gravity is a force of attraction, keeping all matters in line.
—————
College sucks.
(Y/N) knew that from the second she had to pay for books that should have been provided given the extravagant amount she paid in tuition. Her viewpoint was only reaffirmed when she attended lectures for mandatory courses that had nothing to do with her major, with professors who didn't care whether or not she was comprehending the material. All she was really doing here was getting a fancy piece of paper with a seal on it in hopes of being taken seriously when looking for a job.
It only sucked worse when she felt like she was failing, and barely saw the roommate that had promised to keep her sane through the entire experience.
That was how (Y/N) found herself drunk and alone on a Friday night.
To be fair, she was having a lot more fun than she would have thought considering she was not a talented bartender and the vodka cranberry she messily mixed in her kitchen tasted of sweetened rubbing alcohol at first sip.
Loud music was blaring through the apartment (or at least as loud as she knew she could get away with, considering her neighbors weren't too keen on the college experience), with every door left wide open throughout the space. The apartment felt bigger through her hooded vision, her clumsy choreography feeling like a grandiose production with the make-believe partner she conjured out of the Ariana Grande lyrics that floated throughout every room.
It was only when she remembered she was alone that she wished so badly there was someone with her. Someone to hold her like Ariana described, to kiss and touch over her body in loving runs. That was when the fog in her mind took on a rosied tint, a yearning feeling aching to trace out the form of another.
She blamed it on the alcohol, and the fact she had been single for far too long. Since she was alone—something she had started the night grateful for—she became a little too aware of the lusted shift her thoughts were taking and how much she wished she had someone else there to relieve the ache that was sparking between her thighs. (This happened often when she drank. She was a loving and affectionate drunk, making the absence of another glaringly obvious to her).
(Y/N) didn't have even half the mind to be embarrassed as she dug around for her laptop in her room, too preoccupied by the tipsy lens she was seeing the world through, and the longing that had settled in her stomach. After finding her treasure, she settled herself on the wrinkled mess that was her bedding, and opened a familiar browser. It was a little too instinctive as she typed in the familiar website, but she couldn't find it in her to care when the lazy thoughts floating through her mind were urging her to find any kind of release.
That was how she found herself on a cam-site.
Truly, it had been a slip of the finger. All she had tried to do was click on the minuscule 'x' tacked in the corner of a shady pop-up ad on a much more legit site, but her lagging response time made it that much harder to react before she was being directed to a completely different site.
This one lacked the typically dark grey and black shading that other explicit sites utilized. This one used a green based layout, leaving the attention to be placed on the rows and rows of thumbnails dotting her screen. Across the main page, the site boasted a channel of over fifty-thousand different performers, making it easy to find something 'to your liking'. The small boxes that filled out the screen displayed different people in various states of undress (or in outfits (Y/N) wasn't aware were made in real life), some with their faces cut out of frame and others feeling no need to hide their identity. They were all stilled into a single scene from their 'stream', as it was labeled under the tile, some performing acts that she hadn't known were physically possible. Once she realized what it was that she had been loaded onto, she pulled back with a gasp.
She had never been on a cam-site before; the idea of paying a stranger to get off on camera while she lurked on the other side with complete anonymity felt a bit too sleazy to make her comfortable or turned on. Fully intending to backpedal onto the familiar site she had accidentally left, (Y/N) barely swept her lagging eyes over the expanse of the site, her fingertips lazily tracing over the touchpad to take her back.
Until she saw one tile of a person just sitting there.
It was a short view of a man's chest, the frame cutting off at his neck to give the full of the attention to his seated body with his torso the main focus. He was sat in something that emulated the office chair that she had pushed into her desk in her room, nothing especially pornographic about the set up; even the dimmed lights in the background denoted nothing other than a quiet night in. He wasn't undressed as far as she could tell from the pixelated view she was given into his video. A gauzy button-up was stretched across the broad of his shoulders, the fabric thin and left unbuttoned enough to show a pair of birds tattooed below his collarbones and something that could either be a butterfly or an octopus on his tummy given the quality of the thumbnail. He even had his pants on.
More than anything, the lack of lewd acts and scandalous dressing made her curious. Maybe it wasn't required that you do anything explicitly sexual during your stream.
Her decision tasted like cranberries saturated in vodka as she rerouted her finger on the touchpad and instead tapped on the username that was spelled out under the tile. It only took a second before his profile popped up. The page shared the same layout as the main site; a plain sage green base backing the much more customized personal page that displayed his information.
His screen name—treatpeoplewkisses—was highlighted in a golden yellow across the top. The details of his profile generated underneath. Most of the categories were left vague; only a country filling in his location, and a single letter (H) giving him a name. What looked to be a screenshot or a still from one of his videos acted as his profile picture, the setting similar to what she saw as he was sat in his dimly lit base with a barely buttoned top on with the black of his tattoos shining through the fabric. A green dot beside his user confirmed that he was online. A stream of posts made up the rest of his page, the most recent status making a claim that he was LIVE NOW! with a bright pink link that had been shared a little over ten minutes ago.
(Y/N) felt a pit in her tummy as she pressed the link. Something like guilt blinked through the vodka-induced haze, feeling odd to be viewing someone so intimately while she didn't have to share a thing. But, she reasoned with herself, if that wasn't something he was comfortable with, he wouldn't be on this site. Besides, as far as she could tell, he wasn't doing anything like his counterparts on the site, so she might not be seeing anything explicit anyway.
Nevertheless, she didn't stop as the screen loaded, directing her to the stream she had only gotten a glimpse of on the start page. Her laptop filled out to a new setup with the main video displayed in the center with the boy she had seen still sitting in his comfortably lit room and his ethereally thin top. Beside the video was a chat stream, where all comments were shown in response to anything he said or did. A thermometer-like bar was plastered on the other side, displaying how much money he had already made that night with a goal tacked to the top of the bar. In the ten minutes since he had gone live, he had already made a hundred dollars with the promise of more coming in if the range of comments had anything to do with it.
His—H's—throat bobbed around words she couldn't hear with gentle expansions of his chest under his shirt as he breathed, nothing at all like the wild extremes that had been sandwiched around him on the main page. She worked on something like autopilot as she turned up the volume on her laptop, wanting to know what was getting the comments flooding in faster than she could catch.
Maybe it was the alcohol-induced lag going on in her head, but all (Y/N) could register for a moment was how deep and inviting his tone was as it washed over her. He had drawn her in in a matter of seconds.
He seemed to be responding to comments, though the tone he used made it feel like he was talking to only her; answering questions she had forgotten she asked and responding to compliments she wordlessly gave. He was good at what he was doing. Even without his face in the shot, it felt like he was speaking only to her, as if there wasn't a hoard of comments streaming through at every pause
"'M happy you're having a good night, darling. Thank you for letting me be a part of it."
He spoke low and slow enough for her to register through the haze in her mind, the words dripping over her like honey. What kind of dreamboat was this? And how did he exist on a site like this?
No matter whatever direction this stream took, she was sure actors of any kind wished they could procure a relationship like this with viewers; something personal enough to keep them coming back for more no matter the content.
(Y/N) leaned in, listening intently as H let out a breathy laugh that filtered through her speakers, the sound deep and rich like the rest of him. She could only imagine the kind of smile that stretched across his lips in conjunction with the sound. She wished she knew what the color of his lips were.
"Is that what the mood for tonight is? Well, I won't keep y'waiting, I know it's been a long week, love."
Her eyes only widened as he joined in on the tradition of the site he was registered on, making a slow show of unbuttoning the remaining bindings on his top and revealing the full of his chest to the camera. All the while, he entertained comments and kept her listening while her eyes were fixed to the fluid and comfortable motions he made over his body.
It was that easy to get her hooked.
She couldn't—and didn't want to—find any will to exit from the stream, even when he progressed to taking the stripping up another level by taking off his pants. She was transfixed on him and his ability to make the entire experience much too personal considering the nature of the transaction. It was effortless how he drew her in, doing nothing other than using the body of his voice and indulging in his own pleasure.
And, god, he was just hot.
His voice was entirely too warm to be that of a stranger she had never met and she'd never have the opportunity to hear in person. He touched over his body with the assurance that no matter what he did, it wasn't only for him, that he knew exactly how much his viewer liked it and he would make sure he wasn't the only one feeling good in the experience. The cherry on top was the fact that in that first stream, as if she wasn't already a sucker for him, he called himself daddy. He moaned around the honorific, teasing and beckoning her in to join him in his scene and to help him work his cock and take all he had to give her.
She knew she would be coming back when he ended the stream, chest a flushed red and his hand wrapped in a towel as he cleaned himself up, with a declaration of affection: "I adore you." He didn't log off until he requested for his viewers to wait for him, as if she had any plans otherwise at that point.
He was intoxicating in every sense of the word. More even than the vodka cranberry she had drank through that first night she found him.
That had been only the first time she had indulged in his stream.
(Y/N) only relented to making an account on the site when she had visited his page for the third time (second time sober). She felt a bit guilty to be viewing his content for free when it was clear this was an opportunity for him to make money through the tips that poured through and filled the meter to the side of the video. But, she found her own way to support him once she was comfortable: she commented in the chat stream. She was much more tame than others, but she did enough to let him know that he was appreciated by her. That she liked him.
It was lame to say, especially out loud, but H had become the consistent man in her life and she liked that she was granted with the privilege of being a part of the fantasy of his stream. He made it that much easier, even in the short amount of time since she had stumbled onto his page, to get through classes with something to look forward to when she was burnt out. He made getting off a lot more fun, if she was being honest, even if he was nothing more than a fantasy that played out on her laptop screen.
She was never going to meet him anyway, so she was free to pine over him, she decided. No harm done.
—————
(Y/N) loved her roommate with her whole heart.
Naomi had been her best friend since their freshmen year and was the one person she knew she could live with without jeopardizing their friendship in the process. She had even enrolled in a physics course—something outside of her required credits—just because Ny needed to take it and was scared of going alone. (Y/N) loved her like a sister.
But, god, she fucking hated her sometimes.
After (Y/N) had gone through all the trouble to get signed up for the physics course she didn't need, and even gone through syllabus week and prepared herself to work with something that was entirely out of her wheelhouse, Ny dropped the class. The worst part was that she hadn't even bothered to let (Y/N) in on the secret until the deadline had passed. Her apology was given in the form of a pair of guilty puppy dog eyes staring at her as Ny pleaded with her to not be angry and that she would do all their laundry for a month to make it up to her. ((Y/N) managed to up the deal to two months before she accepted).
That was how (Y/N) found herself walking alone to the science building, trekking the dreaded route to Prof. Stanfill's room. It wouldn't have been so bad if she felt any semblance of comfort in the course and the material, but (Y/N) hated her physics class almost as much as she hated Ny the day she confessed she dropped the class.
She had always known the sciences weren't her strongest suit, but this was on another level. No matter how many times she tried to understand the direction the lesson was taking, notes dutifully pulled up on her laptop, nothing seemed to help the confusion that settled over her as soon as Stanfill started his lecture.
Not only did the material go entirely over her head, but she was almost halfway sure her professor was actually just a walking robot. From the moment she sat down—attendance was a huge part of her grade unfortunately, otherwise she would have skipped almost every session—, she was assaulted with his monotone voice and the too-small projector he had displaying dated notes she was sure he hadn't updated since the nineties. The worst part was that she didn't even need to be there; this wasn't advancing her any closer to her degree, but it was too late.
Now, she was stuck with Professor Stanfill and a file on her laptop full of useless notes.
(Y/N) did her best to make the most of it, finding anything to comfort her through the class and make it somewhat easier to process. Whenever she could, she made the trip to get some sweetened coffee to bring with her. She never made a huge effort to look put together for the class either, opting for sweaters that accommodated the weather outside and she could get away with napping in when she made it home. She had also claimed an aisle seat in one of the further rows in the back, closest to the door. As soon as class was dismissed, she took full advantage of the prime spot to bolt out of there as quickly as possible.
That's how her Monday had started as she walked into the lecture hall, a comfy sweater wrapped around her form and a too-hot coffee warming her palm. She dropped her bag beside her preferred chair, pulling her laptop out onto the bench style table top that lined the amphitheater of seats. The space beside her was occupied by the boy with the kind smile that had taken the chair after Ny dropped the course.
He was another of the small things that made getting through the session just a bit easier, despite the way (Y/N) hadn't ever had a real conversation with him in the last month they'd been seatmates. Even with the lack of conversation, he had been nice enough to offer her a pen the first day (Y/N) had walked in alone as a flustered mess after Ny had confessed her secret. He regularly gave her soft smiles and whispered short thank you's whenever she passed down worksheets or let him scoot behind her when he was on his way out. He was a good seatmate to have; kind, quiet, and consistent.
He—Harry? Or his name could be Edward, she's honestly not sure and she feels too bad to ask considering she felt like she should know by now—was the coziest person she'd seen around campus, too. Every session he showed up in some variation of a chunky cardigan or sweater (today's knit was a large orange mess of thick yarn, the color deep enough to resemble a pumpkin's rind), wide-legged pants, and a pair of scuffed Vans that looked well loved. Varnish was always painted over his nails, the polish sticking around for two weeks before he had something new glimmering at his fingertips (this week's was a warm brown color with glittery gold accents). Before every lecture, he pulled his glasses from his bag to perch the wide frames on the bridge of his nose.
What (Y/N) had noticed first about him was just how smart Harry was. It was clear in the way he took his dutiful, color-coordinated notes, and the way he breezed through exams with the near perfect scores on lab write-ups. His notes were handwritten in a pristine notebook that, if (Y/N) hadn't known better, she would have assumed it had never been used. Compared to (Y/N)'s typed version, his were levels above even with the somewhat messy nature of his writing. She wouldn't be surprised if he was on the dean's list every semester with the university throwing money at him in hopes of keeping his attendance lest he choose somewhere more Ivy League. She looked forward to the speech he would give at graduation as top of their class.
If she couldn't have Ny with her, she was happy to have someone like Harry seated with her.
(Y/N)'s attention shifted when Professor Stanfill dimmed the lights and projected his notes across the canvas hung at the front of the room. No introduction was offered as he dove into this lecture's subject. She was always left a bit scrambled to catch up with him, though she knew beside her Harry had his hands busy already finding value in whatever Stanfill was saying.
—————
"Bye Ny! Text me if you need anything!"
Naomi tossed her promises and goodbyes over her shoulder before leaving in a flash of shaggy blonde hair to meet with a couple of friends for a study group. (Y/N) basked in the silence that settled over the apartment for a moment, her muscles decompressing.
After her physics class, she had immediately gone home and tried her best to get through some homework and even attempted to sort through her physics notes in hopes of rearranging them to make any sense. With all the added work, she felt like she hadn't left campus in over ten hours despite the comfort of her own apartment around her. The only thing that had drawn her from the struggle that was her school bag, was Ny dragging her out to say goodbye before she left. Now, with the clarity of mind she found away from her work, she was able to finally deflate.
She didn't want to go back to her work, not having the strength to reanalyze a concept she had little to no grasp on anyway. So, she stuffed all of her things back into her bag and tucked it away underneath her desk with no intention of looking at it again until Monday morning. (Y/N) snuggled herself in her bed, laptop warming her thighs as she closed out of the research tabs she had pulled up in an effort to better understand her physics material. All that was left open was a couple different tabs of Etsy shops and this pair of shoes she had been yearning over for months.
Now, (Y/N) hadn't even intended to key in the too familiar URL—she wasn't even in that kind of mood if she was being honest. She had planned on napping, but if H just so happened to be streaming, she could fit that in before tucking under the covers she decided. Still, she found herself loaded onto the green webpage with no hesitation. She was quick to get signed in, cringing at the fact her details auto-filled as she tapped the blue button to be directed onto the start page littered with the rows of other users she had no interest in. She breezed past the tiles, feeling uncomfortable to be viewing them although she was obviously on this site for a reason. Clicking the search function in the top corner, (Y/N) typed in the familiar username that came up as a suggestion after the first few keystrokes.
His page filled her screen, the usual vague details listed under his username greeting her. She trailed her eyes over the screen, finding that he'd made a new status only minutes ago detailing that he would be going live five minutes from when the post was made. Flicking her eyes to the top of her screen, finding it had been almost four minutes since, (Y/N) didn't hesitate before clicking on the link.
The usual page loaded, his standby screen filling the space where his stream would pop up. The screen showed off his username and all the links to his various premium accounts before he turned his camera on. (Y/N) always felt a tiny bit guilty when she saw the encouragements to tip during his show or otherwise check out one of his paid services. She wasn't able to do either—she was in college, what can she say?—but she tried her best to make up for it by interacting as much as she was comfortable with in the chat, even when the thread was being flooded far too quickly.
She barely had a second to marinate in the self-appointed guilt before the screen flickered and blinked his standby screen away. The familiar view of H with his head cut from frame and the solid build of his body being the main focus took her attention. She felt like Pavlov's dog, at this point, just the first sight of him eliciting a conditioned reaction that let her know the pleasurable direction her night was taking.
"Hello," he quipped, throat bobbing around the word with a smile in his tone, "How are you tonight?"
He always started the show the same, asking about his viewers' days while knowing good and well what people were there to see. She thought it was sweet, whether it was a calculated move to make the stream feel more personal or an instinctual choice. Nonetheless, this was one of her favorite parts of his streams, she decided. She thought it was nice of him to ask something like that when he could just jump into the things that actually make him money.
(Y/N)'s eyes struggled to follow the amount of comments that came pouring in, many giving bland answers before urging him to pull his clothes off and calling him his preferred title of daddy. His hands on his thighs flexed, the veins and tendons in the appendages making themselves known as he assumedly read through some of the more intense comments that breezed over his pleasantries all together. She hesitated before typing out her own response, knowing it was rather dull in comparison to what was being shot at him.
sunflowerssweetheart: my day was good, but im even better now!! hbu??
She cringed as she pressed send. If anything, he wouldn't respond if it didn't catch his eye or it could get swept away if he replied to anyone else's comment first. But, (Y/N) hoped it might stand out that she was repeating his question to him, something she hadn't seen in the chat beforehand.
A breathy laugh sounded through the speakers, his chest expanding underneath the sheer, black fabric of his top that did nothing to conceal the tanned skin underneath. "M'day was good, too, sweetheart, thank you for asking. 'M happy you're here, too."
He went on to reply to a few other comments, the depth of his voice turning into a warm current that washed over her with every syllable, but (Y/N) felt a little too happy with herself that her comment had been the one he responded to first. She melted into her bedding the more he talked, hoping one of the daddy comments would catch his eye and set the tone for the rest of the stream.
There was a moment's pause as he lent back into his chair, leaving the full of his chest unobstructed. The leafy tattoos that adorned his hips were just barely peeking under his shirt, but (Y/N) couldn't keep her eyes off them.
"I wanted to take it slow tonight, is that alright? Been a long day, and daddy's stressed out. Can I take m'time with you, baby?"
(Y/N) could have sworn she felt her pupils dilate at his words, the honorific stuttering her heart before fluttering through her system to settle between her legs. He was a dream—a dirty dream, sure, but still one she didn't want to wake from.
"That's alright? Want to see daddy take his time? Make a mess just for you?"
She watched on as his hands reached for the buttons on his shirt, a glimmering gold flicking off of his nails as he worked through the buttons. Before she could get a better view of whatever it was he had painted over his nails this stream, his shirt was buttoned wide open with his hands dragging over the expanse of his chest. A hummed moan vibrated from his throat, the sound wrapping around (Y/N) with a clench to her thighs.
God, she was happy Ny was out.
—————
"I still can't believe you dropped the class without telling me, as if I wasn't going to figure it out considering we live together and I was going to notice when you didn't come to class with me."
(Y/N)'s tone held amusement as she checked her student portal, double checking that she hadn't missed an assignment from Stanfill—her weekend was unusually empty of physics stress aside from the self-assigned read-through of her notes.
"I felt bad!" Ny whined, dropping her attention from the crew of housewives they were watching on T.V., "I had begged you for weeks to pick up physics then realized I didn't even need it because I read the requirements wrong, and I was embarrassed! You already know I'm sorry!"
"I know you are," (Y/N) smiled at her from a slumped position on their couch, "I already forgave you weeks ago, but now I'm doing this alone."
"You're not completely alone," Ny argued, dropping her small bagel pizza onto her paper plate, "I know you've made friends."
"Barely," she countered, disregarding her phone in favor of reaching for the throw blanket at her side, "It's hard making friends while trying to keep the entire subject straight in my head."
"What about that guy you said moved next to you after I dropped?"
"He never talks to me, you know that. It's like he's scared of me. I've probably heard him talk a handful of times, including when I had to ask him for a pen so it wasn't even voluntary."
Ny rolled her lips between her teeth, flicking her eyes across the room in thought. "You said he's really smart right?" she perked up further at (Y/N)'s affirming nod, "Just ask him about that stuff then and see if he'll help you. It'll get him to talk more, if anything."
(Y/N) heaved a sigh, her shoulders rising only to fall back into the downy blanket around her, "Ny, this would have been so much easier if you had just stuck with me. We'd be falling together at least."
"You're not going to fail, (Y/N)," she argued, a softened undercurrent to her words.
"Have you seen my grade?"
"We're not even two months in; there hasn't been any exams for you to bomb yet, how bad could it be?"
(Y/N) knew Naomi was trying to be encouraging in her own way, combating (Y/N)'s self-deprecating remarks but it wasn't super helpful to hear about a test she'd hadn't bombed yet. She looked to her friend with a raised brow, waiting for her to realize what exactly it was that she said.
"I'm sorry!" she blurted out, shoulders deflating, "Is there anything I can do to help? I can read over your notes and help you reformat them, if that helps?" She let out a small sigh, traces of her earlier amusement draining from her blue eyes, "I really am sorry, (Y/N), I was too embarrassed to tell you but I should have before you got stuck with this."
"I know," (Y/N) smiled, "And it's really okay, you know I'm just being dramatic. But I think I'm all caught up in my notes and everything—I still don't understand it, but there's no more work to be done anyway. Stanfill didn't even assign any reading for this weekend, so I think I'm finally not going to be behind on Monday."
"You're lucky," Ny mumbled around her pizza bagel, "My profs only do that when they have something worse planned for the weekend."
"I know, I was surprised. But, I mean, I'll take it." (Y/N) shifted her attention to the television in front of her, dropping back into the 'reality' of the show.
The more she thought about it, maybe Ny was right. It might not be a bad idea to ask Harry for help, especially if it would mean she had someone to talk to in that class.
—————
(Y/N)'s weekend of grace came to an abrupt end as she walked into Prof. Stanfill's lecture hall. Despite the fact she'd already had a pair of classes earlier in the day, nothing made her feel quite like it was Monday until she was forced to wrap her mind around concepts she couldn't even spell. She was running a few minutes late as she trudged to her seat, not having had enough time to grab something sweet to drink but still donning a green cardigan to keep her warm and comfortable.
It wasn't until she dropped her bag by her seat that she noticed her seatmate wasn't there like usual. Despite the small amount she saw of him, Harry was a rather predictable person—at least his schedule was, anyway. He was always there before her, set up with his highlighters and pens in neat rows and his notebook flipped to the exact right page. This wasn't like him at all to be missing just seven minutes before Stanfill was meant to start class. She hoped he was okay.
Eventually, just as (Y/N) begrudgingly had opened up her never ending document of notes, her seatmate stumbled through the heavy doors with a flustered expression marring his features.
He ran a heavy hand through the swirl of curls on his head, (Y/N) able to hear the audible sigh he heaved as he climbed the stairs to their row. He wore a pair of rust colored corduroy flares with a large black jumper bundled over his torso, his shoulder bag falling down his arm to land in the crook of his elbow. He clumsily sat down in his spot beside her, a mess of handwritten notes and colored highlighters and pens spilling out from the unfastened flap of his bag. Despite the mess, he breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down, the tension in his muscles dropping as he noticed Stanfill hadn't started class.
As his mess of utensils spilled across the tabletop, (Y/N) was quick to save a few of the pens and markers before they could tumble over the ledge. She passed them to him, settling them in a neat row beside the pile he was curating of his mismatched papers.
"Thank you," he responded quietly, his hands shaky as he straightened his jumble of notes.
She had never seen him so out of sorts like this. This wasn't the same guy she had pictured reading off a well-prepared speech at graduation. She was sure he wasn't used to feeling like this either if the flush disappearing down his neck and the worry curling his brow had anything to say.
"You okay?" she asked, just as quietly as he had spoken. She hoped she read him right; she'd feel awful if he took her question the wrong way like she thought something was wrong with him. The downfall of never speaking with your seatmate, she figured—she had no idea how he worked.
"Y-Yeah," he stuttered, finally setting his things out the rightful order he liked them in, "Jus' had a late start this morning." The blush that warmed his neck traveled upwards and painted over his cheeks. He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, as he reached into his bag to pull out his glasses case, slipping the large frames onto his pink nose.
Just as (Y/N) was about to respond, Professor Stanfill started up his ancient projector and began babbling on with no introduction.
Beside her, Harry sifted through his notes with a purpose, opening to the preferred page before detailing more notes on the already filled page. Usually, she wouldn't be so surprised that all of the information—being so monotonously presented—were things she didn't quite understand, but today was a whole other story.
Stanfill was going on about a completely new topic than the one they left on last Friday.
She quickly scrolled through her notes while paying as much attention as she could to what he was saying. She couldn't find any remnant of today's topic (oscillations, apparently) in any of her scattered notes. She could see from the corner of her eye that her classmate was only adding tidbits to his already completed notes, nodding his head along to certain points Professor Stanfill brought up.
She flicked her gaze nervously between her lecturer and Harry. She didn't want to interrupt the boy next to her, but she really needed to have at least some semblance of what was going on. She just hoped this was worth the embarrassment.
"Excuse me?" she whispered, leaning over the bench table closer to his space.
His head popped up from his notes, his glasses shifting down his nose as his eyes widened behind the lenses. "Yes?" he answered, his voice just as hush as his gaze never shifted from her's despite the pink dusting his skin.
"What is he talking about? Did I miss something?" She flicked her gaze towards the head of the room.
"Oh," he mumbled, a furrow in his brow appearing, "Did y'not come to the lab over the weekend?"
(Y/N)'s heart dropped at his words, her expression mirroring the fall.
"There was a lab?"
He looked almost guilty as he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly nodding his head. He looked ready to say more before the sound of Professor Stanfill's voice projecting to the back of the auditorium stopped him.
"Do we have any questions in the back?" he boomed. For the first time his voice wasn't completely monotone.
Harry perked up in his seat, a stray curl landing across his forehead as his posture straightened. "No, sir," he answered quickly, shaking his head and pushing his glasses up his nose.
Stanfill shot them a warning look, flicking his searing gaze between the two of them before continuing on with the lesson (Y/N) was still lost on. Harry resumed his note taking, shooting her an apologetic glance before focusing on the page in front of him.
—————
(Y/N) was lost the remainder of the class, Professor Stanfill occasionally throwing her end of the room glances as he continued lecturing. Beside her, her seatmate continued taking his detailed notes, eventually turning to a new sheet of paper titled with another topic she had no idea they had moved on to. By the time they were dismissed, he had added another three pages to his pile and (Y/N) had typed about three words.
She knew she was going to be fucked anyway, since lab was a fairly large part of their final grade. All she wanted to do was go home, and pretend this hadn't happened. She didn't waste a second before she was rushing to pack up her supplies after getting dismissed by Stanfill.
Just as she slung her bag over her shoulder and started down the steps, a hand gently grabbed her bicep.
"W-wait," the shaky voice she had come to be familiar with sounded behind her. (Y/N) turned to find Harry stumbling after her with his glasses perched on the top of his head and his curls messily falling in his face. He clutched a bundle of looseleaf papers in his other hand as they came to a stop at the base of the steps. "I—uh—I wanted to give y'these, if y'wanted them," he reached his hand out to her with the somewhat crumpled page, "They're m'notes from the lab and today, so y'can catch up if y'wanted."
He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, the already raspberry colored skin now flushing to a deep red and swelling against the force. His hands held a slight tremor as he offered her the papers.
(Y/N) felt her eyes round out at his actions. "Are you sure?" she questioned, not wanting to take them unless she knew he was okay with lending the notes she knew he took great pride in.
He jerkily nodded his head, a small smile on his face despite the fact he was still biting down on the full of his bottom lip. "I know y'need them, so please." He urged the papers towards her again, scuffing the toes of his white Vans into the floor.
She gratefully took the volunteered pages from his loose grip, her brows downturning as she gazed at him. "Thank you so much. You really don't have to do this, but it really means a lot."
"You're welcome," he smiled, dimples denting his cheeks as she took his gift. (Y/N) reciprocated his smile and scanned over the organized notes in her hands, finding his name scribbled in the top corner.
"Your name's Harry?" she confirmed, edging towards the door as he followed beside her. Now she didn't have to worry about calling him the wrong name. He nodded his head in response, her question making his cheeks turn a quick pink despite himself. "I'm (Y/N)."
Harry nodded his head beside her, a shy smile on his lips. "Nice t'meet you, (Y/N). Officially."
(Y/N) smiled at his polite introduction, looking over the notes in her hand. They had stopped just outside Stanfill's hall, the large windows showing the quad with the autumnal sun lighting up their forms.
"Thank you again, Harry," she started, sliding the papers into her bag after glancing at the time on her phone: 4:13. She hadn't planned on tuning in tonight, but if (Y/N) didn't want to miss the one sure-fire way she would get any form of stress relief after the class she just endured, she needed to get home soon. "I'll get these back to you on Friday, okay? I have to go, but I'll see you then!"
She tossed him a wave before turning around, walking towards the parking lot. Harry gave her his own dimpled grin.
"Bye, (Y/N)!"
(Y/N) smiled over her shoulder one more time before hurrying to her car.
—————
(Y/N) sighed as she settled into the down of her comforter, the smooth satin of the pajama set she had changed into sliding against her skin (she wanted to feel pretty before she watched the stream, she thought she deserved it). She pulled her laptop onto her thighs, sticking her headphones in her ears before opening up a private tab.
She barely even paid attention as she routed herself to the familiar green layout, signing in and pulling up the page scrawled with treatpeoplewkisses across the top. She hoped that she had gotten his scheduling right; she hoped that Monday was a stream night. When she saw that he hadn't started anything, instead posting the usual announcement detailing that he would be going live in ten minutes in the custom pink font, she felt lucky as she sunk into her comforter.
Just as the time ticked to five o'clock, another status came through, detailed with a link to the stream he was starting now. The only hesitation that came as (Y/N) followed the link came from her stress-wearied muscles, but she had high hopes for that feeling to be melted away by the end of the night.
The chat was already racing through with comments by the time the page loaded. The typical standby screen was situated where H would appear any second with the empty tip meter off to the side. (Y/N) melted into her bedding as she waited, grateful for the fact Ny was still in one of her classes.
Suddenly, his deep voice sounded through her headphones although the standby screen never changed. "Hello," he chirped the familiar greeting despite no view of him. The comments started flooding in, asking him where he was and why they couldn't see him. "How ar—Wait, did I forget to turn m'camera on again?"
A breathy laugh sounded through her ears causing (Y/N) to match the smile she figured was on his face. Although she hadn't been a viewer for very long at all, she had already picked up on his habit of forgetting to turn his camera on every couple of shows. After a bit of rustling coming from his end, the standby screen was replaced with the familiar view of his body from the neck down.
He wore a thin, white t-shirt tonight, his tattoos etched on his arms on display with the few covering his torso only thinly veiled by the fabric.
He waved his hand at the screen, his breathy laugh filling the air. "Hello, again. Sorry about that, 'm a little flustered today. Ran a little late this morning filming a new video, which should be up this weekend on m'premium, and I've been all out of sorts since. I apologize for being late, as well."
He settled his hands on his thighs, quiet for a moment as he assumedly began to read through the comments flooding in. Many were asking what the video from this morning featured, while others were telling him it was okay he was late and that they didn't mind. Majority completely bypassed the conversation, impatient for the real show to begin with pleads sandwiched around his honorific in hopes of spurring him on.
"Thank y'for understanding." His voice was soft as he spoke, (Y/N) could imagine him with a kind smile on his face and his eyes tender. She knew and understood why he never showed his face and respected that choice, but she often found herself wondering what he looked like behind the camera. She'd bet he's beautiful.
"Anyway," he started, painted fingers plucking at the hem of his plain top as he sat back in his chair, "How are y'today? You've already heard about m'day, I'd like to hear about your's."
A stream of comments filtered through the chat, most ignoring the question or breezing through it before sending requests for the show. (Y/N) rested her fingers on the keyboard, trying to think of an answer to his question before he would move on.
sunflowerssweetheart: mine was good thank u!! i finally asked for help in one of my classes today so hopefully i can figure out what's going on !
Like he somehow always did, he found her comment.
"That's good, sweetheart, 'm proud of you," he praised, the smile in his tone audible. She didn't know if it was particular to only her, but (Y/N) couldn't help but feel like he reserved sweetheart just for her, always replying to her comments with the pet name. She hoped it was, especially since the name was in her user. (And, she would feel a little silly getting bashful over nothing, so she clung to the hope that she wasn't just making it up).
(Y/N) felt her own smile tug at her cheeks, feeling shy at his compliment although he couldn't see her. She quickly typed out another comment before he could get distracted by the tips coming in, urging him to start.
sunflowerssweetheart: thank you h!!:)
She knew she was most likely not going to get another response from him, seeing as her comment was very quickly buried under the new tips coming in, captioned with requests to start the show and asking for daddy to "show his cock".
"I see you're in a daddy mood tonight, again," he mused, slowly tugging his shirt off and revealing the collection of tattoos adorning his torso. He settled back into his seat, his chest now bare, "Good thing I am, too."
His skin looked soft as he relaxed, highlighted by the soft lighting that surrounded his set up. (Y/N)'s heartbeat picked up as she gazed at him through the screen. She wished she could meet someone like him in real life.
She watched on as he rubbed his palm along his thighs, the look of his long fingers scratching down the fabric of his pants catching her attention. She absently trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, imagining what it would feel like to have his hands warming her skin like that, sneaking under the hem of her satin shorts in search of the tie-dye thong she had concealed under the delicate fabric. She sighed as she watched one of his hands travel between his thighs, the full of his cock filling out the fabric of his trousers.
His hand cradled the outline of his hardened prick, giving the bulge a squeeze as a hiss sounded through her headphones. His stomach muscles clenched as his breathing stuttered. (Y/N) imagined his head rolling back on the headrest of the chair he sat in, blissed out at the feel of new relief.
"Daddy's been s'hard all day for you, s'hard," he groaned, his fist wrapping around his shaft as best he could as he emulated jerking himself off in teasing twists. "Took everything not to go off in the middle of m'day and make myself cum thinking of you."
She knew he was feeding them lines like from a script, designed to make each of his viewers believe he was talking only to them, but she couldn't help but fall for it. She liked to fantasize that he had thought of her the way she had thought of him. She didn't have even half the mind to be embarrassed as she slid her hand under the waist of her shorts, brushing against the softened fabric of her underwear. She felt flush as she found the wet patch that had soaked through her thong, the wetness seeping between her lips already.
He breathed a laugh that filtered through her headphones. "Already want me to pull m'cock out? We've barely even started, baby."
Her eyes fluttered as she took in his teasing. She knew he was most likely responding to the comments she had stopped bothering to read, but it felt like he was talking to her and teasing her for wanting to see and feel all of him. Her fingers pressed gently against her clit, the wet fabric of her panties sticking to her slit. She felt breathless.
She couldn't help herself before she typed another quick comment, hoping it would somehow sway him the way she needed.
sunflowerssweetheart: please daddy:(
She watched as he gave his cock a final squeeze before settling his hands on the armrests of the chair he was sat in. He clenched his fingers around the cushioned ledge, slowly standing from his position. His stomach with the bottom of his butterfly tattoo and the full of the laurels bracketing his hips were left in frame, but the crotch of his pants were the focus of the shot. His hands slowly worked the button of his trousers, the pace teasing.
"Well, since y'asked so nicely, sweetheart," he crooned, (Y/N) melting as he said the name—her name, again. She liked to think he was doing this for her.
With that, his tip meter went up like crazy; the chat was filled with the declarations of high amounts of money being donated to him sandwiched between viewers voicing their praise. He didn't seem to pay the rise any attention, keeping his focus on the show he was giving. His pants were left undone as he pushed them down to his knees with the grey of his tight boxers being left on display. The outline of his cock laid against his thigh with a small wet patch forming where his slit dripped precum. His hand slid down the muscles of his stomach, slipping under the fabric and wrapping his fist around his shaft. He let out a deep moan, his stomach tensing at the feel of his hand and the relief flooding his system.
"This what y'wanted, baby?" he teased, playing a game with his wanton viewers. He shifted his stance, standing with his side to the camera with his hand jerking off his cock in front of him. (Y/N) could see the outline of his fingers through the fabric, his rough tugging allowing small glimpses lower into his boxers. She could just imagine the smirk on his face as he knew what he was doing, going on with the teasing while he got what he wanted.
(Y/N) own fingers pressed headily against her clit, rubbing tight circles around the bundle at the sight on her screen. She'd never gotten this wet before she found his streams that drunken lonely night, no matter if she didn't get to see his face. She dipped her fingers behind her underwear, the slick of her slit wetting her fingertips. A small whimper left her lips at the contact, picturing H's long fingers slipping through her folds.
She wanted to see more of him; see more of his body she imagined was touching her's.
sunflowerssweetheart: more p lease daddy:( im so wet:(
Her comment was messy given the fact she was typing one handed, but she hoped it would be more enticing than embarrassing. She watched on as his motions slowed in his boxers, his hand sliding out from underneath the fabric. He hooked his index fingers into the waistband, tugging his boxers down just the smallest bit to reveal the beginnings of a dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock.
"You're 'so wet', sweetheart? All for daddy, right?" he continued, his mocking words feeling directed to only her despite the comments and tips rolling in to say otherwise.
sunflowerssweetheart: all for you daddy
Without another word, he tugged his boxers down the rest of the way. His cock sprung up against his bare stomach, his large butterfly tattoo now dotted with a string of his precum. The head was ruddy and flushed, the shine of his precum coating his shaft and playing off the lighting in his room. Still standing, he wrapped his fist around his cock and started fucking down his shaft in the same rough tugs he had kept hidden from them in his boxers.
"See how hard I am for you, baby?" he moaned, his free hand coming to cradle his balls in his large palm. (Y/N) swore her mouth watered at the sight, wishing it were her hands tugging at his prick, and her mouth wrapped around the head. She wanted to make him feel good.
"Mm, yeah?" he moaned, his fist speeding up, "Like seeing daddy fuck himself for y'like this? Bet y'wish it was your hand, right, baby?"
(Y/N) let out a loud moan at his dirty talk, feeling unencumbered by the empty apartment she was holed up in. It was like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Her own fingers stuttered over her clit, the wetness seeping between her thighs making a slick noise with each pass. She watched on as he sat back down, his cock standing straight up in his lap.
He worked his pants and boxers further down to his ankles, allowing him to spread his legs further apart. She could see clearly between his thighs, the way his hand gently cradled his balls and the rough tugs along his shaft. He let out coarse moans as he stopped and squeezed at the head of his cock, his chest stuttering in correlation with his breathing.
"Feels so fucking good, you know that? Thinking about your pretty mouth wrapped around daddy's cock." His voice was low and deep as he prattled on about his fantasy, his accent wrapping around his title and causing the fire to burn brighter in (Y/N)'s tummy.
"Bet you'd like that wouldn't you, sweetheart? Daddy's big cock fucking your mouth, making y'gag and get all messy for me." The hand he had cradling his balls shifted from it's spot between his legs, stopping on the straining muscles of his stomach. His hand on his prick sped up, his moans deepening with incoherent mumblings about how good he felt. (Y/N) felt her heartbeat increase in her chest as she watched the hand on his stomach dig his nails into the butterfly etched across his skin at the pleasure coursing through his system. His thighs tensed at the feeling, small red marks appearing on his skin as he drug his nails across the expanse.
"Feels s'fucking good, shit."
(Y/N) wished it could be her to cause those moans to leave his lips, the image of her sat between his thighs spurring on her own arousal.
She watched with her hand in her panties as he brought himself closer and closer to release, moans spilling from his lips and filtering through her headphones. He varied the pace of his strokes, speeding up and bringing himself close to finishing with groans of how good he felt and how he was s'close to cumming for his baby, only to stop and slow down. He would pause with his hand settling on his base, squeezing roughly to stave off his orgasm and prolong the show. Tips were flooding in the whole time, viewers urging him to cum, telling them how they wished they could be there with him, requesting different things from him. H replied to a few, bringing in more tips and comments from his audience.
(Y/N) couldn't stop herself before she brought her unoccupied hand to her keyboard, wanting to gain some kind of attention from him to bring herself that much closer to her own release.
sunflowerssweetheart: ur cock is s pretty daddy I cant wait to see u cum please
A groan bubbled from her onscreen performer, his tugs along his shaft speeding up. "Y'think daddy's cock is pretty, sweetheart?"
He sounded breathless as he replied to her, his name for her accompanied with a small shudder as he swiped his thumb over the precum soaked crown of his prick. (Y/N)'s own weeping hole gushed more wetness, soaking the already ruined panties and now the inseam of her satin shorts. She snuck a teasing finger towards her entrance, the base of her fingers still rubbing at her clit.
sunflowerssweetheart: so pretty daddy
sunflowerssweetheart: i wanna see u cum so bad
Another loud moan filtered through her ears after she pressed enter, H—hopefully—having read her comment. He spread his legs further apart, his hand reaching towards his heavy balls again as his thighs clenched at the contact.
"Y'want daddy to cum, sweetheart? Are y'close, too? Don't wanna cum without you." His voice was graveled as he moaned out his words, (Y/N)'s eyes closely following the rhythm of his tugs. She mimicked the pace with her own fingers, slipping a single digit into her hole and rubbing the heel of her palm into her clit.
She wanted him to cum so badly, to see the sticky ropes of his orgasm be released all over his tummy and his hands she wished were her's instead. Despite the other comments rolling in, declaring how close the other viewers were, (Y/N) didn't hesitate to type her own response back, even if he didn't catch it.
sunflowerssweetheart: im so close daddy i wanna cum with you
"Okay," he crooned, his voice breathless while still being able to pull off the sultry tone he had mastered, "Daddy'll cum with y'sweetheart. Gonna cum so hard for you."
She was too distracted with her own pleasure to write anything coherent back, her finger soaked inside her pulsing pussy. Her walls tightened around her digit, fantasizing what H would say if it were his fingers stretching out her pussy instead. She settled for watching the way his chest took on a pinkened flush as he grew closer and closer to the release he promised. Small, strangled groans spilled from his lips, only interrupted by the moans of curses detailing how good he felt. His hand made squelching sounds as he pumped his cock, the slick of his precum making it that much easier for his fist to pass over the length in slick runs. His thighs tensed and split wider apart as he melted in his seat. From the top of the frame, where his neck was displayed with thick veins and tendons protruding from under the dewy skin, the smallest of deep brown tendrils of hair were peeking out and curling at his jawline.
"Gonna be a lot, sweetheart, can already feel it. Gonna be s'much cum for you," he groaned, his fingers now focusing on the head of his cock as his other hand gently tugged on his balls and brought himself closer. A whimper left (Y/N)'s throat, fighting to keep her eyes open as she didn't want to miss a minute of his show.
"Y'wan—fuck," he was cut off by his own moaning, the swear falling from his lips like he had no knowledge of it beforehand, "Y'wanna see it, sweetheart? See all the cum daddy saved for you all day?"
(Y/N) nodded despite the fact he couldn't see her. His tip meter surged higher in a matter of seconds at the mention of him cumming, peaking over his usual average. More and more comments rolled in, pleading for H to cum and show everyone what he had apparently saved for them. (Y/N) didn't mind being a part of the slew of comments, her mind somewhere else and too occupied to think clearly.
sunflowerssweetheart: yes pleas e daddy
"'Please, daddy?'," he mimicked, voice pitched and whiny as his cock jumped with a small blurt of precum pearling on his tip, "So polite, s-sweetheart, can't say no to you."
Only a moment later, with his fist roughly tugging at the shaft of his prick, white ropes of cum painted his chest. They shot high enough for droplets to stand out starkly against the inked, black birds sitting on his chest, others dripping down his cock and coating his hands in the release. He wasn't lying when he had said it would be a lot. (Y/N) watched with hooded eyes as sprays of cum coated the butterfly on his stomach and the strong hands that had captured her attention the whole show. His deep moans flooded her ears, strings of curse words and uninhibited groans coming from deep in his chest. His skin was dusted a rosy pink as he breathed in stuttered, broken breaths.
Watching him cum was enough to bring (Y/N) over the edge, imagining herself there with him where she could have cleaned up for him. She came, thinking of how it would feel to trace her tongue along his chest and lick up the salty release from the muscles before cleaning his fingers and hands.
"Daddy, daddy, daddy," she called as she came, her fingers on her pussy rubbing heart stopping motions on her clit and small thrusts of her finger inside. She became impossibly wet, her release spilling past her finger and drenching the delicate fabric of her shorts. She felt the aftershocks go through her as she pictured how nice it would feel to have the weight of his big cock resting on her tongue and the taste of his cum in the back of her throat. She couldn't ever cum like this before finding H.
She hadn't realized she had fluttered her eyes closed until she heard his deep voice still breathing small moans filter through her ears, causing her to jerk her head up and blink away her cum-laden thoughts in favor of catching the end of his show. She kept her hand in her panties as she came down, delicately slipping her fingers through the mess she had made.
H was still sitting in his chair, his strong chest heaving and blushed a subtle red. His hand kept steadily jerking his cock, his member jumping as small spurts of leftover cum blurted from the tip. He came down slowly, taking longer than usual, though (Y/N) wasn't surprised if the amount of cum he had obviously been saving was anything to go by. She looked through the comments rolling in, finding the tip meter had gone higher than she had ever seen it before.
Many were asking for him to cum again, to keep the show going. (Y/N) couldn't deny that a greedy part of her wanted the same, but she could tell by the labored breathing and the way it looked like it hurt him to even tuck his cock back into his boxers, that he was much too sensitive to cum again.
A breathless laugh sounded from his end, his posture straightening as he reached for something off screen. He came back with a baby blue towel in his hand, gently wiping the cum off his chest and his hands. (Y/N) couldn't help but pout a bit at the idea of him wasting it.
"Can't cum again tonight, baby, but I'll be back soon," he said, his voice going back to the way he had started the stream. He sounded huskier, like he was tired with his tongue lazing around the words, but she liked it. She liked when he sounded just as exhausted as she felt; it made it easy to pretend this was some form of aftercare where he would cuddle her until they both fell asleep.
(Y/N) slipped her fingers out of her panties, already itching to get out of the now cold garments. She watched on as H straightened himself out, preparing for the end of his stream. His voice always took on a romantic croon at this point, the show becoming something so personal that made it easy to come back no matter how sleazy she felt afterwards.
"I adore y'so much, love. Thank y'for spending your night with me. I'll be back soon, wait for me."
Then, the screen cut to black.
The chat ceased with all other comments emptying and his tip meter going blank. With shaky hands, (Y/N) quickly logged out of the page and exited out of the site, leaving her on her previous Etsy shop pages. She carefully pulled out her headphones, stowing them away before standing on shaky legs.
Her thoughts filtered around her camboy (it felt like such a filthy phrase for someone like him, but she knew it was the reality) as she tugged her soiled shorts off along with her ruined thong. She listened closely, hoping her roommate hadn't come home early to see her walk of shame to their washing machine. Once she was in a new set of more comfortable pajamas, she dumped her clothing in the almost full machine, adjusting the settings before allowing it to run.
She washed her hands in the kitchen before trailing back towards her room. She passed her bag she clumsily dropped in the hall when she had got home, a bundle of notes sticking out from the open flap. As she picked up her bag, careful to not let the pages spill any further, she examined the notes.
As soon as she caught sight of the precise highlights and neat writing, she remembered the way Harry—not Edward—had so graciously loaned her his notes, her kind seatmate. She smiled, her first clear thought since finishing her stream with treatpeoplewkisses. She tucked the papers back into her bag, taking it with her into her room.
She couldn't help but feel sleepy as she left her bag by her desk on the floor, knowing she would have time to take a nap if she wanted to. Ny shouldn't be home for another hour or so, so she had time to snuggle into her mass of pillows and pretend the boy she had just watched on her laptop screen would cuddle her to a sweet sleep.
God, she was so happy she found H.
—————
(Y/N), with borrowed notes in hand, immediately pinned her eyes on her unassigned-assigned seat in the lecture hall, finding Harry already sat just where she hoped he'd be. He had his own gaze fixed on the perfect setup he had in front of him, the polar opposite from the mess he had worked through earlier in the week. A smile spread across her cheeks at the sight of him, still extremely grateful for the act of kindness he offered on Monday.
"Hi Harry," she greeted as she approached her seat, dropping her bag on the linoleum beside it.
He whipped his head up at the sound of her voice, eyes wide and cheeks pink, "Oh, hi, (Y/N)." A shy smile bloomed over his lips as his eyes met hers.
Settling into her spot, she offered his notes back, "Here's your notes, by the way."
Harry carefully took them from her grasp, rolling his lips between his teeth despite the clear dimples denting into his cheeks. "Thank you," he sighed, "Were they any help?"
She was hoping he would ask something of the sort. (Y/N) was extremely proud of the notes she was able to pin together with the help of his template, and she wanted to show him. "Yes, they were really helpful, Harry! Look at my notes," she said, cracking open her laptop and tapping open her physics folder. She angled the screen to show off the typed up version of his notes, the pages making more sense than the weeks of documents she already had saved, "They've never made sense like this before."
Ending with a breathy laugh, she waited for Harry's reaction. She watched on as a bright smile curled his lips, too large of a grin to be contained by the grip of his teeth. "Really?" he looked to her over the frames of his glasses, his blush reaching the tips of his ears.
"Mhm," she hummed the affirmation, sliding her laptop to sit in front of her regular spot, "You didn't have to give me your notes, so it really does mean a lot that you were willing to help me. Thank you, Harry."
"'M jus' happy I could help," he smiled, voice quiet and soft, "Thank you."
Her brow furrows at his unnecessary gratitude for her words, especially since she hadn't done anything but thank him for something kind he did. Still, she could tell there was a bashfulness that tinted his words and his voice, something that was making him nervous just like he was when he offered the notes in the first place. She didn't want to make it worse or even discourage him from talking to her again by bringing up his misplaced appreciation.
"You really like physics, huh? Like this is your class?"
(Y/N) settled into her seat, turning her body to give Harry the full of her attention. He shrugged his shoulders under the white satin shirt he had hanging open over the black top underneath. "Yeah, kinda," he mumbled, "I don't know—I know it's kind of weird, but it's really interesting to me, to be able to quantify things we can't see."
"It's not weird at all," (Y/N) said, shaking her head, "When you say it like that, it sounds really cool. I just wish I understood it; your notes helped me get this, but the rest of this class—I doubt I'll be so lucky."
Harry mimicked the short laugh she let out, his eyes dropping to her lips before he rolled his own between his teeth. "Yeah, it can definitely be complicated sometimes; you're not alone."
Stanfill made his appearance then, abruptly halting the first real conversation she'd had with anyone in her physics class and with Harry, of all people. Just as (Y/N) had said, she doubted she was going to be so lucky with the rest of the course, already knowing her next set of notes were going to be nothing compared to the aided ones she was so proud of. Nonetheless, as Professor Stanfill started off on his lacking presentation, she tried her best to keep up.
Halfway through the lecture, (Y/N) noticed the slight angle Harry's paper had taken. The page was tilted just enough to give her a view of the pieces of information he was writing down with the headings and section starters clear for her to read. She didn't know if it was on purpose, but she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to get another good set of notes that were going to make a lot more sense than whatever was being projected up front. Every time Harry stopped writing and leaned back just enough for her to get a look at what he was copying down, she did her own information search and put down the same headings and shorthand versions of what was scrawled over his page.
It wasn't until he hesitated to turn to a fresh page for him to fill, that she realized Harry was doing this on purpose. He instead tore out a stark new page, continuing where he left off while keeping what (Y/N) was still copying down in her view instead of tucking it away. A smile took her features as she figured out that none of his actions were an accident that she was taking advantage of—he wanted to keep helping her.
When Stanfill finally dismissed class, assigning reading for the weekend that (Y/N) couldn't help but be relieved about (at least she knew she wasn't missing a lab if this was their homework), it was a blessing. She didn't pack up with the same speed as she was used to, lagging behind in her movements in an effort to speak to Harry some more.
"Thank you for letting me see your notes," she smiled, tossing him a glance through her lashes as she tucked away her laptop.
As another blush crept over his features, (Y/N) worried he was going to permanently shift tones with the amount of times the blood was brought to the surface of his cheeks. "Oh, yeah. Of course."
"I just get kind of lost when he references stuff we're apparently already supposed to know or things we went over before. It's hard enough to learn something I have no idea about, and then when he compares it to something else I know nothing about, it doesn't help much," (Y/N) smiled, letting out a breathy laugh, "So thank you for letting me get a few more good notes in."
(Y/N) slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbing for her phone she had stashed in her pocket and her keys. Harry was quiet with a small smile on his features, continuing to pack up the array of utensils he had for his notes.
"Well," she started, slowly edging towards the column of stairs beside their seats, "I'll see you on Monday, Harry. Have a nice weekend!"
He stopped at the sound of her goodbye, stiffening as he rushed to close the flap on his bag. He looked to her through his lashes, swallowing before straightening and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "(Y/N), wait," he called, causing her to stop halfway down the case.
"Hm?" she hummed, turning towards him to find him having a hard time meeting her eyes and enough blush coloring his face she worried about his blood flow. He lagged around a response, the few stragglers from their class having shifted their attention towards the small scene he created. (Y/N) beckoned him towards her, calling for him to join her out into the hall.
Harry almost stumbled at least twice as he caught up with her, following like a puppy as they made it out the heavy doors that guarded the lecture hall.
"Everything okay?" she asked, wondering about his earlier effort to keep her from leaving him behind.
"Yeah—I, uh," he floundered, eyeing the ground with each step of his busted Vans, "I was wondering if y'wanted help with physics? Like, tutoring and things like that?" He swallowed around his words, finding the courage to look at her over the frames of his glasses, "You said that m'notes helped, and, if y'wanted, we could go over some of the older units and I can explain some things better. But, we don't have to if y'don't want. 'M sure you're busy and we can do like we did over the weekend and I can send y'home with some of m'notes if y'liked that better but... yeah."
He ended lamely with his gaze landing in its previous position pinned towards the ground. They had stopped walking to stand in the same corridor that he had offered his first set of notes in, though he seemed to be decidedly more nervous this second time around.
(Y/N) smiled at him from where he stood wringing the strap to his bag in his fist and scuffing his toes into the ground. She decided Harry was entirely too sweet to be so nervous over offering her some help she clearly needed; it was obvious he was really shy, but she found it cute.
"I would actually really appreciate that, Harry," she said, waiting for him to look at her so he could hopefully replace the nervous set in his jaw with a shy smile she was becoming familiar with, "I would love any tutoring you're willing to offer. I definitely need it, that's for sure."
His fumbling fingers froze in the nylon of the bag strap, perking up with the smile she was hoping she would catch, "Really?" A lone curl flopped over his forehead, a boyish look taking over his giddy features.
"You've seen my sorry excuse for notes without you—you're going to change this entire course for me if you're offering actual explanations now too."
"'M jus' happy to help," Harry offered simply, something prideful settling in the broad of his shoulders.
(Y/N) fished her phone from her pocket, tapping in her passcode and pulling up her contacts before handing it out for Harry to take. "Here," she urged, "Put your number in and we can figure out times and schedules and everything."
If it was at all possible, Harry flushed a deeper pink. His skin stood out starkly against the creamy white of the button down hanging off of his shoulders, his hands exhibiting a barely there tremor as he reached for her phone. He nodded his head, the curl that brushed his forehead swaying at the movement.
Harry was quick to fill in his information, leaving his contact rather bare before handing it back to (Y/N) with a small There.
Saving the contact, (Y/N) stuck the device back in her pocket. She started edging towards the parking lot where her car was waiting, tossing Harry a smile over her shoulder. "I'll text you later, okay?"
A bright smile took Harry's features, dimples dented into his cheeks with the full of his smile on display. "I look forward to it!"
(Y/N) stifled the small laugh that bubbled in her chest at his endearing enthusiasm. "I'll see you later, Harry!"
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment as he offered her a small wave before she turned towards the parking lot. Though, she never lost her smile since she swore she felt a pair of eyes following after her.
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thank u sm for reading! if u have any questions or any ideas for whats coming next, you can find me on my Tumblr @ moonchildstyles