Ally and Harry, two complete opposites. What happens when you put the most popular girl in school and her tutor together? A short story about what happens when two people from different social standings come together for more than just a late night study session. *This story contains mature and explicit content*

18+ / Very Mature "Please, this is like cliche-central. With a kinky twist." ††† I step under the hot stream of water, soaking my hair, and take a deep breathe. I try and clear my mind, focusing on the way the water feels hitting my body. I turn around, opening my eyes, only to shout out a curse and stumble back. Emma is directly in front of me, taking off her tank top, eyes glued to my body. I hadn't shut the curtains, thinking no one would be in here, and I didn't know if I was happy or mad I did that. I stood there speechless as her small hands grasped the bottom of her sports bra. I inhaled sharply when she pulled it up and over her head, exposing her breasts. They jiggled slightly as she tossed her clothes to the side, and I found my heart rate quickening at an alarming rate. "W-what are you doing?" I breathe out as she pulls her leggings down her body, leaving her in just a thong. "Showering." Emma tells me as if it's obvious.

If you were to mention her name in a locker room, or in a girls bathroom, you would always get the same look and smirk sent in your direction. Because she was an urban legend. Someone people told their younger siblings about when they wanted to brag about how awesome it was to be a teenager. The details and the ending would always change, but the conclusion to the story was always that; "that girl had some serious daddy issues." (Art on cover credited to http://athousandclouds.tumblr.com/)

*CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT* Have you ever met someone that made falling feel like flying? ~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~ Preview: "Do you think, if you jumped from this roof - it'd feel like falling or flying?" I ask, keeping up with our theme of asking random useless questions that we've been going back and forth with for the past half hour. I stare at my feet swinging back and forth, looking down at the alleyway behind the building; pondering the question over in my head that I often wonder too much about. I glance over to Harry when he doesn't answer straight away and he's watching me with a look I can't read. "Unless you were a bird or could fly, it would just feel like falling. Because you'd know you were going to hit the ground" he decides to answer, staring at me like he's somewhat bothered that I asked him that. I look back down at the ground, and shrug my shoulders, "I think if you didn't care about hitting the ground it could feel like flying for a few seconds." ~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~ STARTED 11TH MARCH 2019 - ONGOING

ON HOLD // "What do you want to drink, angel?" He whispered in my ear as goosebumps rose all over my skin. I roll my eyes at him secretly adoring the nickname he's chosen for me. "Haven't I told you, Harry, that's not my name?" He gives me a genuine laugh flashing his perfect smile handing me a cup filled with a clear liquid. "Angel is more fitting than your full name, it's all I see when I look at you." // *NOT A SLOW BURN*

We're all mad here, it's Wonderland. ~ Harry latches onto my passionate on-beat arms as he keeps me from moving forward. "Are you fuckin' mad?" He grits through his teeth. "I'm in Wonderland, Pretty Boy," I throw my free arm in the air, motioning to the surrounding world. "Of course, I've gone a little mad." He flips me around as the level of infuriation rises throughout his clenched jaw, trying to remain composed. "Don't try and be something you're not, Presley." I rip away from his hold, furrowing my brows from the curt statement, the honest revelation that should've just stayed within his mind. "We'll never be the heroes, and you know that," he says, colder than the Arctic's towering waves. "We'll never win." We'll never find Purple. Purple, the color of the Star-Crossed Lovers.

Don't you call her baby. We're not talking lately. Don't you call her what you used to call me... A story in which a girl who writes songs falls in love with the boy who sings them. "Color...What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams." - Paul Gauguin. DO NOT PRINT MY BOOKS! *TW: story contains mature topics such as mental abuse, PTSD, minor drug usage, and minor sexual content.*

"You know I love you right?" Harry questions sternly while holding my face. "Yes." I breathe out. "Good because I'm going to fuck you like I don't." ------EXPLICIT CONTENT------

**mature** "We accept the love we think we deserve." ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower "I would do anything for you, you know that right?" I ask her. "Harry, we can't." She pushes back slightly, as I lean down to place a kiss on her neck. "Hunter." "Does Hunter touch you like I do? Does he make you feel good?" My fingers inch lower down her stomach. Her whimper was the only thing I wanted to hear. "My brother doesn't make you feel the way I do, you know it." Highest rank - #1 in harry ***DISCLAIMER: WRITTEN WHILST 14!!*** © All rights reserved to @FineMelodyxx.