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smuttyaf · 5 months

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Tag, You’re It

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲

wc: 4.3k

dom/sub, slapping, exhibitionism & very rough sex

The houses that you grew up around stand tall and sturdy after many years on the residential street. Trees still holding their colourful leaves while some skid amongst the ground when the wind picks up. Your free hand was buried into your pocket, feeling over the sherpa lining while the other tore the cigarette from your lips and flicked it to the ground.

Heels click against the asphalt, your ears drawing in the sound of music playing from your phone. The sun was already setting on the horizon as you made your way home; school had just finished an hour ago yet it was as if it was nearly the evening, however you were happy.

It was finally Friday and you were delighted to lay in your bed, order in food, and watch whatever movie seemed interesting on Netflix. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip when you felt the gush of wind blow through you, hand now going into your other pocket and welcoming the warmth.

The familiar sound of Harry’s Mustang caught your attention as it peels down the road, the engine could be heard over the music in your headphones. The smell of burning gas fills your nostrils as the presence of it next to you quirks your interest.

Black tires are nearly on the curb as the vibrating hum from inside of the vehicle pours out. Your eyes flick between the side view mirror to the tinted window rolling down, leather seats in your vision. The song in your earbuds comes to an end revealing the loud whistle floating in the space, it makes you roll your eyes and settle your movements.

“Hey baby,” The words were muffled causing you to tug one bud out and turn towards the black coupe.

“Hi,” You say while giving a faint smile, body turning and leaning into the vehicle. The smell of mint and weed was welcomed with the gas in the air, only making your nose wrinkle and eyes look towards green ones.

His hair was messy today, as if he woke up and simply just ran his hands through it and thought it would suffice. His leather jacket was around his shoulders with his usual black attire, fingers dressed with thick sliver rings as they tap against the wheel of the car. A beaming smile was set along his lips which only meant trouble in your eyes.

Harry Styles, the local bad boy who always found himself in mischief. Whether it was for skipping class or dealing weed behind the local corner store, he had a lengthy record already that only grew every other month. Despite everything, it didn’t help that he was a delinquent who was handsome as well; brown curls, heavily tattooed, and face crafted by cherubs, he was hot but not someone you would want to be caught with.

“You go to St. Martins, right?” Harry continues, eyes peering over his black shades and into yours. You couldn’t help the tingle in your spine, it’s happening.

“Uh yeah…” You answer, eyebrows knotting in confusion. Hmm… What exactly did Harry want? Why all of a sudden was he talking to you.

“I go to the public school across from it,” He reveals, only making you let out a laugh.

“I know… I hear,” You say, eyes flickering between his car and him. The whole town knows what Harry’s car sounds like, you could tell he was coming from miles away.

“Is it really that loud?” He says sarcastically, eyebrows pushing together with a bright smile. You roll your eyes in response, your body relaxing a bit while your hands shift around in your pocket.

“You’re a senior too?” He ask, one hand leaving the wheel and landing on the middle console, making him lean in closer.

“Yeah,” You simply respond, looking at the way his hair falls over his forehead.

“What a coincidence…” Harry remarks, smirk now stretching across his lips as he leans his head to the side. “You know I always see you walking when I’m driving home… I can always drop you off?” He suggests. You feel your heart drop in your chest and stomach twist.

As much as you want to get into this dangerously handsome man’s car, you know you shouldn’t. Yes, you both grew up in the same town together and are around the same age but, you don’t know Harry. You bite down on your bottom lip, fingers twisting in your jacket as you pull away from the door and stand straight.

“I appreciate it but I’m good,” You say, another faint smile spreading on your lips as you watch Harry’s head now lean back, charcoal frames covering his eyes completely.

“Oh come on… It’s cold and my ride is nice and warm,” Harry remarks, lips curling and foot leaning off the brakes as the car begins to peel away slowly. You shake your head and begin your previous movements towards your house. Yes, it was cold outside but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, you didn’t need a ride from him.

“I can cut your walk down by three minutes,” He continues, the heels of your boots echoing against the concrete.

“I’m good!” You call back, hand slipping out of your jacket and taking your headphone to put back in your ear.

“Let me drop you home,” Harry responds, only making you roll your eyes again, chewing down on your bottom lip.

His calls proceed ranging from “I can bring you home,” to drawn out “Hello’s,” but to each one you ignored. Your feet continue to carry you but at a much faster pace than before. The only thing you can think in this moment is where the hell is anyone to witness this.

Soon, you are near the local hiker trail of your town, your head still tucked down at your feet as you peel away from the side walk and cut towards the path. Now you were stepping on dry leaves with your heart pounding through your ears, you let your head twist around swiftly to where you see Harry’s coupe.

Windows up and blowing smoke in the air as it was parked against the curb. At that point you begin to jog lightly through the forest; boots breaking sticks and hands swishing by your side as you tried to navigate where you go from there. It wasn’t normal for you to take this path home, you always stick to your usual route but now there was an obstacle in your way.

Chest heaving and heart beating uncontrollably, you kept turning your head around to see if he was still even following you. Maybe you were actually going crazy thinking that the Harry Styles would be following you just because you declined a ride home from him but, just as you twist your head around to look in front of you, you immediately bump into a warm chest, eyes peering up and locking with his.

“Did you really think you could get away from me?” He questions, voice slow as he steps closer to you, making you take one back. A smirk rests on Harry’s lips, arms linking together with the smell of his scent filling your nose.

The only thing you could do was stare, you were not expecting Harry to be standing in front of you right now. Where did he even come from and how could you not have heard him. Now your chest was pinching with pains as your nerves were driving you up the wall.

“I asked you a question.” Harry states. Lips in a line as he took another step towards you.

“I—I don’t need a ride home,” You mutter, fingers going to the ends of your black skirt as you feel over the pantyhose there.

“That wasn’t the question.” He says, hand now tearing away from him and gripping your elbow. That only makes a gasp slip from your lips and eyes bulge.

“Let go of me,” You mutter, trying to break free from his hold but that only makes him apply more pressure.

“Answer my question,” Harry insists, the strength he has on your arm pulling you closer into his chest.

You swallow once again, the wetness between your legs already beginning to flood your panties as you try to not break character. You bite down on your bottom lip, eyes flickering between the sliver zippers on his jacket to his olive globes.

“Yes.” You say calmly, the trees rustling as the sky begins to fade to grey.

The heat of Harry’s palm is welcomed across your cheek, his hand tearing away from your elbow and gripping your hair as he tugs your head back to look at you with a grin on his face. You bit down harder on your bottom lip to try and suppress yourself. Your hands move away from your skirt and hold onto Harry’s biceps, your eyes peering up at him through your mascara coated lashes as you gently try to push him off you.

“Let go,” You cry, only making the grip he has in your hair tighten as he tugs your head down. A hiss leaving your lips making your eyes flutter.

“What are you gonna do about it? Huh?” Harry smirks, pulling your hair again and that makes your eyes close and a painful moan escape. The feeling of your head throbbing as his fingers toy with the hairs, it had your thighs pressing together and teeth going back to dig in the flesh.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” He mutters, eyes searching for any hesitation. Fuck you were so turned on, the way he can be aggressive with you one second to loving the next.

One night after Harry snuck through your window, with shared spliff between the both of you following a heated make out session, he somehow manage to get you to confess to one of your most intimate desires. He agreed to do it however, only on his terms; which only made you grow with excitement because you never knew when he would play along to your fantasy. So, when you opted to act clueless to him and he encouraged the idea that you both don’t know each other you knew what was about to happen, and that made your heat throb between your legs.

“Yes,” You whimper, lips immediately welcomed with Harry’s, the taste of mint burning on yours. You moan immediately, hands relaxing against Harry’s arms as you let yourself get wrapped up in him.

One of his hands fall from your hair to roam down your back and cup your ass, pushing him deeper into you and welcoming you into his warmth. His other hand ran down the nape of your neck to hug the skin there, tongues twisting around each other as you submit yourself fully to him. Harry’s scent fills your nose, just the smell of his cologne alone had your knees bending in weakness. You couldn’t help how aroused you are, the feeling of his growing member pressing against you only reassures you that he wants this too.

“On your knees.” He commands, tearing away from your lips. Fingers now lace in your hair as you let your legs squat down and look up at him, your hands falling to his hips and running over his thick bulge.

Black nails fumble over each other as you undo his belt and relieve him, tongue running over your bottom lip looking at hard he is; angry veins running along the base to tip varying in size, you take one of your hands off your hip and let it dip between your thighs, the way his cock looks in front of you made you want to come from the sight.

“Hmph,” You hum, when you feel Harry’s hand tug your hair back to make you peer up at him, his face cold with lips glistening with the mixture of you both.

“Did I say you can touch yourself?” He asks, only making you shake your head slightly. This causes him to yank your head again. “I asked a question.” He stated, voice strong and raw. God, you wanted him to fuck you right there.

“No,” You say, hand tearing away from your thighs and going to fall to his pelvic bone, your other messaging his thigh.

“Good girl,” Harry hums, his fingers relaxing and massaging your scalp as you lean forward. Hands going to the base of his shaft as your tongue dips out of your mouth and runs over the slit of his head, licking over the dip before letting your lips suckle his crown.

Saliva coats your lips, sinking deeper and deeper until you find a good rhythm, head slightly bobbing while feeling him stretch your throat with each flex. Harry’s left hand welcomes itself on your cheek, letting himself have a grip over your mouth and making his hips rock into you. You halt your movements, eyes fluttering up to look up at him as he delve into your throat, lips spreading around his thick member letting him thrust into you.

“Gonna be a good girl for me,” Harry says, eyes hooded and fingers tensing against your jaw, making you moan as you tear away from him.

“Yes,” You breathe out looking up at him, hands going to the base of his shaft and running over the coated member. He looks so sexy staring down at you; hair framing his face, teeth tucked on top the skin of his lips while he focuses on tearing your throat apart just the way you want.

Your response causes him use to use the grip he has on your jaw to make you lean forward and welcome him into your mouth once again, hand now massaging whatever you can’t fit while the other ran up and down his clothed thigh.

The sound of Harry’s dick rocking into your throat fills your ears as tears begin to swell your waterline, the thickness of him down your throat only making it ache as he halts his hips, fingers holding you still as he shoves himself down, his waist halting as you take him all the way.

You watch his head knock back and the fingers in your hair relax, a sigh of relief escapes him. He holds you like that for what felt like two minutes until he pulls his hips back, a deep breath drawing from you before he’s rocking into you like that four more times and you feel your throat burn from the stretch.

A pleasant hum leaves your ruined throat as Harry pulls himself away from you, letting a trail of saliva link between your lips and his cock. “Look so perfect like this,” Harry sighs, hand slipping from your hair and wiping the string of spit.

You blink up at him, holding back tears as you feel your throat burn in pleasure. You were afraid if you spoke it would come out as a squeal, so instead you bite down on your swollen lip at the piece of thickness in front of you, glistening in your fluid.

Harry watches your gaze go to his cock, a smirk now adoring his features. His grip on your jaw releases and goes to your shoulders, bringing you back to stand up, his hands now falling to your hips and turning you around to shove you against the dried out stream that had trees framing it with others further back. It makes more privacy for the area because of the hanging branches.

Your feet stumble over the loose rocks, while your chest presses against the old tree. Harry’s hands feel your backside in his grip before taking your skirt in hand and peeling it over the flesh. His fingers immediately going to your stockings, ripping the material causing you to let out a small gasp when you feel the cool air hit your bottom.

“Fuck… Look at you,” He whispers, his hands going to your lace panties and pressing his fingers against your heat, the cold metal from his rings erupts a broken moan to escape your lips. Three fingers rub against you, playing with your clit, making the wet spot you were squatting in spread against your folds.

“Baby,” You cry, voice raw and raspy, it basically pained you to talk. Your nails dig into the dry lumber as you push your hips back.

That lands a hard smack to your cheeks, a whimper now leaving you and eyes fluttering shut. All you want was Harry to fuck you till you see stars; you want him to fill you up so bad you will be walking funny tomorrow.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl,” Harry hums, the feeling of his hand spreads against your red cheeks were he places three more strikes on your flesh, heavy and painful due to the added feeling of the rings on his fingers. His chest against your back, member aligned with your heat and rubbing against you, making your head knock against the tree.

“Baby,” You moan, voice small as you feel his breath against your ear. Your eyes open as you prop your foot against the stump. Your backside sinking back and nearly making the head of his dick enter you.

“Want me so bad, don’t you?” Harry questions. Running himself between your dripping folds which only has you arching your back into him. You nod your head silently, eyes turning to see the position you’re in. Harry was completely towering over you, hips parallel with yours as his lips were warm against the skin behind your ear.

“Talk to me love,” He breathes into you, making you whimper and push yourself down onto him more. The head of his dick rubbing against your clit and sending pleasure up your legs. “Beg for me.” He continues into your ear, making your heart pound in your chest. You were so turned on, you want nothing more than for him to fill your walls.

“Please, H. Please let me feel you,” You mumble, left hand tearing away from the wood and skimming against his neck to run into his hair. “Please baby… Been so good to you.” Mutter dazedly, hips gently rocking against his movements.

That makes Harry hum, the noise vibrating against the skin of your neck as you feel him draw away from you and let his head breach your hole. Your tongue escaping your mouth to wet your lips as you feel him push into you, spreading your pussy blissfully as he sinks into your dripping heat.

“Mhm my good little girl.” Harry mumbles into your ear, hips meeting your backside only to draw back to dive into you again.

A raspy cry escapes you, the euphoric feeling of him filling you up just where you loved him the most. Your walls welcome him home as he picks up his motions, his lips burning into your skin as he buries himself in you with each thrust. The sound of your whimpers and torn moans was met with the wetness between your legs.

Your pussy throbs with the feeling of him diving into you, the fluid running down your inner thighs making you feel as if you were underwater. Harry’s dick continues thrusting into you so forcibly that it had you curling your fingers into his hair and into the flaking cracks of the tree.

“You love the way I fuck you.” Harry urges, his hand leaving your hip and wrapping around your throat, the feeling of his rings digging into the skin as he squeezed. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

“Yes,” You mutter, your legs slightly quivering from your pussy going sore due to how hard Harry is pounding into you.

“Wanted to be fuck like this all along, huh,” He eggs on, voice so deep in your ear it was if he was your conscience. That had you biting down on your bottom lip, your eyes barely peel open to look at the broken twigs in your vision bouncing from Harry’s movements behind you. The feeling of your oxygen being slowly cut off from the stern hold he has on your neck.

“Dirty girl,” He teases, the hand on your hip shoving your back down on him with each thrust. “Wanted to be my slut for tonight,” The name he gives making you moan, and causing your legs to shiver once again.

“Yes, all yours,” You moan breathlessly, your pussy throbbing with the bubbling feeling in your stomach as your back dips down even more to accept the feeling of Harry spreading you apart.

“My good little slut.” Harry hums. You whine as his pace continues, eyes begin to flutter from the lack of air and your climax climbing up your spine.

The intense burning sensation in your stomach causes your hands to grow with sweat as he never slows down his movements, the way he was in you and whispering how dirty you are for getting off to this has your mind in a warp. It felt so good to get the fantasy that you always held in the back of your mind to finally come undone before you.

The fact he pretended to know who you were, yet continued to bother you until he had you vulnerable, you were so turned on playing back the moment of him slapping you and tugging on your hair for playing dumb to him. Just those thoughts had you expelling more wetness out of you and tug Harry’s head deeper into your skin.

He’s thrusting into you roughly as the sunsets along you both with the trees covering your sweaty clothed bodies. “So sexy,” Harry breathes into your skin, his nose brushing up against the back of your neck as the grip on your throat never loosens.

“Fuck,” You choke, vision going blurry as you felt the spit in your throat go down achingly slow.

The pulsing feeling in your clit draws up your spine and makes your toes curl in your boots, knees going weak but Harry didn’t stop his restless movements. Your lungs hammer in your chest, begging for an inch of oxygen as your pussy is drips with your sweet mixture. Your high taking over your nerves and releasing yourself all over him.

The hold Harry has on your neck relieves its grip while the one that forces your hips down was now wrap around you; lifting you into his chest as he keeps on going. Lips still pressing against your hot skin, breath blowing the tiny hairs there while the hand you have in his curls in lets go and falls into the wood.

“God you feel so good,” He rasps in your ear, the foot you had on the stump slipping and making your chest completely lean into the tree now, back meeting his thrusts even more.

The feeling overcoming your climax had you in a complete frenzy, your legs quivering as whimpers and the sound of the wetness emerging from your pussy fills your ears, your eyes begging to close but with each lunge of Harry hips they were jerking back open. Your sight being met with the darkness of the sky and the bunched up leaves by your feet.

“Love fucking your pussy,” Harry grunts, his hand leaving your throat to grip your hair in his hands and tug your head back. A whine tears through your throat, head now looking up at the natural cravings into the tree as the feeling of his hips begin to slow down.

Wet kisses press down your neck as the feeling of him draws out of you before seeping back in, the grasp he has on your hair relaxing as he begins to massage your scalp, his movements of his rolling hips slow until his seed is sinking into you.

It makes Harry groan, his hand turning your head and locking your lips together, the taste of him on your tongue as you drink him in. His hips meeting yours sluggishly until he pulls out of you, his member leaving your sore pussy and letting the fluid of you both spill out. You sigh out from the feeling of his thickness leaving and the mixture running down your ripped up stockings.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Harry breathes against your lips. The hand he has on your hip slips between your folds and catches the fluid between his two fingers, bringing them to your face.

Your focus goes to them and licks the substance off, tongue twisting between each digit to get every drop.

“My dirty girl,” Harry rasps, his lips sinking back onto yours to taste you both.

The pounding in your chest subsides, your fingers releasing the strong hold they had against the wood as you lean into his touch. The once muffled noise in your ears welcomes the sound of Harry’s jacket jingling.

The bubbling feeling of excitement from your accomplishment tingles your ears and lets a smirk tear and break the kiss. It makes faint one run along his, two fingers that are clean from your tongue holding your jaw with the same grip he had when he was ruining your throat.

“What?”

“If you can do this, I’m sure you’re up for the other fantasies I have…”

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #smuttyaf #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #hs #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fandom #harry styles fic rec #dark harry styles #harry styles kink #harry styles one shots #harry styles dominate

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badasgirlfriend · 9 months

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DARK SLYTHERIN HARRY X READER OR OC IDC WHEN???? WHERE HES FRIEND W DRACO TOO

#harry potter #harry james potter #gryffindor #dark harry potter #slytherin #harry potter fanfiction #harrypotter fic #harry potter x oc #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic rec #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts #fanfic idea

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a-sunset-outside-my-window · 3 months

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fic rec friday

Things that are not covered in the absolutely USELESS parenting books that Sirius Black, recently freed from Azkaban and new guardian of Harry James Potter, bought in a recent panic:

- How to balance parenting and wooing the hot Dark Magic Exterminator from Lupin & Co that you hired to clear out your parents’ creepy townhouse

- How to convince your five-year-old that the basilisk, boggart and ghoul you planted in the house so said hot exterminator would have to keep coming back are not, in fact, his new best friends

- How to walk your child’s pet basilisk (when you inevitably fail).

Today fic by OptimisticDinosaur is absolutely just vibes and happy thoughts! It's a very fluffy one-shot fic with a tiny sequel and it's so lovely.

Favourite tropes included are:

•Remus Lupin never went to Hogwarts

•Harry is beeing raised by Sirius

•idiots falling in love

•Harry gets a snake!!

I feel like this fic is me making up for the somewhat angsty fics I have recommended lately, so do with that what you will.

As always, give lots of love and kudos to the author and have an amazing rest of the week.

#ao3 #marauders #fic rec friday #marauders fic rec #wolfstar fic #fix it fic #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #Remus lupin never went to Hogwarts #He is a dark magic exterminator now #sirius raising harry #remus raises harry #wolfstar raising harry #Regulus is there too everyone #harry potter has a snake #And he is very cute

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aethon-recs · 11 months

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Hi! Do you take asks? I really like the idea of a tomarry fanfic with a crazy harry like Bellatrix crazy, maybe even being a follower of Voldemort. If you don't have any recs on this just ignore it. <3

Oh hi, yes, I absolutely love this theme/trope. Give me Harry with the crazy eyes, give me Harry with a vicious grin and blood dripping out from between his teeth, give me a feral little gremlin boy who’s been pushed to his limits — and who then decides to push back.

And then paired with Voldemort? A match made in heaven ♡

Tomarrymort Recs with Unhinged/Dark Harry

Again and Again by Athy (M, 335k, WIP)

Harry is on his 12th reincarnation of his same old life, and he can’t figure out a way to break the cycle. By now, he’s become a jaded, bitter, and tired wizard who just wants to die. But in this life, he befriends Voldemort and is given a chance to learn how to live.

As Portioned from a Whole by @cannibalinc (E, 24k, WIP)

In which Lord Voldemort undermines the Prophecy and raises the infant Harry Potter as His; in all aspects.

Bitumen by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 32k, WIP)

Harry finds out the hard way that dementors can’t digest horcruxes. Now separated from his body, his best option is to seek out a similar soul for help, who just so happens to be the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Damaged by @duplicitywrites (E, 26k, WIP)

All his life, Harry has been beaten and bullied—both at home and at school. New student Tom Riddle is handsome, charming, and dangerous. Harry has all the reasons in the world to stay far, far away from him. But he doesn’t.

Descent into Darkness (part 1) / Breeding Darkness (part 2) by Athy (E, 496k, WIP)

Everyone has abandoned Harry when his name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, and he feels utterly alone. Through an accident, Harry and the piece of Voldemort's soul that resides inside him begin to interact, and Harry slowly begins to change. (Note: this fic and its sequel are no longer available on AO3, but it is possible to still find it via Google.)

From Every Ruin by @officialsporkintheroad (M, 5k, complete)

Harry dies during the final battle with Voldemort, but instead of going back to the battle, he wakes up back in the graveyard in his 4th year. Confused with everything, Harry dies, only to wake up at the graveyard again. And again. And again.

Hell is Your Son from Another Dimension by @wynnefic (T, 28k, complete)

A desperate Order of the Phoenix turns to an alternate dimension to summon a hero who has the power to defeat Voldemort. They do get Harry Potter from another dimension, but it’s not entirely who they expect.

nothing left to lose by @cindle-writes (E, 11k, complete)

After the war, what Harry wants more than anything is Tom’s soul piece back inside of him. He goes to desperate measures to attain it.

Painted in Grey by @louveclaviere (M, 34k, WIP)

In a world where Harry Potter is born a few years after Tom Riddle, he becomes Lord Voldemort's most trusted general.

The Foul (part 1) / The Great (part 2) by @meles-merrivale (M, 24k, complete)

Harry travels back in time — very far back in time — and ends up in the Dark Ages. He confronts the worst combination of immortality, fate, and time travel paradoxes.

The Left Words by authoresswithoutwords (M, 235k, complete)

When Harry starts Hogwarts, he finds out that the “Avada Kedavra” on his left wrist means the Dark Lord Voldemort is his soulmate. He hides the words so that no one can see, but he doesn’t become any less of an outcast.

Uncrowned by OatMilkLatte (M, 104k, WIP)

A war between magic and muggles destroys everything that Harry had ever known and loved. He travels back in time to prevent the war, stopping at nothing to carry out his vengeance.

we who walk in shadows black by @evandarandahalf (M, 4k, complete)

In which Harry Potter is a vicious little gremlin who mysteriously knows too much, and Lord Voldemort adores him for it.

#tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #dark harry potter

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victoria-styles · 2 years

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Can you share some really dark Harry fics? Or ones you’ve not mentioned yet?

I’ll post ALL the dark smut fics I have.

Mint Chocolate Chip

How to Get Out of a Ticket

The Forbidden

The Doctor and the Psychopath

Forgive Me, Father

Right Under Your Nose

The Kidnapper

Lights Out

Forbidden

Fine Line

Young

The Devil’s Highway

Getaway Car (3 Chapters)

Don’t be shy to ask me for fic recommendations! I’ve got over 300 Harry Styles smut fics bookmarked.

#victoria styles #smut #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles filth #dark!harry styles #dark smut #dark harry styles #harry styles x reader smut #fic rec #harry styles fic rec #answered anon #anon #send asks #ask me anything

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therealhousewifeofharrystyles · 8 months

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👰🏼‍♀️Mrs. Styles’ Masterlist📜

🔞= Smut // ⚠️= Taboo // 🎭= Angst // 💕= Fluff

Whatcha Doin', Step Bro?(Finished…?)

WDSB - Prequel 🔞⚠️💕

WDSB - Part 1 🔞⚠️

WDSB - Part 2 🔞⚠️💕

Harry's Home

HH - Part 1 🎭💕⚠️

HH - Part 2 🎭💕🔞⚠️

HH - Part 3 🎭🔞⚠️

HH - Part 4 🎭💕🔞⚠️

Oneshots

Berries & Cream 🔞⚠️

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andithiel · 7 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Aaaah omg thank you for this ask my dear friend 🥹 I loved your list (found here). I did this 1,5 years ago (that list can be found here) and I didn’t want to repeat myself so I’m going to go with stuff that I’ve written since (as if that would make it easier) *cries in ambivalence*

Sweet Desire (Scorbus, just short of 6k, rated E, first person POV) I wrote this for last year's next gen fest. I was in a major writing slump and couldn't find any inspiration until I found the prompt "first time oral sex" and for some reason that inspired me. I had so much fun trying to convey that giddy teenage trying new things together in a trusting relationship, and I hope I pulled it off. Scorbus is pretty tricky for me to write but I really enjoyed spending time with these two lovebirds.

Sinking/Floating (Drarry, 963 words, rated T, second person POV) This was also something that made something click in me when I saw the lovely imovie of @bluebutter-art 's amazing fanart So rest your weary heart with me. I wanted to convey the same feeling I got when looking at Blue's art, and it took me a while to get there but I'm still very proud of how it came out.

Take that ride (Drarry, 1,6k, rated T) Inspired by Dance to this with Troye Sivan and Ariana Grande. I tried to capture the feeling of the song and include some of the elements in it, and tried to focus on the sensory despcriptions (which is something I tend to forget when writing), and I think it's one of the things I'm most proud of.

Let me show you (Drarry, 556 words, it's only on tumblr but I guess I'd rate it T) Sometimes inspiration just hits. You go about your daily chores and thinks about the fuck or die trope and then BAM! You need to write a 500 word drabble about mutual pining and Draco heroically chasing down Harry to offer his services.

microfic for the prompt "Truth or dare" for last year's flufftober I'm just super happy and proud that I managed to get this amount of story into 50 words, go me!

#fic author's self rec #drarry #scorbus #andithielwrites #it *was* a bit easier to chose this time since it was more limited #but i still miss some #like the secret language of flowers based on the 'fuck you' bouquet #or the 8th year fwb secret relationship dark mark disappearing fic i wrote for sassy #or harry being ridiculous on valentine's day and gifting draco a card with his face in harry's bum #oh well #this was fun anyway!

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omg-hellgirl · 1 year

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pls recommend more tomione fanfics 🙏🏻 I devoured all your latest recs

I'm glad you liked it! Those were definitely top, but the ones I'm going to put here are too! You guys can find the lastest ones cited by anon here.

White Rabbit by Kamsu (fav one)

The Girl in the Tower by @nauticalparamour

The Fall by nimbus2003

Hands by mimosabrunch

"No one has to know." by Caroonte01

Empathic Seduction by NerysDax

Accio Tampon by Dark-Taboo Author (dhazellouise)

I swear each one of them is worth your time. I love them, they are wonderful and the first three are grey! or dark!hermione.

#tom riddle #tom riddle fic #tomione #tom riddle x hermione granger #tom marvolo riddle #harrypotter #harry potter #hermione fic #hermione granger #tomione fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fanfic rec #dark hermione #lord voldemort #the dark lord

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harrysonlylover · 9 months

Text

Checkmate ( Part 1)

Summary: Two rival assassins are sent out to complete a mission during which they bump into each other. Questions will be asked, and history will make an appearance.

So dear reader,grab your mask and summon your sharp wit.

Trope: Assassin! H / LHH

Warnings: mentions of knives, guns, violence, blood, physical fight.

Wc: 10.5k

A/n: why not…? I love Darkrry, so enjoy. @keepdrivingkisses sent me a video of Mr & Mrs Smith and then i got to work hehe!!!

Main Masterlist

Author’s POV

The truth is you’re going to die.

It doesn’t matter if your life flashed before your eyes, if the sky was dark and cloudy, or if it was predictable because you spilled your coffee that morning.

Death could happen in the most bizarre ways, on the train home, while you’re asleep, or even sitting peacefully at home. It is inevitable and once it is decided there is no going back.

Although it arrives suddenly, without warning or a chance to bid your loved ones goodbye, it can also be planned, calculated and you very much would be aware.

In this case, you would be someone known and a threat to someone else with a reputation. Usually, bodyguards will flood your houses, follow your every step, and hire security teams.

Once your head has a price, you will be found.

The how’s and why’s are irrelevant, what is asked for will be done discreetly and without catching attention from the wrong people. This job is not for the FBI or even some counterintelligence agency. In fact, they’re the ones who are not supposed to ask questions.

Assassins have been feared since monarchy days, the number of kings or descendants that died at the hands of an assassin is countless. It remains to this day, the most efficient way to eliminate someone that harms your good.

Thankfully, not everyone can order assassins around or even have their contact, but don’t forget that they are normal people, with normal lives and you could sit down for a coffee with one of them while they clean the blood off their hands at night.

This isn’t about who’s the target, because they will die anyways. This is the story of two assassins, that you better watch your back from, and maybe lock your doors really well.

Never mind, I wasted your time. They will find you.

3rd Person POV:

The rain poured down heavily, hitting the pavement with loud thuds enough to make both the living, and the dead uncomfortable. The weather has been holding some tension for a few days now, so the wrath of Zeus is hardly a surprise.

It will remain this way for a while; the children will run home ready to hide in the safety of their warm nests, drink the hot chocolate their parents prepared, and hug their plushies at night, not forgetting to shudder slightly with every thunder.

The adults will let out a sigh of relief and use it as an excuse to call in sick from their miserable job, perhaps surrender to a movie night with a cheap bottle of wine.

Rain is an accomplice in murder. Once it appears, normal human beings will cocoon themselves in the safety of their homes. As for others, well they do anything but stay at home.

In a hotel room, in the heart of Paris, a girl is pacing around and quietly unpacking her suitcase, which is oddly lightweight. There are only a few people who pack light.

The white duvet is untouched, with no hints of any wrinkle. She had just arrived, and she knows better than to rest or even lay her head. Rest is for the weak.

The first thing she spotted when she unlocked the room is the crimson red object, perhaps not with her eyes but you could call it a sixth sense. She didn’t give it much attention nor grab the tightly sealed card next to it. Instead, she let out her towel from the suitcase and headed toward the bathroom.

The water must always be lukewarm. A hint of warmness to relieve her muscles, and a bit of coldness for the sting and maybe to increase her blood flow.

She doesn’t stare at the mirror for long, they are quite useless. Glass is unnecessary and merely a distraction method. She knows quite well that she is magnificent, and the validation will always be provided by her, not a man nor a patriarchal object.

The nature of her job rendered her to remain fit and lean, working out is the only routine that could never be altered from her schedule. Though, this isn’t the reason she adores her body. It’d be the same for her whether she was curvy or slim. She simply doesn’t give a fuck.

Fortunately, a loser of a man once crossed her path in a bar and was on a date with a plus-size woman. She happened to sit near them and they seemed to be hitting it off until the (might she add gorgeous) woman took a bathroom break, in which he found the opportunity to call his best mate and tell him how ‘ugly she is’ and that he ‘doesn’t date these types.

She was feeling good that night, so she decided to be kind and was satisfied by pouring a very small amount of potassium monoxide into his drink. She didn’t stay enough to know what happened, neither did she care. However, she did make sure to set up a nice date for the girl.

She smirked proudly at the memory as she walked nude toward the bed and began applying her rose lotion. Having to constantly travel and move locations did not stop her from indulging in self-care or pampering herself with luxurious products. After all, the money she gets already bought her a house and a car, so why not splurge?

After a quick stretch, applying hair oil, and styling it she finally shifts her attention to the item hung on a closet that she won’t use, along with the white envelope lying next to it, and the message she received on her burner phone which she heard its chime even whilst being under the water.

The hanger held a long silk dress, burning crimson red and showcasing the collarbone area with an unnoticeable slit near the thigh. It was obvious that it was made of real silk paired with matching crimson satin heels, and both items originating from Prada. Although it is a silk dress, it does not hug her body, nor fits a party. Instead, it is quite baggy and for a formal occasion. Just next to the discarded envelope, a red mask with feathers is placed.

She reached for the envelope and revealed the letter designated for her.

The blood will trail crimson red

Unbeknownst to my guests

In spring, poppies will spread

So come here and catch heads

She couldn’t help but allow the corners of her mouth to twitch. Her boss has always been extra, but she’s tolerated him for years. She burns the letter and then checks the content of the text he left.

1st Arrondissement, Place Vendôme

8:00 PM. Will send the location in an hour.

You know your target.

She sat down and ate her Salmon with Brussels quietly watching the clock tick loudly as it strikes 6:00 PM. The rain is tainting the windows and the echo of the thunder lingers even with the glass being shut.

Her eyes focus on the rain droplets sliding down the window and she wonders if it will persist for two more hours.

If it does, it’d be better to stay home and not wander around in the streets. Poppies are deadly.

Paris, 7:30 PM

After her quick dinner, she had enough time to kill, literally.

She unpacked her special bag and followed through with her routine that must always be done before every job. Her collection of knives was staring at her, their shiny metal mirroring her face.

She was still standing in her corset and panties. She abandoned bralettes ages ago and opted for corsets to form some sort of protection on her chest area, they also don’t bother her like bralettes did.

As for her underwear, it was a gift from one of her old female bosses.

‘Men are predictable and always aim for your panties, so do let them touch’

The fabric was made to specifically hold a heavy object but without grazing her skin. She has to admit how smart of a move it is to create such clothing. Her stiletto knife always accompanied her right in her lace underwear.

But one is never enough for her, a garter belt on her thigh will have to do, she can’t risk placing it on the side where the slit in the dress could reveal it. So she opts for her right thigh and tightly secures two push daggers in it.

She wore her custom dress quite quickly, along with the satin heels but her bag was still staring at her. Maybe a gun wouldn’t hurt? For fun?

Thankfully, she always lubricates and cleans her guns after the mission, so she doesn’t have to waste time before one just to clean it up. She placed a cartridge at the top then pushed it down and back and inserted the top of the magazine into the magazine well at the bottom of the frame with the bullets facing forward, then pushed upward until the magazine is fully seated.

A click sound was heard, and it was more satisfying than the screams of her targets. She put the safety on and then stuffed the gun in her corset, making sure it was in an easy-access position.

Her hair was already styled right after her shower, but she decided to go for a smoky eye look with dark red lipgloss. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know how pretty she is.

If only looks could kill.

She locked the lower layer of her case that carries her equipment with the code panel that is barely noticeable and covered it with the top layer having luxurious makeup (with maybe some of it being equipment disguised as beauty products). She locked the bag overall and placed it in a cupboard that hotel workers probably don’t even know of, but these are the perks of being trained to observe.

She checked the burner phone for the location and cursed the dress code that is stopping her from going there using a motorcycle. She took the feather mask and placed the burner phone in the pocket of the dress before leaving her room and locking it well.

Place Vendôme , 8:15 PM.

As soon as her heels set foot in the spacious vintage venue, she deleted the location text from her burner phone and wrapped the ribbons of the feather mask around her head. She arrived at exactly 8 PM, her professionalism allows nothing less.

However, her impatience does have something to say about the delay of her mission. According to the file she studied before her arrival in Paris, her target is a businessman called Arthur Lorray. She closed her eyes allowing her visual memory to take over, to recall her target’s info. Her mind focuses sharply on the document she memorized back in Amsterdam.

Arthur Lorray, 58 years old, Male, American, blue eyes, scar on his left cheek, 5’9 feet tall, 90 kgs, can be found around a group of women.

Mission: lure the target to a safe quiet place and eliminate him then use the window to escape.

Murder witnesses if found and leave no trace behind.

Payment: 2 million $

Her boss left her this information in a sealed file while staying at a hotel in Amsterdam, Henry is also a businessman and she never asked why he is demanding the death of these people. She assumes it’s some men’s shit about power and authority.

Now, where does the issue lie?

Her target Arthur is nowhere to be found. The ball hasn’t even started yet, and now that she takes a good look around her it’s quite the event. She feels as if she stepped back in time to an 1800s-themed ball, all the women are dressed in fancy lace and feather gowns, with masks covering their faces. The men are wearing old suits with ruffles and weird-looking boots.

The chandelier is probably worth around 3 million $ alone, it’s decorated with shiny crystals that are reflecting on the marble tiles. The hall is spacious with high ceilings, and some of the walls hold a lantern with fire in it to convince the guests that they actually traveled in time.

The walls are adorned with luxurious gold leaves, and Renaissance paintings in the center of the ceiling with high columns as if built by the Romans. All these details provided the illusion of an imperial event unbeknownst to the guests that are mingling and grabbing one glass of champagne after the other.

In the middle of the hall, a man is sitting on a leather bench slowly killing her ears by playing the piano as his friend plays the violin, if not for the violin player she’s pretty sure the first guy would’ve brought back the great depression era.

It is obvious that the guests are just starting to arrive, trying to find the people they know then giggle and complain about the masks. It is her job after all, and she must wait if it requires, but men tend to sit on her nerves.

She fetched a glass of Dom Pérignon, to appear as if she’s blending but she doesn’t drink on the job, nor does she like it in the first place.

It won’t be hard to detect her target, it is quite easy to spot a herd of businessmen and differentiate them from the normal middle class or at least non businessmen.

They would be gathered around each other like a stock of sheep, making misogynistic jokes with their hands wrapped around their newest arm candy. If Arthur already has a woman with him, it will make it harder for her but never impossible.

She could feel that a man is about to approach her for flirting, so she quickly walks the other way and roams the entire hall both in search of her target and to escape the company of a boring male.

She keeps her eyes on the guests and takes note of her boss that is standing near other businessmen. Now, of course, she will not approach him nor should she. In missions like these, her goal is to eliminate whom he asks for, it is a rarity that he requests protection.

He has bodyguards but she’d protect him if she must, however maintaining a distance and no contact is the preferred method.

The cold glass in her hand is starting to leak melting ice on her palm from how long she’s been holding on to it. She pretends to take a sip from it and discards it on a nearby table.

The hall is now beyond full and echoing with laughter and chatter, if Arthur did arrive it’ll take her more time to find him, and that she doesn’t have. She spots a staircase leading to a 2nd-floor balcony with the hall she’s in being the view.

She discreetly and innocently climbs up the stairs, paying attention to the two knives and one gun placed in sensitive areas. Once she finds a good location, her eyes behind the mask begin roaming the guests.

Albeit the loud chatter and obnoxious laughter, she was still able to pour her focus into the crowd. Her irises spotted a man with a physique the same as indicated in Arthur’s file, he shifted his face at just the right angle for her to catch the scar that the mask is barely able to hide.

Gotcha, she muttered under her breath.

She slowly and carefully went down the stairs and headed gracefully toward the eastern corner of the hall. Though there was some sort of feeling or even instinct that settled in her stomach. Her target was so close, but she felt as if something wasn’t right.

She stopped in her tracks and instead decreased her pace. There was something that she can’t pick up but at the same time, she can’t risk delaying her mission when she’s already got a hold of her person.

Assassins could never trust their instincts, but she never admitted to anyone the number of times her instincts had saved her.

‘Rule number fucking one: never do instinct bullshit. Assassins use their brain and skills unless you don’t plan on living for long.’

In situations like these, she’s reminded of her mentor’s words during her training as an amateur. She stops in her tracks once she catches a whiff of a dangerously familiar scent.

Tom Ford, tobacco vanille.

It could be the scent of any man here but combine it with her hunch and she’ll have a problem on her hands. She takes a deep breath and shifts her eyes to check that her target is still in place, and to see if there are any signs of trouble.

“Hey watch out!” Despite her quick reflexes, she barely turned around before a bulky man bumped into her, making her shift her body and stand in shock as the smell of the perfume intensified.

The man continued to walk without a care in the world, and if she doesn’t make him turn around, she’ll never have her peace of mind.

“Fucking dick! Do you have eyes?!” He stops in his tracks at her tone and quietly turns around tilting his head in annoyance.

His hair was long and shoulder length, his golden mask didn’t help in hiding his forest-green irises. He offered a hint of a smirk, and his eyes immediately drop to her forearm, right below her elbow, and fixate on her poppy tattoo.

Harry fucking Styles.

Her rival assassin, commonly known as Azrael; angel of death.

“I believe you were in my way, flower.” His voice was low but deep, enough to confirm her suspicions and make her body go on alert mode.

A red fucking code.

She begins walking backward, feeling uncomfortable with the situation. He started following her just as she turned around and walked the other way.

It is never a good sign to have another assassin present during a job, whether they’re sent for your target or another. But he isn’t just any assassin, the names Poppy and Azrael go way back.

Poppy started crafting a plan in her head and tried to come up with answers as she diverted him from her and lost him in the crowd. The only obstacle is that she’s one of the very few dressed in red. Mainly, the colors blue, gold, yellow, and dark green are the most prominent. Besides, this isn’t the first time she’s played hide and seek with him which motivates her to hide her tracks.

In situations like these, her boss becomes a priority. For all she knows, Azrael could be sent here to harm him. She fishes out her burner phone and quickly types a text message to Henry’s phone number.

Another is here, call your security team.

She watched as his facial expression changes once he read it, and she doesn’t linger long enough to check on her target. It could all be discussed later on, but the fact that an assassin is in the same room as her is a red fucking code, let alone being the most ruthless assassin with a reputation that precedes him.

Although it is not a smart move, she waited until Henry was escorted out of the building by two teams of security, not batting a lash at the murmurs of the crowd that only persisted for a few minutes before they got back to partying.

Her job here is done.

Arthur Lorray is still breathing, and she can’t help but feel her blood boil.

The thing about Assassins is that they’re solo ravens. They may have partners, but never anything other than an assassin. Knowing her nemesis she’d assume he’s alone. Now that her boss is no longer near him, she has nothing else to do.

But she can feel him, and her body is betraying her. She can sense his perfume, his smirk behind the mask, his curls brushing on his face, and she can certainly feel his presence behind her back.

“Checkmate Poppy.” He whispered in her ear causing a shiver to run down her spine. His hot breath was so close to her neck, prompting goosebumps to spread all over her skin.

She didn’t turn around, nor move an inch. His face was settling near her neck, with his mouth close to her earlobe. She remembered the instructions in her file and how she was supposed to escape through a window which makes her believe that it was an easy route. She eyed the staircase while turning her head backward gently to give him her death stare.

“Oh, how I’ve missed running after you.” He chuckled as he allowed his eyes to roam her angelic face.

Meanwhile, she had her eyes set on the waiter coming towards them with a tray of expensive champagne. She discreetly stepped on his long ridiculous coat making him fall forward and drop the tray on the ground, splashing Harry and some guests in the process.

It was her cue to escape, but he doesn’t want to let her go.

Just as her heels set forward, his hands followed by grabbing her arms and pulling her backward to his chest. “Sorry folks! My wife is a bit clumsy.” He sent them his charming smile making the women swoon and the men mutter under their breaths. With his hand tightly wrapped around her torso, he fished out a heavy stack of bills reaching up to thousands of dollars and gave it to the waiter before patting him on the back.

Poopy was fuming. She could escape if she wants to, and they both know that. Not by some silly distraction method or out of the window. For fucks sake she is one of the most requested assassins. Well, she and Harry are.

She’s not in danger, he wants to play his sick game of a cat chase just like he always did. She could aim at his weakest spots that she memorized, or even use her one of her push daggers to the side of his larynx and sever the carotid artery and jugular vein.

But she has to admit. She missed having someone to push her buttons and challenge her.

The crowd slowly dissipated and forgot all about the commotion the deadly pair caused. One thing about his grip is that it’ll leave marks, he was even covering her entire torso by just wrapping his arm around it. He’s trying not to think about how despite his physique, she can still beat his ass if she wants to.

So why resist Poppy Princess?

None of them had time to make any move. It’s a bit ironic to see the two most dangerous assassins get pushed to the middle of the hall because Mr. I can barely play the piano decided to announce a dance.

She should’ve killed him when she first entered, she thought.

“Oh darling reminds me of our honeymoon.” He mocked with a sick smile planted on his face. His sarcastic comments have begun and she’s not sure for how long she can handle him before shooting him in the leg, or even better his crotch.

It is quite a shock to see him after so long, there was always unfinished business between them. A grudge, a scar, or even something more. How would the guests act if they knew that they are in the presence of good old dangerous foes?

They were forced to put on a mask, different than the one they have on. Fleeing to an isolated place was not a choice, not when almost the entire hall gathered to dance with almost no space to leave. He was definitely not going to allow her to dance with someone else.

“Long time no see Azrael.” She finally spoke as they stood in position for the dance. They both bowed down to each other, not forgetting to raise their eyes and offer a sharp stare.

Their eye contact competition has started.

The annoying musicians began performing Waltz No.2 by Dmitri Shostakovich and it was everyone’s cue to commence waltzing. Poppy and Azrael held hands before standing next to each other as they extended their opposite legs, his left arm behind his back while she spread hers.

They then straightened their postures as she placed her left arm on his right one that is touching her shoulder blade while joining the opposite sides of their hands before beginning to sway to the right.

“I was indeed beginning to wonder where you’ve gone. I thought someone else earned the pleasure of killing you.” He replied to her previous comment as his eyes burned into hers from behind the mask.

“No, I can’t possibly die when I still didn’t kick you in your crotch.” He made her spin around with his hand before getting back to their position.

She can feel his touch burning deep into her skin and settling in, let alone the music that is intensifying, or his eyes that are not parting from her or looking out for bumping into the others.

“Oh please just say you want to take a look.” His voice didn’t have to be so raspy when he was basically in her face and attached to her.

They began swaying to the left, their feet in sync with each other as they danced in circles around the room while the symphony kept playing. It was legendary, only if some knew. A Dance with the two masters of death, as if they’re tiptoeing and having fun with others’ lives. A deadly rhythm indeed.

Their chemistry and deadly stares grins behind the mask, and body language would be enough to pull at the strings of the violin tearing it apart to shreds as they watch everything around them get destroyed except for them.

“How’s that scar I gave you?” She mused aiming to humor his sarcasm.

“Amazing. I look at it every day wondering when I can give you a similar one.” He tried not to chuckle recalling the scar on his rib that he maybe likes a bit too much.

“How about never?” She violated the rules of the waltz by getting dangerously close to his face just for her to whisper in his ear.

They changed their position as she extended her arm to the side of his neck and him to her waist before they danced around in a circle. They switched to the right and joined palms not tearing their eyes from each other.

“Why are you here Harry and how did you know where to find me?” She decided against digging her nails into his skin as they got back to the previous dancing posture.

“I can find you when I want to.” He replied providing her with both a truth and a lie. He really can find her if he wishes to and so can she. He fought the urge to do so many times just to see her pissed off. However, he had no idea that she’ll be here. He just came here for his mission.

He makes her spin one more time before claiming his tight grip on her. He can see the confusion and anger in her eyes, how she was trying to pull information out of him but if anything he knew since the moment he laid his eyes on the deadly flower that trouble is in this very room.

“Oh, so you want to play this game, Harry? Like old times?” She sneered making him let out a chuckle at her fierceness that he always admired.

The music piece was now nearing the end and it’s such a shame they didn’t get to properly indulge in the dance, except that if they did some tables might get wrecked and they’d leave with bruises just like always.

“What was the score? Refresh my memory petal.”

“Who’s counting? We did a number on each other, it’s time for another game.” She didn’t elaborate any further and instead bowed down one last time like all the dancers in the room before leaving the hall and bumping into his shoulder.

He glanced behind him and saw her taking the stairs as she turned around to give him her deadly stare that he knows even if she has a mask on. She was not running away from him nor hiding.

It was an invitation.

With a proud grin on his face, his legs instantly followed her persisting fragrance immune to the women attempting to ask him for a dance or a chat . His eyes were set forward, not blinking nor angling his head an inch.

The second floor was empty and discarded as if it was left especially for the two of them. He strolled nonchalantly eyeing the closed doors for a tiny gap, her perfume became stuck to his clothes and hair as if it were aiming to distract him from her.

“Come out wherever you are Poppy, let’s have some fun.” His voice echoed in the empty corridor as he continued to look for evidence of her presence.

Even the deadliest assassins leave trails, it depends on whether it was intentional or not.

His eyes landed on a red feather delicately resting on the marble tiles near a slightly open door. Was it an invitation or a clumsiness on her part?

His hand itches as it slowly pushes the door eliciting a loud squeak due to the age of the wood. The light is dim inside the room, but it is enough to display the magnificent interior. The walls are similar to the ones downstairs but with more gold, and the room is free of furniture except for the occasional flower vase or antique sword.

He barely takes one more step before his body is pushed against the nearest wall with a knife positioned at his throat. Her perfume is making him dizzy in a new way, and he should know better than to fall into her mouse trap that easily.

But in these moments, he wasn’t Azrael the ruthless assassin. He was just Harry.

“Really Poppy? From behind the door?” He let out a deep chuckle that she felt go through her body as the only thing separating them now is her sharp stiletto knife.

“I want my answers and I’m going to get them.” There was no hint of sarcasm in her tone nor humor.

The sharp edge of the knife is digging into his neck, one tiny shift and she’ll draw blood and he smirks at the thought. Little minx.

Her mask is now gone and he’s not sure if that’s good or bad, but what he can do is stare at her eyes as if she has some sort of magic like a siren. The surprising news is that he’s doing the same. His irises are just so different when the light is dim as if they need to shine more or grow darker.

One of them needs to make a move, and it’s Harry’s turn to move the chess piece.

It happens so quickly that it manages to shock them both. He blocks the knife with his palm allowing it to barely penetrate his skin and draw a small amount of blood then throws it to the ground as it lets out a loud thud.

He turns her body around locking a tight arm around her waist and searches for any other weapons she might carry. He pats her instead of letting his hand wander around her skin until he’s met with something on her thigh.

“You brought knives to a gunfight?” He tsked breaking his tough façade, switching to his cocky personality.

“I like it messy. Now what are you doing here?” She gritted through her teeth as she was visibly angry. Harry was more interested in the way her chest is rising and falling, it was so intriguing to watch especially when he usually does it before stopping the rising. But her. He could get paid to watch it.

“We could stay like this all night. Never minded some fun with knives.” His threat is verbal and reassures her that he will not let down his guard.

The tension here does not lie just between two assassins who are curious as to why they’re found in the same room, but also in their history of banter, chasing, and the sexual tension that lingered as their shadow.

Poppy’s chess piece moves.

She uses her heels to press on his crotch earning a pained wince from his lips, it was almost like a moan going right into her ear. His grip gets loose around her waist as she pushes his body away and heads towards her beloved knife that is discarded in the center of the room.

She can feel him about to approach her as she picks up her knife so she reaches for one of the push daggers from her garter and aims it in his direction without looking. She had to check on her knife after all. Priorities?

When she finally raises her head and takes a look, her eyes fall on his figure pinned to the wall due to her push dagger that penetrated his suit and cut off a piece of fabric and some of his chocolate hair.

He’s smirking as if she didn’t just risk his life, he finds it quite amusing. The hair strands and fabric fall to the ground as he twists the push dagger between his fingers while strolling toward her.

“You like it messy Poppy, don’t you? I’ll give you messy.” His tone was dark and threatening but it’s nothing she can’t handle.

He hides the dagger in his pocket and takes off his ripped jacket discarding it to the ground. They stand facing each other like two chess pieces. The Rook and the Queen.

“I’m not leaving here until I get my answers.” She warned as they both moved around in a circle eyeing the other’s body language.

“And my hair took time to grow flower.” His forest eyes dug deep into her soul.

He attacks first aiming at her collarbone but she ducks down and twists his arm before punching him in the face. It is not enough to cause deformations to his pretty face but his anger is so worth it.

He saw her smile for the first time tonight, and isn’t it wonderful that he gets to wipe it away? He goes after her and uses the dagger he claimed to cut through her dress right where the slit is so that her entire thigh is shown.

He has to admit that the sight of the garter on her thigh and her bare legs could kill him without any weapons but he needs to stay focused.

“Oh you little fucker” She moves a hair strand from her face and goes for her next move before he can blink.

She takes out her gun from her corset, turning off the safety blindly before shooting in his direction but not at him. He has no time to react as the vase that he didn’t notice behind him takes the bullet and blows up into pieces, one of them slashing slightly through his cheek.

Everyone’s too engrossed with the festivities and dancing that they did not hear the gunshot, not that it was loud anyways since it has a silencer.

Harry brings his hand to his cheek and realizes that her aim was more than perfect or else.. she could’ve made him get plastic surgery.

“It’s a shame, that was a nice vase.” He pouted pretending to be sad and hurt.

“And so was my dress idiot.”

“Do you remember that one time in Vienna when you called the FBI on me?” He asked with his hands behind his back, he was aiming to strike and she’s going to let him.

“My favorite memory.” She laughs as if he reminded her of a pleasant vacation.

“Oh Fuck you, Poppy.” He reveals a gun from behind his hand that aims at the ground between her feet.

“The old man at my hotel can aim better.” She riles him on knowing damn well why he aimed there and that he can shoot a gun with a blindfold around his eyes.

“Just tell me why you’re here Harry and we’ll both be on our way.” She would never admit being defeated but their little game has become tiring.

The rook and the queen are in the center again observing the damage they inflicted. They upgrade their game by going in blind and standing in front of each other with guns pointed at the others’ hearts.

The metal of the gun is pressing into his skin despite being clothed, he had discarded his mask earlier on and he shared the same move by digging his gun into her chest.

It wasn’t about breaking the skin barrier or transmitting electric touches. What their eyes are sharing is far more intimate, it comes off as a threat, a prayer, a plea, and an announcement.

Checkmate.

“Yield petal.”

“Never.” There goes that stubbornness, like a moth to his flame.

Then, the rook moves.

Harry smashes his forehead into hers, enough to make her dizzy but never not a concussion. She stumbles backwards pressing her hand to her head as her anger takes over her again. He launches forward and slightly lowers his level to wrap his arms around her torso and throw her over his shoulders.

“I have questions too Poppy.” He breathes out shutting his eyes momentarily, and for the first time ever he disliked his job.

He barely managed to walk a few meters forward before he felt her tight grip on his neck despite her body dangling off his shoulder. She used the grip on his veins to push her weight upwards and make him stop in his tracks.

Harry is quite heavy, with biceps that need a custom suit and legs that can lift a whole body single-handedly. Unfortunately, his stamina and strength are immune to Poppy, she is smaller and possesses less physical strength but what she just did is beyond cleverness.

After balancing herself she flips his body forward with one of her favorites: a punch. She exploits gravity as an ally and pushes his body to the ground as he falls with a thud.

She strolls over to him dramatically, her heels clicking on the marble ground as he balances himself using his elbows. As soon as she’s near his body she raises her leg and presses her heel into his chest to stop him from getting up. He simply lifts his gaze feeling too enchanted by her, not caring about the pain that he feels due to the sharpness of her heel.

She expects him to flip her leg or use one of his moves that’ll give you a good time in the ER, but instead, he locks eyes with her and slowly inches his face forward before leaving a lingering kiss to her ankle accompanied by his devil grin, more like an angel of death.

“The last move is always mine Harry.” She panted in an attempt to stay balanced after barely escaping his grip from dizziness.

The grin widened as it spread across his face but even then, his lips didn’t leave her ankle. The moment he placed his mouth on her skin she felt electricity going through her body starting from her leg up to her brain.

With one fallen chess piece, the queen detaches herself from the rook giving him one last glance before walking away. You must never turn your back on your enemy but in the case of Poppy and Azrael, they know each other too well that trust managed to bloom between them on the walls of rivalry.

And at this moment the trust whispers loudly in the room: game over.

Harry’s eyes are shut and his nostrils are flaring, his mind is too lazy to get up from the ground, but he can. He can go after her and play round after round but he knows better than to have hope because they will not utter a word to the other.

Then it happens.

She stops in her tracks, her breaths shallow and wary as she angles her head slowly to the right casting a look from her peripheral vision. He shares the same look on his face as he reluctantly stands up.

A chime went off in the room, or perhaps two chimes?

There is unspoken knowledge between them as they both take out their burner phone and check the source of the chime. It indeed was two chimes, their interest in the content of the message exposed them.

Now, the one thing that follows in terms of danger after two assassins are in the same room is two assassins receiving a text at the same instant in the same room.

“Forgot to pick up your new flowerpot?”

“Do you have a hairdresser appointment?”

The sarcasm cannot last for long, the signs are all there. Something is off about this entire evening and while this sense of trepidation usually belongs to their targets, they find themselves on its other side.

“Your target is Arthur Lorray isn’t it?” He takes the risk and waits for any indication in her facial expression.

“And yours is Henry Davis.” She replies tilting her head as her mind tries to uncover this twisted puzzle.

If not for a certain thought in his mind, for his blind trust, her odour, or even a small reckless part of him he wouldn’t have acted the way he did. He wouldn’t have approached her and revealed the contents of his message.

Something flashed in her eyes, though he could never read them. But it could only mean two things: death or paradise.

“I got the same message.” Different bosses sending the same message?

Poppy, be present in a room at the end of the corridor on the second floor in 5 minutes.

He got an identical message but addressed to ‘Azrael’.

This is wrong in so many ways, she observed as her boss was accompanied by two security teams with her own eyes and now he’s asking her to meet him in a room in the presence of the target he had asked her to eliminate.

This has never happened before and nor were they trained for it.

It could be a setup for all they know.

“Stay behind me, Poppy. I don’t like this” Harry warned as they exited the room they were in.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She scoffed even though she knew how valid his warning was.

“Can you not be feisty for once?” He sneered in her face as some of his curls fell on his injured cheek.

“You’re bleeding.” She ripped a tiny piece from her dress that he had already ruined earlier and pressed it to his place of injury.

“Careful or I might think you’re falling in love.”

“Maybe if you let me punch you again.”

Their banter stopped right as they spotted a door at the end of the corridor, they could see how the guests are still very much clueless while On the hills of Manchuria played in the background.

They look like an absolute mess as if they just survived a hurricane. Her dress is barely covering her body as her left leg is completely exposed reaching up to her hip and the loose threads can give you a hint of what happened.

His blazer is nowhere to be seen, his white down button is wrinkled and he has a piece of her dress pressed to his face. If they descend and mingle in the hall, not only will they cause a fuss but also terror.

He doesn’t get to tell her anything before she turns the doorknob and pushes the door. They’re met with a well-decorated room filled with antiques and vintage furniture of gold and white. A chimney is lit for the ambiance and it wasn’t hard to spot the only two figures in the room pouring expensive Bourbon.

“Ah, there you are!” Henry is standing in the middle of the room while Arthur relaxes on the sofa with his arms spread.

The looks on their faces are priceless. There is no one else in the room that might attack them. However, Harry is making sure to check the room for anything that could be out of sorts like a camera or so.

“What the fuck is this mockery?” Harry’s body tenses and his fists are clenching as he stares back at the two men.

“Please Harry take a seat we just want to discuss business, no funny stuff.” Arthur spoke nonchalantly as if he wasn’t supposed to be dead.

“We’re very much comfortable like this.” Poison dripped from her mouth as she tried to figure out what all of this could be.

“Oh Poppy don’t be cross. You’ve known me for years! Don’t you trust me?” Henry says as he hands Arthur his glass of Bourbon.

“Trust is a dangerous thing.” She began walking towards them despite Harry’s disapproval.

Poppy is very witty. She never accepts a client before researching them from the moment they’re born till the present and it isn’t your typical Google search. She stalks them, plants bugs, spies... whatever she finds suitable for her peace of mind.

Henry was like any other businessman and he never caused her any trouble. Except for today.

“Are you aware that we can kill you in two minutes if you don’t explain right this instant?” Harry threatened with his eyes and placed his hands in his pockets.

“Exactly! The use of ‘We’” Arthur chuckled as he put down his glass on the antique table in front of him and stood up.

Harry can feel that Poppy is about to whip out her gun any second now so he gives Arthur his famous glare as one last warning.

“Me and Arthur are not competing against each other. You weren’t supposed to kill us and well our plan went sideways. You really should take a seat.”

Poppy despises all this unnecessary speech; she prefers getting to the point. She felt Harry’s arm below her waist beckoning her to rest on the sofa, which she did reluctantly.

“We wanted to offer you a business deal, yet we both knew that you’d refuse to discuss business at an event like this so we sent you here for a job that went wrong.” Although not everything was clicking, Harry and Poppy relaxed as this cannot be a setup.

“We didn’t expect you to bump into each other, we were intending on getting you here before one of you strikes but we forgot how professional you are.” Henry explained as he enjoyed his drink.

“I was shocked by your loyalty Poppy; your warning caught me off guard. I had to fake fleeing away and I can tell you and Azrael had some fun.” Henry and Arthur held back a chuckle, but were they to blame?

Poppy and Harry were a sight, the damage reaching their clothes and body or even face and hair in Harry’s case. They needed a fresh shower, a first aid kit, and a change of clothes.

“What kind of business did you want to suggest?” Harry’s deep voice echoed in the room and nothing could be heard except for the burning of the wood, the occasional gulps, and the faint music from the ball.

“As I mentioned before me and Arthur are not rivals but we have some tough competition, which you were handling individually at first but then shit went down like security systems crashing down, assassination attempts, you name it.”

They can feel it. They know what the deal is but they’re pushing it to the back of their head.

“ The point is… we want you to work as partners and kill whoever we consider a threat to us.”

And here it goes.

“Fuck no!”

“Absolutely not”

They both shouted at the same instant, their bodies tensed and Harry’s jaw was clenching. This suggestion is their worst nightmare, it is known that Assassins work alone, besides the history these two share does not help.

“Listen! Assassins will soon be after you not just us. We are aware that you work alone but this will catch everyone off guard. You’re the best of the best, imagine the power you’d have if you teamed up.” Arthur stood up and the desperation in his tone cannot be masked.

“Send an army my way, I dare you. None of the shit you said fazes me.” Harry might’ve gotten a boner right there and then at her words.

“You might say that but it’ll get so much harder, if you team up it will be in your favor and ours. Plus you’ll get paid double.” Harry and Poppy gave each other a side look before glancing at Arthur and Henry who desperately want them to become partners.

“Why should I put up with him?” Harry did not say one word, he simply offered his charming grin, with his body leaning forward and hands joined together over his knees. There was almost no gap between him and Poppy, and her scent was making him dizzy again.

“You’ll get paid double, easier missions, less time more efficiency…”

She might not be very keen on the idea but she isn’t entirely opposed. It is evident through her face and he knows that if she truly didn’t want it, she would’ve walked out the moment they proposed the idea.

Arthur and Henry are dying for her approval. Harry isn’t picky with his jobs and he can’t say that he’s not intrigued by the idea of working with her. He can already imagine a few scenarios…

“Fine. I’ll be the lead in this, I want two copies of each file, a team of security and spies along with a ride in every mission for precautions. New identities and passports, you know the drill, Henry.” She stood up as soon as she finished talking not batting an eye to her new partner whose opinion she did not ask for.

Arthur lifted his body up and clasped his hands together as a thank you to Poppy while Henry was already pouring another drink in celebration. For a moment they all noticed how Harry has been mute since he sat on the sofa.

“You’re in Az ,right?” Arthur raised his eyebrow in doubt.

“Whatever the lady says.” He shrugged and got up, swiping a hand through his long hair. His cheek is slightly bleeding and the tension between him and Poppy just got worse.

“No handshake?” Arthur smiled at Poppy and extended his hand to her which she eyed with doubt.

“I don’t shake hands with businessmen. One line out of the way and I’ll have your head hung in your office.” And with that, she walked towards the door.

“Take him with you to break the ice,” Henry suggested making her stand still sending a glare towards them.

“There are hundreds of hotels -“

“But you’re partners now!! Go on order anything too my treat.”

“I have enough money to buy the hotel asshole” She didn’t wait for any further comment before leaving the room and listening to Harry’s footsteps that followed.

Don’t ask her how they arrived at her hotel room, how the eyes of strangers judged them for their looks, or how she’s thinking about stabbing him because he’s already relaxed on her bed.

An exit was waiting for them at the end of the corridor, it was another one of her good luck incidents, or else she would’ve terrorized all the guests. Their ride was a motorcycle. Yes, you read that correctly.

The same vehicle she craved to use to get to the event, was waiting for them outside. It belonged to Harry and naturally, he did not allow her to drive it. He gave her his helmet and jumped on the vehicle without one and instructed her to wrap her arms around his torso which she did right after mocking him and throwing curse words.

Upon their arrival at the hotel reception, he asked the employee for a ‘honeymoon suite’ before Poppy dragged him by his arm to the elevator with an irritated expression.

He did not hesitate to immediately relax on her king-size bed. Harry knows a thing or two about her, and if anything gets her more infuriated than losing a physical fight it would be banter and mockery.

They share a fueled history that goes back to their teenage years, as baby assassins. They grew up in the same institute that recruited orphans and trained them to be professional assassins for the government. Poppy and Harry were one of the very few that managed to escape and work solo.

They were inseparable, a pair of crows who only stuck together. That is until the years of innocence fled and the years of rivalry arrived. There would be only one place for who’s worthy, a place that they fought for yet ended up fleeing from.

Even then, they would always be connected. Bumping into each other whether on a job or in public, hearing the other’s name at an event, or the usual interaction which is fighting every time they come across each other.

She can’t help but think about the past in the light of the twisted turn of events. When was the last time she sat down with him like this so peacefully?

“When you were fourteen and pretended to be asleep at night only to sneak to the rooftop together and stargaze.” Her mind spoke to her.

She let out a huff and looked down at the men’s clothing the hotel sent before grabbing them and throwing them at his face.

“Get up and shower, I want to use the bathroom too.” He stretched his limbs to taunt her and walked really slowly to the bathroom before yelling ‘Don’t miss me’ and locking the door behind him.

The sound of the shower became distant as her mind traveled to memories she buried long ago. She took a deep breath ,retrieved her bag and began cleaning her tools. A groan left her lips when she realized that one of her push daggers is still with Harry who is taking his sweet time in the shower.

The now clean gun fell from her hand as her guard went down and the memories invaded her brain. His scent was suffocating her, not his tom ford perfume despite it being addictive. She can’t even explain it without looking mad but Harry has a scent of his own, his skin releases an odor that only she can catch.

She took off her ruined dress and discarded it in the corner, then stood in her corset and panties in front of the mirror. Mirrors are her enemy yet she needs their help in this moment. She twists her arm as the glass reveals the Poppy tattoo.

He gave her that name. Told her that she can be delicate yet a symbol of death at the same time. In institutes you didn’t earn a name, you earned a number but this name was her little secret with Harry and she couldn’t resist having it inked to her skin years after their fallout.

“Poppy?” The name immediately caught her attention opting her to turn around and forget all her worries at the sight of him.

A white towel was wrapped around his hips, but it was tiny. She can spot the steam from the hot water on his skin that is glistening and has become a tattoo shop. The towel is sitting so low on his hips where a fern tattoo lays. His hair is wet and if she didn’t know him, she’d think he’s a prince.

Don’t stare at his biceps Poppy!

Oh god, his V line. He had a small waist that morphed into a toned V line holding a small part of the fern tattoo and revealing a trail of trimmed hair.

His knuckles were beginning to bruise and the cut on his cheek needs some medical attention but he didn’t seem to care as his eyes tried to decode Poppy’s shaken expression.

“If we’re out of hot water I’m going to stab you.” She walked past him right into the bathroom and even though he had some good comebacks up his sleeves, he was too entranced with her strolling in just a corset and tiny panties. And her skin… so flawless even after an eventful night. He had to close his eyes before images of the bruises he would leave on her body came running to him.

He never imagined that he’d be in a room again with her, acting so civil and being okay with her presence, he also can’t imagine how this would be the reality for a while.

They are partners now. Harry knew that history would repeat itself.

Even though he pushed the previous thoughts about giving her bruises away, his mind trailed again to her body. His ears were too interested in the sound of water and he wondered how her skin would be after a shower.

Was he acting a bit primal? Perhaps, but spare him a minute to comprehend the shift in his life.

He spotted her bag on the bed left unguarded for him to check. Funnily enough, he knows it and is aware of the layers it has because he may or may not have broken into her apartment throughout the years on her birthday and left her a Poppy flower in this bag.

Still, she never changed the code number for the bag which is the number of the room they shared in the institute.

He still has her dagger tucked in the edges of the towel, if he had left it in the bathroom, she would’ve taken it. He can see how she cleaned her gun and he decided to do the same to his. He then placed it on the bedside table and changed into the shorts the hotel provided. Poppy is still taking her sweet time in the shower so why not annoy her a bit?

He unfolded the lower layer of the case, revealing all of her beauty products, and began searching for something he might use. He picked out an expensive hair serum and poured a generous amount of drops on his wet hair before placing it back in her bag.

Poppy came into the room a few minutes later eyeing him up and down with a robe hugging her body. He’s not even sure how that is considered a robe. It’s too fucking short.

The tension is through the goddamn roof.

She pulled out a body lotion from her bag and let out a small sigh once her eyes fell on his face. She turned around towards the bathroom before coming out with a first aid kit.

“Come here, your cheek needs cleaning.” It isn’t a deep wound; the human face has a large number of veins so if her skills weren’t perfect, he’d be in the ER.

“Look at you Poppy getting so delicate.” She responded by pressing a cotton full of hydrogen peroxide to his place of injury and yet he didn’t flinch once.

She raised her leg placing it between his thighs to get in a comfortable position and focus on cleaning him. But her smell is too much for him and her soft skin is right in front of him.

He inched his face just enough to press his mouth to her knees feeling her shudder. Poppy didn’t jerk herself away or move, she continued to clean his wound with her hand delicately holding the side of his neck.

The silence between them was comfortable unlike being around other people. When they didn’t have a knife to each other’s throats, it would be just like this. Except that this is their first time in a decade.

She placed a small bandage on his cheek, smoothing her fingers over it even though she was done there. There’s something in her eyes that tells him she’s feeling nostalgic and his thumb rubbing on her leg isn’t helping.

She allowed herself to stare at his emerald irises with her hand still situated on the side of his neck. He gave her a soft look as if he was saying, ‘It’s me, Poppy’.

Would it be so bad to fold?

“You can order food service if you’re hungry.” She stepped away from him pretending to busy herself with packing her case when she needs the products.

“Don’t avoid me. We’re partners.” She can feel him walking towards her slowly.

Being around him and talking so normally made her heart ache and think back to when they were kids. He was her first love. He broke her heart many times after that but perhaps not enough as the yearning keeps tugging at it.

“I missed this…” Her back was so close to his chest and his breath is sending shivers throughout her body.

She didn’t offer him any response as she turned around to face him, raising her siren eyes to look for a hint of deception. Instead, she found the eyes of a sixteen-year-old Harry who was eager to give her his first kiss.

“You were fighting with me less than an hour ago. Do you expect me to believe this emotional show of yours?”

She might as well twist a knife in his heart.

“It was my job and it never stopped me from missing you.” The words flowed smoothly out of his lips, it’s not that he had them memorized but his heart was faster than his brain.

“And your job ten years ago? What was it!” Her fists were clenched and she wished his eyes didn’t make her so weak. She’s not sure if she could hold the eye contact any longer.

“To protect and care for you.” His strawberry lips offered her a confession that was so effortless to say.

She wasn’t particularly upset or even furious about their relationship. Growing up with him was irreplaceable. Even when they parted ways and slowly became foes, they never inflicted serious damage upon each other. It was a simple game for them, to bicker and fight, maybe leave some scars as a memoir but they never got sentimental again. To hear him telling her about his yearning all these years made her knees and heart weak.

Her lips morphed into a pout, her siren eyes gave him a look of regret and he can feel the tears that are threatening to fall. She was never one to communicate and some things stay the same.

Like his infatuation.

“I’ve been waiting years for this Poppy.” He brought himself closer to her so that his forehead rested against hers with their eyes piercing into each other.

“To be my partner? For me to order you around?” The corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.

There she was. His little devil.

“No. This.” His voice grew deeper as his skin lit up on fire upon coming in contact with hers. He buried his face in her neck taking a long deep breath while his fingers travelled along her waist.

Their bodies forming a sort of intimate contact while breathing in each other’s scent was more dangerous than any natural disaster.

Even their pheromones can no longer be tamed.

Rain is an accomplice in murder, and on this night the target isn’t a human. It’s an emotion.

Hatred.

Taglist: @prettythingsworld @slut4marvelmenn @fullofstyles @cherrycokeslay @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @grapejuicebluesrry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @swiftmendeshoran @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @greivingfortheliving @babyyangel111 @soblavk @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie @be-with-me-so-happily @harrysrockstarsgf

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disorganizedkitten · 4 months

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Oh but you should expand on the rarepair things. Whomst is Cecilia? And why is Fay & Harry so low?

Why thank you for asking!

Realistically, Fay and Harry is such a small tag because she's only important in one video game, so all fics are from us writers hunting her down through various wikis or fics and deciding she's cool. I think I first heard of her in A Different Professor by AsphodelWolf15? Which isn't even IN the Fay Dunbar & Harry Potter tag. Tragic, really.

In case you're interested, my fics in the tag are so far Emotional Support Cookies and We'll Take Our World By Storm. She's a main character in Not (Our Parents') Children, though, so that number WILL go up as I write the au. She's also the main character in Dark Magic for Dummies, but that hasn't left my documents yet.

Cecilia! Alright, so, in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, we meet Voldemort's parents. And in the scene where we meet his dad, Tom Riddle Sr. is riding on horseback with a pretty lady, who he tells to not look at the Gaunts, as they're so disgusting. He calls her "Cecilia, Darling." Now, Voldemort's mom is Merope Gaunt, and canonically we never see Cecilia again. But in the Magpie's Hoard discord, I posited a prompt about 'what if when Tom Riddle went to meet his dad, he met his stepmother too, and she decided to take him in'. That sparked a truly beautiful discussion, of course, and I decided I liked her. She'll appear later on in Hyacinth, but for now I have Judge My Carmine Fingertips (it won't make them clean) and Gentle as Flaking Blood.

Canon rules: nail it or screw it, you know? It's my playground now.

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rhaeblack66 · 6 months

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the hp fics where they go in depth into world building like wizarding politics or rituals or dark magic will always be superior

#harry potter #fics #fanfiction #ao3fic #fic recs please #wizarding world #wizarding society #wizengamot #worldbuilding #pureblood society #pureblood culture #dark arts

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rayshippouuchiha · 1 year

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Here's the HP/Ash stories! And now for a brotherly Ash and Harry story where Harry becomes a Hunter!

#submission #Harry Potter #dark hunters #Fic Rec

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victoria-styles · 2 years

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do you have any smut recs where harry is mean and filthy ? 🙏

How to Get Out of a Ticket

Getaway Car (3 Chapters)

The Doctor and the Psychopath

Virgin Skin Verse

You’re Just Someone I Want Around (12 Chapters)

In My Feelings (7 Chapters)

No Good For Me

#victoria styles #harry styles #smut #harry styles smut #fic recommendation #fic rec #harry styles fic rec #anon #fanfiction #mine #harry styles filth #dark!harry styles

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arduousblaze · 10 days

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The Historical Importance of Runic War Warding in the British Isles by samvelg

Female Harry Potter , Tom x Harry , parselmouth magic

Between 5th and 6th year Harry and Tom start sharing dreams and he discovers she’s a horcrux. And so he’s determined to have her for several reasons.

This story is very well done I think. It goes into magical theory quite a bit though. If you’re not into that you can just skim those parts, but if you wanna get into magic theory this is for you. The fix has been abandoned but I say it’s still worth your time. I’m in love with this powerful Harry and the dynamics of the characters.

However! This is one of those fics where you need to be logged in to read it. So if the link doesn’t work right away that’s why.

If you like enemies to lovers, slow burn, smart/powerful Harry, and details of magic then this story is very much for you

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pancakes4two · 2 years

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CATALYST | I

preview: “Can’t stand it when they scream,” Harry explains to you. He grabs your wrist and lifts it up, his sleeve fluttering down to reveal the tattoos on his lower arm. You focus on the ink as he begins to explain something to you, tracing the lines of the anchor that decorates his skin.

“There’s a small cluster of veins at the side of his neck here. If you hit them, he’ll bleed out fairly quickly and painlessly.”

“H-here?” You ask, shakily pointing at a spot right above where George’s neck meets his shoulder.

“A little higher,” Harry directs you, “There. Hold the knife steady now. You have to do it fast or it’ll slip.”

chapter specific warnings: drug mentions, graphic violence, murder

a/n: here it is! chapter one of catalyst. if you haven’t look at it yet, i would highly recommend reading the intro post here first as that has content warnings and a synopsis. also please bear with me as this is my first time writing this kind of concept ahhh!!

reminder that this is purely a work of fiction! i (obviously) have zero real knowledge on making drug deals and murdering people lmao. i’m not condoning/romanticizing any of the events in this fic and none of the faceclaims are affiliated with any of the events/actions that occur.

with that being said, reblogs are much appreciated & thank you all for reading!

(p.s. the soundtrack adds a lot to the reading experience imo so if you can/want to please listen to the songs at the beginning of each section!)

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TRACK: GLORY BOX

It happens on a Tuesday morning. Three sharp knocks on your apartment door. The impatient tapping of a foot against linoleum, getting louder as you slowly make your way out of bed. You push the lock out of place, chain dangling back and forth while you twist the silver doorknob. You’re greeted with the last person on Earth you were expecting to see: your former boss at Interpol, Naomi Rossi.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Naomi lets herself into your apartment, flitting through the living room like a butterfly, brushing past your curtains and touching the spines of the books on your coffee table. She never did have any sense of personal boundaries.

“Looks like you’ve settled in nicely,” Naomi ignores your question, sitting down on your couch and gesturing for you to take a seat as well. “Listen, my presence here isn’t welcome, I know that. I care about you deeply, and I wouldn’t be here asking you to do this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

You stare at your former boss, waiting for her to continue. Distantly, your alarm sounds from your bedroom, and your fingers itch to go and shut it off, but the grim expression on Naomi’s face pins you to your place. You sit there frozen, heart pounding, desperately hoping she’s not going to make the request you think she’s about to make.

“I need you to go back undercover.” Naomi says, confirming your suspicions. She crosses one leg over the other, her fingers tapping nervously against a cushion as she waits for you to respond.

“Are you insane?” You laugh, pushing yourself off the couch. You point at your front door aggressively, trying to steady your breathing. “I thought you might ask me that, but I didn’t think you’d be so insensitive as to actually do it. No way. I’m not fucking going back there.”

“You’re done with Interpol, and I’ve respected that for the past three years,” Naomi replies curtly. She lifts a perfectly-manicured hand and rests it lightly on the glass of your coffee table. “But people are dying, Y/N. Seven murders in just under eight months. The last three in the past month. All public figures. The police discovered a mixture of fentanyl, ecstasy, and sedatives in their bloodstreams after we ordered tox screens.”

“It’s Cherry,” you sigh, watching Naomi pull a stack of paper from her briefcase. She hands them to you and you scan the documents. They’re medical reports for all seven victims, confirming a lethal amount of drugs in their blood at the time of their deaths.

“We just can’t twiddle our thumbs while people are dying,” Naomi says, her dark eyes searching your features. “No one knows Cherry like you do. You’re our only hope at stopping this, Y/N, I’m pleading with you. Hasn’t three years away been enough?”

You swallowed. No, you wanted to scream at her. No amount of time away could ever undo the damage that being undercover did to me.

But Naomi was right. Interpol would never be able to get as close to Cherry as you did ever again. They didn’t stand a chance at solving the murders without sending someone inside. Unfortunately, your untimely exit three years ago effectively ended any sort of outside recruitment that the syndicate was doing. You were, as Naomi said, the only hope. If you didn’t say yes, more people would die, and their blood would be on your hands.

“I go in for two weeks,” you say, walking into your kitchen and reaching for your kettle. You hold it under the tap, plugging the appliance into the wall and turning it on once it’s filled with water. “No security details, no bugs. No rendezvous, either. I’m there for the entire time, and you don’t bother me until those two weeks are up.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Naomi protests over the sound of the water coming to a rolling boil.

“Then I’m not doing the job,” you reply as the kettle switches off. You dig in your cabinets for a tin of green tea, exclaiming softly when you find it. “You’re not going to pin a hidden camera to my shirt and send me in with a bodyguard, they’ll fucking kill me as soon as I step onto their territory. You either trust me to do this my way, or refuse and see what happens.”

“Fine,” Naomi tosses her hands in the air in exasperation while you scoop loose tea leaves into a mug. “We need to do a security clearance, and I have to send you in with one of our phones no matter what, in case of dire emergency. Can you agree to those terms?”

“Whatever,” you concede, “just go if there’s nothing else. I’ll stop by the office today to do what you need me to do.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Naomi says sincerely, “I know things got murky towards the end, but ultimately you’ve always stuck to your morals when it mattered the most. I’ve always admired that about you, and I’m glad you’re coming back to do this. The city needs you.”

You hum softly, bringing your tea to your lips. You show Naomi to the door and watch through the window as her car pulls out of the parking lot. Once the black SUV has turned the corner, you lean against the wall and watch as the ceiling spins. You let your head fall into your hands and take a few gasping breaths, before settling yourself and gulping down the last bit of your drink.

You’re honestly not sure what you’re more afraid of: dying, or having to face him again.

THREE YEARS EARLIER

TRACK: RANGE BROTHERS

Heavy bass pounds through the black speakers propped up at the front of the stage, the vibrations sliding down from the ceilings to the floor and landing at the base of your shoes. From the outside, Temptress looks like any other exclusive nightclub in London’s party district. Its black exterior is unassuming; there’s no signage save for the glow of a neon sign that spells out the club’s name in messy red cursive, and a single bouncer stands at the front door, smartly dressed and covered in tattoos. Temptress caters to a more high-brow clientele than the other nightclubs on Lexington street. On any given night, the space is occupied by socialites and wealthy businessmen. Bartenders are at the guests’ beck-and-call, opening up five-thousand pound bar tabs and collecting one-hundred pound tips all night. It touts state-of-the-art sound systems, a massive marble bar that stretches across the expanse of the floor, and women and men alike adorned with glitter and ready to entertain. Most importantly, Temptress offers a level of anonymity that its competitors don’t offer: all guests and employees are required to wear eye masks that conceal their identities. Such a policy makes way for more under-the-table activity, although the majority of individuals who walk through the bulletproof glass doors of the club hardly do much more than what might be considered a minor felony.

The real business, and what you were here for, happened in the private lounges around the back.

“Coucou,” you call to a security guard standing in front of one of the rooms, “Hayes sent me here for a meeting.”

He looks you up and down while chewing on a piece of gum, blue eyes piercing as he scans every inch of your body. You wipe one hand quickly down the side of your skirt: now wasn’t the time to get nervous, you’re already in too deep.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N, sir.”

“Need to check if the Boss is available,” motioning for you to get closer. You touch the tiny microphone pinned to the back of your blouse, just to make sure it was still secure.

“Okay,” you oblige. As the man pats you down, you notice a small red name-tag pinned to his collar. Briggs, it read, though you highly doubted that was his real name. “Thanks, Briggs.”

Briggs grunts in response, running his hand through a biometric scanner. Once the machine finishes reading his fingerprints, the door in front of you unlocks with a click. The inside is made to look like a regular lounge. It’s furnished with sofas and has a tiny chandelier dangling from the ceiling. There’s a mirror propped up against the wall and a small ice bucket filled with drinks on a table. You get distracted looking around until Briggs makes a noise beside you. When you turn to him, you find that he’s lifted the carpet that was previously spread out in the middle of the floor and revealed an opening that leads down towards the basement.

“Follow me down,” Briggs says, offering you a hand as you crouched into the small space. “Close the door behind you.”

You follow his orders and shut the small door, plunging the two of you into darkness. Distantly, you see a row of lights flickering softly.

“Careful,” Briggs calls out, “the next step is the last one.”

Once your feet have returned to solid ground, Briggs guides you to look to your left. What you see is a massive grey hallway filled with doors. The only sources of light comes from small antique lanterns that are placed between every door. A night-vision security camera turns robotically, capturing any slight movement that occurs in the hallway on video. You notice four other security guards of similar build to Briggs walking up and down slowly, their hands resting protectively over the handguns clipped to their sides.

“Stay here,” Briggs says, before walking towards the door at the very end of the hallway. It’s significantly larger than the rest and made of mahogany. The top is built like an archway and some of the wood is darker than the rest. You think it might be engravings, but you’re not close enough to tell. Briggs whispers to the man stationed at the front of the door briefly, then looks back at you and signals for you to walk over to him.

“You can go in now. He’s just finishing up another meeting.”

“Alright,” you respond, and the other security guard lets you in. There’s a lot to take in with this office: the walls are painted a dark, velvet-y purple and giant bookshelves line the sides. A group of three men are standing in front of the desk in the middle of the room, which is made of the same mahogany wood as the massive front door. They’re having a hushed conversation that you can’t quite listen in on. Suddenly, the man in the middle kneels down to the floor, hand shaking. The absence of his standing body reveals another man sitting at the desk, his fingers curled around a sharp knife. He’s wearing a red silk shirt that’s been unbuttoned down to the base of his chest, revealing tattoos of two birds sitting just below his collarbones. He looks down at the kneeling man, then at you. Green eyes completely devoid of emotion, he flashes you a saccharine-sweet smile.

You would recognize that face anywhere. Harry Styles, the most ruthless man in all of the United Kingdom and Europe. Inheriting the Cherry syndicate after the untimely death of his father, Harry was known for his clinical way of doing business and unrelenting cruelty. He had taken his father’s modest crime organization and transformed it into an empire before he even turned thirty. Nearly ninety percent of all drugs and weapons coming into the city of London originate from deals brokered by Cherry. Most importantly, Harry conducts all of his business by proxy. Hidden in the shadows of the Temptress basement, Harry’s men do all of his dirty work for him while he plays puppet master from the very desk in front of you. It’s impossible to definitively connect him to any crime, and up until two weeks ago, Interpol didn’t even know what he looked like. He’s cunning, charismatic, and extremely talented at evading the law.

“You’re just in time,” Harry says, raising the knife in his hand with a flourish. “George here is about to select which one of his friends is going to kill him for compromising a million-pound shipment.”

“Right,” you say, while the two men next to George sputter in protest. George gaze shifts from the two men to Harry frantically, and cranes his neck to look at you desperately.

You swallow the bile quickly rising into your throat and watch as Harry stands up and leans against the front of his desk, the glistening blade of his knife pressed lightly to his chin as he looks to the distraught men carefully.

One of the men speaks up, voice shaking so much that the words tumbling out of his mouth are barely comprehensible. “W-we won’t do th-that Boss, it-it’s not fair. H-he made a m-mistake. But that d-don’t discount the l-loyalty he’s given y-you for years.”

“I don’t give a shit about that! His mistake cost me a million pounds, and a client that could’ve brought in millions in future revenue. That’s not how I run my business. I don’t care for bumbling idiots who can’t transport basic cargo.”

“S-sorry Boss, truly-y.”

Harry tuts, crossing one leg over the other. “Look at the three of you. So pathetic. Won’t kill your friend for me? I’ll remember that next time you’re kneeling at my desk begging me to spare you like George is right now. You must remember I take loyalty very seriously here.”

“Fortunately for you, I’m feeling nice today,” Harry says, walking up to the men and looking them up and down. “Don’t look so excited, George. You’re still dying today, but it won’t be by the hands of your friends.”

TRACK: ARABELLA

“Tell me,” Harry says, looking through the gap between the men’s three shaking silhouettes to where you stand frozen in place. “How would you like for this pretty lady to be the one to kill you?”

The thing is, both you and Interpol were fully aware that you were going to have to commit some crimes and serious moral sins in order to maintain your cover. But murder on the first day was a bit too much. You looked at Harry, your breaths coming out in short puffs. You racked your brain for the right thing to say. You knew he was probably bluffing, trying to intimidate you into submission on your first meeting with him.

Come on, words, you tried to speak but your mouth was hopelessly dry and nothing was coming out.

“Don’t be nervous, love,” Harry smiles, beckoning you to come closer to him. He hands the knife to you and gingerly closes your fingers around the handle.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you manage to get out, feeling the weight of the weapon against your palm.

“Is it your first time doing something like this?” He asks. He opens his mouth to say something, but then seems to change his mind after realizing something. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. I haven’t even asked you for your name yet.”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“Such a pretty name,” Harry coos, “is it your first time doing something like this, Y/N?”

You nod, fearing that if you say anything else you might vomit all over Harry, and something tells you he wouldn’t appreciate that very much.

“Everyone's nervous their first time,” Harry hums, “it’s normal to get a little stage fright. But I’m right here, and I’ll help you through it.”

You watch as Harry reaches over his desk and opens a small cabinet. He pulls out a piece of cloth and gags George with it, pushing George’s head back violently when he’s finished wrapping the cloth around his mouth.

“Can’t stand it when they scream,” Harry explains to you. He grabs your wrist and lifts it up, his sleeve fluttering down to reveal the tattoos on his lower arm. You focus on the ink as he begins to explain something to you, tracing the lines of the anchor that decorates his skin.

“There’s a small cluster of veins at the side of his neck here. If you hit them, he’ll bleed out fairly quickly and painlessly.”

“H-here?” You ask, shakily pointing at a spot right above where George’s neck meets his shoulder.

“A little higher,” Harry directs you, “There. Hold the knife steady now. You have to do it fast or it’ll slip.”

You steady your hand as much as you possibly can, shifting your weight more towards your back leg. George looks up at you pleadingly and you flash him an apologetic look before shifting your gaze to the wall behind him: you couldn’t possibly look this man in the eyes as you killed him. Holding your breath, you bring the knife back and penetrate it into his neck, feeling warm blood splatter onto your hand and the front of your shirt.

“Oh, you did so good,” Harry says as you pull the knife out. George lets out a muffled scream and takes multiple gasping breaths. You close your eyes, starting to feel quite dizzy. “Such a good job, Y/N.”

“I-is that all you needed me to do?” You breathe out. You hear a body, presumably George’s fall to the ground with a thump.

“I need you to stay for a little while longer. Our meeting didn’t go quite like I had planned,” Harry sighs. He turns to the two men slowly inching away from George’s dead body, and points at the door. “You two need to get the fuck out of here, and remember next time I won’t let you off so easily.”

“Y-yes, Boss,” the one on the left says, before the two of them shuffle quickly out of the room.

The door slams shut behind the two of them, leaving you in the room alone with Harry. He brings you around to the bathroom that’s connected to his office, carefully pulling the knife out of your hands and placing them under the running water. He helps scrub the blood out of your skin, alternating between rubbing bar soap on your palms and rinsing them off with warm water. You wondered how many other people he’d cleaned up at this sink, how many other innocent people’s blood had trickled down this drain.

Once your hands are cleaned, Harry wipes them off with a towel and guides you back towards his desk.

“I’m sorry you had to experience that,” Harry says, using the same towel to polish off his knife before placing it next to his arm. “Things aren’t usually so messy around here, but understandably, sometimes you just have to dispose of dead weight quickly.”

“I wanted to thank you,” He continues, “most of my men mumble and grumble about hurting people for their first six months at Cherry, but you killed for me on your first day. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

“You did say you took loyalty very seriously,” is what you reply with, watching his tricep muscles flex underneath his shirt.

“That’s right,” Harry assents, “And I always reward loyalty, which is why I would like to offer you to join me at a very important business meeting at the end of this week. It’s very rare that I step out and do these dealings on my own, so I need my absolute best men with me. I’m taking a gamble on you, Y/N, based on the loyalty that you displayed in front of me just now. You’re getting a chance to do big things, here. What do you say?”

You smile at Harry, though he’s unaware the reason why you’re truly happy is because he’s just handed you a perfect opportunity to pin him to something that’ll potentially put him behind bars for a long, long time.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Perfect,” Harry smiles back, getting up and showing you back towards the door.

“I have a feeling you’re going to be something special.”

You have no idea, Harry, you thought to yourself.

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