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finelinefae · 1 day ago

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reaching out [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: just one moment out of very many of tennis!h pining over y/n before they teamed up.

word count: 5.5k

contains: enemies to lovers, pining h, angst, abusive parents, mentions of physical abuse, tennis rivals, fluff

a/n: very first tennis!h blurb omggg - i missed my babies so much!! For those who don't know, this is a blurb for my tennis!h series which you can read here !!

. . .

Harry stretched his legs, working his calf muscles, as people settled into their seats in the stands. Today was a big day, one that had drawn a large crowd, but he paid them no mind. Performing in front of a big audience never shook Harry’s confidence. When it came to tennis, his focus was entirely on the game.

It was the county cup semi-final. Harry had competed in the same event last year, finishing in second place behind Henry Waver, who took home the gold before heading to rehab a month later for using performance-enhancing drugs. Harry had come a long way since then, and he was determined to make it to the final and claim first place.

Some might have thought Harry no longer needed to compete in these smaller events, given his path toward qualifying for the Olympics, but he couldn’t stay away. Maybe it was the rush of winning, or perhaps the quiet focus that settled over him when the game began—just him, his opponent, and the swift rhythm of the ball being hit back and forth between them.

He walked over to his bench, some people cheering as he walked onto the court. He was wearing all white, a towel around his shoulders and his racket bag hanging from his shoulder. He reached for his water bottle, pouring it into his mouth.

His eyes scanned the growing crowd, but there was no sign of his parents—not that he had expected anything different. He caught a glimpse of Mitch chatting with a few girls from their year group on the stairs, but Harry's focus shifted immediately to the center of the stands, only to find it empty.

A frown tugged at his lips, the first sign of emotion since this morning. He glanced around, searching for the one person his heart longed to see, but before he could spot her, his coach clapped him on the back.

"Remember what we worked on yesterday—don’t overstep the baseline and make sure to follow through," his coach muttered, his tone more routine than encouraging.

Harry barely registered the words. He shrugged off his coach’s hand, distracted. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he mumbled, his mind still preoccupied with trying to figure out why she hadn’t shown up yet.

The opposing crowd erupted into cheers as Lionel Boyce stepped onto the court, raising a hand to acknowledge their applause. Harry barely spared him a glance. He had crossed paths with Lionel plenty of times in his tennis journey and knew the truth behind the polished exterior—Lionel was an arrogant opportunist, desperate for sponsorship deals.

Harry took a swig of water, his grip tightening on the bottle as he set it down and reached for his racket. The game was drawing closer, but the empty seat in the center of the stands—the one he had been watching all afternoon—remained vacant. His chest tightened at the thought of someone else filling it. He wasn’t sure how he’d play with a stranger sitting there instead of the person he was hoping for.

The umpire climbed into his seat, and the announcement for the game’s start echoed across the court. Harry felt a firm pat on the back from his coach as he stepped forward.

“Go show him what you’re made of,” his coach said with a nod.

The crowd erupted as Harry walked onto the court. Most of the cheers came from the Crestwood supporters, and while it wasn’t the loudest reception, it was enough to steady his nerves.

Across the court, Lionel sauntered into position, basking in the applause. Harry couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling as Lionel flashed his best grin to the crowd. He didn’t miss the way a group of girls in the front row seemed to swoon, whispering excitedly among themselves.

The umpire adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat, his voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, play shall begin. First set—Harry Styles to serve."

Harry stepped into position at the baseline, gripping his racket tightly. As always, he raised it and pointed toward the center of the crowd—a ritual that steadied his nerves and granted him good luck for the game.

But this time, his breath hitched.

There she was, sliding into the seat he’d been watching all afternoon. Y/N.

Her eyes found his almost instantly, and for a fleeting moment, the world around him fell away—the roaring crowd, the pressure of the match, even Lionel’s smug presence on the other side of the net. It was just her, sitting there with that familiar stoic expression.

A small smile tugged at Harry’s lips. She was always like this at his matches, focused and intense, watching every move with the same concentration as if she were playing herself. Her unwavering focus sent a spark of determination surging through him.

He adjusted his stance, exhaling slowly as he prepared to serve. With her gaze burning into him, he played to win the entire thing.

. . .

Mitch had thrown a party to celebrate Harry’s victory over Lionel, just as he always did whenever Harry won anything. It was a tradition Harry had grown fond of, even though he often found himself dreading the expectation to win every time he played. Victory wasn’t typically celebrated in his world—it was expected. But his friends? They always found a way to make a big deal out of it, and Harry appreciated that, even if the attention wasn’t his favorite part. Being around his friends was.

Harry stood in the kitchen, holding a cup of something he couldn’t identify. Mitch was across the room, chatting animatedly with Sarah. Harry was pretty sure Mitch had been infatuated with her ever since she’d transferred to Crestwood four years ago. Watching them, he wondered if Mitch would ever work up the courage to act on it.

He couldn’t help but glance around, hoping to spot someone else. He knew Sarah’s best friend and roommate might be here, too, but there was no guarantee. Unlike Sarah, who thrived on Crestwood’s social gatherings, her quieter counterpart was more selective about where she spent her evenings.

“Hi, Harry.” He turned to see Astrid approaching, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her skin glowing with a fresh tan from her recent holiday in the Maldives. He’d only known about it because his mother, after scrolling through Facebook, couldn’t resist mentioning it during their last phone call.

“Hey, Astrid,” Harry said with a polite smile. He didn’t mind her company, but unlike most of the guys in their year, he didn’t feel attracted to her in the same way they did. Sure, she was stunning—legs for days, an effortless smile—but their shared interests barely went beyond tennis and the fact their parents were friends. Friends who, annoyingly, had been dropping hints about the two of them dating for as long as Harry could remember.

“Congrats on the win. You were amazing out there,” she said, her voice smooth and practiced.

“Thanks. I heard you did well at the Championships the other week,” he replied. He hadn’t actually seen her match but knew through their coach that she’d won.

“Yeah, I’m hoping to qualify for the Australian Open,” she said, her grin widening.

Harry nodded, letting the conversation drift until his gaze caught something—or rather, someone—in the living room. His heart skipped a beat.

There she was.

Her smile lit up her face, radiant and warm, eclipsing even the moonlight streaming through the large windows. Her hair spilled to one side, leaving her neck bare, and she was wearing a sleek black maxi dress paired with chunky heels—an outfit so out of the ordinary for her that it was almost disarming. Harry’s eyes lingered on her longer than they should have, but he didn’t care. He’d been hoping she’d come.

His smile faltered when Adam appeared beside her. Harry’s stomach tightened at the sight. He knew Adam had a soft spot for her—he’d admitted as much—but assured everyone he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Still, seeing them together made something uneasy churn in Harry’s chest.

“Harry?” Astrid’s voice snapped him back to reality. He blinked, realizing he hadn’t heard a word she’d been saying. She followed his line of sight and spotted Y/N. Her tone shifted, tinged with something that wasn’t quite approval.

“Oh, Y/N’s here,” Astrid remarked flatly. “I’m surprised after…everything.”

Harry’s head whipped toward her, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t know?” Astrid asked, her surprise seeming genuine. “One of my friends was at the Country Club a couple of weekends ago. She got lost trying to find the bathroom near the pool and overheard her dad yelling at her—apparently for getting a bad grade on her report card. She said he slapped her.”

Harry’s stomach dropped, cold fury replacing the unease. “He what?”

Astrid shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’ve always thought her family was messed up. My dad had a horrible experience at their Country Club—almost sued them after Mom got food poisoning there.” She kept talking, but Harry wasn’t listening anymore.

His attention snapped back to Y/N, watching her closely. Something was different. To anyone else, she probably seemed the same, but Harry knew her too well. He noticed the way her fingers twisted together, fidgeting nervously. Her smile, though bright, didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her makeup seemed heavier than usual; she rarely wore much or applied it sparingly, but today, it looked as though she was trying to mask something—maybe a shadow or imperfection on her cheek, though he couldn’t be sure.

Harry’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. If what Astrid said was true, there was no doubt in his mind—he’d track down her father and make him regret it in ways that didn’t bear sunlight. But first, he needed to talk to her, to make sure she was okay. The problem was, Harry knew her well enough to realise she wouldn’t just open up if he asked. They weren’t even friends. In fact, Harry was pretty sure Y/N didn’t like him at all.

It wasn’t really a surprise, considering how they’d met—and the fact that he’d spent most of his days tormenting her just to get her attention. It was childish, he knew, but it was easier than admitting how much he actually cared. And he did care—more than he should, more than she probably realised. Beneath all the teasing and arguments, she mattered to him. So, if she was hurt, none of that other stuff mattered. He just needed to make sure she was okay.

When Harry saw Adam walk away, he seized the opportunity to sneak in. As if she could sense his presence, Y/N looked up, her smile immediately fading, and her jaw tightened. Harry couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. There was something exhilarating about her reaction, the way she shifted from neutral to visibly irritated, even if it was driven by nothing but disdain for him.

“I’m surprised you were willing to show up, love,” he said, his voice carrying the familiar, mocking tone.

Y/N’s eyes flashed with irritation at the nickname, her posture stiffening even further. Harry had always loved calling her that—it was almost like a reflex, especially since she absolutely hated it. He relished in the way she bristled, every time.

“Not so willingly, as a matter of fact,” she shot back, her arms folding across her chest. “I’m only here because Sarah wanted me to come.” She still hadn’t taken a sip from her drink, Harry noticed, as if it were some kind of shield between them.

“Excuses, excuses.” He clicked his tongue with a grin, leaning casually against the edge of the table. “What did you think of the match?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his question. “You care what I have to say?” she asked, a slight edge to her voice.

“No,” Yes. he replied, his eyes gleamed with a spark of challenge. “But I know you’ve got something to say anyway.”

She gave him a wry smile, the faintest hint of a laugh on her lips. “Well, it wasn’t one of your best, that’s for sure. Your tracking was terrible. You were lucky Lionel cared more about his appearance than his technique.”

Harry couldn’t suppress the chuckle that escaped him. He knew she wasn’t wrong—tracking had been off, and Lionel had certainly played a little too carefully. The dig was unsurprising to say the least but he took it all on board.

“You always have such charming critiques, don’t you?” Harry smirked. “Should I be worried about your career in commentary?”

Y/N’s replied, the sarcasm was back in full force. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stick to calling it how I see it. You wouldn’t last five minutes with me in your corner, would you?”

Harry leaned in a little closer, their banter familiar and comfortable despite the tension. “You’d be too distracted by my charm to focus,” he said with a grin, savoring the challenge in her eyes.

Y/N scoffed but couldn’t entirely hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Right. I think you’d find me too busy pointing out all the flaws you refuse to see.”

“Sounds like a good time,” he replied smoothly, his grin widening.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t look away, the intensity between them palpable in the silence that followed.

“So,” Harry started, the tone shifting slightly, more serious, “what else? What else did you think of the match?” He genuinely wanted to know—part of him knew her critique might actually help him. But the other part of him just liked the way she made him think.

Y/N seemed to hesitate for a split second, the walls she kept up around her cracking just enough for him to notice. “Your footwork was off, too. You were slow on some of your returns, and—”

Harry laughed, cutting her off. “I thought you said you weren’t a fan?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not. But I’ve watched enough matches to know when someone’s not giving it their all.” Her gaze flicked to his eyes, sharp and clear. “And I know you can do better.”

Harry’s smile faltered, something unspoken passing between them, something that felt almost like respect. He had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about the match anymore.

“Well,” he said after a beat, straightening up, “I guess I’ll have to show you just how much better I can be, then.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away, her lips pursed as if she were weighing her options. Finally, she shrugged, that same familiar look of defiance in her eyes. “We’ll see.”

Harry’s eyes lingered on her for longer than he intended, “What about you?” He took a sip of his drink.

She frowns, “What about me?”

“I haven’t seen you training recently,” He said.

Y/N’s expression faltered, her eyes flashing with something like hurt or fear. “I haven’t had time.”

“What do you mean? I don’t think I’ve spent a day where I haven’t seen you on the court.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harry’s brows furrowed as he studied her. There was something about the way she shifted on her feet, the subtle way her fingers tightened around the cup in her hand. It wasn’t the first time he’d sensed something was off, but hearing her say she didn’t want to talk about it made his curiosity spike. It was rare for Y/N to hide anything, especially from him. He’d spent enough time observing her—dissecting her every reaction, every word—to know when something wasn’t right.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, leaning forward, his voice losing its usual teasing edge. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He almost regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Not because he didn’t mean them, but because he knew she wouldn’t believe it—not after everything.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, Harry thought she might brush him off entirely. Instead, she let out a soft, almost bitter laugh. “Yeah, right,” she muttered, not meeting his eyes. “Since when?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. She was right—he had never given her much reason to trust him. But right now, as much as it pissed him off that she was shutting him out, he couldn’t help but feel... protective. There was something going on with her, something more than she was letting on, and it was like a switch had flipped inside him.

“Y/N,” he repeated, his voice softer now, “I’m not gonna push you, but if something’s going on, you don’t have to go through it alone. You know that, right?”

Her eyes finally met his, and for a brief moment, Harry thought he saw a crack in her tough exterior—a flicker of vulnerability—but it was gone in an instant. She shook her head, her gaze hardening.

“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Harry didn’t buy it, and he didn’t think she expected him to. He knew he was on dangerous territory—one misstep, and no doubt she would lash out at him for putting his nose into business that was nothing to do with him. But something in him refused to let this go. He couldn’t just sit there, watching her shut him out.

“Come with me,” he said, motioning for her to follow him, the command in his voice surprising even him.

Y/N glanced at him, confused, her arms still crossed defensively. “What?”

“I’m taking you outside,” Harry said, already standing and grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. He could tell she was about to protest, could see the hesitation in her eyes. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of something—determination, maybe, or a mix of things he couldn’t quite name. “You need a break. You’re tense as hell, and I don’t like seeing you like this.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Harry cut her off. “Trust me. It’ll be good for you.”

For a moment, Y/N seemed like she might just walk away, but then she sighed, as if giving in to the inevitable. “Fine. But don’t get any ideas.”

Harry smirked, fighting the urge to laugh. “No promises,” he teased, already walking toward the door.

Outside, the late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the empty tennis courts. Harry tossed her a tennis racket, watching as she caught it awkwardly. He was doing this for her—for whatever was weighing on her, for whatever had her retreating behind that wall. He wasn’t sure if tennis was the right call, but it was something he knew they both shared, something that might bring down some of her defenses.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious about this?”

“Dead serious,” Harry replied, stepping onto the court. He grinned at her.

She hesitated before stepping onto the court, but when she did, Harry could see a flicker of something else in her—the tension in her shoulders loosening, just a bit. She wasn’t fully on board yet, but the corners of her lips twitched upward, and that was something.

They began to rally, hitting the ball back and forth with the kind of casual ease that came from years of practice. Y/N’s form was sharp, fluid, and Harry couldn't help but be impressed, as he always was. But it wasn’t just the way she played that had him captivated.

It was the way she laughed.

The sound was light, unguarded, a sound he hadn’t heard from her in so long. It was like the weight of everything had lifted for a moment, leaving behind only the carefree side of Y/N he rarely got to see. She had a natural smile, the kind that reached her eyes and made them sparkle with a mischievous glint. Harry couldn’t look away.

Her laughter filled the air, echoing across the empty courts, and for a fleeting second, everything felt right. Harry’s heart skipped in his chest as he watched her, the way her eyes shone with a genuine sense of freedom. It wasn’t just the way she looked in that moment—it was how she felt, and how much he wanted to be the reason she smiled like that.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. He had always known he had a thing for her—he didn’t even try to deny it anymore. But this was different. He wasn’t just in awe of how she looked, or the way she challenged him to be better—he was infatuated with her.

The thought hit him hard, and he tried to push it aside, to focus on the game. But with every smile, every laugh, Harry found himself falling deeper, in a way that he couldn’t control. There was something about her—the way she made everything feel effortless, the way her presence seemed to fill up the space, making everything more vibrant. She was everything he wasn’t—bold, unafraid, untouchable in some ways. And Harry was starting to realize how much he wanted to be the one to reach her.

When Y/N hit a particularly good shot and spun around with that radiant smile, Harry felt a flutter in his chest. He swallowed, his throat tight, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he could handle being this close to her without completely falling apart.

“You’re not half bad,” she teased, breathless from the rally.

Harry grinned, the praise warming him in a way he hadn’t expected. “I know. You should be honored to play with me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite suppress the grin tugging at her lips. “You’re insufferable.”

And there it was again—her laugh, the way she made everything feel lighter. Harry caught himself smiling at her, not the cocky, playful smile he usually wore, but something more sincere. Something that spoke volumes of how much he was starting to feel for her—how much he had already felt.

They rallied for another few minutes, the sun dipping lower as the evening air turned cooler. But Harry wasn’t paying attention to the time, or the way the game was unfolding. All he could focus on was the way her hair caught the last of the sunlight, the way her eyes gleamed with happiness—and how damn beautiful she was.

“You’re good,” Harry finally said, his voice quieter than usual, almost like a confession.

Y/N gave him a curious look, then smirked. “You finally noticing?”

He wanted to say more, to tell her exactly what he was thinking—but it would only complicate things. Instead, he just nodded, watching her carefully, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I’ve always noticed,” he said, his voice a little too soft, betraying the quiet ache he felt inside.

Y/N paused, her expression softening for a brief moment before her usual mask of sarcasm slipped back into place. “Well, I’m glad you finally decided to admit it.”

The smile she gave him in return was genuine, full of warmth. And for a moment, Harry forgot about the rest of the world, just watching her, heart in his throat, wondering how he had gotten so lucky—and so lost in someone who would never even look at him the same way.

Y/N took a few steps back, wiping a hand across her forehead, trying to shake off the intensity of the game and the weight of the conversation that had been hanging between them. Harry still stood there, watching her, his breath a little heavier from the rally but his focus unwavering. It was as if he was waiting for something to break, for her to say the words he didn’t want to hear but somehow feared.

She didn’t look at him for a moment, her eyes scanning the ground like she was trying to find some way out. But then, when she spoke, her voice was softer than usual, almost reluctant. "You were right earlier... about me being tense," she said, barely above a whisper.

Harry tilted his head, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. His heart rate picked up, and he took a tentative step toward her. “What do you mean?”

Y/N hesitated, clearly at war with herself, as if saying the words out loud would somehow make them more real. But Harry could see the way her fingers curled tighter around her tennis racket, the way her shoulders were drawn up protectively.

“Something happened... with my dad,” she finally admitted, the words slipping out in a rush, like she couldn’t stop them once she started.

Harry’s chest tightened, but he kept his expression neutral, unwilling to push her too much. "What happened?"

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes redder than usual, her face more vulnerable than he'd ever seen it. "He... slapped me," she said, the words a simple admission but heavy enough to make the air around them thick with tension.

The air in Harry’s lungs seemed to stop for a moment. His chest tightened, fists clenching at his sides as the words echoed in his mind. Slapped her.

He was careful not to let the anger build, though it was hard. The thought of anyone hurting her—let alone her father—lit a fire of fury inside him, but he knew he couldn’t let it show. Not now. Not when she was looking at him like that, so fragile and raw.

“Y/N,” Harry said softly, stepping closer. His voice was low, almost as if he were afraid the words might break something inside her. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, her lips trembling slightly. “You don’t have to apologize,” she murmured, her voice thick with something he couldn’t quite place. “I don’t want your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry replied quickly, his gaze steady. He took a slow, steadying breath. “I’m angry, though. At him. But I’m not pitying you, Y/N. You’re... you’re strong. You don’t deserve that. You never have.”

She blinked, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to steady herself. Harry could see her fighting it—fighting the tears, fighting the emotions that were threatening to spill over.

“I got a low grade on my report card this semester,” she whispered after a beat, her voice so small it almost hurt to hear. “My parents think it’s because I spend too much time playing. They threatened to stop funding my schooling if I didn’t quit. Not that I’m going to quit, but I have to lay low for a while.”

Harry’s heart broke at her words. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take, the thought of her in such a difficult situation, but he forced himself to stay composed. She was so strong, but there was only so much someone could take.

“Does he…” Harry hesitated, the words feeling too heavy to speak, but he forced them out anyway, “Does he do that often?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak but paused, her gaze dropping to the ground for a long moment. The silence stretched between them, and Harry felt that pit in his stomach grow deeper with each passing second. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

“It wasn’t the first time,” she said, her voice faltering. “But he doesn’t do it often.”

Harry’s eyes darkened with barely-contained anger. His hands clenched at his sides, a reflex he couldn’t control. “Y/N, he shouldn’t be doing it at all,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice low and tight. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her close and hold her, but something held him back. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he didn’t want to push her further away.

“No man should ever lay a hand on you,” he added, his voice raw with emotion. “Not ever. You don’t deserve that. No one does.”

Y/N stayed quiet for a long time, her face a mixture of exhaustion and something else Harry couldn’t name. She looked up at him, eyes glistening, but there was no hint of softness in her expression. She had her walls up again, already rebuilding what little had cracked.

“I don’t want your sympathy, Harry,” she said firmly, her voice regaining some of its usual sharpness. “And I don’t need you to protect me. I’ll deal with it.”

Harry’s chest tightened, frustration bubbling to the surface. “But you don’t have to do it alone,” he said, taking a step closer, his voice softer now. “I can’t just stand by and pretend like nothing’s wrong. You shouldn’t have to carry this by yourself.”

She shook her head, but this time, there was no bite in it—just a sad resignation. “You don’t get it,” she muttered, her eyes darting to the side. “I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be protected. I don’t want your help. I just want to get through this on my own.”

Harry could feel the walls she’d built between them—walls made of pain and pride—climbing higher, and the instinct to break them down was strong. But he knew, deep down, he couldn’t force her to open up, especially not when she wasn’t ready.

“I’m not trying to save you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice tinged with something like regret. “I’m just here. Whenever you need someone to listen, or... whatever else you need. Just know that.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, but he could see the smallest tremor in her shoulders as she exhaled. Finally, after a long pause, she spoke again, her voice quiet but firm.

“I don't need help,” she said, her words like a wall being slammed shut. “I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need anyone to try and fix me.”

Harry’s heart dropped, the weight of her words hitting him harder than he wanted to admit. But he understood. She was trying to keep control of a situation that was already slipping through her fingers. And maybe she wasn’t ready to let him in, no matter how much he wanted to be there for her.

“I’m not trying to fix you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper now, the weight of his emotions slipping through despite himself. “I just... I care about you, Y/N. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Her eyes flicked to his, sharp and guarded. “I don’t need help but I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harry’s chest tightened, but he didn’t let his gaze drop. “Alright,” he said softly. “But I’ll be here. Whenever you need me.”

Y/N didn’t respond, and Harry didn’t push. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, looking at her, wishing he could say more—do more—make her feel safe, but knowing it wasn’t his place to force anything. For now, all he could do was wait.

And somehow, that felt worse than anything.

“Want to go another round?” Harry asked, his voice lighter, searching for a way to ease the tension.

“I think we should probably head back. Sarah might be looking for me.” Y/Ns expression softens.

“Right” the last thing Harry wanted to do was leave this pocket of space they were in together. He savoured any rare moment of time he had with her alone and this was one of them.

They walked side by side, the silence between them not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken truths. As they approached his flat, Y/N glanced at him, her voice quiet but firm. “This doesn’t change anything, you know. I don’t want you to look at me differently just because I couldn’t defend myself against my dad. I’m strong—it just… it caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Harry stopped, turning to her with an earnestness that made her chest tighten. “Y/N, this doesn’t change a thing. Not about how I see you, or what I think of you. You’re still the strongest person I know.”

Her lips quirked in a small, tentative smile. “Good,” she said softly. Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she added, “And you better win the final.”

Harry chuckled, his own smile breaking through. For her, he would.

For her, he’d do anything.

. . .

Harry walked into the school the next day with his tie askew, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show his white t-shirt underneath, and his blazer slung casually over his shoulder, hooked with his middle finger. He had no particular reason to look so disheveled—he just liked the chaos it seemed to cause.

As he passed Mitch’s locker, he caught sight of Y/N walking down the hallway. Her eyes were trained straight ahead, like she was in her own world, but Harry couldn’t resist. He flashed a smirk and called out, “Hey, love.”

She immediately paused and turned to face him. Her expression was unreadable for a moment, then the corner of her lips twitched slightly, but her eyes were all ice.

“Seriously?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, seriously,” Harry teased, not backing down. “You got something against me saying hello?”

“Not really,” she replied dryly, her arms crossing over her chest. “But I’m guessing you’re doing it just to get a reaction.”

“You know me too well,” Harry said with a grin. “But still, can’t help it. You just look... irresistible when you’re pissed off.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement hiding beneath the irritation. Without saying a word, she lifted her middle finger and gave him a quick, deliberate flip-off. Then, as she turned to walk away, she allowed herself to smile, just a little—just enough for Harry to catch it.

He watched her walk off, his smirk fading as something tighter, warmer, filled his chest. He had always loved the way she carried herself—so confident, even when she was annoyed with him. He liked that she never made it easy. But right now, as she walked away, all he could think was how much he was falling for her.

"God," he muttered under his breath, watching her disappear down the hallway. "I’m so screwed."

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kiwis-n-koffee · 3 days ago

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I mainly read this cause Minotaurs are hot and I like the idea of being shared, but I fear I'm into Orcs now... How turn tables

Helping neighbors

A/N: I don’t know if you all think sex-pollen is dub-con or not, but be aware that the reader is out of it when they are fucking. She’s enjoying herself plenty, but the consent induced by sex-pollen can be a bit dubious. Be warned of that.

Minotaur x Orc x fem!reader || sex-pollen, spit-roast, sharing is caring, breeding

When you are walking down the woods and suddenly get cursed by a weird lady, you start to feel like your life is not going the way it should.

You stepped on a few flowers, you didn’t think it was too bad, but then the witch appeared out of thin air and blew some kind of purple powder on your face. She disappeared again, but not before she said something as cryptic as “You will suffer until you surrender to your desires.” Her laughter lingered in the air for a few more seconds.

At first, it was fine, you tried to convince yourself that it was some kind of hallucination, you didn’t see a crazy lady in the woods. It was just a dream or something. Nothing major. Nothing was going to happen to you. You were sure of it.

But then the heat started.

It was a low song inside your veins, running up and down and making your skin itch in a weird way, you felt like everything was too much over it. Your clothes felt like needles on your skin, nothing could cool you off enough to feel comfortable. And then your pussy got wet, you soaked through so many panties you decided going naked around the house was the only option. And even then, your pussy kept constricting over nothing, so sensitive you could cry every time your thighs rubbed together.

You tried to jerk off frantically, you got yourself at the edge over and over but it didn’t work. It wasn’t happening. Nothing was happening. With each roll of your clit, you felt more and more on edge, but the climax wasn’t arriving. You couldn’t come. And it was driving you crazy.

You tried porn, you tried erotic books, you tried all the dildos you had… Even the dark fantasies starring your two hot neighbors across the hall. You thought it was pervy to think of them that way. But that didn’t stop you from picturing every one of those fantasies over and over. You elaborated them to the point you could see the images so clearly in your mind that it felt like a porno made specially for you. You on your knees swallowing around the big minotaur cock, you on all fours being pounded from behind by a big green orc… You thought of every position and every option. It was so vivid you could almost feel it happening. You even pictured how could you ask them to fuck you dumb. But that didn’t work either.

That awful heat inside your skin, that curse, went on for a whole day before you started to feel so desperate and so on edge that you felt like you could come with just air touching your skin. But it didn’t happen. You still couldn’t come and your mind was empty from any thoughts apart from the need to cum. You worked yourself into a frenzy of horniness that made your knees weak and your clit tingle. You were worked up to a point where the idea of coming was the only thing you could process in your head.

On the second day, you had enough.

You put on the less offensive clothes you had, the only thing you felt like wasn’t going to feel like sandpaper against your skin, nothing underneath, just a simple summer dress. You crossed the hallway, knocking on your neighbors’ door rapidly and praying to whoever was listening for them to be home. Please, let them be home.

“Hey, little human. What can I do for you?” His flirty tone made you shudder. You whined at the sound of his voice. “Are you okay?” He looked worried as your knees gave up under you and your body fell to the ground. You felt feverish. But you didn’t get to hit the floor before his strong arms were around your middle, supporting your weight and making you moan like a whore at the skin to skin contact. You didn’t care about being proper anymore.

“Help… Please.” You whispered, another wave of heat hitting you. “It hurts.” You wanted to taste his skin, but you knew he couldn’t do that if you didn’t explain first. But it hurt so bad. Your whole brain could only focus on looking for pleasure, for release.

“What hurts? What happened?” The minotaur asked, picking you up and taking you to the sofa. You cried out when he tried to put you down. He sat down with you on his lap, caressing your hair softly, his eyes worried.

“A lady… A lady in the woods. Purple powder… It hurts.” You choked out. Apparently that was enough for him, a frown forming as you told him. He seemed to know what was happening to you. Thank the universe for that, because you didn’t know if you could articulate more words. Your skin felt too tight, too hot. “Please…” You pleaded again, wrapping your body over him like a blanket, trying to make every cell of your body touch his.

“It’s okay. You are going to be okay, little human.” He kept mumbling comforting words as he caressed your back, his hands hot against your feverish skin. You pressed your pussy against his clothed leg, probably leaving a wet patch. He didn’t stop you. “Let me call my boyfriend, we can take care of you. You’d like that, honey?” You whimpered, nodding as images of both of them fucking you crossed your mind.

You knew they were a couple, you saw them making out against the door one memorable night you came home a bit later than usual. That image burned in your brain and fueled most of your jerk off sessions that month. A big minotaur and a big orc, two towers of masculinity grinding against each other as you passed them, your face flushed and your pussy wet. They were so fucking hot. And the outline of a bulge you could see in their pants made your mouth water. Both of them were so big. In more ways than one. You wondered how would it feel to have them inside of you, filling you to the brim.

But they also shared, you knew they did, the pipes in their bathroom made the perfect channel of sound to your own bathroom. At first it was fun to listen as one of them sang in the shower, as they talked through hushed voices at night, when you were sure they brushed their teeth at the same time. But one magnificent day, you heard a woman’s voice, a woman’s cries of pleasure and two distinct monster voices telling her how good of a good girl she was. They were fucking her in the shower, and you had to make yourself cum while listening, like the pervy girl you were. And that fueled your fantasies beyond belief. How would it be to be shared by them? How would it feel to be their good girl?

And now, months later, you were panting on the minotaur’s lap as he called his orc boyfriend. His manly smell was enough to get you on edge, grinding yourself against his leg, mounting his leg like a horny dog. You felt embarrassed, you felt like your face was burning, but the need to come was too big to stop.

“Get home, now. Something is happening to her.” You couldn’t listen to what the orc said. Your brain was so focused on the feeling of his jeans under your bare pussy that you barely heard anything at all. You lost part of the conversation, but the minotaur’s voice was final when he said: “She’s grinding on my lap like she’s going to set herself on fire if she doesn’t cum soon. Get. Home. Now.” He punctuated each word, tone harsh as he talked to the orc. You didn’t know what he answered, but the minotatur hung up on him and focused his attention back on you again. “It’s okay, little human, we’ll take care of you.” You whined, a tear escaping your eye. He sweetly wiped it away.

You didn’t know how much time it passed between the call and the sound of the door opening, you kept grinding on the minotarur’s jeans as he whispered sweet words to you, caressing every part of your body he could reach, making you even more desperate to cum.

“What did the witch say?” The orc asked as soon as he saw us. Witch? What witch? The minotaur grunted at his boyfriend, calling him rude without words.

“Honey, what did the lady in the forest say to you?” The minotaur asked you softly, tilting your head up so you were looking at his face.

“I don’t know.” You said, frustrated and tired, you wanted to cry. “Something… something about my deepest desire?” You asked, rhetorically. You didn’t remember much from the past days, you just knew you needed to cum or you were going to die.

“Little human, you need to tell us what’s that. What’s your deepest desire?” The orc asked, sitting next to you two, his hand caressing your back along his boyfriend’s. You whimpered.

“You. You two.” You confessed, far too gone to be embarrassed about it.

“You want us?” The orc questioned, he was tense, and his tone sounded almost careful, like he was scared to talk too loud and scare you away. As if… “The two of us?” He repeated. You nodded eagerly.

They looked at each other, a silent conversation happening while you sat there, looking at them and marveling at how handsome they were. Not in a human way, but in a monstrous, almost scary way. They were so big, you felt so tiny between the two of them. And you loved it. You loved to feel tiny against their giant bodies, you’d be so full with cock if they fucked you at the same time. You whined again at the thought.

“It’s okay, honey. We got you.” The minotaur said, picking you up from his lap as you groaned. He threw you over his shoulder as he walked you to another room. You looked up from his fantastic ass to see the orc following closely, shredding his clothes as he followed. You moaned at the sight of his bared torso. The minotaur laughed. “Yeah, he looks fine as hell.” He agreed with your barely coherent sounds.

“Lay her down, take off her clothes.” The orc instructed, the minotaur did just what he asked.

“He’s a bit bossy, but don’t worry, honey. He’s going to make us feel so good.” The minotaur whispered as he leaned down and took your dress off.

There you were, naked on the bed, two big monsters looking down at you. You moaned. You felt like a human sacrifice. Ready to be devoured by beasts. Your hands instantly went to touch your body, one to pinch your nipple, the other right to your clit. But you didn’t get to do anything before the big orc was making a sound that made you stop on your tracks.

“You don’t touch yourself if I don’t tell you to. You are under my command now, little human.” You shivered, his voice harsh and hot. You nodded, beyond words. “Get undressed, join her in the bed.” He instructed the minotaur.

The first look at the minotaur’s cock made your insides twitch. He was so fucking big, you weren’t sure he was going to fit inside of you, but dang if you didn’t want to try either way. He smirked at you, his steps calculated, as he laid down next to you, his hand mockingly pinching your nipple. He got a disapproving grunt from the orc at that, you felt like giggling.

“You are going to fuck her first so she’s ready for my cock. And then, you are going to take her mouth, making her choke on your big cock until her eyes are watery and your cum is down her throat. Is that right?” You both nodded. “We are going to spit roast this pretty little human, just like if she were a toy for us to use. You like that, little human? You want to be our human toy? You want to be a good little human for us?” You whimpered, nodding so fast you felt dizzy.

The orc helped you to sit over the minotaur, each inch of his cock filling you and stretching you beyond what you thought possible. You were about to cry out and say it was too much, you couldn’t take him, but the soft words the orc was whispering in your ear were helping. They weren’t rushing you, you wanted to be a good little human and take all of him. All of them.

The minotaur cursed all the way in, making you blush. “Her pussy… Oh lord she’s so thigh. I’m not gonna last, she’s clenching on me like a vice.” He chanted to the orc as he bottomed out, like you weren’t even there.

“Ride him, little human. Ride the bull like a wild little whore.” The orc said against your back, his cock pressing on your lower back as he held your hips, helping you ride his boyfriend.

The minotaur under you cursed and said: “I always forget how good your dirty talk is.” You could feel the orc smirk against the back of your neck where he’s pressing a line of kisses. His tusks soft and dangerous against your skin.

“I bet you don’t have a gag reflex at all, being a pretty little human like yourself, so ready to take us both. Do you?” He asked, you shook your head. You didn’t, you practiced over and over with your biggest toy. You didn’t want to admit that you did it so you could take one of them someday. “Of course you don’t. You would take me so well, deep down your throat until you are stuffed full of cock. Or maybe I take your pussy, cum inside of you until your stomach is bloated because of it. Cum dripping out of your well used hole. Would you like that, little human? Would you like to be bred?” You whimpered, nodding frantically as you keep riding the minotaur. The filthy words the orc whispered against your ear were making you wetter, which you thought it was impossible at that point. “Keep going, little whore, make him come inside you so I can take my turn, too.”

“I’m close.” The minotaur interrupted, his fur wet with sweat as you kept bouncing on his cock.

“Come on, cum inside the prettiest little human. Breed her.” He ordered. As soon as the words left his mouth, the minotaur bulked under you, almost throwing you off balance. The orc held your hips steady as he helped you ride him until you felt his cum shooting inside your tight channel. You felt every spurt of his cum inside your pussy, so much of it you felt stuffed, just like he promised.

He pulled out and laid you down on your stomach. You felt fucked out but still desperate, you hadn’t come and the need inside of you was growing stronger with each passing second. “Good lord.” The minotaur whispered, joining his orc boyfriend at the feet of the bed, both of them looking intently at your gaping pussy. “Look at that, she’s so pink and soft. Her hole is still twitching, so eager to take your cock…” The minotaur said, not to anyone in particular, just admiring his cum oozing out of your pussy as he pushed the tip of his finger back inside, pushing in some of the cum leaking out. Both of them groaned behind you as you pushed your ass up, as eager as he said to take the orc’s cock.

You still hadn’t come, feeling deep inside your soul that you needed both of them to accomplish that. “Please…” You begged, wriggling your ass side to side, presenting yourself like a bitch in heat. They groaned.

“Get on the bed, fill her mouth so we don’t bother the other neighbors as she falls apart on our cocks.” The orc ordered, making you groan again.

They helped you into a position that could make both of their cocks be at the right angle for them to destroy you. You were so ready you felt insane with desire. The orc behind you kneaded your ass, parting your cheeks to look closely at your leaking pussy. You felt so exposed your whole body reacted. You tried to push back, making him slap your ass playfully. “Don’t try me, little human, today is not the day for my hand to make your ass so red you can’t walk tomorrow. That’s a task for my cock.” He proclaimed. Filthy images of him spanking you until you came made your brain foggy.

You were so focused on the orc behind you that you didn’t realize the minotaur’s cock was right in front of you until he told you: “Open up, honey.” You opened your mouth instantly, the tip of his dick so big it filled your whole mouth. You moaned around him and pushed forward, taking him deeper.

His hands were in your hair, pulling softly and instantly apologizing, but not letting go. You smiled around him, but it was lost as soon as you felt the orc’s cock entering you from behind. This angle made it feel bigger, so much bigger. He pushed forward without stopping, not allowing you to accommodate him until he was inside of you fully.

“Fuck her already, her mouth is as hot as her pussy, I won’t last long.” The minotaur pleaded his boyfriend as he started fucking your throat with deep thrusts.

You felt the first thrust of the orc in every cell of your body, he pulled in and out slowly a couple times before he started fucking you properly. His thrusts were so powerful and so harsh that with each one he pushed you onto the minotaur’s cock, making you take him deeper. Both of them fucked you in tandem, in perfect sync.

Your brain felt broken, like they fucked each one of your neurons into their off-state. No logical thought inside your brain but cock. Their cocks. Filling your holes to the brim. You didn’t know how much time passed, maybe a couple minutes, maybe hours. You stood there as they took your mouth and your pussy, just a toy between two monsters.

The minotaur’s warning grunt came at the same time as the orc proclaimed that he was going to breed you until you popped from the amount of cum inside you. You shuddered. When the first tremors of their orgasms appeared, your pussy constricted around the orc’s cock. A static noise on your ears, the world around you blurring as they kept fucking their cum back inside of you.

You came so hard you saw stars. The whole milky way behind your closed eyes as you cried out around the dick in your mouth. Both of them were coming inside of you, making a mess of your holes as they filled you. You came, and came… The climax so harsh and so big you could feel everything and anything all at once. Your brain short-circuited completely. Your brain was far, far away as they cursed and talked and said whatever.

You laid there, on all fours, your holes filled with cum and two monsters spit roasting you.

You passed out.

part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5

#i want two boyfriends and i want them to be boyfriends #this series has me in a chokehold #i might just call this a favorite #My mind is mush now #monster fucker #fic rec

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