallows, eyes flickering closed. He can remember the exact details of his dream, even if they send a bead of guilt dripping down his chest — they’d been in his office, just like this. She was between his legs, knees pressing into the carpet of the floor, her eyes rounded and expectant as he toyed with her, pretending to guide his cock between her lips only to take it away at the last minute. She pouted every time, a plushy lipped-frown punctuating the words he hadn’t even realized he’d been dying to hear: “Please Professor Styles, stop teasing me.”

At the realization, he’s sent into a frenzy. He doesn’t even think to check whether the door is locked (or maybe if he’s locked in the building, no less), before he’s clawing at his belt and zipper, yanking the fabrics down to reveal a pair of swollen balls. His length stands hard, his eyes nearly rolling back just from the feeling of looping his fingers around the base. He can’t remember the last time he was this pent up just from his own imagination, but it’s not a difficult place to return — not as his head leans back against his office chair, allowing his dream to pick up and take form in full consciousness.

So much pre-cum is bubbling at the tip that he doesn’t need much of his own spit to lubricate himself. He bites his lip hard to prevent himself from groaning out too loudly, envisioning the way she’d finally suckle around the tip of his cock, looking up at him with proud eyes. He’d gradually help her go deeper, but she’d be excited, willing to bruise her throat for him. She was so good — in his dreams, in real life, she was always so, so good.

“So good, Professor,” she’d pant out, popping off to lick a stripe up the side of his cock. With spit-swollen lips, she’d venture down to his balls, rolling them in the palm of her hands before taking each one into her mouth. In reality, he gasps at that, tugging them in his own hand.

But what really gets him there is an impossible thought — one that has nothing to do with the silly wet dream his brain conjured while he slept. Her in her own bedroom, her naked form wrapped up in her sheets while he gazed over lovingly, pressing soft kisses along her shoulder and down her arm. She’d giggle breathily before flipping onto her side to face him. And she’d say it — I love you — and it’d feel like heaven.

That’s what pushes him to finish all over his hand, cum dribbling over his fist as he pants and gasps like he’s just discovered masturbation. His orgasm encompasses his entire body, a few beautiful, peaceful moments of complete pleasure that causes all of his muscles to tighten deliciously. Of course, he envisions her taking all of his cum, licking it up eagerly over his digits, making a show of it — she’d open her mouth, pretty pink tongue out, and he’d watch as she swallows. He shudders at the thought of it, quickly snapping his eyes open and grabbing a tissue from the box on his desk to clean himself up. He’s immediately back to his grumbly state as he does, irritated that he allowed himself to lose control in such a finite way.

He tosses the dirty tissue in the garbage can and stands up to tug his briefs and pants back up. The clink of his belt buckle is the only sound throughout the small room, so he jumps when a knock sounds on the other side of his closed door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, someone knows, I must have said her name, I’m such a fucking freak—

His eyes widen when the person speaks: “Profess— Harry? Are you in there? It’s Y/N.”

2K notes · View notes