crave — part 3 (Patreon)

Harry Styles is a mysterious, well-respected professor, known for his intellect and intensity. Y/N is his student, ambitious but with a hidden side. She’s confident, though a bit reckless. 

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all doing great. Currently trying to update everything. I hope you enjoy the third part. Let me know what you think!

 The morning buzzed with its usual energy as students streamed into the classroom, chattering about upcoming assignments and deadlines. Y/N slid into her seat, a quiet hum of thoughts already swirling in her head. But today, it wasn’t the usual classroom stress that held her focus. Something more intriguing had caught her attention.

Whispers filled the room. “Did you hear?” a girl nearby murmured. “Professor Styles is looking for an assistant for grading.”

Y/N’s ears perked up.

“Yeah,” another student replied. “It’s for extra credit. He’s selecting based on applications, and it’s practically like a job.”

That last part made Y/N sit up straighter. A job? With Harry?

Her mind raced, torn between the logical part of her that screamed how dangerous it could be, and the part that was undeniably drawn to the possibility of being closer to him. Extra credit would certainly help her grade, and the idea of being handpicked by Harry only fueled her curiosity—and something darker she didn’t want to name.

Just then, the door opened, and Harry walked in, effortlessly commanding the attention of the room as usual. His eyes swept across the sea of faces before settling briefly on hers, making Y/N's heart skip. He took his time setting down his books, before turning to address the class, his voice steady and calm.

“Before we begin today, I have an announcement from the department,” Harry started, his eyes scanning the room. “We’re looking for a grading assistant for this semester. It’s a chance to earn extra credit for my class.” His gaze lingered on Y/N for just a moment, almost too brief to catch, but enough to send her heart racing. “If you’re interested, you’ll need to submit an application and include a few sample essays you’ve written.”

The room buzzed with murmurs again, the offer clearly piquing everyone’s interest.

“The position will involve helping with grading papers, organizing research projects, and assisting with administrative work,” Harry continued, his tone professional but with a subtle undercurrent that Y/N couldn't ignore. “I’ll be reviewing applications personally, and selection will be based on your academic performance and attention to detail. Consider it a part-time job, in a way.”

Y/N’s thoughts swirled. This wasn’t just an opportunity for extra credit; it was an official position under him, one that would place her in his orbit, closer than she ever had been before. Her fingers tightened around her pen. She could feel the weight of his words, the subtle implication beneath the surface.

“Applications are due by Friday,” Harry added, glancing around the room. “If you have any questions, feel free to reach out.”

Y/N’s pulse quickened. He hadn’t looked at her again, but she could feel his presence more acutely than ever. The challenge was there, unspoken but clear.

The class proceeded as normal, with Harry diving into the day’s lecture, his voice washing over her like a steady rhythm. But Y/N barely heard the words. Her mind was too preoccupied with the idea of applying for the position. It wasn’t just about the extra credit anymore. The idea of being around him more—alone—was intoxicating. Even dangerous.

And when the class ended, as students began filing out, Y/N stayed in her seat, her mind racing through possibilities.

Suddenly, Harry was standing beside her, his presence casting a shadow over her desk. “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice calm, yet holding that same edge of control that always sent her pulse racing.

Her eyes darted up, meeting his. “Yes, Professor?”

“I assume you’ll be submitting an application for the assistant position?” His words were smooth, casual, but there was something in his tone that hinted at a deeper meaning, something unspoken between them.

Y/N hesitated, her throat tight. “I’m… considering it.”

Harry’s lips twitched slightly, forming a hint of a smirk. “Good,” he murmured, his voice dropping just a fraction, making her pulse quicken. “I think you’d be an… interesting candidate.”

His eyes lingered on hers for a moment, long enough to make her feel like she was standing at the edge of something dangerous. Something thrilling.

Without another word, he straightened up, his smirk fading into a more professional expression. “If you have any questions, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving Y/N staring after him, her thoughts more tangled than ever. The idea of applying had shifted from a simple extra credit opportunity to something much more—something charged, daring, and impossible to resist.

As she gathered her things, her mind whirled with the possibilities. This could change everything. And Y/N wasn’t sure if she was ready for what that might mean.

But one thing was certain—she was no longer just a student in his class. Something between them had shifted.

And it was only a matter of time before it all unraveled.

Harry sat in his office, a stack of applications spread across his desk. The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting faint lines of light over the papers in front of him. He wasn’t surprised that only a handful of students had applied for the assistant position. It was expected, really—grading papers and handling tedious tasks wasn’t exactly appealing to most students.

What didn’t surprise him either was that most of the applicants were women. He was well aware of the effect he had, though he tried not to let it cloud his judgment. The glances, the lingering stares in the hallways, the way some of them tried a little too hard to impress during class discussions—he noticed it all.

Harry wasn’t blind to his own charm, his natural attractiveness. It was something he had learned to wield carefully over the years. He had always maintained a strict line between professionalism and personal attraction, but he couldn’t deny that the attention was there. He could feel it every time he walked into a room. And it wasn’t just the students. Colleagues, too, were not immune to his magnetic pull.

As he leafed through the stack of applications, he glanced over the names. A few of them were promising, academically speaking, but none that truly stood out—until the last one caught his eye.

Y/N.

He felt a faint stir of anticipation in his chest as he pulled her application to the top of the pile. She had been the last to apply, barely making the deadline. But her timing didn’t bother him; in fact, it intrigued him. Why so last minute? he wondered, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He flipped through the pages of her essays, scanning over the familiar handwriting.

She had always been sharp in class, quick to pick up on the nuances of the material he taught. But beyond her academic performance, there was something about her that had caught his attention early on. Something he couldn’t quite place but felt simmering beneath the surface whenever she was around.

As he began reading through her essays, he couldn’t help but be impressed. Her thoughts were meticulously organized, her analysis deep and thorough. Each sentence seemed to carry a weight of consideration, as if she was writing not just to impress, but to challenge herself—and maybe him. Her perspective was bold, even daring in parts, pushing the boundaries of the topics he’d assigned.

Harry leaned back in his chair, his eyes lingering on the pages. He wasn’t the only one reading the applications; other professors in the department had weighed in on the candidates, and Y/N had garnered favorable comments from them as well. Her work spoke for itself—she was undoubtedly qualified.

But there was more to it. He couldn’t ignore the way she had looked at him during class, the quiet curiosity in her eyes whenever she thought he wasn’t paying attention. He had felt the tension between them—unspoken but palpable. It was a delicate line they both walked, a line that could easily blur if either of them let it.

And now, with her application in his hands, the possibility of crossing that line seemed more real than ever.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at his door. He straightened, pulling his expression into something neutral. “Come in.”

Professor Adams, one of his colleagues in the literature department, stepped into the office, a casual smile on his face. “Any luck with the applications?”

Harry nodded, leaning forward to gather the papers into a neat stack. “A few promising ones.”

Adams glanced at the pile, his eyes landing on Y/N’s name before flicking back to Harry. “I read over her work,” he said with a knowing smile. “She’s sharp. One of the best in your class, isn’t she?”

Harry kept his face neutral, though he could feel the unspoken question behind Adams’ words. “She is,” he replied simply, placing her application at the top of the pile. “I’ll need to make a decision soon.”

Adams lingered for a moment, then gave a nod. “Good luck with that,” he said lightly before turning and leaving the office.

Once the door clicked shut, Harry let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of Y/N’s application. He had no doubt she was the right candidate for the position. But offering her the job would mean more than just an academic arrangement. It would mean proximity—hours spent alone in his office, reviewing papers, discussing assignments, their interactions no longer limited to the confines of a classroom.

It was a dangerous game, and Harry knew it. But there was something about Y/N, something that made the risk worth considering.

He glanced back down at her essays, his eyes tracing the words she’d written. There was a challenge hidden in her work, a spark that mirrored the tension he felt whenever they locked eyes.

Harry leaned back in his chair once more, the faintest smile playing at his lips.

Maybe it was time to see just how far that spark could go.

The next day, Y/N sat in class, trying her best to focus on the lecture. Her mind had been racing ever since she submitted her application for the assistant position. Part of her had felt a thrill, knowing it would put her closer to him, while the other part screamed at the idea of stepping into something so dangerous. She hadn’t even told Liv—she wasn’t sure she could explain why she wanted it so badly.

Harry’s deep voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her attention back to the front of the room. He was going over a passage from a novel they had been studying, his tone steady and commanding, as usual. But today, Y/N found herself watching him more closely, the way his fingers casually flicked through the pages of the book, the way his eyes scanned the room, as if always observing but never giving too much away.

When the class finally came to an end, students began packing up their things, but Y/N remained in her seat, her nerves buzzing. Harry hadn’t said anything about the assistant position yet, and she wondered if he would just send an email or announce it in class. She was halfway out of her seat when she heard his voice.

“Y/N,” Harry said, his tone soft but commanding enough to stop her in her tracks.

Her heart raced as she looked up. “Yes, Professor?”

Harry’s eyes held hers for a moment, the intensity of his gaze making her pulse quicken. “Could you stop by my office after class? I’d like to discuss something with you.”

She swallowed, her nerves tightening in her chest. “Of course.”

As the rest of the students filed out of the room, Y/N packed her things slowly, trying to calm the storm of emotions that swirled in her head. When she finally walked toward his office, her heart was pounding in her ears. There was no turning back now.

When she arrived, Harry’s door was slightly ajar. She hesitated for a moment before knocking softly.

“Come in,” his voice called.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. His office was neat, the shelves lined with books that were meticulously organized. Harry sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, his gaze calm and unreadable.

“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Y/N sat down, her fingers clutching her bag on her lap as she tried to steady her breath. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and the silence between them was heavy with anticipation.

Harry took his time, leaning forward slightly as he folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “I’ve reviewed all the applications for the assistant position,” he began, his voice even. “And I’ve made my decision.”

Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest. She forced herself to meet his gaze, her breath catching when she saw the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I’d like to offer you the position,” Harry said, his voice low, yet filled with meaning.

She blinked, stunned for a moment as his words sank in. “Me?” she breathed, feeling her pulse quicken. She wasn’t sure if she was surprised or if she had somehow expected this all along.

Harry nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Your essays were the strongest, and you’ve demonstrated a consistent level of dedication in class.” He paused for a beat, his eyes flickering with something darker as they held hers. “I believe you’ll be an excellent fit.”

Y/N’s mind raced. She could feel the weight of his words, the way he seemed to choose them so carefully, and the way the air between them seemed to thicken with every passing second.

“Thank you, Professor,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I—I won’t let you down.”

Harry’s smirk deepened, almost imperceptibly. “I’m sure you won’t.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them building, unspoken but undeniable. Y/N felt like she was standing at the edge of something far more dangerous than she had ever anticipated. There was a magnetic pull in the air, something dark and thrilling, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that accepting this job would change everything between them.

“There’s no need to rush into the workload right away,” Harry continued, his voice returning to its professional tone. “We’ll meet tomorrow after class to discuss the details of your responsibilities.”

Y/N nodded, trying to steady her breath. “I’ll be there.”

Harry’s gaze lingered on hers for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. “Good. I’ll see you then.”

She stood up, her legs feeling weak as she gathered her things and turned toward the door. But before she could step out, Harry’s voice stopped her once again.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone softer this time.

She turned back, her heart racing.

“You’ve earned this,” he said, his eyes locking with hers in a way that made her pulse spike. “But remember—this is still a job. Keep that in mind.”

Y/N swallowed, nodding quickly. “I will, Professor.”

With one last glance, she left his office, the door closing softly behind her. As she walked down the hallway, her thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. She had gotten the job, but something about the way he had spoken to her, the way his eyes had lingered on hers, left her with a sinking feeling in her chest.

The job, Y/N soon learned, was more involved than she had anticipated. As Harry’s assistant, her primary responsibility was to help with grading papers and assignments, offering feedback to students on their work. It was mostly routine—reading through essays, checking for grammar and structure, and making sure students followed the guidelines. Occasionally, she would also organize notes for Harry, compiling reading lists for future lectures, or researching topics for upcoming classes. It wasn’t difficult, but it was time-consuming, especially since Harry had high standards, expecting thoroughness in every task she performed.

She spent a few hours each day in his office, reviewing stacks of essays while Harry worked at his desk. Sometimes they spoke casually, but for the most part, they worked in comfortable silence, the air always carrying an unspoken tension.

A few days had passed, and Y/N found herself once again in Harry’s office, the evening sun casting long shadows through the window. They had been working for hours, trying to get through the final batch of essays that needed grading. The deadline to upload grades was fast approaching, and the pressure to finish was beginning to weigh on them both.

Y/N glanced at the clock. It was already past 8 p.m., and her stomach growled in protest. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, and the fatigue of the day was starting to catch up with her.

Harry, sitting across from her, stretched his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Are you hungry?” he asked, the casualness of his tone surprising her.

She blinked, a little caught off guard. “A bit,” she admitted, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

Harry gave a small smile, his eyes softening slightly. “Neither did I. We’ve been at this for hours.”

He stood up, walking over to the window to glance outside before turning back to her. “We’ll be here a while longer if we want to meet the deadline,” he said, almost apologetically. “How about I order us some dinner? My treat.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment. The idea of staying in his office late into the night, alone, felt like walking a tightrope she wasn’t sure she could balance on. But they were both committed to finishing the work on time, and the rational part of her knew there was no harm in it.

“Sure,” she said finally, offering him a small smile. “That sounds good.”

Harry nodded, pulling out his phone. “Any preferences?”

“Anything’s fine,” she replied, feeling the growing anticipation in the pit of her stomach.

He placed the order quickly, opting for something simple—a couple of salads and sandwiches from a nearby diner. Once the food was ordered, he settled back into his seat across from her, his eyes lingering on her just a moment longer than necessary before turning back to the essays.

They worked in silence again, the quiet hum of the office broken only by the occasional sound of paper rustling or the tapping of keys as Harry entered grades into the system. Y/N’s focus drifted, her thoughts flitting between the work in front of her and the growing awareness of his presence, just a few feet away. She could smell the faint hint of his cologne, fresh but with an edge of something darker, more intoxicating. Every movement he made seemed deliberate, controlled, and it only heightened the tension that lingered between them.

A knock at the door broke the quiet, and Harry stood to answer it, retrieving the bags of food. He placed them on his desk, opening one and handing her a salad.

“Thanks,” she said softly, taking it from him. She realized just how hungry she was when the smell hit her, making her stomach growl again. She picked up her fork, eating a few bites in silence while Harry did the same, the weight of the day beginning to settle in.

“You’ve been doing good work,” Harry said after a while, his voice softer now, almost conversational. “I wasn’t wrong in picking you for this.”

Y/N looked up, meeting his gaze across the desk. There was something different in his tone, something that sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “I’m glad you think so.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment. “I do. You’ve impressed me.”

The way he said it made her heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just the words, but the way his eyes lingered on her, the unspoken tension that hummed between them.

Y/N took a breath, focusing on her food to ground herself. She had known, ever since she took this job, that it would put her closer to him, but she hadn’t expected it to feel like this—this quiet, dangerous pull that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

After they finished their dinner, the conversation faded back into silence as they returned to their work. But the air in the room felt heavier now, charged with something neither of them acknowledged.

As the clock edged closer to midnight, Harry glanced at the screen of his computer, frowning slightly. “We’re nearly there,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the final few grades that needed to be uploaded.

As Y/N adjusted her posture in the chair, her shirt tugged slightly, revealing more of her neck and the soft line of her collarbone. Harry noticed without wanting to—his eyes drawn by the simple movement, a quiet shift that made his breath hitch for just a moment. She was dressed casually, but it was impossible to ignore the way her top hugged her form, accentuating the delicate curve of her chest and the smooth, bare skin of her shoulders. He tried to focus on the work at hand, but his mind wandered.

Against his better judgment.

He glanced at her again, the way her legs stretched out before her, her skirt riding up just slightly. The smooth length of her legs, accentuated by the heels she wore, seemed to go on forever. A part of him wanted to look away, to refocus, but another part—the darker, more primal part—couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have her here, in this office, bent over his desk. His hands gripping her waist, her breathy whispers filling the air.

His fingers tightened around the papers he was pretending to focus on, his jaw clenching slightly. He couldn’t think like this. Not now, not when she was sitting just feet away, oblivious to the thoughts that ran rampant through his head. He had always prided himself on control, on maintaining a professional distance. But Y/N—she made it harder to keep those boundaries intact.

"That should be the last of them," Y/N's voice broke through his thoughts, casual and unaware. She glanced up, pushing her hair back as she stretched again, completely innocent in her movements, though they felt like a test of his willpower.

He didn’t look up this time, knowing that if he did, he might not be able to stop himself from staring. He could feel the weight of her presence, like an invisible pull that was slowly unraveling the restraint he had so carefully built.

There was a pause, the room falling into a tense silence.

Harry risked a glance at her, but quickly looked away again, unable to stop his thoughts from returning to the image of her body against his desk, her breathless gasps mixing with the sound of papers fluttering to the ground.

Focus. He needed to focus.

Y/N leaned forward, scanning over the last page of an essay. Her hair fell slightly over her shoulder, catching Harry’s attention as it framed her face. She seemed so focused, so unaware of the effect she had on him. He had been watching her all evening—small glances, trying to keep his thoughts in check. But it was harder tonight. The dim light of the office cast soft shadows across her skin, and the quiet made every subtle movement between them feel amplified.

“You’ve got a good eye for this,” Harry said, his voice low, deeper than he intended. “I can see why your writing’s so strong.”

Y/N smiled at the compliment, looking up from her paper to meet his gaze. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice softer than usual, as if the weight of the night had settled on her too.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Harry hadn’t meant for it to linger, hadn’t intended for the silence to stretch out the way it did. But something unspoken passed between them, something that had been building slowly, night after night, moment after moment. He could see it in her eyes—the way her gaze dropped briefly to his mouth before flicking back up to meet his.

He wanted her.

He knew it.

But he couldn’t.

Not here. Not now. Not ever.

“Y/N—” Harry began, his voice quiet, but the words failed him. He didn’t know what he was going to say, what excuse he would make to put some distance between them before it was too late.

But Y/N stood up suddenly, moving around the desk until she was standing closer, her body mere inches from his. The soft scent of her perfume filled the space between them, intoxicating him, making it harder to keep his resolve. Her eyes flicked down again—more deliberate this time—lingering on his lips before moving back up.

Harry’s heart raced, pounding in his chest as she stepped closer. She shouldn’t be this close. They shouldn’t be this close.

“Do you want me to go?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her words hanging in the air like a dangerous offer.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Yes, he should tell her to leave. He should say it right now, before he did something they couldn’t undo. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself frozen, his body betraying him, wanting her more than he should.

When she didn’t get an answer, Y/N took a step closer, her hand brushing lightly against the desk beside him, her fingers grazing the papers they had been grading. The simple touch felt electrifying, and Harry’s resolve slipped further away.

“Harry,” she whispered, and the sound of his name on her lips broke whatever thread of control he had left.

In one swift movement, he was out of his chair, closing the space between them. His hands found her waist, not roughly, but with a firmness that spoke of his struggle—of how long he had fought this, how much he had wanted to keep his distance. Her body pressed against his, soft and warm, and every breath he took seemed to carry her scent, filling his lungs with something he couldn’t escape.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They were so close now, close enough that he could feel the heat of her skin through her shirt, the faint rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. His eyes searched hers, looking for hesitation, but all he saw was the same hunger, the same desperate pull that had been gnawing at him.

His hand slid up, brushing lightly along her side until his fingers found her jaw, his thumb resting just beneath her chin. He tilted her face up, his breath mixing with hers in the space between them. He could feel her pulse beneath his thumb, quick and erratic, mirroring his own.

And then, with a soft exhale, Harry leaned down and kissed her.

It was slow at first, tentative—a soft press of lips that sent a shockwave through both of them. But the restraint didn’t last long. The moment her mouth opened slightly against his, the kiss deepened, growing more intense, more desperate.

Y/N’s hands moved up to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if she needed something to hold onto, something to ground her. But Harry was already lost, his other hand slipping into her hair, pulling her closer, pressing her body tighter against his.

It was dangerous, reckless, and every rational part of Harry’s brain screamed at him to stop, to pull back before this went any further. But he couldn’t. Not now, not after wanting this for so long.

The kiss grew hungrier, their bodies pressing against each other as the tension between them finally broke, spilling over in a rush of need and desire.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their lips swollen, their bodies still close, unwilling to let go.