#Harry Styles ff

[hazzashouse]

Hii, I hope you are doing great !

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write something about y/n not being famous and she is not accepted and treated badly by Harry’s celebrity group of friends which will put to test her relationship with Harry.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays !! 💕

A/N: This was such a fun request to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together. It’s a mix of angst, fluff, and a lot of emotion. Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and I hope it resonates with you!

Triggers: Emotional manipulation, unkind behavior, insecurity

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,167

You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Being with Harry meant stepping into a world so far removed from your own that at times, it felt like you’d fallen through the looking glass. It wasn’t that you doubted your love for him or his love for you—it was undeniable, unshakable. But you weren’t naïve. You knew his fame came with its challenges, and the hardest one wasn’t the paparazzi or the scrutiny from strangers on the internet. It was his friends.

They weren’t all bad, of course. There were a few who made an effort to get to know you, to see you for who you were beyond the label of “Harry’s girlfriend.” But most of them… most of them didn’t.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The party was at one of Harry’s favorite spots in Los Angeles, a sleek, exclusive venue where everyone seemed to glitter with a level of confidence and beauty you couldn’t help but envy. You’d been nervous from the start, clinging to Harry’s hand as he introduced you to people whose names you struggled to remember.

“Just stick with me, love,” he’d said earlier that evening, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be fine.”

And for a while, it was. Harry stayed close, his arm around your waist as he guided you through the room. But then he was whisked away by someone wanting to discuss music, and you were left standing near the bar, nursing a drink and feeling utterly out of place.

That’s when the whispers started.

At first, you tried to ignore them, telling yourself you were imagining things. But the pointed glances, the half-smirks, and the subtle head tilts in your direction were impossible to miss.

“Does she even know who she’s talking to?”

“She’s cute, but… I don’t get it. Harry could do so much better.”

“She looks so uncomfortable. It’s kind of painful to watch.”

The words stung, each one landing like a small, sharp jab. You kept your head high, determined not to let it show. But when one of Harry’s friends—a model you’d met once before—approached you with a patronizing smile, your resolve began to crack.

“So,” she said, swirling her cocktail as she looked you up and down, “how’s it going, Y/N? Adjusting to all… this?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Must be overwhelming,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “I mean, it’s not really your world, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, searching for a way out of the conversation. But before you could respond, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, her smile sharp. “It’s just… we’ve all known Harry for years. We’ve seen him with people who… well, let’s just say they were a better fit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of hurt and anger. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d gotten under your skin, so you excused yourself, heading for the nearest exit.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside, leaning against the railing and taking deep breaths. You tried to shake off her words, to remind yourself that they didn’t matter. But they did.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Nothing,” you said eventually, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “I just… needed some air.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending everything was fine. But then the hurt bubbled up to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out.

“I don’t belong here, Harry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried, but your friends… they don’t want me here. They think I’m not good enough for you.”

Harry’s expression shifted from concern to something darker—anger, though not directed at you. His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to rein in his emotions.

“Who said that?” he asked finally, his voice low and controlled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “It’s not just one person. It’s the way they look at me, the things they say when they think I’m not listening. They don’t think I’m… enough.”

Harry’s hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re everything. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But what if they’re right?” you whispered. “What if I’m just… not the kind of person who fits into your world?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Y/N, my world is wherever you are. None of this”—he gestured toward the party inside—“means anything without you. And if anyone thinks they can make you feel unwelcome or unworthy, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the weight on your chest easing slightly. “You can’t fight all your friends for me, Harry.”

He smiled then, his expression softening. “I won’t have to. Because once I’m done having a word with them, they’ll know better than to treat you like this again.”

Before you could respond, Harry pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the tension begin to melt away as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

—————

True to his word, Harry didn’t let the matter drop. When the two of you returned to the party, he made a point of staying by your side, his presence a clear signal to anyone who dared to question your place in his life.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the couch in his dressing room as he paced back and forth, recounting the conversations he’d had with a few of his more tactless friends.

“They’re idiots,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they can’t call themselves my friends.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Harry,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to remind you of everything you shared. And in that moment, you knew that no amount of judgment or criticism could ever come between you.

Because what you had with Harry was real. And nothing else mattered.

[emeraldsandpearlsss]

Under Pressure

As a graduation present to yourself you head to the spa to finally get some relaxation. Lucky for you, your masseuse knows just how to work out that tension.

(this is my first attempt at a one shot so be gentle)

WC: 4.4k

content warnings: strangers, fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), hand job, riding the tiger

After six grueling years of college, I had finally earned this spa day. Going straight into grad school after getting my Bachelor’s was a decision I knew would be challenging, but I hadn’t anticipated the physical toll it would take on me. The mental hardships I managed with various prescriptions and my nightly date with Lady Indica, but nothing seemed to ease the tension that had been locked in my shoulders for the past three years.

So there I soaked, neck deep in the outdoor mineral bath, as the 104-degree water soothed my aching joints. The spa was hidden away in the mountains, down a winding road flanked by lush greenery. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and swimming laps. Now I lounged, waiting for my upcoming aromatherapy massage. With the day pass costing upwards of $500, I was determined to make every cent count.

When my 15 minutes were up, I headed inside to the spa’s service area. The receptionist checked me in, handed me a towel, and guided me to the showers to rinse off before my treatment. The hallways were dimly lit and refreshingly cool, infused with the earthy aroma of stone walls, subtly mingled with hints of jasmine and eucalyptus oils. My shower resembled a rock waterfall. This whole place knew how to set a tone.

I quickly undressed, rinsed off, and wrapped myself in the plush towel. My hands lightly shook as I knotted my hair into a silk scrunchie and I felt a flutter of tension deep into my belly. I had never had a massage like this before. I had never spent this much on myself before. But I earned this. I had to keep reminding myself I worked hard for this.

Entering Room 3, I paused to take in the serene atmosphere. The soft, white massage table rested at the heart of a dimly lit room, bathed in a soothing blue glow. The stone-lined walls evoked the serene ambiance of a tranquil cave, inviting a deep sense of calm. I took my place on the table, face up as instructed, and let out a slow, steadying breath.

A soft knock broke the quiet, followed by the gentle creak of the door opening. I turned my head to greet my masseuse and was met with a pair of jade-green eyes illuminated by the room’s soft light.

"Hello," he said, his voice carrying a gentle British accent. "My name is Harry, and I’ll be your massage therapist today."

For a moment, I forgot myself, taking in the sight of him. His soft brown hair was tied back in a bun, mirroring my own. He wore a simple short-sleeved button-down and matching trousers, accented only by a blue name tag. Tattoos adorned his left arm in an intricate array, with just a few scattered on his right. As my gaze traveled back up to meet his eyes, I felt the need to steady my breath. 

"H-hi. Hello," I stammered, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I had nothing but a pair of cotton panties beneath my towel.

"Are there any areas you’d like me to focus on today?" he asked as he moved around the room, setting out lotions and placing a few drops of oil into the diffuser. He was so at ease in his routine and I felt like my world had tilted on its axis. 

His words caused an unexpected ache to thrum low in my belly. I clenched my thighs together, hoping to dispel the sensation as discreetly as possible. That particular area hadn't received any focus since the start of my grad program.

By another person that is.

And god three years was a long time to go with only the company of a pink vibrator. And maybe a dildo…and a purple vibrator that had the thrusting motion…and occasionally a plug but only on special occasions…

But no men. 

And certainly not men who looked like him. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and doing some laps in the pool. His hands seemed capable of molding me like play-doh, with veins running along them and up along his firm forearms… It was easy to imagine them working out…tension. 

"My shoulders have been sore," I managed to choke out, wincing slightly at the crack in my voice. My shoulders weren’t any more sore than any other part of my body, but I felt like I had to say something. 

"Alright," he said with a reassuring nod. "We’ll start there and see how you’re feeling. Just close your eyes and try to relax." 

I did as instructed, taking a few calming breaths. The sound of him rolling a stool closer and the faint squeezing of lotion filled the room.

"Is it alright if I touch you now?" he asked gently.

I nodded softly, and his hands found their place on my shoulders, warm and reassuring. His palms pressed firmly into my traps, kneading with a steady rhythm that radiated a soothing warmth through my muscles. His thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles, each motion dissolving knots of tension that had accumulated from countless hours hunched over a computer screen. The relief was immediate, like all of the weight I had been carrying was slowly lifting away.

His fingers traveled with a knowing precision, working their way across the ridges of my shoulders and upper back. A satisfying pressure built with each movement—firm enough to coax the tension from my muscles but never harsh, as if he intuitively understood my threshold. As he moved his hands to my neck, his touch deepened. He slipped his fingers beneath my shoulder blades, a light stretch accompanying the glide upward.

His hands transitioned seamlessly into my hair, the silky strands parting as his fingertips brushed against my scalp. The sensation magnifying the ache between my legs. His touch grounded me in the moment while leaving my senses heightened.

Slowly his hands began to curl around to the sides of my neck, along my pulse point and up to my temples. My heart rate picked up with each pass, my legs flexing and releasing. As he worked his way up to my jaw, his thumbs gently massaging near my earlobes, an unrestrained moan escaped my lips.

Harry’s hands paused, and my breath caught.

I opened my eyes cautiously, only to find his locked with mine, his lips slightly parted.

"Sorry..." I whispered, mortified.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and with a subtle nod, resumed his motions without a word.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to calm my racing thoughts and praying he couldn't feel the pounding of my pulse along my throat. But the crimson flush of embarrassment burned across my skin, and my mind refused to settle.

Did I make it weird? I made it weird. Why was he looking at me like that though? I'm sure I just imagined it. It's his job to do this, I doubt I'm the first person to ever make a noise, it's fine. But oh god why is he so quiet? I guess he was quiet before... Was it awkward before? Have I been making this whole thing weird? No, no, it's a spa, you're supposed to relax. It's fine. You're fine. Breathe.

After tending to my arms Harry asked me to turn onto my stomach. I awkwardly maneuvered myself, clinging to the towel as I tried not to tumble off the table. I don't think I could handle embarrassing myself again today. Once in position, I felt a gentle tap on my back.

"I’m going to need you to pull down the towel so I can see your back," he said softly. "I also have this pillow for under your hips."

I shimmied the towel down to my lower back and adjusted the pillow beneath me. To my surprise, it eased a pressure I hadn’t realized had been building in my lower spine.

I looked over my shoulder, daring to make eye contact again. "Is this okay?" I gently ask.

He held my gaze for a moment, his hand resting gently on my calf, before responding, "Perfect." I thought I could see him give a harsh swallow, but surely I must have mistaken it. 

Turning to face the ground through the cushioned face hole of the massage bed I felt myself flush again. This man has said little to nothing to me and yet I am disolving into a pile of goo on the floor. Truly pathetic. Call me the Wicked Witch because I, too, will apparently die if I get a little wet.

As Harry gently kneads my legs I feel the ache between my thighs becoming harder to ignore and debate ending the session. This is supposed to be relaxing but I'm so wound up and in my head that I fear I'm making everything worse. 

After several more minutes of imagining what other areas my masseuse could work on I let out a frustrated sigh and resigned myself to end the session. I begin to lift myself up when I feel him place a firm hand on the back of my upper thigh. I freeze, my hands gripping the edge of the table but waiting for any indication of what's happening.

"Wh-"

"Just lay back down. I know. I've got you."

I tilt my head in his direction, still too scared to make eye contact for fear that I'm imagining what he's implying.

"Harry what do you..."

He moves his hand up my thigh a fraction of an inch.

Clearing his throat he asks, "Is it alright..." he moves another inch, "if I touch you?"

The question hangs in the air as I try to imagine a world in which things like this happen to people like me. 

"Yes," I say in a breathless whisper. Scared that someone will hear. Scared that I'll make him disappear.

He places a hand on my shoulder and delicately pushes me back down onto the table, holding me between the shoulderblades as he slides his hand between my thighs. When I feel the tips of his cool fingers caress me my body tenses on instinct and I clench my legs around him. His minty cool breath hits my face as he bends down and whispers, "relax," in my ear as his index finger begins to glide up and down my now soaked panties.

After a deep breath I begin to ease the tension in my legs, letting them fall farther apart to give him more access. 

His hand moves slowly, exploring everything still hidden from him by thin cotton. It’s a dramatic difference from the pounding of my pulse ringing in my ears. My breath comes out in choppy puffs as I harshly swallow and try to calm myself down.  The friction of cotton against me sends zings of pleasure through my body and I clench my fingers trying to hold onto this side of the earth as it begins to spin around me. But the pleasure is outweighed by my need to feel him on me. In me. 

Without much thought I gently ease my hips up from their propped position on the pillow, my body taking over and letting him know I need more. That’s when I feel his fingers gliding along the seam of my panties, teasing me. 

“Can I-”

“Yes,” I let out in a low moan. I’m not above begging at this point. I appreciate the checking in. I do. But if he doesn’t touch me right now I fear I will fall apart, fractured and broken, unable to hold together the ache that's been building inside me.

When he pulls aside my drenched underwear and begins to slide a finger through my arousal everything else in the room turns to fog. There is only the soft glow of blue light, me, and Harry. I am in the clouds and he is propelling me higher. When he finally makes his way to my throbbing clit the ground falls away beneath me. 

Harry’s free hand trails up my back until gently tangling with the hair at the base of my neck, giving it a firm hold. His other hand is working slow, torturous circles around my aching nub. Every time I start to feel the pressure build in my lower belly he moves away, collecting more of my arousal before starting the process all over again. 

Swirl. Swirl. Swirl. Stop.

Again. And again. 

I can’t help it when a whimper escapes my lips as he does it for the fourth time. At the sound Harry gently releases my hair allowing me to look over my shoulder at him, where his sparkling green eyes are already trained on mine. A small smirk is on his lips. He’s enjoying working me up. As we look at eachother I can see the challenge in his eyes. He’s pushing me and I have no stamina to put up a fight. Another desperate whine escaped my throat as I breathlessly choke out a, “please.”

Please is always the magic word. 

He keeps our eyes connected as he removes his hand just long enough to drag down my now soaked underwear. One finger slides inside of my dripping pussy, and then a second. My eyes roll back and then close as my jaw falls open, taking in the pleasure and the pressure of the fullness. His fingers are long and hit that spot inside of me that makes stars explode behind my eyes with ease. As he begins to massage my g-spot his thumb resumes the tortuous circling of my clit and I bury my head in the cushions to attempt stifling my moans. My hips begin to rock back, urging him to… I don’t know what. But I need more of him. 

Suddenly a firm hand slips around my waist and between my breasts, pulling me up so I’m forced to prop myself on my forearms. His hand continues up and gently locks around my throat. A sob of appreciation escapes me as he begins to fuck me harder with his fingers. Tears pool in my eyes as the pressure in my belly becomes almost too much, begging for release. Harry tightens his thumb and ring finger against my airways, giving me a delicious high as I feel him lean over me again, breathing in sync with me.

“You’re so tense…” he gently pants next to my ear. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know. We’ve got to get all of these knots out…” 

Just then Harry releases my throat and tears spill as the headrush overcomes me. I’m gasping, trying to bring myself back to reality, when I’m suddenly pushed back down to the table by my shoulders. Harry holds me firmly to the table as I hear him shuffle around behind me. Then his mouth is on me. He moves to wrap his arms underneath my thighs, his rough fingers digging into my soft skin as he spreads me open and buries his face in my cunt, his tongue gliding up and down - savoring me -  before settling on my throbbing clit. 

I hear a moan escape him as he firmly sucks my clit between his lips. The pressure of his tongue is the only thing keeping me grounded. Everything else falls away and all that matters is that plump pink mouth pulling me towards nirvana.

His left arm remains holding me tight as his right hand slides up the back of my thigh, leaving a train of goosebumps in their wake. A firm hand gently kneads at my ass before sliding his fingers back into my entrance. The feeling of his mouth and his fingers are so intense I try to lock my legs, but his grip is firm. I am at his mercy and god I fucking love it. I bite on my palm to stifle my moans, not wanting to get caught in here. 

Harry is all about the tease. Working me up and leaving me wanting again. My body is all stars and electric currents, twinkling so bright and zapping me back into clarity. But if I am the stars, Harry is the sun, blinding me to every sensation except that mouth. That fucking mouth. 

The only sounds are choked sobs, panting breath, and the slick slide of skin on dripping skin. My body is sticky with sweat but the room keeps me cool, despite feeling like every nerve ending is on fire. 

I begin to move my hips again, riding his fingers and his mouth as he flicks and sucks and slides in and out of me all at once. Harry groans in appreciation, his fingers digging into my flesh harder. I reach back and grab Harry by his bun, holding him to me, too scared of the moment slipping away. With a low chuckle Harry nips at my swollen nub and then applies pressure with his tongue in a pulsing motion. 

The sensation starts in my toes, a gentle fizz like bubbles rising in a glass of celebratory champagne. The tingling spreads, climbing higher and higher. As it reaches my legs, they tense on their own, every muscle coiled tight with anticipation. I don’t notice I’m holding my breath until a dark haze begins to blur the edges of my vision. And then everything inside me shatters. 

The orgasm that hits fractures me into a million pieces, too powerful for a sound or a breath to escape. I am frozen with pleasure, completely at his mercy. Harry’s fingers continue to thrust into me, helping me ride out the orgasm as long as I could. Removing his mouth, he blows a cool breath on my sensitive clit and I throb around his fingers as I start to come down. When he finally takes away his hand he softly massages my calves and I work to regain control of my breathing. 

Neither of us look at each other for several minutes, the only sound to be heard is our jagged breaths. 

In. (hold) Out…

In. (hold) Out…

I gather enough strength to sit up and remove the pillow from under my hips and look over to see Harry leaning against the stone wall, watching me closely. His hands are at his sides and he’s subtly flexing his fingers, clearly unsure of what to do next. Despite his black pants and the dim lighting of the room I can still make out that he is in need of a release. The bulge beneath his scrubs looks painfully restrained.

I slide off of the massage table and tentatively walk over to him, never breaking eye contact. 

Worry crosses his face as he opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t normally…” but his voice trails off as I slowly lower myself to my knees in front of him. I never take my eyes off of his and can’t help but smile inside as I see his chest begin to rise and fall at a rapid pace. 

I place a soft hand on his thigh and tilt my head, giving my best doe eyes. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know…” I glance down and back up, repeating his own words back to him. Sliding my hands up his thighs I let my fingers run along the waistband of his pants. “Can I…?”

Harry lets out a strangled, “yes” as his head falls back against the wall. A few strands of hair have fallen out of his bun and gently curl around his face. I almost lose sight of my task as I take in just how beautiful this absolute stranger is. A faint flush creeps up his neck, his lips are full and slightly swollen, and his eyes carry a subtle, dreamy haze.

I attempt to return his torture by taking my time untying the knot from his scrub pants and pulling them down, but when I see the tiger tattoo on his thigh all plans are thrown out the window. I’m suddenly salivating and desperate to see all of him. More tattoos reveal themselves to me - soft words by his knees and jagged lyrics along his ankles, disappearing behind socks. I bend down to press my lips to one knee, then the other, without thinking. Taking hold of his thighs I begin to kiss my way up, savoring the feel of his muscular thighs as the clench in anticipation. I rise over the tiger and past his hips until my mouth landed on the ferns resting just above his black boxer briefs. My tongue traces the lines of the ink as my hands work down his underwear.

Pulling back I take a moment to admire his cock that has so patiently - and painfully - been begging for some attention. His heavy erection twitches as I take a soft lick of the precum that’s starting to drip before sliding my mouth over him and taking him into the back of my throat. Any attempt at going slow was now abandoned. His hips buck at my swiftness and I feel his knee give a tremble beneath my hands. I pull off of him, giving the tip of his cock a swirl of my tongue before sliding back down and setting a steady pace. 

As my nails trail softly down his thighs, his hands dart to my hair, gripping it firmly. I can sense the tension radiating through him, his body taut with restraint. Pulling away, I pause, waiting for his gaze to lock with mine. Reaching up, I touch his arms, letting my hands glide down to meet his. With a small, reassuring nod, I signal it’s okay, and his grip tightens in response. He guides me back onto him and gives a few testing rocks of his hips to make sure I’m okay. A shuddering sigh escapes his lips when he finally pulls me to the hilt of his cock and holds me there for a few moments. I swallow around him and he begins to move his hips again. 

My eye’s never leave his face as he slides his cock in and out of my mouth. I want him to know my gratitude. I want him to feel as good as he made me feel. I can feel my arousal building again as I watch him, amazed that I’m the one making these emotions of pleasure cross his face. His eyes are closed, his mouth gently hanging open as soft puffs of breath and stuttered gasps fall from his lips. The serenity of his face are a stark contrast to the fevered pace he is keeping. Tears fall and saliva dips down my chin as he roughly fucks my throat, but I’m so turned on I can’t stop myself from reaching down to relieve the pressure between my legs. 

When Harry sees me touching myself he withdraws my mouth from him, a string of spit connecting my mouth to his still swollen cock. His eyes are dark as he tugs my head further back and looks from my face to my fingers working fast circles on my clit. Giving him a smirk I lift my fingers to my mouth, but as I go in for a lick I’m met with his tongue already there, desperate to taste me again. For the first time our mouths meet in a desperate kiss and Harry drops down to his knees to meet me. Hands and lips and tongues become tangled as we pull each other closer, closer, closer. 

Harry hoists me up and places me so I’m straddling his thigh, his hands tightly gripping my hips and sliding my dripping cunt along his tiger tattoo. I wrap one arm around his shoulder, my fingers fumbling with the hair tie as I release his long curls. I pull away from our kiss and take a moment to admire him before spitting in my hand and gripping his still needy cock. We work our bodies in sync, my hips sliding up and down with every stroke of my hand on him. Desperate moans escape me as my head falls forward and rests in the crook of his neck. 

I grind my clit down harder on Harry’s thigh, savoring the blissful friction as I roll my hips but so desperate for a second release. His hips had started rocking into my hand letting me know he was just as eager to come. Without breaking my stride I let the spit pool behind my teeth before releasing it to dribble down, meeting the hand that was frantically working him towards his release. Harry leaned forward and captured my lips again, his hungry togue sliding into my mouth. 

Losing control, I moan into his mouth as the champagne bubbles float upwards again. Harry’s grip turns bruising as he pulls me down harder along his thigh while I maintain my rocking motion. When the bubbles finally reached the surface and overflowed I let out a silent gasp, unaware that I had been holding my breath again. I feel Harry’s cock pulsing in my hand and open my eyes to meet his as we finish together. Our hair is stuck to the sweat along our foreheads and our cheeks have a matching flush. I can’t bring myself to break his gaze as we both release soft, uneven breaths, waiting for our breathing to steady.

Several moments pass before a giggle escapes me, followed by another, and another. Harry shakes his head but begin to laugh as well. And so we sit there, naked, on the floor of this massage room, laughing until our stomachs hurt and tears run down our faces. 

As I walked back to my car my cheeks still ached from smiling. Harry and I hadn’t spoken a word about it while we cleaned up, just shared quiet chuckles whenever our eyes met. At the locker room, his fingers brushed my arm, lingering for a fleeting moment before he turned and disappeared back into the spa center. I drove away with a sense of calm I hadn’t felt since before grad school, a weight lifted off my shoulders—and a package for five more sessions tucked in my pocket. 

After all, some knots need more than one visit to work out.

[0oolookitsme]

Baby, We're Fireproof

Yes bestie, you are on the right blog and yes, I did write some angst!! Hahaha hope you enjoy!

Verse - Singer!Harry x CEO!Y/n

Word Count - 2.1k

Warnings - some insane making-out at the end ;)

Harry has been writing an album, and while Y/n wants to go easy on him, she just can't adjust to his absence and the fact that he has abandoned their relationship. But Harry is quick to realise his fault and remind her that they're fireproof.

In the quiet of the night, Y/n found herself tangled in a web of thoughts, questioning her feelings curled up into a ball on the huge bed.

Harry was yet again, not home. It had been a week since he started coming home later and later. He said it was because he was very close to finishing his new album, and Y/n wasn't quite sure if he realised that whatever he was doing out there, was beginning to put a strain on their relationship.

She wanted to be mature and let him be, knowing his profession was way different from hers. But the question, 'would he have adjusted like this, for this long?' plagued her thoughts.

The corners of her eyes were moist, and she only felt smaller and smaller as the night rolled on. It was pouring outside and even though the balcony was closed, Y/n could still hear the noise, and it only made her more aware of the static silence looming in the house right now.

She wanted to stop thinking so much, knowing that she was going to reach conclusions even she wouldn't believe herself in her right mind. But when she closed her eyes, sleep didn't come and when she opened them, Harry still wasn't sliding into the bed, next to her.

But she must've dozed off amidst her misery because she woke up the next morning with Harry's body tangled with hers, with his head in the crook of her neck, one arm under her head while the other one remained draped across her stomach and his legs twisted like ivy around hers.

She was sweating profusely. So, she got right up and lowered the AC's temperature so that Harry wouldn't wake up drenched like her. Surprisingly, there was no sleep in her eyes. She felt as awake as she'd been in the early hours of the morning.

Climbing down the stairs with nothing going on inside her head, she got herself a hot glass of water with some added lemon juice and went to sit on the sofa in the living room showcasing the sunrise.

Her shoulders were tense, eyes dry and unmoving. She knew there was going to be an argument between the two of them when he'd wake up. But that's okay, because they truly needed to talk this out before things went spiralling a little too far.

She was ready to sort this out and get the tension over with, but she still had that nagging feeling that he might leave the house without bidding her goodbye, leaving behind a mere note mentioning that he loved her and would miss her in the studio, while she'd be in the shower, preparing herself to sit and talk to him.

But that wasn't going to happen today -- she wouldn't let it.

Soft pads of footsteps perked her ears up, but she didn't turn to see him. She just knew that he was rubbing his eye with a knuckle, something that she'd want to disapprove of him for and he would make the faces at her that she found ridiculously funny and had grown to love.

But then she felt warm hands press against her eyelids, closing them and a mouth breathing near the nape of her neck.

"Why are you sitting down here, hm?" He spoke rather quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence. But the rasp in his voice definitely punctured it.

"I think we need to talk," softly, she held his hands and lowered them so they sat intertwined with hers, upon her collarbones. "Please," she whispered, her tone begging him to listen to her and not distract her.

But he was seemingly working well because her eyelids were still shut.

"Well, we can after I have some cuddles with you," he pushed the topic under the rug, knowing that once they'd be done, the both of them would probably be running late.

"No, H," Y/n said sternly, eyes flying open as she pulled on his arm for him to come in front of her and sit. She didn't say much when he just sat on the coffee table in front, opening her legs and putting his closed ones in the space between.

"Say," he said, his eyes set on hers with a nonchalant expression, but Y/n could read the tension in every flexed muscle of his arm and the tightness in his set jaw.

Y/n took a deep breath then. The only thing easing her nerves was the earnest look in his eyes, like he was willing to sit and actually sort this out.

"Don't you think that we haven't really been spending any time together, as of lately?" She spoke just as slowly as her breathing was.

He only nodded at that, albeit little tensely, urging her on.

"I feel that that has been putting a strain on our relationship."

He was still for a couple seconds, or maybe minutes, Y/n wasn't sure.

"I feel the same, babe, I truly do feel the same."

Y/n sensed a but coming, so she didn't speak.

"But I can't really help it, not for a while," he sighed, and Y/n's gaze lost the softness that had been glazing her eyes.

"You're writing an album, and I'm willing to understand how tough and exhausting that must be, but you can't just abandon us for that," she spoke with nods and shakes of her head, her voice rising a level higher.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"I've really been trying to be easy and not go on biting at you for not spending each breath of yours beside me, and it should've been easy but it's not because," she stopped to take a breath, one that shuddered. "Because you used to do that, and now you're suddenly not and I'm sorry that I haven't adjusted to it as quickly as you have!" Her brows rose, adding to her words like she was trying her all to make him see the point.

"And I understand if that's too much to ask from you right now, but at least speak with me or spend some time with me because this is a relationship, Harry!" She wanted to stand up and to pace around, but his hands were on her knees, and she didn't want that loss of contact.

Taking a breath to calm herself a little, she crossed her fingers with his again. "It's like we're mere roommates," she began, looking into his tired eyes, noticing his dark circles for the first time.

She didn't even know when they'd first appeared.

"I didn't realise that," he took a breath as if it was suddenly hard for him to speak. "I didn't realise that, that - that's what I'd been doing," with slumped shoulders, he lowered his gaze.

"But I -- you didn't put in any extra effort, either," he insisted, shrugging his shoulders. "You could've visited me at the studio or asked me to stay for a while longer or - or, I don't know!" He finished frustratedly, flailing his arms.

"Oh?" She said before thinking, then took a long breath. "Alright, I agree that I should've done that. That this isn't a one sided thing since it takes two hands to clap," -- she slumped back, crossing her legs -- "but wasn't it you who left while I was bathing, not even bothering to bid me goodbye for the day? Or to send a text mentioning that you were going to be late or that you were ordering food in the studio itself?" She almost suggested.

"I'm sorry about that, I wasn't thinking straight," he said clearly, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.

"So why did you begin kissing me and fucking me every time that I tried to bring up the issue?" She said, maybe a bit more roughly that she'd intended.

"I wasn't doing it to shut you down, the hell?" He looked as if she'd accused him of robbery. "It was just mere coincidence! Yes, I should've stopped when you began to talk but you fell into me as well, didn't you?" He was standing up now, a frown settled deep between his ungroomed brows.

"I missed you every second I spent away from you, it was you who I was thinking about constantly so pardon me if I was exhausted out of my mind and wanted to spend some time with you!"

Y/n gaze was the guilty one now. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she accepted, her throat too dry for her to gulp.

"I just, I can't believe you'd think so low of me," he sighed. "But it's alright, okay? I know we were both frustrated and not thinking straight," he sat back down and held her hands again.

With his thumb and index finger, he softly gripped her chin to coax her eyes into meeting his. 

"Forgive me? I promise I will never write songs about you again," his frown turned into a grin, and he leaned in to hold her gaze when she broke a smile that melted into laughter.

"I hate you," she mumbled, moving to sit in his lap with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, uncaring about the risk of the coffee table holding their weight unsuccessfully.

"Yeah, I forgive you as well," he chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss upon the lobe of her ear.

"Just, don't forget me," she sighed, wrapping her legs around his waist when he picked her up.

"I really made you think a lot of things, didn't I?" He spoke like he was apologising. "I'm really sorry, love."

He was carrying her up the stairs when she pulled away from the nape of his neck to look at him. "I'm sorry too," she said genuinely, holding his gaze.

"It's okay," he whispered, opening the door to their bedroom by pushing against it with his back before he pushed her onto the bed, climbing in after her and bringing with him the blanket which he wrapped the both of them in, holding her tight against him before he whisked himself away to hold his phone.

"Let's take today off, but don't forget to bring in fresh ideas, tomorrow then!" He said into the recorder and sent the voice message, sliding his phone in his bedside drawer then and lying back down, facing Y/n.

They stared at each other for a little, before Harry broke a smile, making one crack on Y/n's mouth as well. “Baby, we’re fireproof,” he said, smugly grinning, and making her laugh. 

"Kiss me, you fool," she gritted with a scrunched nose, grinning widely until Harry hurried to seal their mouths together, the force causing her to move her head back a bit. 

His scent suddenly filled all of her senses, him being all that she could see, feel, hear, and smell. The same vanilla scent with a light hint of some cinnamon and some woody scent that she’d been missing so terribly.  

His tongue fought against hers until she gave up and he finally had the full access to her mouth. His breath hot against her skin bringing tingles under her skin, and making blood rush to her cheeks and fireworks erupt inside of her. 

Backing away to catch his breath, Harry let out a hoarse chuckle when she came forward in the chase of his lips, causing their noses to smush. Licking his lips, he looked at her mouth for a second too long, seeing a kiss she always let him steal. Cupping the back of her head, he pushed her mouth to his’, relishing in the feeling of just how down bad he felt for her. 

Slowly, he pushed her until her back was flush against the mattress and he was hovering above her, his dainty necklace resting on her neck as he claimed her mouth again, his palms slipping under his shirt that she’d been wearing and making their way around her body without much hesitation due to the map of her body inscribed among the lines on them. 

Her back arched off the bed, pressing her abdomen against his’ while his knee parted her thighs to press up against her core. And as she slumped down into the mattress, the friction between her legs had her swaying her hips for more. 

His hands grazed around her abdomen and stomach, caressing her back before he realised that she didn’t have a bra on. Groaning into her mouth, he pulled back to catch his breath. 

Still heaving, a smirk pulled the right corner of his mouth upwards. 

“Look at you, getting mad at me just because I was writing too many songs about you in the studio,” he teased, and before he could’ve taken another breath, his eyes rolled back as she pulled on the curls near the nape of his neck, and pushed him right back to her mouth once a breath or two had filled their lungs. 

[hsdiaries]

The Secret Spot

5.1k words

Golfrry, quick escalation, shy Harry into vocal Harry, oral m recieving, p in v, quickie situation.

I didn’t edit this at all, just written in a whim lol.

“Cassie! You’ve been assigned to a party today!” Martin called out as he walked through the locker room handing everyone their assignment slips. I brushed my hair up into a ponytail high on my head so I could slip my visor on.

“Is it a big one?” I said, pulling out my white apron and tying it around my waist, slipping in my small order pad and favorite green pen with the small golf ball topper. It was always a conversation started with the club members; and conversations always led to good tips.

“It's a small three person party, I heard it's a big name, haven’t confirmed who yet - you'll have to pick up your slip at the front desk. It's a bit hush hush.” He shrugged and I nodded, making sure my shoes were tied properly as my friend Kyle came up to me.

“Hush hush, huh? I hope for your sake he’s hot,” He smirked, pushing all his weight onto his left hip. Whoever thought it was a good idea to let Kyle interact with the older men at the golf club had no idea how many sugar daddies he would end up by his second week on the job.

“Kyle, sweetie, I don’t need them to be good looking to get good tips, I just need them to have heavy pockets,” I said standing up straight and slamming my locker shut. Pushing him out of the way gently with my shoulder I made my way out of the room heading out to the front desk.

“Be a good whore!” I heard him call out, making me shake my head and laugh. The lunch time crowd was beginning to flow in quickly; lunch time was the prime time to have a shift, people hardly ever wanted to let go of these shifts for that reason. Small waves were thrown my way from the usual crowd, I made sure to make note of my usuals, sending them extra greetings especially since I wouldn’t be assisting them today. As I approached the front desk, Cedric, the club manager spotted me, perking up instantly.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite little waitress,” he smiled, eyes back on the computer screen in front of him.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite little boss. I heard I have a part assigned today?” Leaning on the front desk, I reached over the counter, grabbing a mint packaged in the signature green of the Ocean Wells Country Club, earning me a soft smack on the hand. I pulled the mint to my chest, quickly opening it and popping it in my mouth, Cedric rolling his eyes.

“Yes actually, and I’m sure you will thank me for it. I had to pick wisely and my soul told me you would be the only one to not act like a crazed fan girl when I told you who you would be serving today,” I watched as the small slip printer started printing out our usual assignment slips, he quickly ripped it off the machine and slid it across the front desk to me.

Raising an eyebrow, I slowly picked up the slip and looked it over, my eyes widening at the sight of the names on the slip.

Niall Horan

Harry Styles

Mitch Rowland

I looked up at him, jaw slightly dropped, “You’re fucking joking right?”

“Nope, not a joke at all. As a matter of fact, they are walking in at this very second,” he smiled, pointing his chin in the direction of the front door. My body seemed to turn quicker than my head, but once it followed, my eyes were instantly drawn to Harry. He was wearing a navy sweater over a slightly brighter blue dress shirt, matching slacks and brown golf shoes. He has recently cut his hair, a frenzy in the media, but it had grown out to perfection, short on the sides, a swoop of curls wanting to remake their appearance on the front. His face was perfectly layered with growing facial hair, it made him look so mature and well cultured. He looked like money, and well, he was. It wasn’t until they were almost in front of me that I noticed the three of them had made their way to the front desk - and that I had been staring like a gawky girl in love.

I quickly cleared my throat and turned to face Cedric who chuckled a bit as I made myself busy organizing the business cards on the desk, chewing on the mint in my mouth. I felt their presence next to me soon after, Niall standing the closest to me, Harry doing most of the speaking for the party.

“Hello, we had reservations under Styles?” He said kindly, his voice so soft spoken and kind. I didn’t expect anything less if I was being honest.

“Yes, Mr. Styles, Mr. Horan and Mr. Rowland, we are all ready for you. You have been assigned to start on the left, two golf carts have been assigned, one for you and one for your caddies. Your personal waitress, Cassie here, will also have her own cart to bring drinks, cigars, food and any other desired items here at the club,” Cedric spoke, his hand gesturing over to me, causing all three men to turn their eyes to me. Each smiled, making eye contact, but only Harry’s lingered just a moment longer than the rest.

“Nice to meet you all, I’m here for whatever you may need, even making sure that the other isn't cheating,” I smirked, making them chuckle a bit.

“She's a club favorite, you’ll enjoy her ever present company,” Cedric said in a slightly condescending tone.

“I’m sure her services will be appreciated,” Niall said, clearly noticing Cedric's tone.

“Very well then, here are your keys, golf clubs should already be loaded, enjoy your time here at Ocean Wells Country Club.”

I nodded at Cedric, turning to the front door and holding my arm out to let the gentleman know they could carry on ahead of me before I began walking slightly behind them. I noticed Harry’s pace slow a bit more than the others as we made our way over, his attention turning to me for a moment, clearing his throat.

“Would you mind starting us off with some whiskeys, over ice please. We will need lunch reservations at around two, we should be finished with our game by then,” he said, unable to make eye contact fully.

“Might I suggest 2:15 to make room for any delays and travel time back to the cafe?” I said politely, his eyes shifting to meet mind more predominantly. They were a beautiful shade of green, tricking the eyes to think they were blue, crystal clear in certain lights - glimmers of aquamarine.

“You know the place better than I, 2:15 is fine,” he smiled small my head nodding, for some reason my cheeks found themself washed over with a flush of pink.

We exited out into the warm summer sun, a sigh instantly leaving me, eyes closed as my face moved to look up into the sun, taking in its heat. Summertime was my favorite time of the year, it’s when I thrived most, when I felt most alive. Bringing my face down, I opened my eyes to find Harry already looking at me, quickly looking away when he noticed my eye contact.

We all stepped into our individual golf carts, they drove off to their first hole as I drove to the cafe to pick up their first round of drinks. I placed the order, waiting until they were brought out, throwing in some complimentary pretzels and beer cheese to start them off right. I carefully loaded everything into the cart, driving my way over to where they were. By the time I had made my way over, they were on the second hole, Niall currently lining up his shot before swinging effortlessly, the ball landing right next to the hole but not quite making it in.

I watched as he handed Harry a twenty dollar bill, Mitch and Harry laughing at how upset Niall looked. I pulled up behind their carts, Harry’s attention quickly moving over to me. He walked over as Mitch chose his golf club for his turn, reaching for the tray of drinks as I moved out of the cart.

“Oh you don’t have to do that, I got it,” I smiled, both our grips steady in the tray.

“Truly, I got it,” he smiled, his hand brushing my hand away. I felt my breath get caught in my throat as I swallowed, turning back to grab the tray with the pretzels and cheese.

I faced him, smiling shyly, “I figured you all would do well with some post game fuel? No one has ever hated our pretzel and beer cheese. It’s a club favorite,” I smiled, his eyes took in the food as Niall and Mitch made their way over to us.

“What’s all this?” Niall smiled, Harry’s eyes staying on me as he spoke.

“Cassie brought us a club favorite apparently,” he finally broke his eye contact, handing a drink to each of the boys as I nodded.

“I could drink the beer cheese if it wasn’t frowned upon,” I shrugged as Mitch reached over, ripping off a piece and dipping it in the cheese. He took a bite, eyebrows raising, nodding as he pointed to the tray with the remaining piece in his hand.

“Holy shit, let the stuck up pricks stare at us cause I’ll down it with you in a second,” he exclaimed making the rest of us laugh.

Niall and Harry took a piece each, copying Mitch in every single aspect, quickly praising me for my choice in game starting fuel. For the next few moments they stood around me, eating and drinking to their satisfaction before agreeing to move onto the next hole before anyone else began the same course, though I of course knew that wouldn’t happen. They were elite guests, no one would be assigned to this side of the club until two hours in so they would take all the time they wanted.

I loaded the empty glasses and trays into the back of my golf cart, hearing Harry yell out as my eyes caught Niall and Mitch driving off without him, middle fingers in clear sight, “Fuckers!”

Covering my mouth, I bit back my chuckle, shaking my head, “Need a ride?” I called out, his body shifting to face me, an eye roll following.

“I swear they know how to act proper,” he shook his head, shy dimples imprinting on his cheeks.

“Proper isn’t exactly my style, so, eh,” I chuckled, getting in my cart and patting the seat next to me. He walked over, getting in, hands wiping down his thighs. I took in his actions, my eyes taking in his face with a soft smile, before facing forward and starting up the cart.

“So how long have you been doing this for?” He asked softly, facing forward.

“Umm? Three years? Trying to make enough money to pay for college. The goal is to finally start this coming spring, but we shall see,” I shrugged, glancing over at him. He turned to me for a moment before we both looked forward again.

“What are you wanting to study?” He continued the conversation, his voice a bit stronger than before, almost as if he was slowly getting more comfortable.

“Social work, work with youth in the foster system. I want to be able to help people in a way I wished someone helped me when I was in foster homes,” I swallowed, my grip tightening slightly on the wheel as I drove. I could see Niall and Mitch in the close distance.

“That sounds like a beautiful full circle moment?” He said, questioning if that’s what it really was to me.

“Uh…sort of? I guess. I mean, you’re not the first person to tell me that, but I’m not exactly sure if I see it in that light. Just because, I don’t know if it’ll give me the healing most people think it will,” I said as I parked behind the other carts. We both turned to face each other and he nodded slightly.

“Mm, that’s understood. Your trauma isn’t healed just because you helped others avoid the same,” he said softly, a smile pushing into my left cheek.

“Exactly,” I breathed out, his lips rolling into his mouth. I couldn’t help but linger there, linger on the plumpness, the perfect rosey pink, the perfect Cupid’s bow. I shifted in my seat, “Um, shall I get you all some iced tea? Or water? Second round?”

He cleared his throat, moving to exit the cart, “Um, water and another round please, thank you.”

I watched as he moved towards his friends without another word and I drove back to the cafe to pick up their next round.

HARRY'S POV

I walked towards Niall and Mitch, willing myself to not turn back towards Cassie. Since laying my eyes on her upon arrival, something struck my heart in a way I hadn’t been struck in a while. She radiated electricity, not warmth, not light, electricity. She seemed to shock my entire system by just standing there. It didn’t help that I was aware it wasn’t just my eyes lingering for too long - hers on my lips just now shocking my soul.

Running my fingers through my hair, I approached Niall and Mitch, Niall’s hand slapping Mitch’s chest, “Told you!”

“Told him what?” I said, raising an eyebrow, walking over to my caddy and picking out my next club.

“You’re already smitten, been smitten since we walked in,” Niall said, my eyes narrowing in his direction.

“What the fuck are you going on about? I’m just being polite, she’s treating us well,” I said, picking my club and walking over to prep my swing.

“Full of shit, you both are eye fucking each other any moment you get!” Niall said, my eyes rolling and Mitch just laughed.

“He kinda has a point,” he said, standing next to Niall, arms crossed in front of his body.

“You both are idiots,” I said, turning back to the ball, pulling back and taking my first swing. It was such a lousy swing, the back of my hand meeting my forehead. They were wrong, it was obvious they weren’t, but I didn’t want this to be just another damn hook up situation. She seemed like a good person who didn’t deserve that, even if she didn’t mind it.

“That swing shows me that we aren’t,” Mitch teased, and I shook my head.

“Look, she’s beautiful, there is no damn denying that, but I’m not letting it get to my head, alright? Let’s just play the damn game.” I pushed past them, switching clubs so we could just continue playing.

We finished up the hole and moved onto the next when Cassie finally joined us again. She brought over our drinks and water, making conversation with Niall. I tried to avoid her this time around, watching her from a distance. At least this way I could take her in, and not deal with the teasing from my mates.

She was so animated when she talked, often twirling her long brown hair as she spoke, the white uniform, trimmed with green making her tan skin pop against it. She smelled like an apricot, something I noticed on the drive to the previous hole with her. Sweet, fresh, something I would gladly bite into. I shook the thought from my head, bringing my hands behind my head, linking my fingers together. I closed my eyes, inhaling the summer dry air, it was my favorite season to bask in, just taking in the sun, letting it warm my skin.

“Seems like they left you again,” I heard Cassie’s voice next to me, my left eye opening to peek over at her.

“I feel like it’s going to be a thing for the rest of the game,” I let my arms drop down next to me, a small giggle coming from her.

“Well, it’s okay, you have the best golf cart in the entire club to save you,” she winked playfully.

“Thank goodness for that,” I smirked, as she shrugged, walking backwards to the cart before turning around completely. I followed like a lost puppy behind her, watching her full hips swing from side to side as she walked away from me. I licked my lips, biting down on my lower lip, walking around the cart as I reached it, getting in.

“So, are you enjoying your break from work?” She asked, her eyes shifting towards me, and I let mine meet hers instantly.

“Yeah actually, nice to not have to be moving constantly unless it is my choice to do so. I like that I can just settle for a bit,” I said, her eyes shifting down to my hand then back in front of her.

“I like settling. Just knowing somewhere is home. Moving around so much when I was younger, it made me crave stability, you know?” She said, and I nodded.

“It’s like, rooting your feet somewhere long enough to actually make it feel like it’s your home,” I responded, bringing a big smile to her face.

“Exactly, exactly that,” she giggled a bit.

We drove for a bit longer, trying to find the boys at the next hole but they were nowhere to be seen. She came to a complete stop, pulling out her phone, “Maybe I went the wrong way? But I doubt it, I know these pathways like the back of my hand.”

I rolled my eyes, tossing my head back knowing exactly what they were doing, “I’m sure it’s not you. I have a feeling those assholes are long gone right now.”

“Oh..,um, I can head back if you want? You don’t have your clubs so…” she suggested, her face glancing over her shoulder then back at me.

Staying quiet for a moment, I took in the situation, analyzing the possibilities and that one that stood out the clearest was - I didn’t want to leave her just yet. I brought my hand to my lower lip, pinching it softly as I turned to face her, “You know this place like that back of your hand right?”

“Basically.”

“You have a place you like to hide out, that no one knows about?” I said, her eyes narrowing a bit, before a slightly devilish smile appeared on her face.

“I do actually,” she said, putting the cart into drive without another word.

“Going to show me?” I said, and she nodded.

“An adventure on company time? Why not.” She giggled, making me laugh with her.

We drove for a good five minutes, the golf cart cutting through different courses, avoiding people’s games and paths. We reached what seemed to be a back corner, a giant tree settling into the corner. It’s long thick trunks and branches seemed to bend, creating perfect nooks to rest in the shadow away from the sun. She park just to the side of it, turning off the cart, holding her hands out.

“Voila!! My secret spot,” she smiled, getting off and walking over to the tree. I watched her climb on top of it, effortlessly finding her perfect spot, settling into the curve that seemed shaped perfectly for her.

“How many people actually know about this?” I said, walking over, trying to pick the perfect place for me to climb up and settle.

“Just my friend Kenny, but he wouldn’t know how to actually get here. Just knows it exist….so like please don’t kill me or anything cause then I’ll never be found.” She pointed at me, making me laugh as I found my spot directly in front of her, our legs extending out next to each other.

“I won’t, I promise, I wouldn't know how to get back without you,” I said, sitting up for a moment to slip on my sweater before settling back. Unbuttoning the sleeves on my dress shirt, I rolled them up to my elbows, finally relaxing.

“Did the tattoos have stories?” Cassie said.

“Some. Others were just crazy ideas, things I thought would fit the bare spaces. A couple friends have chosen,” I smiled over at her.

“So if I said to get a turtle near your palm tree you would do it?” She asked, my head tilting slightly knowing my palm tree wasn’t currently exposed.

“And how do you know about that?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, both eyebrows raised at her. I watched her eyes widen, reds and pinks covering her sweet cheeks.

“Oh….I just…um, Niall he uh —…”

Bursting into laughter, I cut her off, shaking my head, “Cassie, I’m aware some people know more about me than I may know, I’m just twisting your arm.”

I kicked her legs softly with my foot, her eyes narrowing and returning the same gesture. For the next moments, we just sat in silence, taking in the small noises of the golf course, the bits of wind on the tree leaves. Every now and then we would ask one another questions about our personal life. I had no problem opening up to her and her with me, letting her tell me about the things that seemed to just magically pop into her mind.

As we sat, our bodies also seemed to scoot further down, feet and legs sharing soft touch against one another, knees rubbing gently against her thigh, her fingers also moving to dance around my calf. I let my own do the same, small chills forming on her bare legs. We stayed this way until she let me know we needed to head back soon, the time we were meant to be out on the course was almost over, and she would have to finish the rest of her shift.

I nodded in agreement as we both moved to begin our climb down. I made my way first, extending my arms out towards her to help her lower herself the rest of the way down, her perfect self landing perfectly in front of me. Her eyes locked on mine, tongue licking over her lips, breath heavy from our proximity.

“How much longer did you say we have?” I said softly, my hand moving to push her hair behind her ear.

“I didn’t specify,” she said, her voice shaky, my head nodding as I bravely closed the distance between us and kissed her. It’s what I wanted, and though her movements were hesitant at first, her eagerness in kissing me back let me know she wanted it too.

I wrapped my hand around the nape of her neck, gripping at it, pushing her closer to me, her mouth opening up and letting my tongue meet hers. I ran it across the roof of her mouth, pulling away as my teeth pulled her lower lip with them. She shuddered softly, a soft moan escaping her pretty pink lips.

“And to think I thought you were shy,” she whispered, hands trailing down to my hips, fingers tapping softly against them.

“Mmm, being shy doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want, and what excites me,” I quipped back, earning me a small raised brow.

“And what do you want?” She pushed up on her toes, kissing nose as her hands began pulling my dress shirt out of my pants.

I inhaled sharply through my nose, fire growing in my stomach, blood beginning to rush to my prick, “Fuck sake, you really wanna know?”

She nodded, undoing my belt buckle and pants, working the zipper down as her hand slipped into the band of my brief without question.

“You. You on top of me in that golf cart. Fucking me until you can’t anymore,” I groaned as her hand wrapped around my length, freeing me from the restriction of my clothes, pumping up and down my length.

“Mmm, get in the cart, Harry,” she said, releasing her hold on me, pushing me back. I watched as she began stripping free of her clothes, and I did the same as we walked over to the cart, sliding into the back seat. She climbed into the space next to me, bending her body over to take me in her hand, pumping up and down my shift before slipping me in her mouth. Her tongue rounded around my tip, teasing along my slit making my abs contort, my legs shooting up slightly, body tensing at the feeling.

She chuckled, the vibrations adding to an additional sensation around my cock, as she pushed her mouth further down me, bobbing up and down until she took me completely, nose meeting my happy trail. I felt her swallow me further down her throat, my hand instinctively wrapping around her ponytail, holding her there as my hips bucked forward.

She pushed against my hold, pop off me with a gasp of air, her spit covering my cock, her hand replacing where her mouth was as she wiped her mouth with the other. She moved closer to me, kissing me deeply, my hand curling around her jaw, not able to get enough of her, of her taste.

Of her sweet apricot scent.

My hand moved down to her hip, gripping at it and directing her over my body, her legs straddling my hips, her hands both moving to my shoulders. I pushed her wet center onto my shaft, guiding her hips up and down it, her slick and spit creating enough lubrication to guide her movements further.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, her hips rocking back and forth on me, her thighs clenching as she did, “Mm, I need you.”

She moaned, her eyes moving to mine, pants falling from her lips as her movements grew incredibly sloppy, her face was so flushed, nails digging into my shoulders.

“Yeah? Where do you need me? Huh? Tell me where,” I pressed into her lips, her moans growing more frequent, lips pressing an open kiss into my chin as I felt her come on me, arousal coating my cock thickly.

Her body trembled, her teeth biting at my chin, my hand moving up to her face, gripping under her jawline tightly, “Hmm, you need more than that?”

She nodded, “Please.” She basically begged.

“Mm? What more do you want, huh? Tell me Cassie,” I groaned at the thought of her saying she needed me inside her, at what that would feel like.

“Fill me up, please. God, Harry, please,” she breathed, pushing body up, gripping at my cock, bringing it up to meet her wet cunt, rubbing the tip against it before slipping herself down on me. It was a slow moment of taking me inch by inch, each moment further down met by the tight squeeze of her walls. She finally took the last bit of me in, each of us groaning out in pure ecstasy, before she began to lift her hips again, bouncing up and down on me effortlessly. Her perfectly round tits were in front of me, bouncy with her, begging to be in my mouth, my hands wrapping around them and bringing them to my lips. My tongue flicked at her nipples, pulling at them between my teeth, her moans escalating just like her pace on my cock.

“Fuck you do that so good, that wet cunt is so good,” I groaned into her tits, biting at the plump fleshy skin, kneading it with my hands. I slipped on arm around her waist, pumping my hard cock up into her, matching her pace.

“Oh, yes, Harry, just like that. Fuck just like that….god,” she moaned, her hands pulling my face to hers, kissing me deeply, our tongue sloppily running against each others. I slipped my fingers between us, rubbing her clit as I continued to pump in and out of her, her movements hardly existent, her legs trembling, her head knocked back in pleasure.

I could feel her tight cunt fluttering around me, pulling me deeper into it, her arousal already soaking down my thighs and hers. I wanted to taste every bit of it, I wanted it to coat me completely, make me filthy in it.

“You wanna come for me, Cassie? Come all over my hard cock, sweet girl? Hmm? Cock so hard for you, wants to fill you up. Can I do that? Can I fill up that wet cunt? Watch you squeeze me out after? Yeah?” I whispered into her neck, kissing along it up to her ear.

“Oh yes, Harry, fu-fuck, yes, yes, fill me up, oh…Ha-Harry I’m going to…I’m..” she gasped, her walls clenching around me, her hips pushing forward, legs clenching around me tighter, “Oh fuck, yes.”

She breathed out in relief, a moan so damn sexy I could have came at the very sound of it. I kept bucking my hips up into her, letting her ride out her high on my hard cock, taking in the way her body and face reacted to the feeling, only turning me on more. Both my hands gripped at her hips, fucking into her harder and quicker until I came, my hips bucking up and holding place their, shooting warm ropes into her fluttering walls.

We both came down from out high, her face nuzzled into my neck, my hips final relaxing and lowering back down, bring her carefully with me.

“Cassie baby, do something for me?” I whispered, a tired nod coming from her. She carefully sat up, eyes locking with mine.

“Pull off me sweet girl, squeeze out my come for me, let me see it drip out of you? Yeah?” I breathed out and she nodded, lazily doing as I instructed. She pulled off of me, both of us groaning. My eyes locked into her sweet cunt, watching her squeeze my come out of her, “Fuck, yes.”

She smirked tiredly, reaching down and covering her fingers in it, bringing it to her lips, licking them clean slowly. I met the other side of them, helping her, until she pulled them away so we were sharing the mix of our arousals on our lips.

Pulling away, she sighed, pushing her forehead on mine, “Mmm, I’ve never christened my secret spot before. Must be my lucky day.”

I chuckled, pressing one more kiss onto her lips, “We can do it again tomorrow. I have time. Find other places in this club to christen.”

“Mm? Sounds like a challenge.”

“I never liked when things came easy anyways.”

[maudie-duan]

Summary: Marlowe had never attached too much feeling to sex, other than it being a duty she played out, the "act" to keep the guy that everyone wanted, playing out a role she thought she had to abide by, always keeping up appearances. Not just in her love life but for those around her.

When you're a people-pleaser, how else will you find praise?

And here comes Harry, dredging up the past, stirring old feelings that Marlowe hasn't felt for him since Jr. High, yet Harry knows she has a boyfriend. Will Harry act on feelings that Marlowe never knew existed, or will Harry let old dogs lie after they randomly hook up one night after five years of not talking?

Pairing: Frat!Harry x Fem/Character

Trope: Lovers to Enemies

Tag list: Always Open! @sassamanda77 @harryyloverrr @lizsogolden

Warnings: (Warnings posted with every chapter)

Story Type: Mini Series (6 Parts)

A/N: Nothing says drama like High School love->This will be a Six-Part Series told from the POV of Harry and Marlowe—Yes, this story is based on two High School lovers, but all the characters are of age.

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

My Tiny Masterlist<-

[harry-on-broadway]

Short n' Sweet Challenge Story List

Here's a list of all the fics and concepts shared as part of the Short n' Sweet Challenge. I'll update as more are posted! :)

Boyfriend Harry Concept — @harrysblackcoat

Juno — @harrytheehottie

Camaraderie — @didhewinkback

Let You Go — @andwhenshesays

It's You — @oh-honey-styles

Sakura — @gaperene

Blossoms, Big Changes & Blanket Forts — @fishnets-fingers

Friday Night — @harrygoeswest

[hsficrecommendation]

@hsficrecommendation 's Masterlist

Note: This is a post that holds links to all of the fic-rec masterlists/wrap ups I've posted of months mentioned below.

Now, this is how it works - I'm an avid fanfiction reader (and I'm sure that if you're here, then, you're one too) and I genuinely believe that it's one of the purest and best forms of media. Every single fic we read deserves ton of support, for which I've got another sideblog called (@ireblogwhatireadcauseduh ) where I reblog all the fics I read.

This one, though, is a blog I created to hopefully preserve some of the best fics, according to me, that I've read so far. Fics that just really affected me in a way that I simply fell in love.

Mentioned below, are links that will lead you to the best fics, (again, according to me) that I read in the namely month. If a month isn't mentioned, it just means that either I didn't really read anything because life gets in the way sometimes, or that I didn't find any fic very touching.

So, if you do decide to read any of the fics that I've recommended in the links below, please make sure to reblog the fics and to leave feedback on them for the writers because that's what keeps them going!!

Also, a very shameless self-promo -- I've got a writing account as well! (Although I'm pretty sure you found this one from there ghsfkhjl) It's named @0oolookitsme ! Feel free to take a stroll <3

Aaand that's all I had to say! I'll let you lose now, hope you enjoy your little walk through this blog, and come back again!

All the love <3

2022

February

March

April, May, June, July, August, September

2023

January, February, April

June

June, September, October

November, December

2024

January, February and March (should be here in the beginning of April!)

[magnoliahwrites]

Lean On Me (Don’t Knock Me Over)

or: harry is a touring musician and you're here to interview him

feat: childhood friendship, flashbacks, friends to enemies to lovers,mention of panic attack/anxiety/puking

note: this is part one of a three-shot. Side note: I made up names for harry’s band, it’s an up and coming pop punk band so there’s that

Much like most things in life, when the paper slid through your desk, you immediately shoved it under the outgoing mail box.

anything that causes you stress immediately went there, a future problem for yourself.

It wasn't until the night before the show, when your manager turned best friend, Cindy sat in front of you tapping her new manicure on the desk in front of you that you even remembered it.

"I just don't see the big deal," she huffs, stopping the tapping of her nails long enough to push her blonde hair out of her eyes, "like, you two were kids. He probably doesn't even remember you. And besides, I have three people lined up who would literally kill you for this chance."

You groan, resisting the urge to fling your body on the floor and ahve a full body temper tantrum.

Instead, you act like an adult and throw a mini fit, throwing your head back and shoving the papers away from you.

"he'll remember me." you groan, rubbing your temples, "It was a small town."

"Good," Cindy shrugs, "Make him regret it, or whatever."

she pauses, and her voice drops, some of the hard that radiates off of her melts away for a second.

"I don't see what the big deal is still," she says quietly, "What happened?"

You remember the first time you heard him on the radio.

Driving down a crowded street in Cindy's car (the kind you could never even think of affording) the sun roof down, your hand out the window as the radio blasts, the sun beating down on your hand.

"This is 93.9 playing the hottest hits of the summer! To begin, we have a new single from Kennedy Curse, sure to get stuck in your head. They're new to the scene, but singer-"

Cindy all but squeals, leans forward to turn the dial on the radio up louder, "I love this band. l've been trying to get an interview with them for weeks.”

You snort as you drum your thumbs on the steering wheel, "Can't imagine it would be hard to get an interview with them-"

"Shh!" She hushes you, leans forward and turns the volume up until the car shakes under you.

"Chipped paint, Carol's gonna turn into dust-"

it was a reflex, a knee jerk reaction, something you couldn't stop. before you even knew what you were doing, you were leaning forward in your seat, slamming your hand against the volume button, immediately a silence falls over the two of you.

Cindy knows you've mentioned in passing an ex boyfriend, a singer, but haven't really elaborated on it. Now, it seems like you don't need to.

"So you'll do it?"

Cindy is all but squirming in her seat as she brings you back to the current.

The sigh is all the confirmation Cindy knows, letting out an ear piercing squeal again, "You won't regret it, i promise!"

She gets up to make her an escape, mentions something about transportation-

"I'll do it, but there has to be rules in place-" You're rubbing your temples, a headache already on the horizon, but Cindy isn't listening, long gone as she stops everyone in the hallway to mention the interview with the Kennedy Curse.

Backstage, harry fixes his hair in a broken mirror.

Something about ten years of bad luck, but he rations that's the problem for the person who broke it, not him-

A stage hand, over worked and underpaid, sticks his head backstage: "harry, Ten minutes.

Someone's here to see you-"

And the show is on.

The smirk finds his way to the corner of his lips, and it's game on. the harry who had a panic attack in the back room five minutes ago is long gone, definitely didn't puke into the garbage can earlier because of the nerves. Instead, it's now replaced by the harry he wants everyone to see; confident, cocky, bold-

"Fans already-"

And he rounds the corner and almost hits you with the door.

he speaks first. A reflex, like he's been searching for the name for months or years, waiitng for it to fall onto his lips again-

he speaks before he can stop himself, before he can hate himself for it he speaks before he can stop himself, before he can hate himself for it.

"Birdie."

The low whistle follows, some bird card be always associated with the nickname, for you always singing with him-even if you insisted you were bad.

it falls flat, feels wrong.

Not the cute nickname it was before, when you two would lie in the shared two sized mattress, harry’s feet falling off the edge of the bed, the sheets thrown over both of your heads for security;

“Birdie," he'd say, his voice low, eyelids heavy. even half asleep, the whistle followed, "I promise, to keep your side of the bed warm, always."

Under the sheets was vows between the two of you, the sillier the better, most of the time, but the hushed voices always told the truth.

Instead, you spoke back, his fingers over your lips, calloused from the non stop practicing, the yanking the garage door open at all hours of the night to practice: "I could find you in a crowd."

He laughs; it's lazy and low, like you both have all the time in the world, and he opens his mouth to say something about his height, but it lays heavy in the air as he kisses the crown of your head:

"And i'll always find you, Birdie."

Seeing him is jarring, to say the least.

The last visit was less than good, yelling and tears (from both of you) things said in the heat of the moment that keeps you both up and tossing and turning-

"It's just my normal name now, thanks." You say quickly, hoping it's dark enough backstage that he can't see the red spread across your face.

"Right," he nods, smirks as he leans against the wall, crosses his arms over his chest, "Well, birdie, I gotta say, you got a lot of nerve to wanna hear me sing after you tossed us into the gutter."

You snort, "Still the victim. i see nothings changed."

"Hilarious," he laughs without humor, takes a step toward you, eyes narrowed, that stupid fucking smirk still pulls at the side of his lips, "I see you're still following me around, hm?"

"God, I can't say I missed this. You're still an insufferable asshole-"

"An asshole you paid to see. So tell me, birdie, which of my songs do you like, hm? Still-"

You want to smack the smirk off his face. You dig your fingernails into your palm into you're sure they're going to bleed, leaving little half crescent moons in the middle of your palms, the same ones he use to study, trace over and commit to memory, kiss them better.

In some sick way, you were hoping you'd see each other and he'd apologize, come home-

"I'm just here for the interview," You shake the VIP lanyard around your neck in his face, "And then you never have to see me again."

His eyes dart to the lanyard and back to you, and for a second, he looks almost lost, like something hangs in the air that he wants to say-

"You have five minutes."

You snort, take the pencil from behind your ear,

"I'll make it two. We won't act like these are some deep songs of yours or anything-"

A local nobody band is opening, the drums are heavy and loud backstage, and the ponding begins the second you open your mouth, like it's planned.

harry leans in closer, grabs you by your elbow,

"Let's make a deal, birdie."

You act like you don't hear the low whistle fall out after the nickname.

"Listen-"

he cuts you off, "You listen to us and i'll do the interview, no bitching, after the show. we can go to the bus-"

the look you throw him is irritated and he huffs, holds his hands in the air, "Fine. I'll take you to a fuckin' restraaunt. I'll be on my best behavior, i'll have your manager eating out of your hand after this interview. Scouts honor."

He makes a show of crossing over his heart, holds his hand open in the air.

The smirk never leaves his face, even when your eyes narrow as he sets his hand between you two.

"Deal, birdie?"

You don't speak, eyes narrowed, but your hand slides into his like it never left.

It feels like you're making a deal with the devil.

[harrygoeswest]

Ice Cream - Preview

Harry Styles is your sworn enemy. You've decided to take a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, and so has he. And there's only one bed...

Hi hi hi! As promised, here's a little preview of what I've been working on the past week or so. It's gonna be a good'un!

~.~.~.~

Your phone started ringing, much to your surprise. Holly. “Is my brother ignoring me?”

“I don’t know, I’ve not seen him all day.” She laughed, always a fan of your no-nonsense approach. “I thought I’d call since I haven’t heard from you. Did you make it there alive?”

“Alive is not the word I’d use to describe my current state. It’s also impossible to call someone when the phone signal is worse than a World War II air raid shelter.”

Holly cackled. “You’re such a nerd. What’s wrong?”

“Either you’re playing dumb to avoid my wrath or you’re very stupid.”

She gasped your name but she was most definitely entertained. “What do you mean?”

“Harry is here. Using your holiday home.”

An extended period of silence followed, completed with a breathy, “Oh… shit.”

Oh shit, indeed.

“Well,” she seemed to shake herself, “it can’t be that bad.”

This one was truly off her rocker. “Can’t be that bad? Holly, how many times have you been in a room with me and Harry at the same time?”

“Plenty.”

“Exactly. How many times have we had a fight whilst in said same room together?”

“Almost always.”

“Not almost always, just always. We. Do. Not. Get. On.”

“Oh, babe, I think you’re being dramatic.”

“There’s only one fucking bed!”

~.~.~.~

This is an OU which I very rarely do these days... Can't wait for you all to see this! Katie x

[hazzashouse]

Coming Home to You (Harry Styles x Y/N)

A/N: Damn, it’s been a long time… I know. But I’m planning on coming back here so if any of you have a request for a one shot - hmu!

Summary: Harry comes home late from the studio, guilt-ridden after missing a planned movie night with Y/N.

Triggers: none, just fluff

The faint sound of Harry’s key turning in the lock echoed through the quiet apartment. He stepped inside, pulling the door closed softly behind him. The lights were dim, just the soft golden glow of the lamp on the side table casting shadows across the living room. Harry set his bag down, brushing a hand through his tousled curls, and sighed.

It had been another long day in the studio, and while he loved making music, he hated how much time it took him away from you. Especially tonight.

He glanced at the couch and stopped in his tracks. There you were, curled up in one corner, wrapped in the blanket you always brought out when the weather turned chilly. Your head rested on a throw pillow, and your hand dangled over the side of the couch, still loosely clutching the remote. On the coffee table in front of you was an untouched bowl of popcorn and two empty glasses of water, condensation gathering at the rims.

Harry’s heart clenched as he took in the scene.

You had waited for him.

Guilt washed over him as he remembered how excited you’d been when you suggested having a movie night earlier that week. You’d texted him earlier in the day, confirming your plans, and he’d sworn up and down he’d be home in time. But recording ran late—again—and now, here you were, fast asleep, the movie you’d both planned to watch long forgotten.

He knelt down by the couch, careful not to wake you. Your face was soft and serene in the glow of the lamp, and he couldn’t help but reach out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. You stirred a little, but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent as you snuggled deeper into the blanket.

“God, I’m so sorry, love,” Harry whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean to miss it.”

He stayed there for a moment, just watching you, his heart swelling with a mix of love and guilt. It amazed him how patient you were with him, how understanding. He knew it wasn’t easy being with someone whose schedule was as unpredictable as his, yet you never complained. You always found ways to make him feel loved, even when he didn’t deserve it.

Determined to make it up to you, Harry slid his arms beneath you—one under your knees and the other supporting your back. He lifted you gently, holding his breath when you stirred again.

“Harry?” you mumbled, barely awake, your voice soft and heavy with sleep.

“Shh, darling,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

You relaxed in his arms, nuzzling your head against his chest, and he felt his heart melt. The small, sleepy gesture reminded him of just how much he adored you. He carried you down the hallway to your shared bedroom, using his foot to push open the door.

Once there, he laid you down on the bed as carefully as he could, pulling the blanket up over you. He lingered for a moment, tucking it around your shoulders and brushing another kiss across your temple.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

He slid into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You sighed contentedly in your sleep, unconsciously leaning into him, and Harry smiled.

Tomorrow, he’d wake up early and surprise you with breakfast in bed. He’d let you pick the cheesiest rom-com you wanted to watch, and he’d sit through every second of it without a single complaint.

But for now, he held you close, grateful for the small, quiet moment of simply being with you.

[moonstruck-poet]

Link for the MASTERLIST

Requests are currently OPEN!

I do accept every fandom that I've got in my masterlist and even some others that I've not mentioned but am familiar with.

So do request and I'll have it delivered asap ;)

All my love - moonstruck-poet

[0oolookitsme]

Piece of His Heart

Hii everyone, I'm back from my long hiatus!! Hope you missed me because boy did I miss YOU! <3 This one is a little emotional, a little sweet, and VERY Harry focused. Also, I was inspired to write this piece while listening to 'London's Song' by Matt Hartke, and trust me, it's a lovely song. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Verse - Artist!Harry x Photographer!Y/n

Word Count - 1.0k

Warnings - Mentions of unplanned pregnancy, financial stress.

Harry and Y/n were students, and now, parents to a newborn babygirl as well. With all of the newfound emotions rushing through them, one thing he knew was that they were going to build this new little family slowly, and lovingly.

Harry looked up at the ceiling, at the overused fan moving slowly and creakily, with one of his arms under his head while the other one remained draped over his little baby's back. 

She was curled up on top of him, breathing softly, her little hands fisting his shirt. 

Daylight was pouring into the room through the gap between the two curtains, and Harry still couldn't believe that the little one sleeping away on his chest was finally here, after a worthwhile wait of a full nine months.

He still remembers the nickname he'd given her while she was still inside her mum's belly – 'Pumpkin' he had called her, and her little frame couldn't have agreed more with him. 

Full and round cheeks hung a little low on her face, her small mouth in a pout and eyes as circular as pearls, nothing if not the true meaning of grace.

Which is why he'd settled with the name 'Opal', grinning widely while Y/n had nodded furiously with tears in her eyes, saying how it was the perfect name ever.

His mornings suddenly became impossibly sweeter, something he hadn't expected since he had moved back in this childhood home with Y/n.

A few days ago, when he had laid his eyes on the bundle of sunshine for the very first time ever, a huge piece of his heart, if not his entire heart, had been taken right then and there. 

Sighing, Harry got up very carefully, wary of waking up the newborn and then, when he successfully hadn't, laid her on the two person size sofa – all that he could fit in the name of a seat inside his small art studio. 

He had just turned to get back to his awaiting Canvas, when Opal began mumbling. She was talking in her sleep, he realised with a smile growing on his face, making his dimples show up. 

Another piece of his heart was taken then. 

He wondered, each time that she slept, about just what she was dreaming up. On nights, he worried if she wasn't warm enough, wanted her to know that there was a blanket of stars above her – but he knew he could wait until she began talking to do that. 

Even though he couldn't afford the best, he was going to make this work. He was going to be the best father out there, give Opal all of his love, all with Y/n by his side.

Putting back down the paintbrush he had picked up because he couldn't stop thinking of her, Harry walked back over with his stool to sit and watch her. He crossed over the chair, his front against the chair's backrest as he rested his face on his arms, gazing down with a soft smile on his mouth. 

"I can't wait for you to grow up so that we can talk, you know? So, hopefully, you can tell me if this is where you'll always wanna be," he spoke, brushing away the unruly mop curls on her head. 

"And we can go to a place where you look at the light and it splinters," he sighed, moving to cover her up with a blanket. "Where there's plenty of gas in our car to last us the cold, cold winter," tears glazed over his sight, sniffling as he looked at her small figure lull to side as she slept – he almost let slip a chuckle. 

Right then, she took whatever pieces were left of his heart. 

Winter this year wasn't easy, but that wasn't to say that it wasn't the best one aside from the ones he had spent with Y/n. So much financial stress had come with the unplanned pregnancy, and now a baby. But he knew that the both of them could pull through the loans and make it out as a happy and healthy family, if they stuck together. 

Y/n’s dad, a single father, was a little bit bitter about the whole situation but had begrudgingly stepped forward to help out the two with handling the house, seeing as the both of them had to attend college as well as take care of the baby. He dropped off the groceries last weekend, along with the last minute new-born-baby stuff that Y/n had told him they needed. 

Even Anne stepped forward, letting the two of them borrow a room in her house for as long as they needed – likely until they could get back up on their own feet financially.

Currently, as Harry sat feeling overwhelmed with all of the love and other emotions rushing through him, he could hear Anne talking to Y/n down the hall. The walls weren’t the thickest and he could tell that Anne was sharing her own stories with Y/n, telling her about how she’d had Harry at a young age, and more. 

He’d heard it before, had even seen the two of them having this chat. So he knew that Anne, very likely, had Y/n’s head in her lap and brushing her hands through her hair, trying to console the woman high on hormones and the insurmountable number of emotions she must be feeling. 

Wiping away at his nose with the sleeve of his flannel, Harry blinked away the tears and pulled up a smile on his face again, trying to be courageous, for Y/n and their daughter. Because he knew that Y/n was doing the same for them. For the little family they were both going to build slowly and lovingly now.

"But I also want you to be this little forever, so that I can cherish you enough, yes?" He asked her, nodding his head when she mumbled something incoherent, something similar to ‘we’ll be fine, dada', Harry wanted to believe. 

And unable to help himself, he picked her up again, holding her flush against his exposed torso because he didn’t have the energy to button up his shirt and the skin to skin contact made breathing a little easier. 

"I'll love you tenderly," he whispered, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "I'll love you forever, and more, little pumpkin." 

[hsdiaries]

after show adrenaline.

famous!harry x y/n

quick little blurb, about 1.7k

sir kink, praise kink, oral m receiving, p in v.

I ran to the back of the stage, the roar of the crowd was still going behind me, echoing through building. It only added to the adrenaline rush I was feeling after tonight's show.

I felt good.

Truth was, I wanted to feel even better. I slowed my run to a quick walk, making my way to where I knew the car would be waiting for me. As I turned the final corner at the end of the hall, I saw the car, but what my eyes landed on was even better.

My sweet Y/N.

Just the sight of her made my cock twitch in my pants. She was wearing those damn black jeans I loved. They hugged her waist just right, holding her ass up, accentuating it's plumpness. A dainty button up top sat on her body, barely covering her tits that sat so perfectly on her frame.

When I finally reached her, she pushed up from the car, her hands wrapping around my neck. She never cared if I was sweaty after shows; a part of me thought it turned her on secretly, though she never admitted it.

"Best show ever, baby. I swear that was the best performance you've ever given." She said, her praising me only fueling my adrenaline.

"Yeah? The best?" I asked, smirking at her causing her to chuckle. She leaned forward and bit my lip, pulling it towards her before letting it go.

"The best." She smiled that sexy smile that she only ever gave me. I had seen every smile on her, and this one, the one that went slightly more to the left cheek than her right, it was just for me.

"Y/N, I need to show you something in the dressing room baby." I said, and she raised her eyebrows softly.

"Oh, really? What exactly?" She said and I laughed, kissing her forehead.

"You'll see." I said, kissing her softly before taking her hand in mine and leading her towards the dressing rooms. We had about fifteen minutes before they came to clean out the rooms, that was more than enough time.

We reached my dressing room and I quickly pulled her in, closing and locking the door behind us. I pushed her body against it, my hands gripping at her waist. The tip of my nose moving along the length of her neck.

"Y/N, I need some attention." I said, my lips meeting her neck, sucking softly against her skin. I heard her giggle, as her hands moved down the front of my body, my chest exposed through the jacket I was wearing tonight. She moved her hand over my cock, palming at it sweetly.

I bit at her neck, a soft moan escaping her, "You didn't get enough tonight?"

"It wasn't the type of attention you can give me baby, and you know it." I whispered against her neck, my tongue running up it to her ear. I bit at her ear lobe and her hand gripped on my hardening cocked.

"Because no one can tell you how good you are like I can, right sir?" She said, too sweetly for her own good. She palmed over my cock, and it only got harder under her touch, blood rushing without any control.

"No one can do a lot of things the way you do, Y/N." I said, moving my gaze to her and soon we were kissing, our lips loving harshly against one another. Her hands began fiddling with the button on my pants, moving the zipper down quickly, and pushing my pants and briefs down my legs. I felt the relief of my hard cock not being contained by my tight pants anymore, and groaned against our kiss.

She chuckled, moving down my body, trailing kisses until she was down on her knees. I watched as she grabbed hold of me, moving her tongue up my length, wrapping it around my tip until she finally took me in her mouth completely. She moved her mouth up and down my length so skillfully, her hand moving on the places her mouth couldn't, her other hand palming against my balls.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're an angel with those lips, baby, uhh..."I groaned, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pushing her further down on me, my hips bucking towards her. She always took me so well, never a complain from her. I felt as my length curved down her throat, her saliva dripping down my cock and dribbling out of her mouth as I continued to fuck her mouth.

I felt as she used her hands on my thighs to push away from me, she peeked up at me through her long lashes, licking her lips. Her hands both on my length, moving up and down me, slick from how wet her mouth left me.

"I want you to fuck me, H. Fuck me baby, cause that's just something else your so good at. Driving yourself in and out of me. Making me come the way no one else ever has." She said, my core tightening at her words, abs contracting. She had this sweet way of saying the dirtiest things that just drove me insane.

I quickly retightened my grip on her hair, pulling her straight up on her feet. I brought her to my lips, kissing her desperately as I reached down to undo her jeans. Her hands wrapping around her neck, fingers crawling and wrapping themselves into my hair, tugging on it.

I quickly worked on pushing her jeans and underwear off her lower body, down her legs far enough she could step out of them. Once she did, I picked her up, her legs wrapping around my waist. She kept kissing me, her tongue finding mine, her hands moving to my shoulders as she began to grind her middle against my stomach. I could feel how slick she already was; her wetness coating my stomach with every movement and it caused a groan to escape my lips.

"Harry, I'm so wet for you." She said into our kiss, tugging at my hair as I walked us over to the couch in the room, quickly placing her down.

"I know baby, so good for me, so ready." I bit at her lip as I sat down with her on me, "Slip me in baby, ride me please."

She nodded, lifting her body slightly as I reached up and unbuttoned her shirt, pushing it off her shoulders. I loved that she never wore a bra, I loved that I could immediately take in her perfect tits, my hands palming at them; my fingers pulling at her nipples, teasing them between my fingers. I felt her take my cock in her hand, rubbing my tip against her opening, "Oh god." She moaned, beginning to slowly slip me inside her.

She was so tight, so warm and the slow circles she was drawing on me as she took me in further caused my head to fall back, "Fuck Y/N, god baby you feel so good." I wrapped my arms around her, pressing my face into her chest, placing kisses everywhere, moving my mouth over her nipples, sucking and licking them as she began bouncing on me more.

She would squeeze me, pulling me deeper inside her as she did. Her movements so confident, her moans so freely filling the dressing room.

"Oh Harry, oh god. Do I feel good sir? Does all this feel so good for you baby." She moaned, my lips still on her breasts. She knew what she was doing with her words, my grip tightening around her waist so my hips could move up, pushing my self deeper into her.

"So fucking good, Y/N, oh sweet girl. So fucking good." I said, my hips bucking up and meeting hers. She gripped onto my shoulder and I pushed back slightly so I could move my hand, placing my thumb on her clit. I rolled it in circles against it, causing her head to fall back. Her movements turned into slow circles, her hips grinding on my cock as she pushed herself against my finger. I was coated in her wetness and I didn't care.

"Haa...oh fuck, Harry, please don't fucking stop." She moaned, whimpers coating her heavy breathing. I grabbed onto her hip with my free hand, not wanting her movements to falter, keeping her hips moving on me.

"Come for me sweet angel, come on me baby, let me feel every bit of you." I said, her head coming back straight, our eyes locking as she nodded. She bit her lower lip, her eyes fluttering closed. She looked so sexy, every bit of her body like this, riding me, was pushing close to my undoing. I could feel my core tightening, and I groaned at how good she felt.

"I'm going to come...oh god like that...Harr..." she stopped moving, her body trembling as I kept moving my thumb on her clit, driving hard deep thrusts into her. She came, her moans rolling off her lips with profanities mixed in.

Her body, went slightly limp in my arms, and I used every bit of strength I had to pick her up so I could flip her over. I kept myself inside her the entire time. I placed her on the couch and brought her legs to my shoulders, pushing them against her body as I began thrusting in her. They were long, slow thrust as I used every last bit of energy I had to keep on going.

"Come for me, sir, please. God, you deserve it, please." She begged, her hands reaching up and pulling me to her. Our lips met messily, I felt my arm buckle slightly, and I reinforced my weight on it, driving my cock in her faster now, letting her slick guide me. She kept squeezing me, pulling me deeper inside with each thrust until finally I felt my release.

"Fuck." I groaned out, her lips peppering kisses on my chin and jawline. My breathing was heavy, both of us sweaty. I bit my lip, swallowing breaths that got caught in my throat.

She ran her fingers softly through my hair, she knew this always helped me come to after I came. Helped me relax.

"I'll fuck you like that after every show if you want." She whispered teasingly and I chuckled.

"How about you do it again at home first?" I said pulling out of her slowly, before moving to kiss her lips.

She bit at my lower lip and nodded, "All night of you please."

[maudie-duan]

A/N: Okay! So it's here! The final part! This was already fun to write, but you guys made it even more fun, and I appreciate you dearly!

Tag List: Always Open

All Chapters<-

Word Count: 9.8k

Warnings: 18+, Language, Smut, Eating Disorder, Talk of Pregnancy, Mentions of Abortion, Teen Angst, Emotions. (If I miss anything, let me know.)

Two and a half hours was a long time to sit in silence, and that’s exactly what we did.

I don’t know why I chose that moment, but everything about that night was so overwhelming. What were we doing here when everything outside this little world we created was up in flames? Each flame was a burst of reality lapping at my feet until I tried to find a way to extinguish it. It was like Harry didn’t want to see it like he was choosing not to.

He told me he loved me, destroying my world in two seconds. They were words I would have longed to hear, words I’ve only dreamed of him saying, and I felt the same. In my heart, I knew I truly did love the guy he was in those moments when we didn’t have to think; we could just be, but here I was carrying around this burden that kept stealing these tiny moments from under my feet—a chastising reminder that the world as I knew it was about to end and there was nothing Harry could do to change that.

I couldn’t just be in the moment without thinking about this thing, this baby, or whatever it was; I didn’t even know if it had a heartbeat, and to be honest, I didn’t want to know. 

I didn’t want to know anything about what this could turn into. I knew exactly where this would lead, and what could I do with a baby? What would Harry and I do with a baby? Raise it, I know, but I didn’t want to raise a baby when I hadn’t even gotten a chance to be me, figure out the person outside of the life I’ve always known. 

I’ve always had a plan that didn’t include a baby or Harry. I had let the idea of Harry go a long time ago, and nowhere did it include me falling in love right before I could finally get away, break free of this person—me—and become someone who didn’t have to fit into the mold that was created for me—I needed to be free. 

I know now that I didn’t go about it the right way—Even though I felt like my world was crumbling around me. I still felt his words settling deep into my bones, and when we got to the car, all smiles, his hand in mine, I wanted to stay in that feeling—I wanted one last moment before I had to yank the rug out from underneath us.

So, I did what I knew we were both good at. Looking back, I know it was wrong, but I wasn’t ready to let Harry go. I knew I would have to let him go tomorrow when our world split back into two, and we couldn’t be this, what we were when we were together, stay in the comfort of knowing he felt the same way because it wasn’t real.

I felt him humming through my body as we pushed our way through the crowd, stepping out into the cold. I watched the fog of his breath rise into the night sky like a secret only I knew. When we locked out, he smiled, his mouth tilting slightly, his dimple dipping. He licked his lips, and I knew—I felt it buzzing deep in my belly—the want, the need.

When we got to the car, the windows were fogged over, the drop in the night temperature on our side, and when he opened my car door, I slid in, gazing up in time to catch the crooked smile playing at his lips as people passed behind him, on their way to their cars.

I followed his shadow through the windshield, clutching at my jacket to warm up, my breath coming out in puffs of clouds, dissipating every time I took another. My heart was racing, and when the door handle clicked open, I turned in my seat to face him, surveying him as he slid into the driver’s seat, Harry looking over as soon as he was in. 

Harry shifted his seat back, not wasting any time, and then leaned forward, turning on the car—the cold air blasting through the vent hit my skin like ice as I shimmed out of my jacket. Harry did the same, a knowing smile playing on our lips. I shoved my boots off, lifting my hips off the seat to reach under my dress and slide my panties off.

“God—that’s so fucking hot—” He breathes, leaning in to kiss me, then I pull away, turning the dial of the radio up as ‘Talk Show Host’ by Radiohead blares through the speakers. I swear it couldn’t have been any more perfect, the song feeding into our hungry, and then the sound of Harry’s belt bucks fills the car, metal scrapping together, and I’m fucking salivating, peering over at him, his face so serious.

When his jeans are past his hips, his hard dick springs up, a pleasant surprise every time. I’m on my knees in a matter of seconds, reaching over to wrap a cold hand around his shaft, and he sucks a breath through his teeth, wincing at the chill, but as soon as I wrap my warm mouth around the head of his penis, he gasps, slowing relaxing into the pleasure.

“Fuck—baby, that’s so good—” he praises, spurring me on, and I want to do this. I want to make him feel good; this part I know I’m good at, a people pleaser, a pleasure giver, whatever you want, I’ll do it because that’s who I’ve been this whole time.

Then he says, “Baby—” and I peek up at him, taking in his face as he bites down on his lower lip, his head falling back against the headrest—and it’s so easy to take, and when Harry tells me he wants me, now, he wants me on top; He needs me now. I climb into his lap, wanting to give myself freely—whatever he wants, it’s his—he can have every single piece of me if that means I get to have him just like this, in this moment, carrying this memory for a lifetime, hoping deep in my bones that I’ll never forget.

I’m in his lap then, stretching past him to tilt the seat back further, Harry pushing his weight into the seat until it jostles us backward, my hand flying to the headrest as my heart beats faster with the sudden shift, and we both laugh, Harry, reaching for my face to kiss me.

The kiss is sloppy—wet mouths driving together as one of Harry’s hands moves away, then he lifts my dress, grabs my hip, and yanks me forward, and I feel his hard dick hit my inner thigh. He releases my face then, hurriedly guiding himself into me, the head of his cock opening me up, teasing my entrance, and I bear down onto him, pushing hard with my hips, fast, stealing his breath in one quick motion, his thick dick stretching me to my limits.

And then my only thought is, god, this couldn’t get any better; could it get better than this? This feeling is all-encompassing; it’s everything all at once, stealing me, taking me away, and all I want is to feel good—This feels good, this feels amazing, and his name keeps falling from my mouth, over and over. Then he says, “Marlowe—” a pained look in his eyes like he’s about to ruin it all, and I pick up the pace, needing this one thing, and he’s trying to take it away.

He seizes my hips then, pushing and pulling me back and forth, deepening the friction, and I yell out his name, overtaken by the sensation, trying to find purchase of my surroundings as I fall back into the searing wheel; a quick sound of the horn, alarming us to a momentary halt. Then Harry laughs, panic snatching me, and I clutch at my chest, trying to catch my breath as Harry thrusts his hips upward, bobbing me upward, nudging us back into motion.

My hand flies to the cold window, balancing myself, not wanting a repeat of the horn, “Love this—” Harry groans softly, a knot forming in my throat, and I close my eyes then, trying to stay in the moment. My back arches over the seating wheel, grasping at the windshield as my feet come up to the tops of his thighs, flat, finding stability, as I bounce my hips up and down, straining to find that same rhythm as before.

Harry’s hands seize my hips again, gliding up to my waist, and I press a palm into the dashing, holding myself up as I reach my dress, giving him a better view, my eyes roaming his face while he takes me in, pulling me down harder, deeper, “Just like—that—” I force between moans, the smile growing on his face, and I wish this could be enough, but this could never be enough and we both know that. 

And he’s pulling, and I’m pushing, and we’re both just pulling and pushing, taking and giving, and giving away until there’s nothing left because what will be left of us after this? When reality hits, when this is no longer our safe space.

“Baby—” He’s cries out.

“I’m getting close…” He breathes, and I nod, smiling down at him because he knows I love it when he says those words, that I love the idea of making him feel good, how the idea of us is just enough to push me over the edge.

All it takes is one last thrust, and I’m losing myself. Holding my breath as I succumb to the pressure, the tension knotting in my lower belly, and fall forward and wrap my arms around Harry’s neck, my whole body tensing, uncoiling as he says, “God—I love you—” He breathes, tightening his hold on me, “I love you so much, fuck—” And I feel him release inside me, burying his face into the crook of my neck.

It’s pain and pleasure, but where does one end and the other begin? I’m sinking into it, gasping for air, as Harry pants, hot puffs of air, and suddenly it’s so hot, the heat blazing through the vents—it’s too much—every touch and sound is becoming too much, nausea building in the pit of my stomach, pulling at my throat, and I’m sick; sick with the thought of all of it, and Harry is talking, and I can’t hear a thing past the pounding in my eardrums. 

And I have to force myself off of Harry, his face becoming a blur as I move ways, fumbling over the gearshift, climbing into the passenger seat, my head spinning, and I can’t hear what he’s saying—What is he saying?

That nauseous feeling is rising, dizzying, and I reach for the door handle, yanking it open as my head spills out into the cold air of the night, welcoming, as I heave up everything in my stomach, retching until there’s nothing left and I’m gasping for air; eyes watering, or maybe I’m crying, I can’t tell, then Harry is pulling me back into the car, tugging the door closed from behind me, then falls back into his seat, giving me space.

And then I ruin it all by saying, “I’m getting Abortion…” I confess, sucking in a deep breath, my chest rising and falling with the effort it takes to draw in a single breath, and I pull at the hem of my dress, feeling exposed, disgusted by my own decision, but I don’t have any other choice because there’s never going to be a right time to tell him.

I can’t even look at Harry; I can’t see the disappointment. I think he wanted something different, something that I couldn’t give. When I hear him move and shift around in his seat, I sneak a glance, enough to see that he’s angry, “Harry?”

“Don’t—” He starts, his voice breaking, and he clears his throat, “I don’t want to talk right now—”

“But—” I push.

“Seriously—!” he yells, shutting me down. Then he starts the car, cracks the windows, and switches the air to Deforst while I buckle my seat and lean down to shove my shoes back on.

The whole ride was me biting back sobs, on and off, while Harry sat there like a statue made of stone, impenetrable, icing me out in a way I didn’t think was possible. Confused, I found myself apologizing repeatedly, annoying myself and making him even angrier. 

His silence weighed heavy until I felt like I no longer existed, a mere ghost of myself. Every word I could have said vanished, leaving a hollow of what we could have been because there was no coming back from this, and I felt it as soon as Harry jerked to a stop in the driveway. He cut the engine and yanked the house key from my hand. Storming off toward the house, and I sat there until he was through the door, unsure of what to do. 

In his madness, Harry left the front door wide open. I could hear him stomping around upstairs, so I ran to the stairs, taking them two at a time, knowing exactly what he was doing. I couldn’t let him leave this house, not yet.

“Are we not going to talk about this?” I ask, bursting through the doorway.

“What is there to talk about? You’ve already made up your mind,” He spits, shoving clothes into his bag.

And his line silences me, “You didn’t bother talking to me about it before, so why does it matter now?” He adds, rushing around.

“Can you just stop for a second so we can talk?” I plead.

“I don’t want to talk, Marlowe, because I know whatever I say is not going to change your mind…so what’s the point?” He yells.

“So you wanted to keep it? Is that what this is?” I question, attempting to keep my voice calm.

“It doesn’t matter—Marlowe, let’s just drop it—”

“This does matter—this matters?” I push.

“What matters?” He laughs, a smug smile stealing his features.

“Us—” I force, second-guessing my words because his pointed stare makes me feel small, crushing me into tiny pieces.

“Really—?” Harry slams his bag to the ground, making me jump. “Do we matter?” He asks, a dry laugh slipping out with his harsh words. 

“If we mattered, then why didn’t you include me in your decision?” 

“I did! I told you I was pregnant, didn’t I?” I speak up.

“And if I hadn’t asked that day, would you have even said anything?” He pushed his anger back in full swing.

I shrug, “I don’t know—”

Then he shakes his head, pissed, “See—” he says, brows jutting up like I just proved his point.

“Harry, I was never going to keep it…” I scream at a breaking point.

“You mean, the baby—our baby?” he corrects me, breaking my heart all over again.

“Is it even a baby?” I question, wondering if he’s really thought this part through.

“It’s a baby to me—!” he yells at the top of his lungs, and this sets me off; we could have talked about this; at any point, he could have spoken up.

“So what was your end game here? Were we just going to have this “baby” and live happily ever after?” I ask.

“God—Marlowe…” he breathes, shaking his head, “Can’t you see all the work I’ve been trying to put in…trying to show you that we could do this? That I was on board.” 

“You mean the way we’ve been closing ourselves off from the world?” I question.

“Is that what we’ve been doing?” he shouts, throwing his arms up in the air—and was this what he was doing this whole time? Were all the baby facts him showing me he was on board? Was I supposed to take that as a green light, like yeah, let’s have this baby?

“Are you joking right now?” I spit.

“In what way do you think I’m joking?” He asks, ripping a hand through his hair.

“Because we can’t just pretend, Harry…We can’t just play house and act like this isn’t going to fuck up everything we’ve planned outside of this one thing—”

My words land hard, and I watch as he takes a step back, his jaw clenching, “ You mean what you’ve planned for your life…your life, Marlowe—”

“But what about you, Harry? Why are you so quick to throw your life away? It doesn’t make any sense…” I ask, frustration aching in my bones—and I’m drowning in it.

I thought the question would stump him and help him see everything more clearly, but then he says, “Is it really throwing my life away if it’s for you? Isn’t that what you want? I thought you wanted me.” Then his face breaks, the stone facade coming down with it.

“Harry…why does it have to be one or the other?”

“Because I can’t live with the thought of you going through with it…” he forces.

And I shake my head, my shoulders slumping, “Harry, this is real…this baby—if that’s what you want to call it…is a real thing, and what we’re doing right now…Harry, we’re just kids—I still feel like a kid—I don’t know what to do with a baby—” I tell him, moving closer to him, my voice lowering. 

“Can’t we just try?” Harry begs, tears streaking his cheeks. “I know we can do this—I promise I’ll be perfect…” 

He grabs my face in his hands, stroking away the tears that are spilling, blurring my vision. “Marlowe, I swear to you…I know that we can do this…” he pleads. 

For a second, I believe him; in fact, I know he would be great, but I don’t think I would because I’m mad just thinking about the fact that he’s pushing this so hard, and what? Would I hate him later, when it all feels too hard, and I’m trapped like I’ve been trapped here my whole life, and the only opportunity to leave is just a few months away, that’s all, and for once, I just want to fucking choose me.

“Harry…” I breathe as he presses his lips to my forehead, his hand moving to the back of my neck, deepening the kiss.

“Yes…” He whispers, and I grab hold of his shirt, clutching at the fabric, my throat tightening with the words I’m about to say.

“I don’t want to have this baby…” And I grasp his shirt harder, swallowing the burn each word left behind, waiting for him to speak, but he doesn’t say a thing. He just continues to press into the kiss, forcing his lip into my skin, his grip tensing around my neck as he shoves my head into his mouth so hard that it starts to hurt. 

He swallows then, biting back a small whimper that dies in his throat, and pulls away with such force that it knocks me back a few steps, anger riddling his face, etched so deep that it scares me, pinning me in place with his stare, but I can’t let go, I’m stretching his shirt as he tries to move away, and then he says:

“I don’t have anything else to say to you—” with such finality that it stills my blood, a cold sweat glazing over my palms, my grip weakening. He yanks his shirt from my hands, then snatches his bag from the ground and pushes past me, but I don’t chase him, and when I hear the sound of the door slamming, I just stand there, lost in the aftermath of what just happened. Knowing that no matter what I say to him right now, it won’t change a thing

I didn’t sleep that night. I moved around the house, resetting anything that looked out of place, washing the bedding, showering, and keeping myself busy. At one point, I turned my phone off so that I would have to consciously make the decision to call or text him—add a barrier in a moment of weakness. 

Why was it so easy to walk away? Did it have to be one or the other? Could we have walked away from this as friends? Or was it always going to end this way, two halves of a heart going their separate ways? 

Once I got home the next day, I crawled into bed, exhausted, already feeling like days had passed since I saw his last, since I heard his voice. 

He never took his hoodie, and I’ll never know if he did it on purpose or if he forgot it in the fury of leaving because he also left his toothbrush and his cologne that he had left on the bathroom sink.

I stayed in bed for days, knowing I had a whole week before I had to go back to school. My mom would come in throughout the day with trays of food and snacks, but they just sat there until she came back, the thought of food making my stomach churn. Then I would find myself hunched over the toilet, sometimes my mom silently holding my hair back and tucking me back into bed with a cold bottle of Pedialyte, that becoming the only thing I could keep down during my sporadic windows of consciousness. 

Every once in a while, I would stare at the label reading “Kids Approved Taste” and wonder if my mom still thought I was a kid, and then I would start to cry, wanting to stay her kid forever, not ready for the changes, knowing what needed to be done. Every new day was a constant reminder that something was growing in me, sucking the life from me, ruining everything in its wake.

It became this vicious cycle, my mom not giving up and me not giving in, and on the last day of my suspension, she had enough of my bullshit; she called my dad in.

“Marlowe—” He yells from down the hall, after hearing his limit of me and my mom going back and forth, “Listen to me right now—we don’t know what’s going on with you—” He booms as he pushes through the cracked door.

“I’m working on the biggest case of the year right now. Whatever the hell is going on right now needs to stop this instant—”

“Greg—” My mom attempts.

But my dad is cutting her off, “You have what? Two months left, and you’re trying to pull this shit? Over what, Marlowe? A breakup?” 

I swallow hard and glance from him to my mom, trying to bite back the sob bubbling up in my chest; he must see this, “Marlowe—” He says, ripping his glass off, and he presses his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose, then looks at my mom, who’s signaling for him to calm down.

“Please—Greg—” She tells him with a firm edge to her tone, and he nods, taking a deep breath.

“All I’m saying…is that you’ve put in all this work, and now I’d hate to see it all go down the drain over a guy who will mean nothing as soon as you go away to college…and honestly, Honey, none of like Trent to begin with…”

My mom cleared her throat as his last line landed. I wasn’t even thinking of Trent this whole time, which only made Harry’s absence more apparent than ever—driving home the fact that no one will ever know my suffering because no one even knows that we ever existed. The realization felt like a gut punch, forcing the air from my lungs. I’m sobbing all over again, mourning a boy that was never mine to begin with—a gut-wrenching longing that only he could stir in me, yet the feeling is familiar, and even though my nieve heart had once ached for him long ago, I could never imagine it feeling like this—Earth-shattering, and is this what love is? I would crawl on my hands and knees for him, do anything he wanted, but I knew what he would want, and it’s the one thing I can’t give.

My pride wouldn’t let me go to school; looking like hell swarmed over me. I wanted to look amazing. I needed to walk into that school like nothing had phased me, unbothered by Trent, not let Harry catch me down, become the same sorry case I’ve been since—I don’t know, before we existed.

Monday was fine; nobody acted or treated me any differently. Harry was the only one I couldn’t face, but he didn’t show up until Wednesday. Ignoring me, not even glancing my way when he passed me in the hallway—and me being pathetic—I couldn’t look away, feeling that magnetic pull, like a kick to the shin, an acute pain, straight to the bone, writhing in the misery of it until it went away, but it lingered, steadily looming over my head at the very mention of his name. 

For the first time, I didn’t have any friends or people that I wanted to associate with. Skylar had proven how shitty of a friend she was when I saw her cuddled up to Trent in the lunch room, but I didn’t have the energy to care; I just found an empty table and sat alone, shoving my headphones into my ears, to drown out the noise.

On Thursday, I found a way to leave Biology early so I didn’t have to pass by Harry. It made the rest of the day more manageable, and I left thinking, maybe I could do this until Friday rolled around, and that’s when the rumors started circulating.

At lunch, I sat at my table alone, trying to ignore the constant eyes on me. I had no clue why everyone was staring, suddenly interested in what I was doing, so I tried to brush it off and opened my Math book to catch up on one of the assignments that had fallen by the wayside. That’s when Skylar had the nerve to march over and open her dumb fucking mouth:

“Hey—” she says, slamming her hands down on my table. I look up at her, raising a brow, wondering what the hell she wants, and pull one of my earbuds out.

“What—” I spit, shaking my head.

She laughs, sending me a bitchy smile, like what she’s about to say just tickles her, “I just wanted to see how you were doing after that Abortion…” She asks, with a snide tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her, trying to play dumb.

She crosses her arms then, “Are you sure? Because rumor has it that you definitely did—” Then she leans down, lowering her voice, “And I heard it wasn’t even Trents.” 

“Wow…that’s cool…” I forced, keeping my reaction neutral even though my heart was racing because I could brush off the first part, but how would she know about the second part?

“I was shocked…I didn’t think you had it in you to cheat on Trent…even he was shocked—” She expresses, placing a hand over her heart.

I interrupt her then, “Why are you wasting your time with this, Skylar? You already have Trent. Why are you acting like I didn’t know you were fucking my boyfriend, and does it look like I care?” 

Her face drops, then, “Exactly, dude, I don’t fucking care. Now, please leave me alone and go torture one of the many minions you have surrounding yourself over there, and fuck off…”

“You were always such a bitch anyway, Marlowe,” She huffs

I shrug, sending her my sweetest smile, “Well—Skylar—It takes one to know one…” Then she storms off as I catch Trent staring over at my table. He purses his lips together and shakes his head with disgust, and I sink into my chair and turn my music up, acting as if nothing had just happened, even though I was shaken to my core.

I thought it would blow over during the weekend. However, the rumors were still spreading like wildfire, burning through friend group after friend group until the condoms started appearing on my table at lunch, placed in my seat before class, becoming a run-on joke that no one wanted to drop. 

No one truly knew if the rumor was true; the only one who knew my plan was Harry. Would he do that to me? Throw me under the bus like he had nothing to do with a single aspect of this. Could I not trust him? Was he not trustworthy? Would he hurt me even more because he knew he could?

By Wednesday, I had enough of the bullshit. I needed to talk to him, so I showed up at his house after school, and when I knocked on the door, his mom let me in.

“Harry—!” She called up the stairs, “I’m Anne…are you a friend of Harry’s? He’s never had a girl over—”

“Marlowe?” He interjects halfway down the stairs, his eyes flicking from me to his mom, who had just reached her hand out to shake mine.

“Marlowe?” She repeats, “Well, that’s a lovely name, Dear,” the compliment rolling off her tongue with a thick accent. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, cutting through the niceties with a sharp edge to his tone as Anne’s eyes widen.

“Harry—” She warns.

“I’m sorry mom…” He tells her, stepping down the last few steps.

She crosses her arms with a stern look, “Now, don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Marlowe… you’re the one with that nasty tone.”

“I’m sorry—Marlowe—” He forces through gritted teeth.

Her eyes swept to me, and then she said, “I was just putting dinner on. Will you be staying for dinner, Dear?”

“No—” Harry jumps in, “No—she was just dropping something off, right Marlowe,” And forced a smile to his face.

“Yeah—That’s it…” I lie, then he pushes past me, and I smile over at Anne like everything is fine, thinking that Harry got his sweet temperament from her, but this side of him feels venomous, every word biting to kill.

I follow him, closing the door behind me, “I don’t have much time. I have a lot of homework to make up—” He announces, pointedly like he’s tossing blame toward me. 

“Okay…should we talk in my car?” I ask, and he doesn’t respond. He just walks in that direction, pulling at the handle, waiting for me to unlock it, and I nervously fidget with the button, accidentally locking it twice, then finally managing to unlock it when I’m at the driver’s side, and we both climb in.

“What’s up,” He says as soon as we’re in. He’s gazing out the windshield, clenching his jaw.

His stance is making me nervous, wanting to call this off already, second-guessing why I’m even doing this in the first place. “Well…I wanted to talk to you about the rumors going around school?” I tell him 

“What about them?” He questions.

“Well—I don’t know—they’re like pretty specific.” I try to explain without any hint of blame.

His eyes flick to me then, “Yeah—I know…” And this is already like pulling teeth, his vague sentences starting to get me rile me up.

“I’m just wondering if you maybe…like said something by accident…? or maybe you thought you could trust someone, and maybe it got out?” I coax, keeping my voice calm, trying to placate his mood.

“I don’t know, Marlowe…” is all he says, looking away again.

It’s not a “no,” and I’m torn on how to continue. So, I turn and look out my window, my stomach twisting in knots, “Look—Harry starts.

“Someone was talking about you being pregnant, whether you would be showing when you got back, and I made some dumb comment like..I don’t know—like you probably got an abortion while you were gone…”

And he shakes his head, “I really didn’t think anything of it. I was mad at the time, and then it just got blown out of proportion…”

I’m staring at him, but something about his face no longer looks the same, like he’s changed, this angry side of him, ruining his best features, becoming the douchebag I pictured in the past; then he says, “It’s not that big a deal…”

I literally laugh out loud, making him jump, a crazed wonderment washing over me, “You can’t be fucking serious—” I snap.

“What? It will blow over. Just give it another week…” he tells me.

I shake my head, “You know what—I don’t even know who you are anymore…”

“Oh, come on—” he quips.

“No, I’m serious…in what world is it cool to throw me under the bus like that…like even if you’re mad…”

“Please, don’t tell me you’re coming over to lecture me about right from wrong…” he says, rolling his eyes, his head falling against the headrest—over the conversation already.

And then I slam my hand against the steering wheel hard, the pain reverberating through my wrist, and he sits up, “This is exactly why I’m not doing this. You’re acting like spreading rumors isn’t a big fucking deal…Well—I’m sure it’s not when no one knows this is you’re fucking “baby.” I yell.

“You need to grow up and stop acting like fucking an asshole—it’s not a good look for you—” I add.

He laughs, “I need to grow up—? Who tells someone they’re falling in love but then turns around and can’t even have a simple conversation with them?”

“Harry, we could have had as many conversations as you wanted…you could have brought it up too, at any point. Why are you acting like none of this was a two-way street? I shout, unable to keep my cool because he’s acting like a child, and it’s pissing me off. 

Harry looks me dead in the eyes, then “And would it have changed your answer?” And then I swallow my silence enough.

“Exactly—” He hisses, then yanks the door open and gets out of the car, slamming it so hard that I thought the glass would shatter.

The condoms never stopped coming. I thought the talk of prom would shift everyone’s attention, but it only seemed to add to the problem, feeding supply to the endless jokes that continued to come. I swore I would never have sex again if it meant this would go away—If it meant that everyone would shut the fuck up already. 

Two weeks had passed since then, and I still wasn’t in the clear. All I had to do was make it to next Monday, the day I was scheduled for my procedure—to rid myself of this whole situation and never look back. 

On Thursday, instead of our usual morning classes, we had our Senior Recognition Ceremony. The final trophies and awards would be handed out during the assembly, and the colleges of those who had already been accepted would be announced.

I kept looking at the clock, wishing it would move faster so I didn’t have to sit crammed next to Meily Jenkins, her elbow grazing my arm every time she moved, listening to her voice, wondering if that’s how she sounded under Harry, a deep pang of jealousy in my gut because I had already heard Harry was taking her to prom.

It’s crazy how he’s just continued with his life, not suffering a single consequence and taking Meily to prom. As if I wouldn’t hear about it, as if it wouldn’t tear me to sheards. It’s not like I wanted him to take me—I can’t even go as part of my suspension—but isn’t it ironic since I know they’ve already fucked? Is he going to have sex with her? Was everything he said a lie? I don’t even know what to believe anymore. Was this his last attempt to drive the hurt further? Because I’m already suffocating with it, what’s left? 

There were several surprises during that assembly: One, I didn’t realize how well-rounded Harry was academically; he was up on the stage more than anyone. Not to mention that he had already been accepted into five differant impressive colleges, each new fact chipping away at my soul, realizing how much he was willing to sacrifice.

The thought made my head spin, but when the Principal asked which school he thought he would attend. His voice rasped into the microphone, ripping through my body, and said, “I plan on moving back to England to attend the same Uni as my sister.”

All the girls around me gasped, but I knew this was a new decision because now he was going to run away, and maybe he was still sacrificing a lot since I’m sure this had everything to do with my choice; then his eyes swept to mine, and I tried not to flinch. 

“Alright, Mr. Styles, Well, we are certainly proud of all your hard work here. I think we can all see that you have great things in store for you, wherever the future takes you…” Harry’s eyes moved from mine back to the Principal, flashing a charming smile.

“Why don’t you go line up with others over there, son,” The Principal says, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, then points to the rest of the Seniors lined up behind him. 

My eyes follow Harry as he strolls toward the row of students waiting for the assembly to end. “And now I want to recognize these last two students. Who were both accepted to another prestigious school. This is kind of a rare case for us here, so we just wanted to give them a little shout-out, let them know how proud we are…”

“Marlowe Asher and Miely Jenkins—” He announces, and my heart drops, my palms going sweaty, and I grip the armrest as the girl next to me nudges me, urging me to head to the stage. 

I stand then, making my way down the row because, of course, I would be stuck in the middle; it can never be easy. Then someone gropes my butt, but they’re too quick and don’t catch who out of the three guys it could have been. All three of them are smiling, and honestly, I just want to make it to the stage without drawing any more attention to myself, so I brush it off and continue past the last two people in the row.

Miley was on stage from a previous award, and the Principal was already asking her what her plans were and what she would study. When I finally made it next to Meily, she sent me a genuine smile, an excited look on her face, so I smiled back. Then she turns back to the Principal and finishes with:

“I think it will be awesome to have someone I know from my hometown there. College seems pretty scary…” Then some guy in the audience yells my name, “Yeah—Marlowe!” followed by a catcall somewhere else in the crowd, and she glances over at me, face dropping slightly.

I run a hand through my hair, pulling down the hem of my shirt, feeling hollow and gross, wondering why I wore such tight jeans, “That’s enough, guys,” the principal scolds, then Miley passes the microphone, the thud of it hitting my shaking hand sounds around the auditorium, and she gives me a slight nod of support.

“Marlowe Asher…” the Principal starts, “You Asher sisters have left quite a legacy for this school—” 

“Yeah, she did—” a dude shouts, followed by a small roar of laughter, and I shift on my feet, my eyes darting to the ground.

The Principal clears his throat, ignoring the comment, “Miely just shared her plans for next year with us. What will your plans be?”

Then a girl yells, “Probably get knocked up!” and my eyes flick to the crowd as the room erupts into laughter, and I can’t see anyone’s faces because the lights beaming down on the stage are too fucking bright, and I’m locking my knees so hard that I think I might pass out. 

This throws everyone else off on stage. Teachers peer around at each other, dumbfounded, as the Principal tries to calm the audience. Miley wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling us back toward the line of Seniors on stage; my eyes cast downward, afraid to look anyone in the eye.

Miley spots the microphone still in my hand, tasks it, and returns it to the Principal. When she doesn’t return to her original spot in line, she pushes me closer to Harry, our arms brushing, and I cup a hand over my arm, drawing it close to my body. 

Everything about his presence consumed me. The second we touched, his scent drifted toward me, a tingle up my arm. His scent filled my senses with everything familiar about him—and he was standing there next to me, so still, that stone statue back, so close but a million miles away. Did he care at all? Did he feel bad? 

When I tried to sneak a glance, the slightest turn of my head revealed his face was flat and rigid, jaw clenched as he clasped his hands behind his back. Was he angry? Was he still mad at me? And when I turn my head to really take him in, he shifts on his feet, then moves away, crosses in front of me without a look, and stands on the other side of Miley, leans in, and whispers something into her ear, and her laugh slices me open, the second it falls from her perfect mouth. 

Rejection for anyone was a hard truth to face, but no one did it like Harry. No one has ever grazed the surface long enough to cut this deep, make me feel like a hollowed-out version of myself, staving for the slightest morsel of a crumb, just a fucking speck of recognition; how could it not hurt him? —Him hurting me. Did he not feel anything? Did this not matter?

Because I believed him when he said, “I love you,” that it wasn’t just a passing phrase. I thought at most that we were friends, that there would be a friendship. He wanted love, a lover—isn’t that what lovers do? They love one another until they’re deep in their bone, so deep that they leave their mark for the world to see—and maybe the world will never know the mark that Harry left on my life, but I’ll know the feeling for a lifetime. 

What was love for him? Love for me was me making the best decision for us both, and maybe he hates me now, but will he hate me forever? Will there ever be a time when he realizes it was for the best? Will he be able to look back and see the good and not hate me for the worst because he felt bigger than any of the bad? We felt bigger; maybe we couldn’t last forever, but the ending should have mattered. We knew there was an ending; it mattered how it ended because I couldn’t bear the thought of this ending, of never talking to him again. 

On Friday, as Harry was about to pass me in the hall, I stepped in front of him, trying to make one last desperate attempt to smooth things over, “Can we talk?” I murmured as people passed around us, no one really paying attention except for a few random stares.

“Have you changed your mind?” he asks, his tone bitter.

“Harry…Please…” I silently pleaded, knowing he was about to walk away.

Then he tries to push past me, “I have nothing to say, Marlowe—” He spits as my hand presses flat against his chest, trying to hold him in place. 

“Harry—” I beg, his gaze harsh as he stares down at me.

“Hey, Styles—” A girl shouts, and I turn to spot Meily and Andy about to pass. Their stares flick to my hands on Harry’s chest, catching us in the middle of my distress, and I drop my hands just as Miely locks eyes with me, and I look away as they pass, feeling embarrassed by what this might look like.

“I’ve gotta go…I can’t be late for class,” Harry’s voice is gravel over my skin, pushing past me; my eyes follow, and I will myself not to scream his name because that’s all I want to do is fucking scream because I am so alone, he left me alone in this, and now I have no one as I stand in the middle of this hallway, trying not to cry because his constant refusal is etching away at what little I have left.

And if it couldn’t get any worse, as soon as I walked into the lunchroom, I was greeted by Trent, who was on his way out the doors, bumping into me and nearly knocking me over. 

When he puts a hand on my shoulder to steady me, his eyes roam down my body, then back to my face, and I knock his hand off my shoulder, disgusted by his approving eyes, “Man, it’s a shame I won’t be able to see you in that prom dress—” He says with a smirk on his face, the scab on his lip, fading.

“Whatever—” I breathe, trying to push past him, and his hands come up to my waist, pinning me in place.

He smiles then, “No, seriously…you’re looking good, Marlowe—” And he sounds genuine, but this approval is making me lose what little appetite I had, and I roll my eyes because he thinks I look good—What’s a few more pounds lost to stress, just enough to finally win Trent’s acceptance, that’s it—Starve myself until those low rise jeans he loved finally hang off my hip bones.

I shake my head and look away, then he pinches my side, and I shove his hands away, nausea rising to the back of my throat, “Fuck off, Trent—” I seeth, and he raises his hands in mock defense, backing away with a stupid fucking smile on his face.

And right on cue, there’s a scatter of condoms spread across the table, and I run my arm across the surface, swiping them to the ground, then sit, acting as if this isn’t about to set me off. That’s when Miley walks up to my table, kicking a few out of the way, “These people are fucking idiots…” She breathes, and I shrug my shoulders, silently peering up at her.

This girl is the epitome of everything I want to be at this moment: tall, blonde, athletic, kind; the girl that will get the guys, and she has no clue, no clue how lucky she’ll get to be when Harry holds her in his arms, sharing every slow dance at prom, the pictures, the kiss that was guaranteed to happen, and if I’ve learned anything, how easy it is to fall into bed with someone, the hard part was over, they had already had sex, now it will be like riding a bike, their bodies already familiar to one another.

“Hey…I’m sorry to bother you—” Meily starts.

“You’re not bothering me—” I tell her, trying to set her at ease because she looks nervous.

“I just wanted to tell you that I think it’s cool that we’ll be going to the same school…” Then she smiles.

“I know, ” I agree, returning the smile because she’s making it so easy; her easygoing smile beaming down at me feels like the only warmth I’ve had all day.

She shrugs. “Well—” Then she reaches into her back pocket, “I wrote my number on a piece of paper…I don’t know—in case you wanted to, like, meet up before, or like after we’re there…I won’t know anyone.”

“Same,” I say, clearing my throat, choking up at the thought of this small gesture, at the idea of having a friend who seemed brave enough to brave the stares of everyone around us.

“Thank you,” I smile, glancing down at the tiny piece of paper because it’s hard to stare into her big blue eyes without wanting to cry.

She shifts on her feet, “Well, you’re welcome to sit with his…” She invites, jabbing her thumb toward her table, and my eyes flick in that direction, Harry’s whole table staring over at us, except for him. Something about the scowl on Andy’s face seemed like an attempt to ward me off, so I politely declined.

“Don’t worry about Andy…She’s like that with everyone. When I told them what I was doing, Harry—” And my ears perk up at the mention of his name.

“He was the one that said to invite you…” She finishes, and then we both look over. Harry’s eyes, now concentrated on our interaction, and maybe I stare a little too long because when my eyes flit back to Meily, she’s watching me, eyes searching my face, and my eyes move to my table as I scoot upright in my chair.

“I actually have a lot of homework…my family is going on a trip next week. So, I’ll probably just do this…” I lie, my eyes falling on the books in front of me. 

She smiles, “That’s fair…well…I’m sure that offer stands…so if you get tired of sitting alone…You know where to find me…” Then she gives me a small wave and backs away from the table, awkwardly, but to be expected, because she probably hoped I would jump at the offer. 

After she walks away, I dive into my homework. I had gone around to all my classes warning them that I would be gone, organizing everything because I didn’t know how long I would be out after everything, after the process—From what I’ve read, everyone’s body handles the abortion procedure differently, depending on how far along you were.

I never attempted to figure out how far along I was. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to look up information later, and find out that the damn thing had an actual heartbeat, put any emphasis that it might actually be closer to a “living” thing than I imagined—right now, this thing was a parasite eating away my insides, ruining my entire future and that’s how it needed to stay, not this brain fuck that Harry kept trying to feed me because he chose not to understand.

When the bell rang, I started gathering my stuff, taking my time as people emptied their trays, the noise whizzing around me already making me nervous, gearing up for whatever asshole who wanted to poke a quick jab in passing; what I wasn’t expecting was Harry.

He stopped me dead in my tracks, almost dropping the books in my hands, and just as he was about to open his mouth, Josh came up and hooked an arm around his neck, dragging him with him. Harry breaks away, fumbling out of his grasp, eyes on me the whole time, my heart racing with anticipation, thinking, yes, this is it, he finally wants to talk, maybe he’s willing to come to an understanding.

Then his eyes drop to the ground, taking a few steps closer, and I watch as he bends down, snatching a gold foil-wrapped condom off the tiled floor, then looks up, a hateful smirk spreading across his face, and says, “You dropped this,” laughing as he tosses the condom onto the stack of books resting on my forearm. 

The sharp corner spikes me through the paper-thin material of my shirt, and I look down. The shiny package now resting against my chest— for a split-second, I stand there in shock, in total disbelief that Harry would sink this low—He had taken it too far; whoever he had been was a lie because that person, the one that stroked my cheek, and told me I was the only girl he wanted, would have never done this, but he was that same person, proving that he’s no different than any other guy.

Instead of giving him the reaction he must be looking for, I push past Harry and his stupid friend, my skin crawling with rage, knowing Josh’s laughter spurred Harry in motion. 

I headed straight through the cafeteria doors, bursting through them, and walked straight to my car, got in, and started the car—I’m never coming back here, I will never step foot in that fucking hell hole again, and just as I’m about to turn out of the parking lot, I spot Harry’s car. I drove my foot into the break, jerking the car to a stop, and then I slammed the car into park. 

Adrenaline had already taken way, coursing through me as I reached over in the passenger seat and tore through my pile of books until I spotted the gold foil wrapper. With all my rage, I rip the car door open with such force that it springs back—and I kick it open, sliding out of the driver’s seat, my feet hitting the pavement with a thud as I bound over to his car and shove the condom under his windshield wiper, knowing it will be the first thing he sees when he goes to unlock his car. Then I ran back to my car and sped off like a bat out of hell, not wanting to get caught by campus patrol. 

I’m lost in my fury as I speed down the street. At some point, I must have zoned out because the only thing that snapped me out of my haze was the honk of a car horn stuck behind me at a green light. The blare of the noise rattled me back to life, and I stepped on the gas peddle with a heavy foot and shot through the light just as it turned yellow, the car behind me riding my as until they could get around me and when I look over they’re flip me off.

It’s the nail in the coffin, and I burst into tears, nearly colliding with the car in front of me, my blurry vision hindering my site every time a tear spills over and runs down my face, and then I pull over into the nearest parking lot, scrolling through the numbers in my phone.

Once I reached Sienna’s number, I hit call, and my phone connected to Bluetooth as soon as her phone started to ring. The sound fills my car, rings several times, then goes to voicemail, and I call again. Each time I try, she forwards my call, and I’m calling over and over again. Calling until I’m so worked up that I stop altogether and bury my head into my arms, draped across the steering wheel, and cry until I forget where I am.

It’s not until the sound of an incoming car jolts me back to life that I look up, dazed, staring over at the screen spelling out Sienna’s name. When I answer, her voice booms through the car, her voice frantic:

“Lowe, is everything okay? What’s going on? I didn’t have my phone—shit—I’m sorry I missed your cars—”

The tears were back in full swing, and at first, I couldn’t say a thing like the muscles in my throat had fused, aching with every attempt, “Lowe, are you there?” She pushes.

And it takes a few hard swallows even to mutter the word, “Yeah,” and then she jumps right in. 

“Why are you crying? tell me what’s going on?” She pleads, worry helplessly filling her tone. 

“Sienna…” I sob out.

“Yes, Lowe, I’m here…tell me what’s wrong…”

“I just—” I try, and she waits for me to say something else, but I’m losing control. Every word being pushed down by a sob.

“Take a breath, Lowe, everything is going to be okay…” She coaxes.

I know her words are true, but right now, it all feels too heavy, like I can’t do this alone. I know that I can’t do this on my own because I am so scared and so lost in it all that I don’t know what to do anymore, “I just—please—” I beg.

“Tell me what you want—” Then her voice cracks, “Do you want me to come home? 

I cry out then, my sobs echoing over the speakers, “I need help—” I manage to finally say, “Please—” I plead.

“I’m packing a bag right now, okay…where are you?”

And I gasp in a shuddering breath, “In my car…” I tell her, peering around at my surroundings.

“Do you want me to call Mom and have her pick you up? Do you know where you are?”

“I know where I am…” I whisper, my tears sobering at the mention of “Mom.”

“Can you drive?” She asks

I suck in a hard breath through my nose, trying to clear a way for more air, then say, “I can drive.”

“Do you promise? Because you know, Mom will be there as soon as you ask, right?” 

And the thought breaks my heart even more because I should have just come to them in the first place, and I feel like a fucking fool, losing myself to another guy, “I promise—” I tell her, wiping at my eyes as silent tears fall, mourning the fact that I know everything is about to change, that I’ve changed, sad that a piece of me still wants to be that girl that pleases everyone else, that maybe would have given into Harry’s pleas if this would have happened a year ago, and that thought scares me too, would I have been willing to give it all up for him?

“Marlowe?” Sienna nudges.

“Yeah—” I croak, defeated, feeling like I’ve been hung out to dry by a world I didn’t know existed, caught between a parallel of past and present, yet the future is right now, in this moment, knowing everything will change for better or worse, and now, I’ll have to learn to be okay with that and when my sister says:

“Everything is going to be okay. Whatever it is…It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this…” She promises.

And then I say, “Sienna, I’m pregnant—”

A/N: Well, guys, that was the last part! Thanks for coming along for the ride!!

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[harry-on-broadway]

On Holiday

Word Count: 1.5K || Series Masterlist || Rating: M

***

Christmas looked a little different this year. The smell of cinnamon and pine had been swapped for coconut and salt, and the chill of London was replaced by a warm sea breeze. Any other year, the season would have been crammed with visits to family and friends, tasty food, and Christmas carols, making for long, albeit fulfilling days.  

But after a year at home, Harry had suggested something different. 

“How’d you feel about a tropical Christmas, love,” he’d whispered against Quinn’s hair one night, so softly, she almost didn’t hear him.

The holidays had always been the only time he’d been allowed to slow down and see the people he loved most, soaking in as much as he could in the couple weeks he had. But with his self-imposed break, he’d had plenty of family time this year, he’d argued, which made him feel comfortable skipping out on some of the festivities.  

And that’s how Quinn found herself in the Caribbean on Christmas, making use of the swimsuits she’d purchased during an end of season sale. Harry had taken care of planning every detail, even the smallest most mundane ones. Quinn had obviously fought him on it, never wanting to cede too much control, but she had to admit it was nice to just sit back and enjoy while someone else did the work. 

She’d headed out the beach after breakfast and had quickly dozed off, the crash of the waves and the rustle of the trees lulling her into a peaceful sleep. As she slept, she dreamed that something was tickling her. She twisted trying to move away, but she couldn’t get comfortable and the sensation quickly returned. She sleepily swatted at her skin, only for the sensation to return with a vengeance. Finally, she opened her eyes and saw Harry standing over her, palm leaf in hand, hanging just above the exposed skin of her stomach. 

“Hi,” he said with a mischievous grin. 

“Seriously?”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “I missed you.”

“You’ve spent every minute of this trip with me, H,” she laughed. “How can you miss me?” Harry just shrugged. “You’re interrupting my beauty sleep,” Quinn added. 

“You’re always beautiful. Don’t need sleep or anything,” Harry said, motioning for Quinn to scoot over on the plush lounger. She moved to the side, giving Harry enough room to sit down beside her before cuddling in beside him, linking their legs together. 

“You’re just saying that because you want attention. Or sex,” Quinn muttered against his bare chest. He smelled like sunscreen and salt and it was quickly becoming her favorite scent. 

“I mean, I won’t say no to either of those things,” Harry said with a chuckle. “But who’s to say I want anything? Maybe I just want to pay my wife a compliment.” 

His wife. It had been almost two weeks and Quinn didn’t think she’d ever get tired of hearing those words from her husband. “Well, I’m lucky to have such a wonderful husband,” she replied, craning her neck to place a gentle kiss along Harry’s jaw. She never thought she’d be one of those newlyweds, but she had clearly misjudged herself.

They’d started wedding planning soon after Harry proposed, and while they’d initially assumed they’d have a large wedding (perhaps in Italy?), the more they looked into the actual mechanics of pulling it off, the less enthusiastic they became. 

“I didn’t realize this would be so…involved,” Harry said over dinner one night after they’d spent the day researching venues. “It’s like planning the biggest party of our lives. But less fun. Am I allowed to say it’s not fun?” 

“I know,” Quinn said, slightly relieved she wasn’t the only one who felt overwhelmed. “It’s like we need to have an idea about the guest list to see what venue would work, but then we kind of need to know where we’re going to have it so that we know who would be able to come. And there are so many decisions. Why are linens such a big deal? And then there’s trying to keep everything private. It’s just…” she trailed off. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she said in agreement. 

The next morning, Harry had presented his new plan over coffee. “How would you feel about eloping?”

So that’s what they did. 

They enjoyed the spring and summer and fall soaking up time with family, exploring the city, and enjoying mundane everyday details that aren’t so mundane when you’re on the road for most of the year. They enjoyed being with each other and their families, all while keeping the biggest secret of their lives. And when work started to wind down for Quinn in early December, she cashed in all of her leave, ready for what came next. 

On a rainy Saturday, they texted a couple of their friends and had them meet them at a venue that would not be making The Knot’s list of ideal wedding locations: a nondescript government building. Quinn wore a white jumpsuit she’d purchased earlier in the week, and Harry wore the simplest suit in his closet. An hour later, the papers were signed, and they were officially a married couple. They celebrated their nuptials with pizza and early bedtime, before catching a flight the next morning.  

“So,” Harry said, moving to take Quinn’s hand in his own, bringing her back to the present. “When are we going to tell them?” He stroked the diamond band that now rested on her finger alongside the engagement ring he’d given her just a little over a year ago. She reached for his own wedding band in return, twirling it around his finger, smiling when she caught a glimpse of the small tan line that already formed. 

“Would make for a great New Year’s surprise.”

“It would,” Harry said, smiling softly. “Mum’s going to lose it.” 

“I just hope she’s not mad,” Quinn said. It was the fear that had been nagging at her since they’d made their decision. That by keeping this moment for themselves, they were somehow depriving their family and friends from sharing the memory with them, even though they’d agreed to have a celebration when they’d returned. 

“None of that now,” Harry scolded. “She’s going to be thrilled that we finally made it official. Got my act together and made an honest woman of you.” Quinn shot him a look and he laughed. “You know what I mean. I think everyone’s just going to be so happy. That we did what worked for us. And if they aren’t, well they’re off the guest list for the celebratory dinner.”  

“I’m really glad we did this, Harry,” Quinn said after a moment. “I think it’s everything I wanted.” 

“Signing papers in a water-stained room while a government employee watched?”

“It would have been nice if there was some mold to complete the vision but I’ll take what I can get.” Harry laughed and Quinn waited until he calmed down before continuing. “No, I always wanted it to be you and me. I didn’t need a crowd of people or a dress or a fancy destination, I just needed you there with me. And you were. It was perfect.” 

Harry was silent but Quinn could feel him take a shuddering breath. She knew what those words meant to him. That she wanted him. Not the glitz and the glamour and the money and the attention and all of the other things that came along with being Harry Styles. She just wanted him. Harry. The guy who always ended up on her side of the bed because his side was too far away. The guy that had coffee waiting for her every morning. The guy who would never admit it publicly but loved nothing more than reading the bios of the cats up for adoption at the local cat cafe, always saying he was just looking for one his mother would like. And now he was hers, forever and ever. Even when she had to share him with millions of others. 

“You want another one of those rum things?” Harry asked, sniffling.

“Sure. Are you getting one?”

“Might as well. It’s our honeymoon after all. We only get one of those.” He waggled his eyebrows. ‘It’s our honeymoon’ had become his favorite way to justify anything and everything on the trip. He stood up and Quinn moved to follow him. “No, no,” he chided. “Stay here. I didn’t mean for you to get up.”

“I want to go,” Quinn said, reaching for his hand and leaning into his touch as he pulled her up. “I always want to be with you.” 

“And now you’re stuck with me.” 

“Forever.” 

Harry smiled widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Come on.” He gently tugged Quinn along. “I need to get my wife a drink.” 

***

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[finelinepie]

ARE YOU KIDDING?! no invisible ink necessary when i say i need to ride that fucking tiger 😮‍💨 🥵

Under Pressure

As a graduation present to yourself you head to the spa to finally get some relaxation. Lucky for you, your masseuse knows just how to work out that tension.

(this is my first attempt at a one shot so be gentle)

WC: 4.4k

content warnings: strangers, fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), hand job, riding the tiger

After six grueling years of college, I had finally earned this spa day. Going straight into grad school after getting my Bachelor’s was a decision I knew would be challenging, but I hadn’t anticipated the physical toll it would take on me. The mental hardships I managed with various prescriptions and my nightly date with Lady Indica, but nothing seemed to ease the tension that had been locked in my shoulders for the past three years.

So there I soaked, neck deep in the outdoor mineral bath, as the 104-degree water soothed my aching joints. The spa was hidden away in the mountains, down a winding road flanked by lush greenery. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and swimming laps. Now I lounged, waiting for my upcoming aromatherapy massage. With the day pass costing upwards of $500, I was determined to make every cent count.

When my 15 minutes were up, I headed inside to the spa’s service area. The receptionist checked me in, handed me a towel, and guided me to the showers to rinse off before my treatment. The hallways were dimly lit and refreshingly cool, infused with the earthy aroma of stone walls, subtly mingled with hints of jasmine and eucalyptus oils. My shower resembled a rock waterfall. This whole place knew how to set a tone.

I quickly undressed, rinsed off, and wrapped myself in the plush towel. My hands lightly shook as I knotted my hair into a silk scrunchie and I felt a flutter of tension deep into my belly. I had never had a massage like this before. I had never spent this much on myself before. But I earned this. I had to keep reminding myself I worked hard for this.

Entering Room 3, I paused to take in the serene atmosphere. The soft, white massage table rested at the heart of a dimly lit room, bathed in a soothing blue glow. The stone-lined walls evoked the serene ambiance of a tranquil cave, inviting a deep sense of calm. I took my place on the table, face up as instructed, and let out a slow, steadying breath.

A soft knock broke the quiet, followed by the gentle creak of the door opening. I turned my head to greet my masseuse and was met with a pair of jade-green eyes illuminated by the room’s soft light.

"Hello," he said, his voice carrying a gentle British accent. "My name is Harry, and I’ll be your massage therapist today."

For a moment, I forgot myself, taking in the sight of him. His soft brown hair was tied back in a bun, mirroring my own. He wore a simple short-sleeved button-down and matching trousers, accented only by a blue name tag. Tattoos adorned his left arm in an intricate array, with just a few scattered on his right. As my gaze traveled back up to meet his eyes, I felt the need to steady my breath. 

"H-hi. Hello," I stammered, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I had nothing but a pair of cotton panties beneath my towel.

"Are there any areas you’d like me to focus on today?" he asked as he moved around the room, setting out lotions and placing a few drops of oil into the diffuser. He was so at ease in his routine and I felt like my world had tilted on its axis. 

His words caused an unexpected ache to thrum low in my belly. I clenched my thighs together, hoping to dispel the sensation as discreetly as possible. That particular area hadn't received any focus since the start of my grad program.

By another person that is.

And god three years was a long time to go with only the company of a pink vibrator. And maybe a dildo…and a purple vibrator that had the thrusting motion…and occasionally a plug but only on special occasions…

But no men. 

And certainly not men who looked like him. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and doing some laps in the pool. His hands seemed capable of molding me like play-doh, with veins running along them and up along his firm forearms… It was easy to imagine them working out…tension. 

"My shoulders have been sore," I managed to choke out, wincing slightly at the crack in my voice. My shoulders weren’t any more sore than any other part of my body, but I felt like I had to say something. 

"Alright," he said with a reassuring nod. "We’ll start there and see how you’re feeling. Just close your eyes and try to relax." 

I did as instructed, taking a few calming breaths. The sound of him rolling a stool closer and the faint squeezing of lotion filled the room.

"Is it alright if I touch you now?" he asked gently.

I nodded softly, and his hands found their place on my shoulders, warm and reassuring. His palms pressed firmly into my traps, kneading with a steady rhythm that radiated a soothing warmth through my muscles. His thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles, each motion dissolving knots of tension that had accumulated from countless hours hunched over a computer screen. The relief was immediate, like all of the weight I had been carrying was slowly lifting away.

His fingers traveled with a knowing precision, working their way across the ridges of my shoulders and upper back. A satisfying pressure built with each movement—firm enough to coax the tension from my muscles but never harsh, as if he intuitively understood my threshold. As he moved his hands to my neck, his touch deepened. He slipped his fingers beneath my shoulder blades, a light stretch accompanying the glide upward.

His hands transitioned seamlessly into my hair, the silky strands parting as his fingertips brushed against my scalp. The sensation magnifying the ache between my legs. His touch grounded me in the moment while leaving my senses heightened.

Slowly his hands began to curl around to the sides of my neck, along my pulse point and up to my temples. My heart rate picked up with each pass, my legs flexing and releasing. As he worked his way up to my jaw, his thumbs gently massaging near my earlobes, an unrestrained moan escaped my lips.

Harry’s hands paused, and my breath caught.

I opened my eyes cautiously, only to find his locked with mine, his lips slightly parted.

"Sorry..." I whispered, mortified.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and with a subtle nod, resumed his motions without a word.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to calm my racing thoughts and praying he couldn't feel the pounding of my pulse along my throat. But the crimson flush of embarrassment burned across my skin, and my mind refused to settle.

Did I make it weird? I made it weird. Why was he looking at me like that though? I'm sure I just imagined it. It's his job to do this, I doubt I'm the first person to ever make a noise, it's fine. But oh god why is he so quiet? I guess he was quiet before... Was it awkward before? Have I been making this whole thing weird? No, no, it's a spa, you're supposed to relax. It's fine. You're fine. Breathe.

After tending to my arms Harry asked me to turn onto my stomach. I awkwardly maneuvered myself, clinging to the towel as I tried not to tumble off the table. I don't think I could handle embarrassing myself again today. Once in position, I felt a gentle tap on my back.

"I’m going to need you to pull down the towel so I can see your back," he said softly. "I also have this pillow for under your hips."

I shimmied the towel down to my lower back and adjusted the pillow beneath me. To my surprise, it eased a pressure I hadn’t realized had been building in my lower spine.

I looked over my shoulder, daring to make eye contact again. "Is this okay?" I gently ask.

He held my gaze for a moment, his hand resting gently on my calf, before responding, "Perfect." I thought I could see him give a harsh swallow, but surely I must have mistaken it. 

Turning to face the ground through the cushioned face hole of the massage bed I felt myself flush again. This man has said little to nothing to me and yet I am disolving into a pile of goo on the floor. Truly pathetic. Call me the Wicked Witch because I, too, will apparently die if I get a little wet.

As Harry gently kneads my legs I feel the ache between my thighs becoming harder to ignore and debate ending the session. This is supposed to be relaxing but I'm so wound up and in my head that I fear I'm making everything worse. 

After several more minutes of imagining what other areas my masseuse could work on I let out a frustrated sigh and resigned myself to end the session. I begin to lift myself up when I feel him place a firm hand on the back of my upper thigh. I freeze, my hands gripping the edge of the table but waiting for any indication of what's happening.

"Wh-"

"Just lay back down. I know. I've got you."

I tilt my head in his direction, still too scared to make eye contact for fear that I'm imagining what he's implying.

"Harry what do you..."

He moves his hand up my thigh a fraction of an inch.

Clearing his throat he asks, "Is it alright..." he moves another inch, "if I touch you?"

The question hangs in the air as I try to imagine a world in which things like this happen to people like me. 

"Yes," I say in a breathless whisper. Scared that someone will hear. Scared that I'll make him disappear.

He places a hand on my shoulder and delicately pushes me back down onto the table, holding me between the shoulderblades as he slides his hand between my thighs. When I feel the tips of his cool fingers caress me my body tenses on instinct and I clench my legs around him. His minty cool breath hits my face as he bends down and whispers, "relax," in my ear as his index finger begins to glide up and down my now soaked panties.

After a deep breath I begin to ease the tension in my legs, letting them fall farther apart to give him more access. 

His hand moves slowly, exploring everything still hidden from him by thin cotton. It’s a dramatic difference from the pounding of my pulse ringing in my ears. My breath comes out in choppy puffs as I harshly swallow and try to calm myself down.  The friction of cotton against me sends zings of pleasure through my body and I clench my fingers trying to hold onto this side of the earth as it begins to spin around me. But the pleasure is outweighed by my need to feel him on me. In me. 

Without much thought I gently ease my hips up from their propped position on the pillow, my body taking over and letting him know I need more. That’s when I feel his fingers gliding along the seam of my panties, teasing me. 

“Can I-”

“Yes,” I let out in a low moan. I’m not above begging at this point. I appreciate the checking in. I do. But if he doesn’t touch me right now I fear I will fall apart, fractured and broken, unable to hold together the ache that's been building inside me.

When he pulls aside my drenched underwear and begins to slide a finger through my arousal everything else in the room turns to fog. There is only the soft glow of blue light, me, and Harry. I am in the clouds and he is propelling me higher. When he finally makes his way to my throbbing clit the ground falls away beneath me. 

Harry’s free hand trails up my back until gently tangling with the hair at the base of my neck, giving it a firm hold. His other hand is working slow, torturous circles around my aching nub. Every time I start to feel the pressure build in my lower belly he moves away, collecting more of my arousal before starting the process all over again. 

Swirl. Swirl. Swirl. Stop.

Again. And again. 

I can’t help it when a whimper escapes my lips as he does it for the fourth time. At the sound Harry gently releases my hair allowing me to look over my shoulder at him, where his sparkling green eyes are already trained on mine. A small smirk is on his lips. He’s enjoying working me up. As we look at eachother I can see the challenge in his eyes. He’s pushing me and I have no stamina to put up a fight. Another desperate whine escaped my throat as I breathlessly choke out a, “please.”

Please is always the magic word. 

He keeps our eyes connected as he removes his hand just long enough to drag down my now soaked underwear. One finger slides inside of my dripping pussy, and then a second. My eyes roll back and then close as my jaw falls open, taking in the pleasure and the pressure of the fullness. His fingers are long and hit that spot inside of me that makes stars explode behind my eyes with ease. As he begins to massage my g-spot his thumb resumes the tortuous circling of my clit and I bury my head in the cushions to attempt stifling my moans. My hips begin to rock back, urging him to… I don’t know what. But I need more of him. 

Suddenly a firm hand slips around my waist and between my breasts, pulling me up so I’m forced to prop myself on my forearms. His hand continues up and gently locks around my throat. A sob of appreciation escapes me as he begins to fuck me harder with his fingers. Tears pool in my eyes as the pressure in my belly becomes almost too much, begging for release. Harry tightens his thumb and ring finger against my airways, giving me a delicious high as I feel him lean over me again, breathing in sync with me.

“You’re so tense…” he gently pants next to my ear. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know. We’ve got to get all of these knots out…” 

Just then Harry releases my throat and tears spill as the headrush overcomes me. I’m gasping, trying to bring myself back to reality, when I’m suddenly pushed back down to the table by my shoulders. Harry holds me firmly to the table as I hear him shuffle around behind me. Then his mouth is on me. He moves to wrap his arms underneath my thighs, his rough fingers digging into my soft skin as he spreads me open and buries his face in my cunt, his tongue gliding up and down - savoring me -  before settling on my throbbing clit. 

I hear a moan escape him as he firmly sucks my clit between his lips. The pressure of his tongue is the only thing keeping me grounded. Everything else falls away and all that matters is that plump pink mouth pulling me towards nirvana.

His left arm remains holding me tight as his right hand slides up the back of my thigh, leaving a train of goosebumps in their wake. A firm hand gently kneads at my ass before sliding his fingers back into my entrance. The feeling of his mouth and his fingers are so intense I try to lock my legs, but his grip is firm. I am at his mercy and god I fucking love it. I bite on my palm to stifle my moans, not wanting to get caught in here. 

Harry is all about the tease. Working me up and leaving me wanting again. My body is all stars and electric currents, twinkling so bright and zapping me back into clarity. But if I am the stars, Harry is the sun, blinding me to every sensation except that mouth. That fucking mouth. 

The only sounds are choked sobs, panting breath, and the slick slide of skin on dripping skin. My body is sticky with sweat but the room keeps me cool, despite feeling like every nerve ending is on fire. 

I begin to move my hips again, riding his fingers and his mouth as he flicks and sucks and slides in and out of me all at once. Harry groans in appreciation, his fingers digging into my flesh harder. I reach back and grab Harry by his bun, holding him to me, too scared of the moment slipping away. With a low chuckle Harry nips at my swollen nub and then applies pressure with his tongue in a pulsing motion. 

The sensation starts in my toes, a gentle fizz like bubbles rising in a glass of celebratory champagne. The tingling spreads, climbing higher and higher. As it reaches my legs, they tense on their own, every muscle coiled tight with anticipation. I don’t notice I’m holding my breath until a dark haze begins to blur the edges of my vision. And then everything inside me shatters. 

The orgasm that hits fractures me into a million pieces, too powerful for a sound or a breath to escape. I am frozen with pleasure, completely at his mercy. Harry’s fingers continue to thrust into me, helping me ride out the orgasm as long as I could. Removing his mouth, he blows a cool breath on my sensitive clit and I throb around his fingers as I start to come down. When he finally takes away his hand he softly massages my calves and I work to regain control of my breathing. 

Neither of us look at each other for several minutes, the only sound to be heard is our jagged breaths. 

In. (hold) Out…

In. (hold) Out…

I gather enough strength to sit up and remove the pillow from under my hips and look over to see Harry leaning against the stone wall, watching me closely. His hands are at his sides and he’s subtly flexing his fingers, clearly unsure of what to do next. Despite his black pants and the dim lighting of the room I can still make out that he is in need of a release. The bulge beneath his scrubs looks painfully restrained.

I slide off of the massage table and tentatively walk over to him, never breaking eye contact. 

Worry crosses his face as he opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t normally…” but his voice trails off as I slowly lower myself to my knees in front of him. I never take my eyes off of his and can’t help but smile inside as I see his chest begin to rise and fall at a rapid pace. 

I place a soft hand on his thigh and tilt my head, giving my best doe eyes. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know…” I glance down and back up, repeating his own words back to him. Sliding my hands up his thighs I let my fingers run along the waistband of his pants. “Can I…?”

Harry lets out a strangled, “yes” as his head falls back against the wall. A few strands of hair have fallen out of his bun and gently curl around his face. I almost lose sight of my task as I take in just how beautiful this absolute stranger is. A faint flush creeps up his neck, his lips are full and slightly swollen, and his eyes carry a subtle, dreamy haze.

I attempt to return his torture by taking my time untying the knot from his scrub pants and pulling them down, but when I see the tiger tattoo on his thigh all plans are thrown out the window. I’m suddenly salivating and desperate to see all of him. More tattoos reveal themselves to me - soft words by his knees and jagged lyrics along his ankles, disappearing behind socks. I bend down to press my lips to one knee, then the other, without thinking. Taking hold of his thighs I begin to kiss my way up, savoring the feel of his muscular thighs as the clench in anticipation. I rise over the tiger and past his hips until my mouth landed on the ferns resting just above his black boxer briefs. My tongue traces the lines of the ink as my hands work down his underwear.

Pulling back I take a moment to admire his cock that has so patiently - and painfully - been begging for some attention. His heavy erection twitches as I take a soft lick of the precum that’s starting to drip before sliding my mouth over him and taking him into the back of my throat. Any attempt at going slow was now abandoned. His hips buck at my swiftness and I feel his knee give a tremble beneath my hands. I pull off of him, giving the tip of his cock a swirl of my tongue before sliding back down and setting a steady pace. 

As my nails trail softly down his thighs, his hands dart to my hair, gripping it firmly. I can sense the tension radiating through him, his body taut with restraint. Pulling away, I pause, waiting for his gaze to lock with mine. Reaching up, I touch his arms, letting my hands glide down to meet his. With a small, reassuring nod, I signal it’s okay, and his grip tightens in response. He guides me back onto him and gives a few testing rocks of his hips to make sure I’m okay. A shuddering sigh escapes his lips when he finally pulls me to the hilt of his cock and holds me there for a few moments. I swallow around him and he begins to move his hips again. 

My eye’s never leave his face as he slides his cock in and out of my mouth. I want him to know my gratitude. I want him to feel as good as he made me feel. I can feel my arousal building again as I watch him, amazed that I’m the one making these emotions of pleasure cross his face. His eyes are closed, his mouth gently hanging open as soft puffs of breath and stuttered gasps fall from his lips. The serenity of his face are a stark contrast to the fevered pace he is keeping. Tears fall and saliva dips down my chin as he roughly fucks my throat, but I’m so turned on I can’t stop myself from reaching down to relieve the pressure between my legs. 

When Harry sees me touching myself he withdraws my mouth from him, a string of spit connecting my mouth to his still swollen cock. His eyes are dark as he tugs my head further back and looks from my face to my fingers working fast circles on my clit. Giving him a smirk I lift my fingers to my mouth, but as I go in for a lick I’m met with his tongue already there, desperate to taste me again. For the first time our mouths meet in a desperate kiss and Harry drops down to his knees to meet me. Hands and lips and tongues become tangled as we pull each other closer, closer, closer. 

Harry hoists me up and places me so I’m straddling his thigh, his hands tightly gripping my hips and sliding my dripping cunt along his tiger tattoo. I wrap one arm around his shoulder, my fingers fumbling with the hair tie as I release his long curls. I pull away from our kiss and take a moment to admire him before spitting in my hand and gripping his still needy cock. We work our bodies in sync, my hips sliding up and down with every stroke of my hand on him. Desperate moans escape me as my head falls forward and rests in the crook of his neck. 

I grind my clit down harder on Harry’s thigh, savoring the blissful friction as I roll my hips but so desperate for a second release. His hips had started rocking into my hand letting me know he was just as eager to come. Without breaking my stride I let the spit pool behind my teeth before releasing it to dribble down, meeting the hand that was frantically working him towards his release. Harry leaned forward and captured my lips again, his hungry togue sliding into my mouth. 

Losing control, I moaned into his mouth as the champagne bubbles floated upwards again. Harry’s grip turned bruising as he pulled me down harder along his thigh while I maintained my rocking motion. When the bubbles finally reached the surface and overflowed I let out a silent gasp, unaware that I had been holding my breath again. I feel Harry’s cock pulsing in my hand and open my eyes to meet his as we finish together. Our hair is stuck to the sweat along our foreheads and our cheeks have a matching flush. I can’t bring myself to break his gaze as we both release soft, uneven breaths, waiting for our breathing to steady.

Several moments pass before a giggle escapes me, followed by another, and another. Harry shakes his head but begin to laugh as well. And so we sit there, naked, on the floor of this massage room, laughing until our stomachs hurt and tears run down our faces. 

As I walked back to my car my cheeks still ached from smiling. Harry and I hadn’t spoken a word about it while we cleaned up, just shared quiet chuckles whenever our eyes met. At the locker room, his fingers brushed my arm, lingering for a fleeting moment before he turned and disappeared back into the spa center. I drove away with a sense of calm I hadn’t felt since before grad school, a weight lifted off my shoulders—and a package for five more sessions tucked in my pocket. 

After all, some knots need more than one visit to work out.