𑣲 quarterback harry styles proposes the idea to help get your crushes attention and his grades up
warnings: sexual content, swearing, drinking, mentions of childhood abuse
a/n: oh.my.gosh it’s finally here and i’m so excited for you to read it. please let me know what you think love you xx
It was the beginning of September.
The cold fall nights draped Westbrook University in soft, honeyed gold - sunlight filtering through ancient oak trees, turning the red brick pathways warm underfoot.
The air hummed with electric excitement, sharp with the scent of cut grass, fresh paint and the faint sweet promise of everything new.
You stood before the open doorway of Room 302, suitcase handle gripped tight in one hand and you breathed it all in.
Your very first place, away from the crowded, noisy freshman dorms where you could hear everything through the thin walls.
Sunlight streamed through the single window at the far end of the room, turning dust motes to gold as they danced in beams. Gliding the empty oak desk and the two narrow beds draped in crisp white covers.
Waiting for someone else’s presence to grace the room, and so were you.
“Hi! You must be Anna Miller!”
You turned quickly, and there stood in the doorway a girl with honey blonde waves falling loose and soft over her shoulders. A dusting of freckles across her nose and the brightest, warmest smile you had ever seen. Her arms were loaded with cardboard boxes, a striped duffel bag slung over one shoulder and she leaned in the frame like she has been looking forward to this moment all summer.
“I’m Willow,” she said, shifting her load easily and stepping inside the room. “Your roommate! I’ve been dying to meet you - I feel like I already know you from all our emails. I hope you don’t mind, but I would really want the bed by the window - the light is just too good to pass up. But if you really want it, we can absolutely flip a coin!”
You laughed instantly, stepping forward to take the top box from her stack, your chest starting to feel lighter already. “Willow, it's perfect. And honestly? I was just standing here wondering where on earth to start. So.. thank you.”
For the next several hours you worked side by side, turning the blank white room into yours.
Willow had strung warm golden fairy lights along the headboard of her bed and draped them around the window frame. You taped up vintage music posters and stacked your books along the shelves by the desk. You both bickered playfully over who got the largest closet, argued naturally over which corner the mirror should hang and paused only to share chocolate bars and laugh at how many times you’d both accidentally packed the same exact brand of coffee.
By the time the sun began to dip low below the rooftops, painting the sky soft orange and rose. The room felt warm, lived in and bright like home.
“Alright,” Willow announced, eventually flopping back onto her fully made bed with a dramatic, satisfied sigh and stretching her arms above her head. “I am absolutely starving. And I’ve heard things, very specific, very reliable things - about the pizza place just off campus. Apparently it’s legendary. We’re going.”
You grabbed your jacket off the back of the door, grinning. “Lead the way. But fair warning - I’m on a very tight budget, so I’m paying in leftovers and gratitude.”
You both wandered out into the golden hour, arm in arm, the campus buzzing with energy around you. Oak leaves rustled overhead, groups of students called out to one another as they walked somewhere down the path and someone was playing a guitar on a porch.
You talked easily about your course, favourite books, the things you couldn’t wait to do and by the time you reached the pizza place, it felt like you had been friends for years, not just a few hours.
A few days settled into a comfortable rhythm of early lectures, hours in the library and rushing between classes with books tucked tight against your chest.
You walked out of your history class one afternoon beside Milo, your best friend since freshman year, the only person who could ever make you laugh so hard you’d snort in the quiet section of the library. You stepped out into the warm afternoon sun and flipped your graded test paper over in your hands, still in disbelief.
“An A, Anna? Again?” Milo nudged your shoulder with his, grinning wide as he leaned in to look, “You are completely unreal. I swear, you’re practically our professor’s favourite student. He looked at it like it was a masterpiece.”
“Barely,” You laughed, tucking the paper safely into your bag. “That last essay question? I stared at it for twenty minutes convinced I’d completely misunderstood the prompt. I’m still half expecting him to come running after me with a red pen.”
“Please. You’re brilliant. Stop being so surprised.”
You were still chatting as you both walked across the grass, when Willow came bounding over, her bag bouncing against her hip, eyes bright and curious. She fell into step on your other side, glancing between you and Milo before leaning in with a knowing, excited look.
“Okay - enough about tests,” she said lowering her voice like she was about to say something cancel worthy. “Spill. Have you finally spoken to James yet? The music major you keep staring at from across the dining hall? The one with the British accent and nice smile?”
Your face heated up instantly, and you glanced away. “Willow - shh! Keep your voice down! And no - I haven’t. I haven’t exactly found the perfect moment, okay? It’s not as easy as it sounds.”
“Make a move,” Willow said simply. “He’s probably waiting for you to notice him too!”
Before you could reply, a shadow fell over you stretching long and dark across the grass. You looked up and there he was.
Westbrook University’s star quarterback.
Broad shouldered and striking, his dark hair falling in soft, messy waves over his forehead and a faint stubble gracing his jawline. He wore a faded grey hoodie and loose jeans, hands tucked casually into his pockets, moving with unhurried confidence that seemed to follow him everywhere. The kind that made people turn their heads as he passed. He stopped right in front of you, his vivid green eyes locked directly onto yours, warm and steady.
“Anna Miller?” His voice was low and certain, like he’s said your name a hundred times before.
“What do you want, Harry Styles? Petals to walk on, or more money for your stupid frat gym even though the drama department is literally falling apart,” Willow says.
“I mean if you wanted to throw petals, I wouldn’t oppose to the idea,” he said while smirking. “Anyways, anna you’re the only one who passed that test and I failed.”
“Yeah, it seems like a lot of people did.”
“I need a tutor badly. If I don't pull my grade up, I will get benched. Seasons over before it barely starts. Think you could help me out?”
You blinked, completely caught off guard - not just by the request but by the fact that Harry Styles knows your name. You hesitated, then shook your head gently keeping your tone firm but kind.
“Harry, I’m sorry. But I’ve got a full schedule, work shifts three evenings a week and my own studying to keep up with.. I honestly don’t have the extra hours to tutor anyone right now. And besides -” you gestured vaguely, knowing full well half the campus would jump at the chance - “plenty of people would be more than happy to help. You should ask someone else.”
Harry’s easy smile faltered, just for a moment, his expression softening into something earnest. “C’mon - I’ll pay you. Buy you coffee, dinner, whatever you want. Just think about it?”
“I’ll think about it,” you said, meaning it a little more than you showed. “But don’t get your hopes up.
With that, you gave him a small smile, turning away, leaving him there standing on the patch watching you go.
Later on in music class the afternoon had ended on a much heavier note. Professor Hayes pulled you aside after everyone else had left, his expression gentle but serious as he leaned against the edge of his desk.
“Anna,” he said quietly. “I need to be honest with you. The scholarship funding you’ve been relying on - it’s running out. The department’s had to make cuts. And unfortunately if you want to stay here next semester.. You’re going to have to find a way to get a scholarship.”
“What? H-how can I get another scholarship? I don’t want to get another work study job. I'm barely surviving with this one and studying.”
“Well.. you could do the annual pop showcase.”
“Yeah. It's open to all students. You write and perform an original song. Win first place and a full four-year scholarship is yours.
He reached over, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “You’ve got one of the best voices I’ve heard in years, Anna. You’ve got the talent. Just bring something to the class. Okay? “
“Okay,” you said, giving a smile.
That evening you sat at your desk in your room, pen in hand, staring at a completely blank sheet of paper. The lamp casting a warm gold light across the wood, but your mind just felt empty as the page before. Words tangled and slipping away every time you tried to grasp them. You kept writing then drawing your pen over them and it was a repeat cycle until the frustration took over. You dropped your pen with a clatter and buried your face in your hands, fighting off the tears threatening to escape.
The heavy wooden door swung open and Harry stepped inside, bass thumping up through the floorboards, laughter echoing off the high ceilings. The air was thick with beer, cedar and warm smoke.
“Styles!” someone called, lifting a cup.
“Harry, over here!” another patted the empty spot beside them.
“Hey Harry! Voices chimed, everyone grinning like he was the main event.
He nodded, offering quick smiles and quiet “hey’s” as he wove through the crowd. He felt their eyes - the star quarterback, golden boy and carried the weight of it all quiet and distant. He turned to the kitchen where most of the guys had gathered around the counter laughing loud. He leaned against the doorframe, twisting the cap off and taking a long drink, listening as one of the house mates snickered and shook his head.
“Alright - who’s the lucky one?” Logan called out. “Just went up to use the bathroom shower and it’s completely clogged. Pulled the cover off and yeah. Someone has been too busy having fun and forgot to throw it away properly. Condom jammed right in there. The whole thing’s backed up.”
A roar of laughter went up around the room.
“Mate - really?” Jack hooted, slapping his thigh. "At least buy a decent one!”
“Come on, fess up! Luca teased.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” Dean yelled, grinning. “And who’s the idiot who can’t aim?”
Harry just shook his head, huffing out a quiet laugh and taking another sip, keeping his face neutral. “Not me,” he said. “Been busy.”
“Sure Harry,” Luca said, shooting a wink. “Whatever you say, golden boy. We’ll believe that when we see it.”
The guys joked around a little longer, ribbing each other and pretending to be scandalised, until Harry pushed off the doorframe, setting his empty bottle down. He had barely taken a step away when he felt her. The soft perfume drifting over him, then her hand light on his shoulder, fingers dragging slow down his neck.
Isla was stood there, hair loose, eyes dark and bright and fixed right on him with a knowing hungry smile curving on her lips. She leaned down close until her breath was warm against his ear, completely ignoring the other in the room.
“Look who finally showed up,” she murmured, thumb brushing slowly over his jaw. “Been waiting for you all night. Missed you so badly, Harry.”
Just looked at her - saw the wanting in her face and nodded towards the stairs. She laced her fingers through his and led him away from the noise, up the stairs to his room.
The door clicked shut and the world fell away.
Isla turned in his arms, pressing flush against him, kissing him hard and deep like she wanted to consume him. Harry kissed her back roughly, hands gripping her waist and pulling her tighter. She walked him backward towards the bed, fingers fumbling with his shirt.
“Missed feeling you,” she breathed against his mouth, tugging his shirt over his head. “Missed how big you feel against me. How you take over every single part of me.”
Harry groaned low, hands roaming over her, pushing her top aside, mouth hot on her skin. “You talk too much,” her murmured, voice rough and dark. “Gonna make you forget how to speak. Gonna fucking ruin you, Isla.”
“Then ruin me,” she gasped, arching into him. “Please, Harry - I need it hard. I need you to take what you want from me. I’m yours - all yours. Use me however you like.”
“Careful what you ask for,” he growled, pushing her back onto the mattress covering her body with his own. “Because I’m gonna take everything. Gonna make you shake. Gonna make you scream my name until you can’t hear anything else. You want that? Want me to own you?”
“Yes - fuck, yes!” she writhed beneath him, nails dragging down his back. “Own me, Harry. Fill me up. Make me yours.”
He then moved, deep, deliberate and relentless. Every stroke was a claim, every touch a promise. He leaned close to her ear, voice dark and rough and unsteady.
“Look at you… taking me so well. So wet and tight for me. This is what you needed, isn’t it? Needed me to stretch you out till you feel every inch of me. Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” she sobbed out, hands clutching at his shoulders. “Only you, Harry. Nobody else. Just you.”
“That’s right,” he muttered, driving himself deeper, watching her come apart beneath him. “Say it again. Scream it. Let me hear you say you’re mine and no one else’s. Gonna make you come so hard you’ll still be feeling me tomorrow. Gonna leave you aching for days so you never forget exactly who you belong to.”
“Yours! I’m yours!” she cried out, shattering around him, trembling and breathless.
Harry held nothing back - chasing, claiming, whispering dark filthy things against her skin until they both fell apart, tangled and breathless. His sheets twisted around them, hearts hammering wild and fast.
When it was over, they lay still, chest heaving and skin glowing. Isla shifted closer, resting her head on his chest, tracing soft patterns over his skin - sweet and tender. She tilted her head to look at him eyes warm and soft.
“I’ve really missed you, Harry,” she said quietly. “Missed this. Missed us. I’ve been thinking.. Maybe we could actually try? Properly. Be together. I want that. I want you.”
Harry went still. The heat drained away, leaving him cold and distant. He sat up sheets pulled around him, staring at the wall, voice flat and final.
“It’s not you, Isla. It’s me. And I’m telling you now - I’m just not ready for a relationship. Not with you. Not with anyone.”
Isla stared. Her face crumpled - shock, hurt, then sharp, burning anger. She scrambled up, grabbing her clothes, dressing fast and hands shaking. She looked at him one last time, eyes glistening and voice cracking with rage.
“You are unbelievable!” she snapped. “You get everything you want, everyone wants you and you still act like you’re some broken thing! You’re not broken - you’re just a dick, Harry! A selfish, cruel dick!”
She grabbed her jacket and stormed to the door, wretching it open before looking back, eyes burning.
“Hope it was worth it,” she bit out, cold and sharp. “Goodbye.”
The door slammed so hard that the walls shook.
However, Harry didn’t move. He sat alone on his bed, listening to her footsteps fading, staring at nothing.
You were still sitting there, shoulders hunched and eyes burning when the door creaked open softly.
Willow stepped in, quiet when she saw you. Saw the blank page, the pen abandoned and the way you were trying so hard not to cry. She crossed the room in silence, set a steaming mug of tea down beside your hand and gently sat on the edge of your bed.
“Hey,” she said. “It’s okay. You don't have to force it. Words don’t come easy when you’re stressed and scared and trying too hard. Give yourself permission to write something bad. You’re brilliant Anna and this is just one rough night. You’ll find your way back to it. I promise.”
You lifted your head, wiping at your eyes and looked at her warm, steady concern in her face - and felt some of the tightness in your chest begin to loosen. “Thank you, Willow. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Anytime babe,” she said standing up.
“Oh, were you meant to open up the bar today?”
“Oh shit!” you said, while scrambling clothes together.
In the evening, you were found in the bar with an apron tied neat around your waist. You were wiping down the counter and trying to focus on the rhythm of the work. The bell above the door chimed - and your heart skipped a beat.
He stepped inside, hands in his jacket pockets and smiled soft and easy. “Hey, Anna. One iced tea please.”
“Uh - yeah! Sure! One - iced tea. Coming right up!”
Your hands shook slightly as you reached for the glass, your mind racing to catch up. “So - uh - your music class! How’s that going? I’ve been meaning to ask if you could help write -” you stumbled over your own words, heat rising fast up your neck and into your cheeks. “Here you go!” you blurted, setting the glass down a little too hard.
James didn’t seem to pay any mind to it, he just shot you a gentle smile and said, “Thanks, Anna. See you around.” Then he picked up his drink and walked out.
You leaned against the counter the second the door clicked shut, exhaling a long and shaky breath before covering your burning face with one hand. That’s when a familiar, low voice spoke right beside your ear - warm, amused and too close.
“Nearly lost your head completely back there, didn’t you love?”
You jumped, spinning around fast.
There was Harry. Stood on the other side of the counter, leaning forward with his forearms resting on the wood, grinning like he’d just watched the most entertaining thing he’d ever seen. His green eyes glinted with amusement as he looked at you.
“Josh is nice,” he teased, tilting his head.
“It’s James,” you said before walking away to refill a customer's cup.
“You look like you’re about to pass out every single time he glances your way. Are you gonna ask him out sometime or just admire from a safe distance forever?”
You straightened up in front of him, smoothing down your apron and doing your best to sound unaffected. “None of your business, Harry. And for the record - I told you already. I’m busy. I don’t have time to tutor you and I definitely don’t have time to be your entertainment. Find someone else to bother.”
Harry’s grin widened, like my annoyance was exactly what he had been hoping for. “You’re feisty. I like you. Don’t look so cross, Anna - I’ll be seeing you around.” He winked and pushed off the counter and strolled back out of the door. Leaving you standing there flustered and breathless.
Friday afternoon brought the first big football match of the season.
The school field was packed, thousands of people cheering and the air thick with excitement and the sharp autumn chill.
The PA system blared and the commentators' voices carried loud and clear across the field, echoing from the speakers high above the stands.
“And there he is - number seventeen, Harry Styles!” the announcer called. “Following in some very famous footsteps, isn’t he? His father, Edward Styles - Westbrook’s own football legend, former record breaking quarterback. The apple certainly didn’t fall far from the tree - same build, same stance and the same fire in his eyes. Everyone’s been waiting to see if the son can live up to his father’s name today!”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Harry walked out onto the pitch, shoulders back but his jaw tightened at his words. Every time the commentator spoke his father’s name like that - like it was Harry’s only achievement, his only worth - something cold coiled tight in his chest. And every time he glanced toward the stands, toward where his father stood tall and stiff and unsmiling, arms crossed, old memories flooding through his mind.
Shouting echoed through the house, doors slammed hard enough to shake the walls, his mother crying quiet tears in the kitchen late at night.
Be better. Do better. Don’t embarrass me.
His hands shook. He fumbled the first snap. Missed an easy pass and fumbled the ball a second time.
The commentators picked up on it instantly, “Hmm.. not the start anyone expected,” the voice crackled. “Looks like the pressure might be getting to him. Trying to fill those very large shoes his father left behind can be a heavy burden.”
“Styles looks off,” agreed another.
“Unsteady. Hesitant. Nothing like the confident player we saw in pre-season. Wonder if Edward is watching from the stands.”
The coach blew his whistle loud and sharp.
Harry sat on the wooden bench, chest tight and burning, jaw clenched so hard it ached, feeling small and useless in front of everyone.
Not that far away, near the catering tables set up along the edge of the field, there you stood stacking paper cups when you saw him.
Another player on the opposing team. Broad, loud and the last time you had seen him he spiked you at a party and you had barely gotten away.
Fear hit you instantly - sharp, cold and overwhelming.
Your breath caught in your throat. You couldn’t seem to pull air in. You turned and ran, slipping away from the crowds to a quiet, locked room. Pushing the door open and shutting it fast behind you, sinking down against the wall with your knees pulled tight to your chest.
To steady yourself you stood up and made your way to the piano and began to sing don’t go breaking my heart. Filling the quiet space around you, grounding you. You began to dance and sing as the song that you and your mother used to sing in the kitchen calmed you down.
Outside, on his way back towards the field, Harry heard you. He stopped in his tracks. The tight, painful knot in his chest loosened. His head had cleared, and for a moment everything felt okay. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and watched you with a smile growing on his face. After he felt centered, he walked towards his coach - standing tall, eyes clear and voice strong.
And he was. The second half? Harry played like he was unstoppable. He dodged and weaved and ran like the wind. As the final second ticked away, he crossed the goal line - scoring the winning touchdown. The crowd erupted into cheer. Harry stood there for a moment, chest heaving and looked straight towards the stands where he saw his father.
Who just gave him a nod and left without a trace. Instead of it affecting him, he thought about you singing like you had no care in the world and for a moment he too had no care.
Later that night, back at the frat house. Harry sat alone on his bed with his phone in his hands. He hesitated for a moment, then typed two words into the search bar: Anna Miller.
He scrolled slowly until he found her and sat there watching every video. Her laughing as she walked across campus. Standing by the library window singing soft and quiet to herself. Exploring the woods at the edge of town looking at the lake.
And for the first time his heart fluttered.
Back in your apartment, Willow flopped onto your bed beside you, nudging your shoulder gently.
“Block party tonight,” she said firmly. “James is going. Milo’s going. And you missy - are coming with us. No excuses. You’ve been nervous around him for weeks, Anna. Tonight’s the night. Just talk to him. Be yourself. He’d be lucky to know you.”
So you got ready, put on the dress Willow had picked out for you. Brushed your hair until it felt smooth and soft. Took a long, steadying breath and together you walked over.
You had arrived and immediately saw Milo.
“Yes bitch! You look so hot!”
“Thank you very much,” you said, pulling him in for a hug.
The block party was warm and alive - strings of golden lights strung between trees, music playing loud and happy, people laughing and talking everywhere.
“Babe you gotta go talk to him,” Willow said.
“Yeah, liquid courage,” Willow’s boyfriend Sean said.
“No remember Anna's friend in high school that got spiked.”
“What we are going to encourage anna to do is finally talk to James fucking Davis.”
“Yeah,” they all said in sync.
“Okay. I'll go up to him. Fuck, let’s do it.”
You found James standing near the fence, nursing a drink and watching the crowd. You took one last breath and walked over smiling.
He turned, his face lighting up. “Anna! Hey. I was actually hoping I’d get to talk to you.”
You both stood there talking - easy, nice about his music projects, the showcase and everything you’d been too nervous to say before. You were smiling, feeling brave and feeling like you might actually be okay - until -
Low, warm and achingly familiar. Before you could even turn, an arm slid firm and sure around your waist, pulling you gently against his solid chest. Harry leaned down close beside your ear, then lifted his gaze to James, his expression calm but unmistakable.
“Sorry I took so long, love,” Harry said smoothly, his voice steady and confident. “Got held up. You know how it is.”
James blinked, glancing between the two of you confused. “I didn’t know you two were.. Together.”
“Yeah,” Harry said casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s mine.”
James’s smile faded into something polite. “Got it. I’ll - uh - see you around Anna.” he nodded, turning and walking away.
You spun around instantly, stepping out of Harry’s hold. Your face burning bright with anger and confusion.
“What the hell was that?!” you hissed, keeping your voice low. “Harry! I was talking to him. If you didn’t happen to know. I like him. Why would you do that?!”
Harry didn’t look sorry. He leaned one shoulder casually against the fence, his hands in his pockets watching you with an easy calm - though there was a glint of something warm and playful in his green eyes.
“James is nice,” he said. “But he needed a little push. And besides - I have an idea. Hear me out.”
You crossed your arms tight over your chest. “Go on.”
You stared at him, hoping you misheard him. “Excuse me?”
“Pretend that we’re together,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping lower. “It keeps every other girl on this campus off my back and god, there are so many of them.”
“Listen. It makes James see exactly what he’s missing. Once he thinks you’re taken he will realise what he wants and finally step up. In exchange, you tutor me. Help me pass history so I don’t get benched and lose everything. Win-win. Just a few weeks. I’ll buy you all the coffee you want.”
He leaned in a little close, gaze searching yours. “Help me, Anna. I’ll help you get exactly what you want. What do you say?”
You looked up at him - the hopeful tilt of his head, the way he watched you like your answer mattered and shook your head in disbelief.
“Just remember, I'm not your girl styles,” you said while wrapping an arm around his neck.
Harry’s face broke into a bright but devastatingly charming grin. “So what do you say?”
You lean in closer to his ear, warm breath grazing before whispering, “Deal.”
You pull back looking into his face as he wraps his arms around your waist. “I guess this means we are now dating, hey?”
“I wouldn’t even think about it.”
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