#harry styles mystery fanfiction

[babyyhoneyyyyy]

「✦ 🚨 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 🍷 ✦」 - One Shot [h.s]

Storyline: "Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer". Where Lizzie, a devoted homemaker, meets Harry, a police officer in charge of interrogating her after a mysterious fire at her mansion that resulted in the death of her husband. Word count: 4k+ Smut: 🔞 *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

A call to 911 is usually more than enough in emergency situations. 

Within minutes, the sound of sirens envelops you, with bright lights in red and blue hues cutting through the space as if they belong to it, receiving professional help from specialized teams while they try to talk to you and understand the situation. But after that, a sense of shock takes over, making you question whether what you're experiencing is part of a third-dimensional movie, distorting your own reality and transporting you to an alternate dimension for the most part.

That's exactly how Lizzie felt after flames consumed a large part of her property. She had sensed the smoke penetrating her nostrils, but what truly disturbed her was the buzz of screams. Cries from a man calling her name that quickly faded into whispers.

Lizzie found herself unable to react in any way other than trying to escape, seeking to reach him and see what was happening. However, the house seemed to be crumbling around her, and eventually, she fainted before reaching the door. That was the only clear memory she retained from that day; everything else started with a distant voice calling her, waking her up to find herself under a white ceiling and the scent of disinfectant.

Her stay in the hospital lasted just a day, more as a precautionary measure than for any injuries, of which, fortunately, she was free. She was in almost perfect condition, something that surprised even the doctors themselves.

But for that reason, when they confirmed her health, they chose to deliver the news to her without any euphemisms.

Contrary to her, her husband wasn't as fortunate. Apparently, the fire originated in his own studio, giving him no chance to escape and consuming him with the flames.

She had become a widow.

Her lawyer presented himself as her main support, assisting her in the necessary procedures to change her documents, update them, and allowing her to handle the move, the funeral, and subsequently, the burial.

Finally, when all that concluded, Lizzie was met with a sigh from her lawyer, who handed her a small envelope. She accepted it, while he observed her for a few more minutes before leaving his office.

A lump tightened Lizzie's throat; anxiety ran through her veins saturating all her senses as her hands trembled slightly when opening the envelope. And suddenly, everything around her seemed to freeze when she saw her name written alongside her original last name, followed by the phrase 'widow of Montecarlo,' and the text culminated with 'an entirety in inheritance'.

Lizzie closed her eyes for a moment. She knew the implications of that, beyond any property, money, jewelry, or cars, beyond any tangible thing she could conceive in her mind. This represented a new beginning, one she hadn't even imagined when she got married at the young age of eighteen.

She swallowed hard as she placed the envelope in the safe and let out a final sigh as she left the office, returning to her room. She walked through various rooms overflowing with classical décor.

Her heels echoed on the wooden floors, allowing their sound to reverberate through the rooms. The house was deserted; her lawyer had already left, and there was no trace of any household staff, as per her own request. She had decided to give them all a break, especially those who had also managed to escape unscathed from the fire in her previous property, which was already under renovation. She had determined that once it was ready, she would put it up for sale immediately. She couldn't bear the idea of walking through that house again.

The last door at the end of the hallway on the second floor housed her bedroom. It was a master bedroom that, at that moment, only contained her belongings still packed in suitcases, lacking any visible decoration.

However, as she approached, the sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the house.

Lizzie halted her steps and instinctively checked the delicate diamond watch on her wrist. It was six in the evening, and she hadn't scheduled any visits.

She hesitated for a moment, considering whether to go back to the first floor just to attend to an unexpected visitor, but the doorbell rang again, possibly indicating the urgency of the person. With a sigh, she turned her body and descended the wide stairs leading to the entrance and, finally, to her door.

The doorbell rang once more just as her hand reached for the handle, and she couldn't help but display a slightly annoyed expression when she opened the door, finding a tall man standing in front of her, causing her to pause for a moment.

The individual in question had a distinctive presence, with a young face and well-defined features, and although his hair seemed short, it revealed some curls. However, what unquestionably caught Lizzie's attention the most was his uniform.

It was an official attire consisting of a white shirt, a bulletproof vest with letters marked on the chest, and to add even more, a prominent badge was situated above it.

Lizzie felt her heart start to beat faster and chose not to say anything until the man interpreted it as a signal to introduce himself.

Unlike her furrowed brow, the young man immediately responded with a small smile, revealing dimples on his face. He glanced down for a moment, and Lizzie noticed he held a small notebook in his hands. Then, a husky voice spoke, "Miss Elizabeth?" Lizzie simply nodded. "I'm Harry Styles, the police officer in charge of your case".

The moment these words were spoken, Lizzie felt time speed up. She quickly blinked as she nodded and stepped aside at the door, allowing the man, whom she now identified as Harry, to step onto her property.

When they entered the main room together, she led the way and settled into one of the armchairs, gesturing for the young man to do the same before the door closed behind them. Lizzie avoided looking down to ensure her ring remained on her ring finger. Instead, she kept her gaze forward, watching Harry's subtle movements closely as he settled into the luxurious sofa and casually glanced around.

"Would you like some water?" she suddenly asked, catching him completely off guard. Although she didn't even know where that question came from, realizing that there wouldn't be another offer due to the absence of staff in the house, she thought it would be a kind gesture before they began.

"No, thank you". He finally responded after a moment's thought, grateful but with a half-smile, declining the offer. He had received strict instructions from his boss not to get distracted from his task. This was his first field mission, so he preferred not to mess it up.

"Cookies?"

Once again, his answer was negative, feeling increasingly embarrassed as he saw the woman's expression, who nodded gently and pouted slightly as she resigned herself back to the sofa.

Harry couldn't help but smile, clearing his throat before returning his gaze to the small notebook in his hands.

"Okay, I think we can start now".

The inquiries about that night varied in their formulation, from questions like "What were you doing when you heard the noise?" to "Were you nearby when you noticed the house was on fire?". Each one required an answer that related to and understood the situation.

Lizzie sensed that this was an interrogation aimed at connecting the loose ends, in case they found any evidence against her, so she made an effort to recall the events of that night accurately, inevitably reliving them.

At least an additional hour passed, she noted once again the clock on her wrist, confirming that more time had elapsed and that now only the dim artificial light of the living room illuminated the space. This incident was due to a malfunction, as she hadn't visited this house in many years and it was evident that there were still pending repairs. Despite this, she decided not to mention it to the policeman, preferring him to bring it up or simply ignore it. However, as the conversation became more casual, he didn't mention it.

The questions about the incident of that night gradually faded away, giving way to lighter questions, and it was only then that Lizzie decided to join him.

"Do you have a girl?" The question hung in the air as Harry observed her intently. Lizzie noticed how he ran his tongue over his lips, trying to alleviate the dryness of the conversation, ending with a soft bite on his lower lip before responding.

"No- Uh-" he paused, clearing his throat before continuing. "I've always been very focused on my work, thanks to my parents, so no, I really wouldn't have the time", he expressed, although a slight gesture of frustration crossed his lips before he continued speaking. "I mean, if I were truly interested in someone, I would find the time, but for now, there's no one". He concluded his explanation with a light sigh.

Harry awaited with some tension, anticipating a sarcastic response from Lizzie, considering the twists and turns he had taken to reach his explanation, however, instead of that, he saw her nod with a understanding expression on her face. A comforting relief washed over Harry in that moment, as if Lizzie's silent confirmation somehow validated his words and nerves.

Why did he suddenly feel so nervous?

"May I know the reason for the question?" he inquired after a few moments, waiting for a brief explanation of the young woman's interest, although in reality he showed more curiosity about her response. Harry watched as Lizzie's dark eyes settled on his face once again, subtly descending to his hands, still intertwined in his lap as he leaned slightly towards her. His heart began to beat quickly again as he followed her gaze.

"I don't see a ring on your finger". Lizzie responded with a slight shrug, initially downplaying the question, something that Harry found indecipherable whether he liked it or not.

"Aren't you too young to have been married?" he suddenly asked, on impulse as he tried to delve into the topic, although he almost immediately regretted the inopportune nature of his question.

Although the intention was good, the question came off as bold, especially given the situation he knew the woman was in. Harry lowered his gaze, feeling a lump in his throat as silence lingered, trying to find a quick way to change the subject.

Lizzy, on the contrary, continued to watch him, aware that the real question was implicit: «Aren't you too young to be a widow?» Still, she decided to answer: "Yes, I am".

"Excuse my boldness". Were the words she received barely after her response. Lizzie hesitated for a moment whether those apologies were genuine, for if they were, he wouldn't have waited for her response. However, this didn't bother her; rather, she found it entertaining..

"Don't worry", she replied with a nod of her head, maintaining a hidden smile as she looked down for a moment. "It's not the first time I've heard that".

Harry fell silent as he watched the woman rise from her seat, feeling his heart beat hard, fearing being expelled from the house for his audacity. However, he began to relax as he saw the young woman head towards a corner of the room, a little away from him, where a wide collection of bottles rested on a shelf. Her hand rested on one of them, dissipating the tension in the air.

"Would you like some?" Lizzie asked Harry, gently lifting a glass of whiskey. Harry was forced to swallow before answering: "I can't". He admitted sincerely.

Lizzie simply nodded and returned to her glass, taking another sip before sitting in front of him on the sofa. All while Harry watched her attentively.

"I understand", she replied after another sip. "I just wanted you to know that you're passing up the best whiskey in the country". Harry's smile was the response Lizzie was hoping for to continue. "But if that's not an option for you and that's why you're not having it, the offer of cookies still stands".

Harry's eyes repeatedly slid over Lizzie's face. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that drove him to keep looking at her. Perhaps it was her apparent youth, her glow despite her recent husband's death, or the feeling of prohibition by remaining in her house after the interrogation had concluded.

However, the time that had passed was enough for him to regret his decision.

"In fact, I'll accept the offer this time". He announced.

And for the first time that night, he noticed a similarity between her and himself: a dimple that appeared on her cheek when she smiled.

"Perfect".

For at least a quarter of an hour, time passed. Harry found distraction in admiring the architecture and luxury while Lizzie busied herself in the kitchen. In the distance, Harry caught the sweet aroma of the cookies, awakening his appetite as he waited eagerly. Finally, he saw Lizzie approach with a tray, possibly silver, and place it on the central table of the living room. It was then that he realized there was not only food, but also liquids.

In his eagerness to discover, Harry neglected the cookies as his hand quickly reached for the glass of white liquid next to the main plate. He contemplated the liquid for a moment, feeling its warmth on his fingers before perceiving a soft voice rising beside him, at the same time that the sofa slightly gave way under his weight.

"I refrained from adding alcohol. There's only milk", he heard her laugh as he held the glass between his hands, not daring to look to the side. "You can try it to confirm".

Harry closed his eyes briefly, letting the voice fill his senses.

From the moment she entered the house, he had ignored the sweet scent of her perfume. He avoided looking at her bare legs when she crossed them during the conversation. He even refrained from looking at her for too long while she spoke.

However, he ended up doing exactly the opposite. At this point, he had engraved in his memory the smell of her perfume and constantly wondered how significant it would be. He had memorized her posture, and instead of using his notebook, he kept himself busy by observing her intently.

"Everyone knows that I'm a good girl, officer".

His eyes suddenly opened.

His attention was inevitably drawn to her once more, finding her finally by his side, watching him intently. Time seemed to stand still around them. Harry couldn't discern with certainty what was driving him to act, whether it was simply Lizzie's close presence or the use of the expression "good girl", yet something inside him was beginning to flood him with a comforting sensation, making him feel warm and filled with a desperate longing to get closer to her.

Harry quickly turned, averting his gaze from Lizzie, and refocused his attention on the glass of milk and the cookies still on the tray. Suddenly his craving for food vanished, and he preferred to take a sip of the milk, savoring its sweetness, although it didn't quench his thirst. It wasn't until he had almost finished his drink that he mustered up the courage to face the somber gaze of the woman beside him again.

Harry had faced the feeling of intimidation on various occasions, especially in front of authority figures older than him, with serious countenances. However, this time was different. Sitting next to her, with her large eyes fixed on him, he experienced a strange sense of intimidation, although he couldn't understand why, but instead of rejecting it, he felt a growing curiosity that propelled his body forward.

Unconsciously, he found himself moving closer to her with a subtle motion, with his lips parted and close enough to brush against her face, and at the moment he thought he was about to break the tension, he found himself enveloped in a void.

His confusion was reflected in the widening of his eyes, which blinked a couple of times before returning to the front, where he found Lizzie standing in front of him. His gaze immediately fell, and he moistened his lips, preparing to speak, perhaps to apologize for feeling her distance as discomfort, but before he could say anything, he felt nails digging into his cheeks, lifting his face.

Harry tried to move forward, stretching his arms for more, although he was immediately stopped. His cheeks were released, while his hands were held back.

Quickly, Lizzie had taken the handcuffs that were still on his belt while he became aware of his now more extended position in space, with his legs spread apart, leaving room for her to position herself. Before Harry could understand what was happening, his wrists were trapped in the handcuffs, leaving him restrained in the armchair.

He tried to glance back, but the hands grabbed his cheeks once again, although with more force, ensuring visible marks were left. Forced to keep his focus on her, he could clearly distinguish her: her brown eyes, once bright from the room's light, now seemed darker, fixed on him as she sat on his lap, generating a warmth that consumed him.

He needed to be released. And not just from the handcuffs.

Then time began to pass quickly, just like the palpitations of his heart. His lips parted, seeking to catch his breath, but found only agitation, while small moans escaped from his throat at the wet kisses that left marks on his neck.

He wanted more.

He felt his shirt slipping off his body, feeling a slight coolness on his chest, soon replaced by the warmth of the kisses he received. A hand joined the game, caressing him as he tried to lower the fabric as much as possible, frustrated by the handcuffs that prevented his complete release.

He wanted more.

The hand descended, quickly unbuttoning his pants as he rose on the armchair, holding his weight and that of the woman on him. Both rose enough to pull down his pants to his calves, until he could push himself to remove his shoes and pants with the help of his feet.

But still, he wanted more.

He was beginning to experience a growing desperation as time passed. The palpitations in his chest kept him on edge, rising and falling just enough to provoke sighs, but just when they seemed to be heading where he needed them most, they rose again.

The moans filled the room as Harry began to move more forcefully, trying to seek something more than just a simple rubbing between his underwear and Lizzie's skirt. At first, he thought maybe she would feel sorry for seeing him like that, but seeing her eyes turn back to him without compassion, he realized he was wrong.

His breath caught when he saw Lizzie slowly unbuttoning her blouse, with agonizing slowness. Even when he prepared for his work as a policeman, he had not experienced such painful exercises as seeing her with her naked tits brushing his face, and not being able to feel them. 

"I saw you very thirsty", she whispered, her voice resonating in a softer tone than usual, awakening in Harry a sensitivity he could barely recognize at that moment. "Do you still want milk?"

His eyes brightened at the question, his head nodding before he could articulate a response; that was all Lizzie needed to pick up the half-finished glass of milk and pour it unhesitatingly over her breasts.

Harry paused for a moment, watching the white liquid carelessly spilling over the woman's nipples, seeing how the drops gradually disappeared over the edge of her skirt. He let out a barely audible sigh, unable to contain it, and then shifted his gaze to Lizzie, who looked at him with a mischievous smile, as if she had made a small oversight, although Harry received it with gratitude. He felt so grateful that, if necessary, he would have fallen to his knees to express his gratitude right at that moment.

"Oh, shit".

Lizzie let out a sigh of relief as she held Harry's hair, who finally decided to approach and take one of her breasts in his mouth. She could feel his tongue gently swirling around her nipple, alternating between delicate movements and firmer suctions.

Instinctively, her hands slid over his body, caressing his skin until they reached the edge of her skirt, which was already starting to feel too warm. She sensed Harry's lips slightly parting from her, which prompted her to immediately open her eyes to look at him.

She was met with his angelic face, with green eyes expanding towards her from below, his curly and disheveled hair, his moist face, and his lips with traces of white liquid at the corners. It was an image that was etched in her memory and urged her to act with greater urgency.

She took a deep breath before separating slightly from him, hearing a complaint starting to form on his lips before he fell silent upon realizing that Lizzie's skirt, along with her underwear, was disappearing. Despite feeling close, she had to take a few steps forward to return to Harry's lap, all while he watched her with his dark eyes, showing submission but pretending to hide something more. Lizzie wondered what it could be, but she didn't give it much importance as she returned to her position, feeling his cock more comfortably beneath her, although still covered by his underwear, brushing against her now naked cunt.

No more than a second passed before she refocused on her own pleasure, starting to move in circles around him again, while moans filled the room once more, both hers and Harry's, who, through his sounds, begged for mercy.

The rhythm intensified, leading Lizzie to abandon the circular movements and start with pelvic movements back and forth. Her excitement fluids facilitated the sliding over the cotton fabric of his underwear, allowing her to perceive more than she had imagined.

Contrary to his own satisfaction, Harry couldn't bear it anymore. A mix of excitement, desperation, discomfort, and anger invaded him as he couldn't feel completely satisfied. Although he had obeyed Lizzie's words, seeing her rubbing herself on him without really feeling her touch deeply frustrated him. He found no other way out than to start pushing forcefully, making the woman's body move sharply on top of him, causing her to open her eyes once more.

"Please", he managed to articulate, while his hips moved slightly.

Lizzie watched him for a few additional seconds before a mocking smile appeared on her face.

"Are you that needy for my pussy?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, he felt three fingers invading his mouth, silencing him immediately as he sucked and moistened them. Then, as if his prayers had been heard, he felt Lizzie moving slightly away from his lap. He saw her kneel in front of him, taking off his underwear and exposing his erect member.

A sigh escaped his lips as the fingers, soaked with his own saliva and pre-cum, caressed his glans and began to masturbate him with the palm of her hand.

"Fuck me".

His voice emerged without hesitation, rough from the dryness in his tongue and throat, yet irresistibly enticing for Lizzie; eager for Harry.

"Is that an order?" she asked, teasingly. "What do you plan to do if I don't? After all, those handcuffs are in your hands, not mine". The massage on his cock became more vigorous, causing jolts from the fires he felt under her hand.

"Let's try again, officer", she suddenly mentioned, making his eyes close for a moment. His profession hadn't even crossed his mind until that moment, but the prohibition of the moment wasn't what affected him the most, but a fire that resurged within him, rising from his lower part to his chest, filling him with excitement as he heard her.

"Shit- Please, please fuck me".

A fleeting smile appeared on Lizzie's face and quickly disappeared as she sat in the place she had desired so much but from which she had refrained, not suppressing the moan that escaped once she achieved it.

She was about to start more energetic circular movements, finding something to hold on to this time, but her actions were overshadowed by those of the man beneath her, who had taken the lead, pounding forcefully and swiftly, making her sigh softly as she allowed herself to be enveloped by the pleasurable sensation.

Then she realized that Harry's urgency was expressing itself in that way, and she let herself go, allowing him to take the lead even when his hands remained restrained.

Lizzie was forced to hold onto the couch when she found that simply leaning on Harry's shoulders was not enough to withstand the onslaught she felt inside her. Her eyes involuntarily closed, unable to keep her gaze on him for long, while her lips parted in search of air. She only found relief when Harry's tongue joined hers on her neck, leaving the same careless kisses she had given him at the beginning, but this time he decided to intensify the sensations with suctions. Lizzie had no doubt that the marks would remain there for at least a week due to the force with which he made them.

"God- You fuck me so good", she exclaimed, accompanying her groan with a whisper that made Harry open his eyes, becoming hypnotized by the sight of Lizzie's tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. He bit his lower lip to contain his own impending moan.

"I'm so close- Oh fuck! Fuck-". Lizzie's own moans intertwined, becoming more intense, filling the room with their sound, resonating even throughout the house.

Harry sharply inhaled air between his teeth, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes tightly, feeling the electric current running through his body, although he had been avoiding that moment, wanting first to observe Lizzie's reaction, wanting to absorb it completely.

"Look at me", Lizzie's voice pulled him out of his reverie, as she took his chin and forced their gazes to meet once more. "Come on, be good and let me feel you pulsating as you fill me with cum".

Harry struggled to keep his eyes open as he did his best to maintain his gaze on hers, intensifying his rhythm as much as he could, seeing her mouth open as she brought her face closer to his, brushing their lips.

"Harry!- Fuck".

Then climax came for both simultaneously, with their foreheads united and sweat sliding down them. Harry felt Lizzie's cunt walls squeezing his cock, which throbbed inside her, while she experienced a sensation of fullness and warmth, an excitement that ran through her whole body and left her trembling as she moaned softly.

As the minutes passed, their breaths calmed down. Although the atmosphere was still imbued with heat and disorder, Harry finally felt liberated, despite still having his hands handcuffed.

The large clock struck three in the morning when they woke up without realizing how long they had remained in that position. Lizzie noticed the weight on her eyelids, indicating the need for rest, but she was forced to separate from Harry when she felt the burning sensation in her thighs, and the first thing she saw when she got up was the slight smile on Harry's face.

"I don't know if you've had experience as a criminal before, but you look very comfortable with those handcuffs".

The comment only made Harry's smile widen before he opened his eyes and replied: "I can't feel my wrists".

Immediately after, Harry watched as the dimple on Lizzie's face reappeared, but this time accompanied by a genuine laugh.

After he revealed the location of the key that would unlock the handcuffs and she finally managed to free him, she walked to one of the utility rooms in search of a blanket, still naked and feeling the cold air brushing against her skin.

Lizzie focused on her destination, avoiding looking elsewhere, entered the room, took the blanket, and walked out without looking back, ignoring the shadow she had perceived slipping down the hallway.

Once they settled on the sofa in the living room, she watched as Harry's hand reached for the silver tray that had remained on the central table, and he took one of the cookies she had prepared. At that moment, Lizzie suspected that perhaps that action had caused her perplexity upon learning of Richard's death.

Because it hadn't fit with her plans.

The chocolate cookies had awaited on her bedside table in the previous room, expecting her husband's first bite upon returning from the office after a long day of work.

That would have been the culmination, the beginning of something new.

So she understood that this episode marked the real beginning, perhaps the prelude to a dangerous game she was willing to embark on once again. From scratch.

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[louiscarrotsxoxo]

the secret charm: chapter one: the reckoning

❝tonight we'll stand, get off our knees, fight for what we've worked for all these years, and the battle was long, it's the fight of our lives but we'll stand up champions tonight.❞

(pre story note: while reading, please enjoy the song put at each chapter, i specifically pick them to help visualize scenes + aesthetics' of the book for you, the readers, if you choose to, please listen!)

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

CHAPTER ONE: THE RECKONING

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

WORD COUNT: 3349K

Louis

A single key was played in the chorus of disaster, a final note was written in the crescendo of chaos.

The orchestrator was one unknown to me, but eerily spectral... in an almost ethereal way. Quite abruptly, my interest was piqued. Captivated like it was the brightest star on a dark twilight night, but stars don't shine because of their beauty, nor their worth. But because they're burning into an everlasting oblivion. And in their wake, they leave unfathomable scattered chaos across all the lands, covering all in their blazing stardust.... hopelessly enthralled in the flaming, fallacious star.

The smell of champagne and rich perfume clogged my senses to my dismay. I disliked the royal life although I was born into it and had lived this way all this time. My better judgement had trusted my inner conscience to never fall into the wicked grasps of the crisp dangers of hierarchy. But I knew all too well, I'd be surrounded, suffered in the darkness of high expectations. It was charging towards me like a typhoon of madness, all surrounded in a high standard ticket to everlasting stardom.

I sighed and stared at the unfamiliar world I was soon to be thrown into, as the limousine drove us into descending chaos, the only place in the world I would ever be hated most... even to my worst nightmares. Ethelle, the capitol city of Elles. Although, the hillsides were gorgeous and lush with people with lined pockets, and guarded hearts. There was no doubt their gazes were fierce and filled with venom at the presence of their ultimate rival on their land. I looked to my mother in protest as to why we were here... after all we were treading on enemy soil, and I'd longed to be anywhere but here. Even back at the castle, I remarked sarcastically to myself as I stared into the blinding light of the midday sun. The warmth was comforting in its own way, contrasting perfectly with the falling multicolor leaves of an early September day.

I had read about this place in books growing up as a small lad, this place, amongst the chaos and the intertwined past of this kingdom and mine, it was almost as if I knew it all. Ethelle was the heart of the country that had caused chaos and turmoil in my homeland of Lorxix, in a great war when both of the kingdoms were only in the beginning of forming their dynasties... in the early years. Before I was born, for certain. But shortly after I discovered the tangled and mysterious past of both of the kingdoms... and it was more than deadly, morbid I would describe.

The Styles are the rulers of Elles, a land of secrets, untied endings and lavish lives lived out with no sort of meaning or purpose...only for show, for an audience of empty eyes. Long ago, they had attacked my kingdom out of a fear of infidelity ad treason amongst the walls of their own kingdom...accusingly of my own blood. My own father, King Adrien Sky Tomlinson fell victim to King Edward and they both suffered the cruel fate of both of our kingdom's mistakes. Until now, I'd wanted nothing to do with the kingdom that left my own in shambles. But now I fear it's time to change the course of the future, and to make sure the past doesn't repeat itself.

Suddenly, the vessel carrying me to my doom stopped in front of the steps of a building with an exterior that looked as if it could have been carved out of stone by the gods themselves. My blue eyes scanned the beige building for a name as my eyes landed on it, a large, lettered sign with golden letters reading "ETHELLE CHARM SCHOOL" to my dismay as my mother looked at me mischievously.

"Mother..." I spoke with caution laced between my teeth as she gestures to the school grandly as I sigh and lean back in my seat in annoyance. To my dismay, my mother had informed me I'd be enrolled in the school for royals... in the land of our enemies for centuries before, it was almost treason in my eyes, quite literally being beside your enemy, and living amongst them! How could someone do such a thing? I supposed I would have to find out quite soon. Regardless of it all, my mother was set on defying the things that separate us as a society, therefore we must come together. Who knows, maybe I'll make some allies and friends for the future of my country while I'm captivated by the unfamiliar auras of a new future.

Or maybe, I'll compete in the greatest duel between the Styles and the Tomlinson's since the great war, whichever event would play out, I was more than ready to take it on. Perhaps, a new dawn will rule over us and peace will prosper. Otherwise... a great evil will spread throughout the lands once I'm crowned King, and to whomever is the Styles' heir to the throne will be doomed to my merciless wrath.

Somehow, someway she was dead set on correcting the errors 'our fathers before' had so wrongly decided upon with the great war against with the Styles' legacy. Peaceful in her nature and roughish in mine, I sought revenge. Quite frankly I'd like to think that'd never end, as long as my sword is as sharp as my wits it will be. Whether the both of us agreed or not both kingdoms had striking similarities, ones that tore them apart... or unconventionally could bring them together.

The Styles' and the Tomlinson's are both elites, strong warriors and cutthroat with a passion of blazing a trail for the destinies set before us. However, what separated me from my father before me was the halting of the centuries of repeated circumstances, I was committed to breaking the vicious cycle. The Styles were of a fickle breed, poisonously charming to a fault. Never letting any opportunity for betrayal slip through their fingers. Always, up for a challenge no matter how deadly. My father's mistake was questioning the all-powerful authority of a mourning mad man of love. Whom was already half gone and half damned, seeing that through the illusions of a fallen bond... bloodshed was the only call to the void.

Killing my father with his words and his sword, once allies... but no longer. Almost damned to say the bonds that connected them were ever true and sturdy in the first place. They were one for lying, two for extreme moral destitutions. And those damned green eyes resembling a vipers splint ones, spited and venomous, charmed and fraudulent.

So, in a turn of peaceful solidarity I'd be the first of the Tomlinson's to try to make amends with the Styles, no matter how much bitter resentment would try to drive us apart, I vowed to do it for my mother and my late father, if not myself. Or, no matter how much I wanted to slash the throat of the nearest Styles heir at point blank range.

"Louis my honey, it'll be good for you, after all a good King needs allies, and you can learn a thing or two here... perhaps meet a princess to make your Queen?" My mother suggested as I shrugged my arms hesitantly. I wasn't all that sure about my stay at Ethelle in the first place, so I'd rather take one thing at a time, I sighed in a conclusion that my fate had been sealed.

With the wordless rebuttal of my rebellious ways no longer up for debate, my personal assistants quickly piled out of the car to help me with all of my baggage. I gasped in the realization that my mother had already packed my bags, as if she wanted to send me away to an enemy institution so soon! Though, perhaps I was being too dramatic, to my curiosity I oddly wanted to know more about the seemingly quaint town of Ethelle and the school that resides in it.

To my shock, a young royal... judging by their crown, emerged from the school's grand and gleaming double doors peering directly at me with curiosity of multitudes and an unexplainable bout of mischief upon them. It was a young lad about my age, with brown wavy hair and striking green eyes with a certain allure to them. It almost looked as if they could promise you your wildest dreams, faintest fantasy, or cruelest nightmare, something told me that I would have to decide for myself...soon. My eyes scattered for a place to look to the boy's eyes were kept on me, opening me up and disregarding my weapons, leaving me completely defenseless.

Once he got close enough, his pearly white skin (at least if my eyes weren't deceiving me) shone, gleamed, sparkled, and shimmered in the fall sunlight as leaves crunched beneath his expensive shoes. His cherry-blossom lips parted slightly as words slipped from his mouth as his Ethellic accent shone through his words like a bursting ray of moonlight on a somber night.

"Hello...... mate," his words hit like a raging storm. "You must be... Prince Louis Tomlinson of Lorxix, I'm Prince Harry Styles from Elles... as you may know. I'm here to show you around the school this year, don't worry you'll fit in just fine." He smiled with an almost faux tone as he read my name from a card he was holding in his tattooed hand.

As he bowed before me and kissed my hand, my entire body nearly seized at his gesture. An entire ghostly chill snaked its way down my spine. How could a murderer's son be this deceiving in his own right?! He must have thought he were playing me for a fool like a grand piano in his own grand solo. My, my, my, he will be sorely mistaken when he discovers I am no fool to his dreamlike aura attempting to cloud my previous pretenses for him! As if he could wash it all away with quick looks and flashy charismatic moves...so he thought.

With a broad smirk on my face hidden behind my grumpy 'woe is me' exterior, I looked at him as he motioned me into the school as my servants went through a back entrance. Supposed to wherever the luggage is placed of the royals at this school, not making it any less suspicious, though. Of course, he was a Styles I scoffed, the minute I step foot on his soil he's already immersing my presence with faux affection and loaded laughs.

A new moment, my face flips, contorts and changes as he meets my eyes, flopping like a fish and desperate to cover up the thoughts that were so obvious onto my face. I sigh, perhaps nothing would change in result of my stay here... I admitted halfheartedly, and a bit gloomfully. I gazed at him critically as my eyes shot daggers while they retained their aura of innocence. No doubt I would determine his true demeanor long enough, he was a Styles, they all begin to show their true colors soon enough. I looked into Harry's ivy green eyes as they surrounded me with a warm suffocating gaze as he tried to comfort me with a hint of curiosity in his mind that was splayed across his face. I looked behind me to the limo that my mother and I had rode in here, as my past disappeared with it.

My eyes slowly examined inside of the double doors as strange men in white suits with golden accents on said suits opened the doors for us, shocked at my presence. All of a sudden, what I saw next completely took my breath away. The school was adorned with cavernous hallways at every corner, and lux decorations gracing the grand hall... trophy cases graced the walls as each plaque had names on them, ones I did not know, but I figured I would soon enough. Harry marveled at my reaction to the school as he daringly put his hand on my shoulder, breathing with me as if he had seen it for the first time, which I doubted he had since he resides in this city, so what was with the sudden gesture?

"If you must know," Harry started formally "Ethelle school is a historical school at best, very hard to get into. I'm legitimately surprised they let someone of your stature into the establishment. I suppose my mother wanted to give you a fighting chance at redemption." Harry spoke into my ear as I quickly pulled away from his hold as he laughed at my reflex as my hand ghosted over the shape of my sword in its sheath.

"And don't be afraid Louis, I am simply an old friend in some sort, am I not?" he smirks at the way I flinched away from his touch. As if he had mistaken it for fear instead of a grimace or disgust, as if I would tremble in his presence, shiver in his touch, he was in for a surprise I bet.

His eyes widen for a split second, before shifting to that same 'holier than thou' glint and lustrous-like look as if he wanted to eat me alive, and most likely not because he found me appealing...but the idea, however...

"So, you carry weapons on the regular hm? Should expect that from a Tomlinson," Harry started, inching his pompous attitude way over the line that I could manage, and I'd just only stepped into the door, I pinched the bridge between my nose in annoyance as I edged my sword out of its sheath out of pure spite. "Don't you dare reveal your sword to the light or I'll unarm you right here where you stand, trust in that Louis." Harry hissed into my ear as I held my hands up in defeat, rolling my eyes in the process.

"Hand it over..." Harry commanded, his fingers pointing towards himself as he pushed me to hand over my sword as I looked to him with bewilderment. As if I would give up my sword to the enemy after he'd just made a threat on my life seconds before? I scoffed as I walked away from him into a stray hallway carelessly, unknowing and uncaring of where I was going, anywhere away from the prince of pompous. I sneered at my own remark, I smirked mischievously at my new discovery, the dorm hall.

"You can't wander off like that Louis, this place is quite large. But oh, look you've found the dorms... I can only wonder who you'll be rooming with this year, God forbid it'd be me, or your head be chopped clean off before the first weeks end!" Harry exclaimed jokingly, his loud laugh booming throughout the hall, but something told me he was more than serious.

"Funny, say Prince of pompous tell me why your grand school is so dead, no one's here." I questioned judgingly as Harry overlooked my features as if I was daft. "It's a few days before school begins, you've arrived early. However, you'll be staying at my castle until the school year has officially started." Harry sneered wickedly as if his gaze would cast a wild spell on me that would cause unexplainable tortures and nightmares. And I was stuck in the middle of storm of an enigma of him. And I was desperately trying to escape it, to no avail of course, just my luck.

"Wonderful..." I groaned incessantly as Harry's eyes turned into slits pointed in my direction as he turned on his heel and continued to go on with the tour of the school's endless spacious rooms and hallways. As we continued on, my mind began to roam and float onto more interesting things such as what would truly come out of my year at Ethelle, I wondered. No doubt Harry would be driving me to my wits end before the finale of the school year. But bizarrely, I became interested in the complex archive of information that was housed in the walls that towered nearly everything. The aura of this place, hollow at best... but something possessed in it. Or... in me as it was suddenly shown to me, that this place had secrets, and lots of them.

And I, Prince Louis William Tomlinson of Lorxix was now completely, utterly in too deep to abort the mission of finding out exactly what Ethelle charm school was hiding. Or, if it was hiding anything at all. Suddenly, the sounds of Harry's Ethellic accent rang through my ears as he called my name incessantly as my neck nearly snapped at the speed, I'd turned around to face him as he looked at me. As if he now in this moment asked a daring question that I'd failed to answer. He stared at me with worlds of illusions that swam peculiarly in his eyes like an exotic fish through a fresh stream.

"Did you not hear me?" He inquired cluelessly as he shook his head at my lack of concentration, I'd scoff at his lack of closemouthed behavior.

"Erm... no, you talk so much I can't seem to keep up." I admitted bashfully but honestly as Harry's green eyes turned into splints of shining emerald that mirrored mine in the most delicate way one could ever stare. So hatefully, intricately, tearing me piece by piece, it disgusted me.

"Well, I informed you that things run differently at my school. We have twice annual dances every season. And roommates for boarding rooms are picked by yours truly and my mother the Queen of Elles... so you've made the wrong move getting on my bad side." Harry pushed with a smirk as if him controlling which room I would live in could sway me to kiss his pompous ass. I dismissed his failure at wooing me into petrified fear, as if someone of my high standard would stoop so low. I may be a rebel to all of the ridiculous hoops I would have to jump through... but no matter what I'd stay a royal at heart, no matter how much I'd loathed it.

"Ah, well... my days are numbered I'm shaking in my boots prince Harry, please except my formal apology!" My voice shook dramatically as I waved my hands in the air as a sign of defeat as Harry murmured under his breath and crossed his arms with a huff. Then to top it off, his eyebrows knitted together creating the most delicious grimace spread across his face. I lived for it surprisingly... the thrill of hitting him where it hurts fueled me in a way nothing had ever before. Getting my revenge perhaps, even in presumably the pettiest way known to man.

After all, we were natural born enemies like gods and monsters, we both knew who was on either side of each fight. It was only expected for the both of us to be cutthroat, it's what kept our hearts beating and our swords sharp. I sighed as Harry went on with his endless monologue about the attire I must wear to school and the academic requirements to keep myself afloat. I rolled my eyes while his back was turned, what was with Mr. speeches forevermore again? I had not the slightest idea.

"Don't make it harder for yourself than it already is twat, it's about to be the worst year you've ever seen." Harry warned angrily, his devilish tone predicted a challenge, I presumably knew there wouldn't be one.

Let the reckoning begin.

A/N: starting a new story is always like a breath of fresh air to me, I truly hope you've enjoyed the chapter... after all this is only the beginning. I personally love Louis and Harry's interactions, like lol they both hate each other so much it's funny. I can't wait to see the reaction of all of my readers reading this story as it progresses and things change... how do you all like this first chapter? Let me know, don't be shy!

I'd love to hear any of your theories or opinions on my work, I live for it actually, so if you're up for it you can ask me anytime about anything regarding my books, it's a safe place for everyone.

Alright, off to vanish into the dark mysterious hallways of Ethelle's charm school to write another chapter! See you next time my friends!

All the love, Louiscarrotsxoxo

_______________________

the secret charm master list link

AO3 - the secret charm

#louis tomlinson #harry styles #larry stylinson #larry stylinson au #larry stylinson fanfiction #one direction #2012 larry stylinson #larry stylinson fic #royals #mystery au #enemies to lovers #arranged marriage #fake marriage #enemy countries #rivals to lovers #hatred #love #romance #fanfiction #fiction #lgbtq fiction #queer fiction #gay #Youtube

[harrys-yellow-snow]

ILLUSIONS - a sneak peek

New fan fic! i'm not sure when i'll start posting, but i'll put the first chapter up for sure, as well as on my wattpad @taepsaev

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"If the chains are broken, are you truly free?"

Nova Corbyn, an aspiring photographer loses everything. All hope is lost until a stranger is interested to know about her passions. The thrilling murder mystery pushes them together but unexpectedly pulls them apart.

wattpad cover above ^^

STARRING

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NOVA CORBYN

• 26 •

imagine her however you want, even if there's descriptions in the story :)

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HARRY STYLES

• 27 •

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KIERAN STOLL

• 37 •

imagine him however you want, even if there's descriptions.

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NIALL HORAN

• 27 •

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LOUIS TOMLINSON

• 29 •

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so far, there is no set schedule due to constant writer's block and high, stressful expectations I place on myself. I hope to gain more motivation in the future, considering I'm working on a project for school and this little secret project ;)

please look forward to this! i really hope you enjoy it!

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#harry styles #fanfic #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #niall horan #one direction #angst #louis tomlinson #one direction fanfiction #thriller #mystery #suspense #psychological thriller

[freedomfireflies]

Promises, Promises | 7. The Truth is Out There*

Summary: Callie and Harry are both trapped in a house with a murderer.

Only problem? They each think the other person did it.

Word Count: 3.5k

“This way?”

“Yeah.”

Callie and Harry turn, following the curve of the wall as it leads them to the third floor. Their footsteps are soft against the wooden floor. Light. As to not raise suspicion.

They’re so close, Callie can almost taste it.

Taste the freedom that was stripped from her. Taste the answer to the one question ever-present in her mind.

Her eyes move from the lace on her flats to the dip in Harry’s back. Watches his muscles constrict when he rolls his shoulders. As he steels himself whenever the music slips through the vents.

She has no idea what awaits them in the attic. No idea where Harry’s true intentions lie.

For a second, she allows herself the luxury of pretending he’s her Harry again.

But seconds are meant to come and go.

And as they go, so does that hopeful desire, and her eyes return to the floor.

“Now where?” he asks, and she peers around his shoulder.

A fork.

“Uh…” Her features pull together. Come on, you know this house like the back of your hand. “The…left?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” He turns, eyes indicating his amusement, although his tone is clipped. 

“Telling you,” she corrects, a bit irritated herself.

A smirk materializes. “I don’t know. Now I don’t believe you.”

“Just go,” she grunts, brushing past his arm as she takes the lead.

She hears some sort of noise elicit from his throat, but she pays it no mind, instead following along the path of the hidden walkway until she can no longer hear the song.

Always that damned song.

It’s been playing on repeat for what feels like hours. The same lyrics now burned into her brain as she slips between the narrow walls.

“Thank fuck,” Harry mumbles behind her, and she imagines he’s equally as relived for a bit of silence. “S’fucking gonna kill myself if I had to listen to that shit any longer.”

A frown forms, unhappy with that type of talk. “Yeah.”

More silence follows their lead as they continue past the cobwebs and rotting boards. She’s not surprised these hidden passageways have been left unattended, although that does reassure her of their safety.

At last, they reach a door. A door that Callie knows without a doubt will lead them out of the covert shadows and into the rest of the house.

And suddenly, she’s not sure she’s ready for whatever awaits them on the other side.

For a moment, she was ready for an inevitable end, no matter how gruesome. Suddenly, she was ready to just be rid of the night. Of the pain. Of…him.

She turns to him now, noticing his cocked eyebrow as he questions her hesitancy.

She wonders if she really is ready to say goodbye to her friend.

“What?” His head cranes to the side, glancing past her to the door. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” she whispers, eyes dropping to his shirt, suddenly overcome with embarrassment. “Yeah, just…right through there.”

He nods, seeming to understand, before looking back down at her cowering frame. “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

She scoffs, shooting her narrowed eyes his way as he leans back. She imagines it’s obvious.

“Oh,” he seems to agree, the smirk still evident. “Right. Back to that.”

“Yes, back to that.” Her arms cross. “What else did you expect?”

A shrug. “I don’t know. For you to trust me?”

“Really? And why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, cause you don’t really have much of a fucking choice.”

She rolls her eyes and looks away from him, despite the inkling that he’s probably right. “I want to.”

It comes out before she can stop it. The truth. The truth he made very clear wasn’t really his problem and yet, with only a few moments left with him, she feels compelled to repeat it.

Because whether or not she should want to, isn’t her concern.

She does want to. Wants to trust him. Wants to get her friend back.

Wants to get her Harry back.

His expression twists, indicating his annoyance, and yet something tells her it’s not exactly aimed at her, per se.

He steps back, now leaning against the wall in wait. “Yeah, well…I don’t know how to make you.”

Suddenly, inspiration strikes, and her posture straightens as she eyes him carefully. “You could tell me why you left.”

The frown deepens, just like she knew it would. “Calliope—”

“No, I mean it.” She steps closer. “I want the truth. Not the ‘You Never Needed Me’ bullshit. Why did you really leave? What did I…what was so awful that you couldn’t be my friend?”

She already knows she won’t like his answer and truthfully, she knows better than to inquire about it.

But that’s the question that’s haunted her since the day of the funeral and she’ll be damned if she dies without knowing the truth.

He’s quiet, perhaps concocting another lie, although something tells her he too sees no point in lying considering what’s at stake.

She watches the muscles in his jaw constrict as he looks away. Then…

“It was hard,” he tells her, his voice coarse, like gravel. “Just…watching you hurt like that. When I found you there. And you were so…distant. You wouldn’t look at me. Wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t even…and then it was like it never happened.”

She recalls that memory as if it happened yesterday.

She was the one to find her parents. Dead, bleeding out on the floor.

Harry was the one to find her. He picked her up from the floor and brought her to her bed. He had tucked her in. Had stayed with her all night.

He didn’t leave her side once.

Except for when she needed him most.

“I don’t know, it just…it was hard,” he repeats, still refusing to meet her eye. “And I didn’t know how to help you. And you just…weren’t yourself anymore. And I guess it was just easier to leave. Felt like we had grown apart.”

She can feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Yeah…”

But she doesn’t agree. Doesn’t understand. Doesn’t understand how after all these years, after all those times she cursed him to hell and wished he’d never been born, that she can look at him now and still miss him.

Still love him.

His head turns to her. He clocks the tears, watching as one singular droplet falls down her cheek. “Callie…”

Her heart constricts at the sound of her name. The name he used to always call her by. The first person in her life to actually call her that.

And when he switched to Tinkerbell, she had thought she’d never forgive him for rejecting every part of their past.

He takes a step, his eyes suddenly tender, and the moment she sees it…she’s eleven again. 

And he’s her Harry.

His fingers reach for her arm, hovering in the air before lowering, and she exhales a soft breath.

He’s scared to touch her. Doesn’t know how. Not after all these years.

He looks away and she feels her stomach drop. She’s not sure why she was so eager for the contact, and yet she was, and now—

His thumb swipes at her cheek, pulling the tear away from her skin, and that’s when she believes she truly breaks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as his fingers find her chin, ushering her head up. It’s the first time he’s ever said it. “I just…please don’t fucking cry.”

She inhales a broken gasp, the request impossible to obey. “Okay.”

And yet, she doesn’t stop. She feels another tear roll down and he smiles softly, reaching to wipe it again.

And despite herself, she breathes out a laugh, now a bit ashamed for the meltdown, and he returns the small chuckle until she can collect herself.

They stand, his hand on her jaw, her eyes on his. They stand and they don’t talk and Callie realizes she would happily die with him now.

And then…his head dips.

She feels her stomach drop as his nose brushes hers, his touch eager and his lips so fucking close.

She’s frozen to her spot, having no idea how to proceed, and then, he whispers, “Please let me.”

She wants to have more self-control. Wants to have a bit more restraint.

And yet, she nods before he’s even finished the question, and that’s all he needs to bridge the gap.

She’s only ever imagined kissing him once. It was the first day of senior year. He had come to class, tan and completely different. Tattoos on his arms. Bandana around his head. Smiling.

He’s always had such a beautiful smile.

She sat, in the corner of the classroom, and thought to herself that maybe he was cuter than she had remembered.

She was quick to brush—rather, shove—the thought from her mind before turning her attention away.

And now she realizes that no thought about him can ever compare to how it really is.

And maybe the excitement is spurred on by the reality that she does still hate him, just a little bit, yet that doesn’t stop her from fisting his curls as she stands to her tiptoes.

She feels him smile. Feels his tongue tangle itself with hers. Feels the way he bites at her bottom lip as his hands tug on her lower back.

Maybe she should stop herself. Maybe she should resist.

But she can’t.

And neither can he.

Perhaps this is the last thing they do before they die. It only makes sense, Callie figures, for them to fuck their way to the finish line.

And she can’t imagine she’d want her last to be with anyone else.

Even if she still sort of hates him.

The grip on her body is used to push her against the wall, and she gasps into their kiss as he grins again, moving his kisses down her cheek, her jaw, and to her throat.

His fingers tug at the soft material on her dress, compelling it higher until it’s bunched around her stomach.

He pulls back to glance down, eyeing the sheer stockings on her legs with what she first assumes is disgust.

Until she notices the way he swallows.

Her cheeks flush with shame and lust and when he finally looks back at her, she feels her stomach flip.

“Fuck,” he growls, kissing her once more as his touch dives below the band around her hips, slipping inside until he can get just a taste of the way she craves him.

She reels as she feels the rough pad of his finger swiping through before dipping inside. Fists his shirt as she’s driven to her tiptoes.

He grunts as he sucks on her bottom lip before hissing, “Quiet, Calliope.”

She’s not sure she can be. Not with the urgent force of his fingers as they thrust inside her. 

She’s not surprised he finds no need to ease her into it, although truth be told, she’s not that upset by it.

He adds a second, groaning in the back of his throat at the feel of her clenching around him. Tight. The way she knows he loves.

His other hand moves to her chest, palming her tit before pinching the bud of her nipple, and her head rolls to the side as she gasps for air.

He seems pleased with her unraveling and goes harder. Slower. Enough to drive her insane until she’s whining, and he’s forced to slap his palm over her lips.

“What did I just fucking say?” He sounds upset, but she knows it’s driven by desire. “Know you want them to hear what I do to you, don’t you?”

She nods quickly against his hand, eyes on his before they flutter shut at a particularly harsh bout of pleasure. 

She’s tempted to wonder how they got here so quickly and yet can’t possibly find it in herself to care.

She’s so pathetically receptive to his touch that she wonders if she ever really hated him at all. 

Because hate surely can’t feel this wonderful.

His ravenous kisses are sloppy against her neck. His teeth pull at her skin, sucking his name into her veins, hissing whenever she whimpers.

She likes to think he’s just as pathetic for her, too.

And she’s proven right when she feels him press into her thigh, his hard cock evident to her perception.

She almost feels bad for him, although truthfully, it’s his own doing.

But, nevertheless, she lets her dainty hands fall to his hip. He doesn’t seem to notice, much too focused on her, but she uses that as leverage to maneuver her hand past the tight band of his jeans and into his boxers.

The second her fingertip grazes the swollen head, he goes still, body rigid with something she’s not quite sure she can decipher.

And then—

“Shit, Cal,” he whispers, thrusting against her touch until his forehead meets hers. “The fuck are you doing?”

“What do you think?” She squeezes the tip until he curses again, eyes screwing shut. “Aw. Feel that good?”

His teeth scrape together, clearly annoyed, although he makes no move to stop her. “Fuck you.”

“Oh, I will,” she tells him coyly, rather pleased with the way her tone never wavers. “Gonna fuck myself with your cock.”

He looks utterly stunned to hear such filthy words leave her delicate mouth and yet his eyes roll back at the sound.

So, she tells him again. 

“S’gonna feel so good,” she murmurs, now reaching up to ghost her lips over the pulse point in his neck. “Yeah? Gonna use you like my own personal toy.”

Another animalistic noise and he’s quick to use his hold on her hip to drive her taut to the wall. 

His hand easily brushes her out of the way until he can pull his jeans down and step closer to her.

They haven’t the luxury of time and while in another life, she’d happily spend hours in a petite hallway with him, she knows now isn’t that time.

He grabs her stockings next, forcing them down her thighs until the delicate fabric rips. She scowls, having grown to like them, although she supposes it really doesn’t matter now.

He’s quick with it. Determined. And Callie has to admit she wouldn’t have it any other way as he moves to kiss her.

“Come on.” She’s eager for the touch. The feel. They don’t have time for waiting. And she doubts they’d truly go through with it if they allowed themselves the time to really think it through. “Come on, Killer.”

He makes a noise at the nickname, and she has to admit she’s rather pleased he seems to like it.

And then…he spins her around.

Forces her cheek into the wall as he pulls the dress over her ass. His fingers move to the lace bow in her hair before he’s tugging it free, dark hair spilling down her back as he reaches around her.

He brushes the bow over her lips, and she parts them willingly, letting him slip the fabric between until she can bite down.

He’s quick to tie the knot and once it’s secure, his hand moves to her hair.

Her stomach churns when she feels the subtle sting of the way he fists it, yanking her head back as he dips down closer to her ear. “Tell me you want this.”

She can’t exactly tell him, but she can nod fervently, something that unfortunately doesn’t seem to satisfy him.

The grip tightens. His teeth pull at the shell of her ear. “I don’t believe you.”

She whimpers softly, hoping the yearning in her cry is enough to lure him into submission, and she’s rewarded with the feel of his cock against her ass.

He curses, palm finding her leg so he can hoist her it higher, knee pressing into the wall. “Be good, Calliope.”

She hasn’t time to decipher his request, the first feel of him pushing in enough to leave her mind completely blank.

She groans against the bow in her mouth, fingers scratching down the wall as she hopes for the third time that Derek and the others are still two floors below them. 

He stills, lips brushing at her neck as his breath, hot and heavy, trickles down her neck. 

Full. The only word that makes sense to her. Her eyes flutter and she reaches back to scrape her hands down his scalp as a subliminal request.

“Yeah?” he murmurs in response, already pulling back and she nods yet again. “Fucking knew it. Knew you’d be my good little whore.”

It’s odd hearing him speak that way but she can’t exactly fault him for the salacious language.

Another thrust. Sharper. Angrier.  As if every emotion he never allowed himself to feel pours out into this one act of passion.

She gasps before it melts into a sensual moan, pulling her leg higher before he has a chance to do it for her.

And he’s so fucking deep. Something that she knows is causing his head to spin, as well as hers.

He pulls her down with each drive, ridiculously slow. To the point where she thinks she’ll come just from the thought.

And his words. Livid in her ear.

“—so fucking good, Cal—”

“—yeah? You like that, know you fucking love it—”

“—so fucking tight for me. Fucking knew. Fucking knew you’d be perfect—”

She never imagined herself enjoying praise as much as she finds herself enjoying it now. Especially from him. But it’s heated and it’s furious and she knows he means it.

The sound of her coating his cock nearly drives her mad and the way she clenches around him nearly drives him mad.

It’s like a puzzle piece, fitting and filling so perfectly together that she wonders how she’ll ever find another lover to compare.

One hand presses into the wall beside her, veins pulling at his skin as he dives inside her. Over and over and over.

Then, his fingers move to hers, interlocking as he squeezes before directing her hand down between her thighs.

“Come on,” he urges, his voice thick and coarse. “I’ve always wanted to watch you touch yourself. Show me, Cal…attagirl.”

She follows his instructions to the letter, moving along her clit as he keeps his hand intertwined with hers.

So they can both feel.

He sucks the air through his teeth, nose nudging her jaw as his thrusts falter. So overcome with lust that she knows he’s not sure what to focus on.

She makes a show of it. Whimpering into the tie as she uses both their hands to aid in the roll of her hips. Until she’s nearly shaking.

And he feeds off it. She can feel the way it becomes his personal vendetta to ruin her in more ways than one.

She can feel a different kind of tear roll down her cheek as it builds like fire in her stomach. Twisting into a tight coil before its inevitable snap.

He’s close. Can tell by the way he’s tugging her back against his cock. The way his breathing has become staggered. The way his hand falls from hers.

He pulls at the soft hair around his fist until her head drops back onto his shoulder. “Gonna take me yeah?” She nods. “S’a good girl. Come on, Calliope. Fucking take me—”

And the feel of him inside her, the way he moans in her ear—low and carnal. It’s the best sound she’s ever heard in her life and just like that…she follows.

And they fall into each other, gasping for air and holding on for dear fucking life as she resists the urge to cry out.

And as the tide washes over her subconscious and her body is permitted to rest, she decides that no matter how she comes to remember this act with Harry…

It will always be worth it.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. Stays warm inside her as he presses a gentle kiss to her shoulder.

And she smiles, squeezing his curls as a thank you before letting go.

After he’s pulled out and tucked back into his pants, he flicks the knot around her hair loose as it falls delicately from her mouth.

He steps back, creating the space she needs to gather her thoughts and her underwear as she sweeps them back up her legs.

She watches him closely as he moves to the other wall, a hand running through the sweaty curls tapered to his forehead.

She looks for any indication of disgust or regret and is quite surprised to find nothing but blissed-out ecstasy. 

She’s almost sorry to take that away from him.

As his eyes shut for a moment of meditation, she reaches for the knife previously stashed behind one of the wooden slates.

And with no further hesitation, she steps forward and drives the knife through his stomach.

Next:

~ Promises, Promises | 8. If This Is Love, It Breaks My Heart

Previous:

~ Promises, Promises | 6. People We Know to People We Don't

Full Masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles short story #harry styles smut #winona ryder #murder mystery #short story #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan #smut #harry styles promises promises #harry and calliope

[mason-conaway]

new chapter hello

run from me, but always come back:

"I don't know, Harry," Louis sighs wistfully, the long line of his neck covered in a ring of purple as he tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Sometimes I think about the way things are now, and I can't help but feel like he's won." "He hasn't," Harry replies fiercely, unwilling to let this shadowed figure take anything else from them. Not after they've worked so hard to escape his vice-like grip, to erase all his wrongdoings and turn them into something beautiful. or the one where Louis disappears for two years and the person who returns is not the same one who left 57.4k WIP

#larry fanfiction #larry stylinson #larry fic #larry fanfic #larry stylinson fanfic #larry stylinson fanfiction #larry fic rec #1d fanfiction #harry styles #larry ff #lourry fanfiction #lourry fanfic #lourry #louis tomlinson #1d fanart #1d fic #1d au #larry stylinson ff #larry stylinson fic #one direction #1d fanfic #one direction fic rec #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #niall horan #zayn malik #liam payne #mystery #slow burn

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in September 2023. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #54 |  ko-fi | fic recs

—Harry/Louis—

🍁 And What If I Were You by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 109k, famous/not famous) For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him? For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart? And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever?

🍂 Suddenly Last Summer by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 44k, mystery) Suddenly he has someone who listens to him and cares about what he thinks. Someone who really sees him. But their happily ever after is forever marred by an incident at a party during Labor Day weekend, and Louis is left with a choice to make.

🍁 Endgame by @brightgolden

(E, 38k, royal au) Where omega Crown Prince Harry Styles is trying and failing to get pregnant for four years, but all that is about to change when courtesan alpha Louis Tomlinson comes into the equation.

🍂 That Howling Infinite by @sweettartine

(E, 27k, uni) the one where Louis and Harry fall in love while reading Moby Dick.

🍁 Might've Took The Long Way by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 21k, exes to lovers) Now Harry is back in town, and no matter how many times Louis tells himself they can't be together, they keep falling right back into each other.

🍂 Ace of Hearts by @allwaswell16

(E, 10k, historical) Louis Tomlinson, the alpha Duke of Yorkshire, had returned to England to stay now that he’d married and mated. But since his husband was also the omega he’d once held captive aboard his half-brother’s pirate ship, he held back from pushing Harry into parenthood. Part 3 of Ace of Spades

🍁 Feels Like Magic by crimsontheory / @ireallysawanangel

(M, 10k, Marcel) It's been two incredible years with the best boyfriend Marcel could ask for, but is his biggest fear starting to become a reality? Has it really all been too good to be true? Part 2 of Marcel

🍂 Light Up Any Room by crimsontheory / @ireallysawanangel

(E, 10k, Marcel) Marcel is a little nervous about having to give a speech at the library’s annual charity gala, but thankfully he has Louis right by his side supporting him. And later that night, Louis shows Marcel just how proud of him he is. Part 3 of Marcel

🍁 In Shining Armour of Trackie and Trainers by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 9k, famous/not famous) Online dating isn't exactly working for Harry. In fact, it couldn't really be going much worse. But then the door of the bar opens, and the pack of friends walking in parts and - that’s Louis Tomlinson.

🍂 Court Wine by @enchantedlandcoffee , red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 7k, a/b/o) after a misunderstanding during a scrabble game, Alpha Louis starts courting Omega Harry without the latter being aware of it.

🍁 I Remember (The Distances We Covered) by @lululawrence

(NR, 5k, famous/not famous) @ColleenisStylish: @LouisTomlinson my dad thinks he’s sat next to you on a train from Edinburgh right now, so if you could confirm that would be amazing. His name is Harry and he’s just had white wine and says you’re on red

🍂 U-Pop Truck Stop by @kingsofeverything

(E, 4k, truckers) After driving their big rigs all day, Harry and Louis park at the same truck stop.

🍁 Eyes so blue, Shorts so red by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

(G, 2k, alien Harry) Alien Harry discovers poetry.

🍂 Tongue Tied by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(G, 1k, roommates) “I wish that I could tell Harry that I love him, instead of getting all tongue tied and chickening out.” The Irishman winked. “You never know, your wish may just come true.”

🍁 Enemies to Lovers by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 1k, poem) There's something happening at Styles' place. Louis can sense it. He's good like that.

🍂 My Muse by skipper / @skipperxao3

(NR, 1k, older Harry/Louis) My love, my life, my everything. Until the day I die, you will never cease to be my muse.

🍁 The Lovers by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 1k, tarot cards) “Come inside,” an eerie voice seemed to echo from the darkness. “Come inside, and seek your destiny.”

🍂 Are We In the Clear by asphodelknox / @iamasphodelknox

(M, 1k, historical) Louis and Harry meet across a crowded court at a time when falling in love would mean their destruction. With help from a friend, they run for their freedom.

🍁 Gaydar Lessons by @homosociallyyours

(G, 1k, girl direction) While standing around after softball practice for the company's women's softball team, Harry gets caught (and caught up) in staring at Louis as she eats a ripe, juicy peach. If only she could be certain that Louis was into women.

—Rare Pairs—

🍂 You Are A Song by @lululawrence

(NR, 3k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) To Louis, Nick felt like poetry in motion. He was a bit of chaos surrounding Louis’ otherwise monotonous days, and Louis was quickly becoming addicted.

🍁 bet on it by @nouies

(E, 2k, Louis/OMC) a fic inspired by Louis at the barricade during AFHF

🍂 you are the magic in me by @beardyboyzx

(NR, 2k, Zayn/Liam) Zayn is eight when he meets the Prince for the first time. His dad is being knighted — the King has seen the way he fought to defend his village from the enemies of the Kingdom and has decided to gift him a piece of land and a title.

#28th appreciation #ficrec #trackinghappily #1dficvillage #trackinghome #ficsfor4am #tracksintheam #1dsource #hltracks

[sizzleissues]

Are you currently reading anything?

Be prepared for an onslaught because I am not normal and I read several things at once and that’s not even counting fanfiction! These were all started within this year and I plan to finish them before next!

First section - Sizzle pretends she’s smart and knows things (non-fiction)

A village in the Third Reich by Julia Boyd - very readable and I highly recommend! Really deepened my understanding of the life of ordinary people during the Third Reich. On my need to finish list

How to Make an Apple Pie from Scratch by Harry Cliff - Wonderful and I learned a lot about particle physics from what I’ve read so far!

An Emotional Dictionary by Susie Dent - What is on the tin, words to describe common feelings that you might not have known existed. Less of a read and more of a resource but wonderful nonetheless.

For a recommendation of non-fiction that I would read again, Sapiens : a brief history of humankind and Homo Deus : a brief history of tomorrow by Yuval Noah Harari

Second section - Sizzle is a contemporary YA reader through and through (she swears she reads many genres not just YA romance, you caught her at a lacklustre month guys) (she wanted to slam her face into a wall reading Lord of the Flies - she gets its a satire, did not help the feeling) (fiction)

Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston - rereading with the movie out. As remarkably witty and swoony as ever

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston - rereading as well because it’s my favourite book by the author. Fun time all around

There’s a couple others but it think I’m dnf-ing them because I know my worth. Please throw me some good older thought-provoking fiction my way I need it >_<. I recommend Truly Devious by Maureen Johnson - gripping murder mystery novel in a writing style I adore (:

Final section - Sizzle faces the haunting sight of her ao3 marked for later list (fanfiction)

All the Missing Pieces by @uptoolateart - I will sing its praises from the rooftop. Amazing exploration of Adrien’s character and how canon things and the sort of au the fic is set in affects things in his future. Love me some adult Adrienette with kids expansion pack

Bon voyage by @keeperofthebox - Quickly ascending the ranks of my favourite fics with each chapter. I love seeing Adrien struggle I guess >_<

Of course I have plenty of other fics marked that I have yet to read or finish because a.time or b.they’re ongoing still.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk and wish me luck in finished all this by December.

#anon answered #sizzle rambles #sizzle rambles: literature edition #ml fic rec #book reccs

[tibby]

Hi Tibby! I saw your post that Casey McQuiston was originally a prolific fanfic writer of AG/JE rpf. I had heard that they were a prolific rpf writer…but for a different fandom. More specifically Harry/Louis from 1D. And that they were one of the mysterious authors of the legendary These Inconvenient Fireworks.

I find it interesting that it’s a well known rumor that they wrote rpf, but there are differing details about which fandoms they wrote for. Though in this case, they heyday of the social network fandom was ~2010 (afaik) and 1D fanfiction peaked closer to 2014 (though TIF was written in 2012). It’s definitely possible they wrote for both.

Just curious about your thoughts on the matter 😏

hi ariel! i have never been involved in the 1d fandom, so i can't say if i know anything about the (in)famous fics within it. my knowledge begins and ends with the after films being based on harry styles/oc rpf. so i cannot offer any answer there.

i WILL also say that i cannot say with any certainty that rwrb is in fact jesse eisenberg/andrew garfield fanfiction. i just know that casey mcquiston was a prolific tsn writer back in the day, and the american guy and british guy falling in love is a very funny coincidence to me. and also that reporter guy had STRONG justin timberlake energies. honestly i've spent enough time in tsn fandom to pick up on which character was meant to represent who, but for all i know the same can be said for 1d fic or whatever.

i've also had people in the tags of that post claim that rwrb was based on a merlic fic, so who knows for sure. i personally don't think that the story itself was originally fic, but that casey was simply inspired by. certain actors or characters when writing their leads.

anyway. i didn't expect my posts to get any kind of attention outside of my immediate mutual circle, which is primarily compromised of people i know and many of whom already had the rpf knowledge. i just find the whole thing funny, and as a tsn stannie it's just something i like bringing up because it makes me laugh. i don't particularly care about fic writers becoming authors or rpf being made into movies, because. well. shit happens, it makes money, tsn is virtually rpf and one of my favourite movies of all time. there are much better hills to die on.

i am just of the opinion that if rpf/fanfic IS going to continue to be made into movies then they need to commit to the bit. cast the actual person it was based on. if that meant we needed jesse and andrew, or harry and louis, or the two guys from merlin to be the rwrb leads...then so be it. we all know it's fanfiction and possibly rpf anyway. why not take it all the way?

#ask #arielfabulous

[eggbagelsjr]

Greetings! It seems almost impossible, but I have written a fanfiction tale! @tinyq made wonderful, perfect art for it (I'm withholding the full version so you'll be tempted to seek it out on ao3 -- it's in the middle of chapter 2 in what I consider to be the rimshot of art placements, please let me know if you agree/disagree), and @etl-echo-audiobooks recorded it with their perfect voices.

READING VIBES:

You sometimes think Twilight but make it Terminator 2 but make it Dramione

You secretly like Michael Bay-style explosions

You think about the Large Hadron Collider a lot but maybe don't know enough about physics to be bothered when someone else who doesn't know anything about physics butchers science in service of a fanfic plot

You're not bothered by the presence of popsicle stick-esque jokes about dentists interspersed throughout a fic

You need an action/adventure romance warmup before your regularly scheduled pwp bedtime reading

FIC SUMMARY:

Outside her lab, Hermione was aware of four work-related facts: (1) she was employed by the Department of Mysteries, (2) she did research in the field of magical physics, (3) she was on the cusp of a very important breakthrough, and (4) she enjoyed her work immensely. What she conveniently forgot during her off-hours: despite all her manifold professional and personal accomplishments, the primary reason she looked forward to coming to work was… …Draco Malfoy, L.O.M.L. Maintenance Officer. OR: Hermione Granger accidentally invents a magical bomb and has six hours to learn how to defuse it. Unfortunately, she's lost her memories. Double unfortunately, Draco Malfoy, the one person who can help her, is covered in blood and holding a knife to her throat.

#dramione #draco malfoy #harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger #draco x hermione #dhr #dramione fanart #ebj fics #Spotify

[v0lumnius]

Written Works

As the Crow Flies (TotK Spoilers)

The opposite of Unbroken Princess: an exploration of Link's trauma after the events of TotK using my usual style. Also, Link bonding with a crow.

Haberdashery Hangup

Haberdashery Hangup is a Megaman Legends/Rockman DASH fanfiction about how Rock wants to experiment with crossdressing, but is afraid to. He meets a partner who encourages him through the process, and then turns into smut.

The Unbroken Princess and Her Link (TotK spoilers!)

An experimental style exploring Zelda's recovery after the events of TotK. Short and sweet, only 600 words. I can't decide if this is a flash fic or a prose poem.

Voice Work

Embers and Soot

A christmas filk written by @serenaew with many MANY voices included. A beautiful mashup of In Noctem (Harry Potter), Chim Chiminey (Mary Poppins), and Once Upon a December (Anastasia). I'm nowhere near the best part of this, but check it out! A work of passion from Serena

Gobi Goose

A very short and silly Banjo Kazooie & Untitled Goose Game crossover. Done for Voiceteam Mystery Box 2023.

Podfic Puppet Pals

A remix of the Potter Puppet Pals classic "Mysterious Ticking Noise", now podfic themed! You can find yours truly as Dumbledore. Done for Voiceteam Mystery Box 2023.

Beard Burn

A multivoice podfic for the Check Please! fandom that I participated in. Short and sweet!

Somewhere in the Middle (TotK Spoilers)

Another one of @baladric 's wonderful works: a quiet, melancholy insight to Link and Zelda dealing with trauma post-TotK

A Pearl In My Hand

A podfic for my friend @baladric. This is a Legend of Zelda podfic taking place after BotW (written pre-TotK) where Link works through some trauma and pines after Sidon (who also pines after Link). Hurt/comfort, but very sweet.

What Tomorrow Brings

A podfic for the story of the same name written by (at this time) an Anonymous person. This is a Majora's Mask podfic exploring time travel from the POV of a non-time traveler. Cremia and Romani are truly in need of help.

#writing #original writing #writeblr #original story #ao3 #ao3 author #creative writing #let your writing spark joy #megaman legends #megaman #rockman dash #legend of zelda #voices from the archive #voice acting #loz fanfic #loz podfic #check please! #filk #banjo kazooie #untitled goose game

[haztobegood]

UNITED STATES OF FANFICTION - PART 3

📍 Ohio - Welcome to The Rivalry by @2tiedships2​ Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 20k, M College AU, A/B/O Dynamics

📍 Oklahoma - It always leads to you in my hometown by Wolfiemcwolferson Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 22k, M Angst with a Happy Ending, Returning Home for Christmas

📍 Oregon - Beautiful War by @itsmotivatingcara​ Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 103k, M Murder Mystery,  Enemies to Lovers

📍 Pennsylvania - these cows can get us home by sarcangel Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson, 34k, E Canon Compliant, Future Fic

📍 Rhode Island - Never Be Ready by @afirethatcannotdie​ Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 8k, NR High School AU, Friends to Lovers

📍 South Carolina - can't start a fire (without a spark) by purpledaisy @daisyharry​ Zayn Malik/Harry Styles, 55k, M Small Town AU, Strangers to Lovers

📍 South Dakota - Halfway Home by @itsmotivatingcara​ Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 103k, M Exes to Lovers, Crime and Serial Killers, Wildlife Refuge

📍 Tennessee - Back To You And Tennessee by rippedgloves Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 57k, E Historical AU, Johnny Cash/June Carter AU

📍 Texas - She's My Sugar High by @homosociallyyours​ Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 23k, E Girl Direction, College AU

📍 Utah - Caught Up in the Countryside by @cowboylarries​ Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 60k, M Angst, Strangers to Lovers

📍 Vermont - Lose Myself in Time by QuickedWeen @becomeawendybird​ Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 14k, E Small Town AU, Post-Flood Clean Up

📍 Virginia - Virginia is for Lovers by @haztobegood​ Niall Horan & Harry Styles, 1.7k, G Canon Compliant, Hiking

📍 Washington - Godless, Graceless, and Young by kiddle @bluejeanlouis​ Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 110k, M Historical AU, 1990s, Grunge

📍 Washington DC - (I Don't Know Where It Starts) But It Ends With You and Me by TheMipstaz @nevergooutofstiles Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 4k, G College AU, National Gallery of Art

📍 West Virginia - Of the Earth by @angelichl​​ Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 24k, G Strangers to Lovers, Hiking, Injuries

📍 Wisconsin - Babe, There's Something Lonesome About You by patdkitten Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 9k, M Magical Realism, Witchcraft

📍 Wyoming - Wild And Unruly by 100percentsassy, @gloriaandrews​​ Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 124k, E Cowboy Harry, Lawyer Louis, emotional cow births

🗺️ PART 1 | PART 2

#one direction fanfiction #tracksintheam #1d-library #1drarepairs #trackinghome #haztobegood recs fic

[louiscarrotsxoxo]

the secret charm: chapter three: palace law

❝oh, carolina creeks running through my veins, lost, I was born; lonesome, I came lonesome I'll always stay carolina knows why for years I roam, free as these birds, light as whispers, carolina knows❞

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

CHAPTER THREE: PALACE LAW

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ��°・ . 。・゜❃

WORD COUNT: 4977K

⁕

Louis

The first night in the castle was daunting to say the least, if I didn't know better, I'd say that the Styles' main castle was haunted in the presence of an enemy attempting to sleep soundly inside of their walls. Like there were guarded knights in metal clad armor who came alive at the scent of my blood, at the waft of my air, the caution of the eerie feeling that hangs in the air, and the surface pressure in my lungs.

At least, at first that was what I was trying to do. Initially I intended to render myself unconscious to make the hours in this horrid place speed by like seconds, and then I began to get restless. My mind began playing tricks on me, first it was the maids whispering about my appearance in the castle, and then it was worrying if the lamps would flicker out, but could I be fearful?! Here?! I, Louis William Tomlinson of Lorxix could not be fearful of some old rickety castle past it's prime... but then I heard a knock at the door.

And at first, my eyes squinted, because who in the Elles' kingdom would want to see me? Surely to attempt to kill me in my sleep to hush the rumors like a raging candles light, and swiftly blow it out before it had the chance to spread and burn someone. But, then again, why would they knock? That was an odd and brimming question that was swimming around my brain. But no, this presence, this lingering was all too candescent for my liking, all too warm and welcoming despite the cold, odd gesture.

"Well, are you going to let me in you old chap or have you gone half mad in there already?" I suddenly hear an oddly familiar voice struck through my ears, filled with ambiguity and fanciful pronunciation of the t's and the r's. I could know that voice from anywhere, and it was only one pick in the handful of times I've heard it in my life. Or... at least of what I remember.

Harry

"If anyone have gone half mad it would be you a half madness ago, and who's to know how long ago that was." I deadpan and challenge as I hear Harry's posh grunt and a key turn in the door as I look around puzzlingly. How is that door opening? Has the devil finally come to collect his dues for war crimes? EEK. And with that I would hide under the covers a little, for my love for charging into battle with swords drawn and tiny hidden dagger's at my side. Then after I realized he must've had a universal key to all the rooms, which made me even more concerned. But for the moment, I decided to ignore it.

"I'll pretend for your sake your impure mouth didn't speak dirt on my name just then." He says as if I'm supposed to breathe a sigh of relief at his decision to get me off the hook. I don't respond at first, and my hatred for him blinds my mouth from saying anything further, then he begins to speak up again:

"Look Louis, this year is the first and last year you'll be attending our school, so try not to royally make a fool of yourself, okay? I'm putting up with you because of my godforsaken mother listens to the babble Queen Jay is spitting." He says formally, staring down at me with the upmost imperialness I've ever seen concentrated in a single second of time, it was almost shocking he could muster it all at once, out of all people.

"I won't be messing up anything, you're the one who brings ruin to everything you touch don't you? Your bloodline is quite famous for that." I smirk, and I look down on him as if he's dirt from my perched spot on the bed.

"Not another word." He remarks casually, letting my words roll off of his back like cool, calming water. Instead of the scalding and hurtful intention they truly were.

"I'm serious Harry, one wrong move and the year isn't the only thing that'll be rolling, get it?" I remark harshly, I quickly jut closer to him so he can see the malice in my eyes, and the lack of fear.

I squint and wait for his response, but his cool eyes don't betray a single thought, making him look emptyheaded, what a fool. They stay hardened like a stone, immobile and ever permanent as they stare back at me dead cold and empty...most likely from the haunted souls of the deceased from his family bloodline, I retort silently. Not a single jut of remorse in those eyes, just as I'd suspected, cold as a viper and as deadly as one too.

It was a knowing feeling, but cold all at once to have him staring back at me, I was haunted by this feeling, and I couldn't stand it, the descendants of my father's murderer was standing right in front of me, I couldn't stand it.

So, I lied.

The amber-colored lights of the lamps at the bedside made the whole room look like it was flickering with candlelight. And just like fire, he roared with the surplus of oxygen around us, neither of us drawing a single breath. Speechless, needless, and likely to kill each other at the single drop of a pin. But no pin ever dared to drop, no door ever dared to squeak, no one was brave enough to interrupt the silence, so we filled it with violence.

I had no idea what he was thinking as he stood there at the bedside, in his regal wear...that I begin to drink in to ease the old ache of anger in my bones. He was wearing a crisp button-up white shirt, with black slack-looking pants, I thought he'd look utterly ridiculous, nice, but utterly ridiculous.

A crown was perched atop his head, wrapped around a tuft of curls on his head like a snake slithering in a forest. The crown wrapped into his head like it had grown out of it, like it was a snake snug perfectly into a nestle of leaves, like...if I were to tug on it his hair would envelop around my hands and seize it from my grasp. It was made of gold, sapphires, and pearls, while mine was adorned with gold, rubies and emeralds. Both of these jewels and extensive pieces stood for something, the cool shades of sapphire stood for the cooling waters of Elles, and the rubies, a raging fire of our abhor of Elles royalty, the Styles'.

And yet, here I was, like a fool, not unsheathing my sword and striking him down right here, I hesitated, and that was very unlike me. Perhaps it was to remain quiet, not to cause a stir or a fuss. Or maybe, his blood would beautifully stain the pristine sheets made of cotton and silk...no doubt it would become infused and be born anew, a crimson like color born from violence. To suspicious, too cunning, to soon.

A few more moments of silence passed, and what was a couple minutes felt like eternity, he finally gave up a reply. "Anyway..." He continues, drawling out that single word slowly as if nothing had transpired a couple minutes ago, I saw his face shift again... it was a horrifying sight, seeing his façade shift and persona's appear out of what seemed thin air. A showman one, the other, an arrogant prince that needed a proper lashing, then, a boy with a soft expression and eyes softer than pure satin. Calculating and cold, the boy who held all the cards... though none could tear my eyes away from this Shakespearean-like tragedy.

A battle was happening, without troops, swords, guns, and bloodshed. A battle between light and dark, and it was happening behind his eyes...and I would be the one to watch it all burn.

"Class starts tomorrow at 9 sharp, be there or be square." He snarls "My mother will be making an appearance at Ethelle today, so make sure you're on best behavior, kiss her hand and say cheerio and pip-pip, your battle is with me, not her." He says as his eyes almost take on a battle stance, hardening my gaze, fortifying it tougher than steel.

"It's all the same to me." I replied nonchalantly, and my reply was truer than sin, any Styles' was an enemy of mine. No matter the appearance or title.

"It is not all the same, she is the Queen of the country you are laying your head in, you will treat her with respect, or I will have your head early." Harry spits maliciously, he dips carefully onto the bed, invading the bubble of space I had built around myself, popping it sharply with his words. He leans over close to me, close enough to kill as my breath hitches and my eyes turn into mere slits.

"You really don't know who you're talking to do you?" He smiles in an almost... flirtatious manner? But nonetheless, it was definitely not genuine. As his gaze darkens, his smile drops almost instantly after it was shown. His pearly- straight teeth gleam and shine even in the low light, so perfect it could almost make me purge my stomach with disgust.

I don't answer because what else is there to say to a fool like him? But this apparently angers him, to my surprise.

"Say 'Yes sir' and I'll be on my way." Harry says, clearly looking for a show of respect and successfully getting the upper hand on me.

"No." I laugh, because why would I do that?

"Show me you understand what the hell I'm saying, you swine." He sighs impatiently.

"I understand." I spit furiously, because saying that is an embarrassment in itself, he's treating me like I'm an illiterate monkey, what do I expect from someone as lowly as his class? The Styles, always the showman, always the egoistical bastard with a golden crown on their head and blood bathed money in their pockets.

"Good..." he says condescendingly "See you tomorrow, classmate." He remarks as he stands up from the bed with a sheen of reborn vengeance in his veins and cruelty in his heart. But as he left...his arrogance wafted in the room for several moments like a rich suffocating perfume as if it was attempting to mask a separate scent that was absolutely awful. The next year was about to get interesting, excruciating, but interesting.

As I attempt to settle back into bed after the rude interruption, I scoff and ruffle the covers much like a disturbed peacock. Who was he to think he could fool me? Charming, then threatening the next! If only he'd known the seething hate I had for him went beyond a rivalry.... or something as superficial as whose was on who's soil or 'home turf'. No, no Harry...the qualms head deep within my rooted sense of identity and everything I held dear was against what your people stood for, power. And...with luck, I can take every ounce of power you have, even if I have to do it with my bare hands.

Dorothea

I sat in the 'Prince's palace' area of the castle, a place in the castle ludicrously decorated with everything that screamed wealthy and powerful, real leather, red velvet, gold, diamonds, the whole shebang. It was a place that Harry spent most of his time in while inside of the castle...it was like his own private corridor of the castle, and because he was the prince, he craved.... itched and hoped for ownership of the complete and whole castle one day.

I sigh with wishful eyes as I hear his unmistakable leather court shoes tap against the marble floors like the bangs of symbol's.

*Click, click, *

He comes charging down the hallway with purpose, lunging the heavy doors open with a small grunt, as they were heavy ancient oakwood doors, still preserved from when the castle was first built. He looks to me splayed on the bed and smirks smally, as not to betray what he's really thinking, even though he was a hard person to read anyway. His grip releases on the door as it shuts with a loud BANG, leaving me trapped in with him, and wide range of mixed and muddled emotions.

"What's the matter?" I finally asked, after a beat of silence as passed, waiting out a storm I didn't know existed yet.

"Nothing's the matter Dolly, darling." He sighs, already reaching for the lighter, flickering it, once, twice, then three times, signaling he wants a cigarette out of the nightstand drawer. I roll my eyes at his obvious lie but slowly open the drawer, anyway, reaching for the cigarettes wrapped in gold and red foil as I hand one to him.

"Who is Louis Tomlinson?" He laughs as he lights the cigarette "Oh, I know, the biggest fool on earth" he laughs crudely as the cigarette smoke expels from his mouth and nostrils like a wildfire's start.

"Actually, the prince of Lorxix." I correct "You really can't hate him forever Har." I say in a reasonable voice.

"Oh?" he laughs "Watch me." He says confidently as he effectively sucks the life from the cigarette, clearly stressed, trying to get the nicotine to sooth him and cocoon his anger with validation and relaxation. But...maybe he realized he'd need more than the nicotine to do that.

I don't reply, staring as he runs a ragged hand through his hair and sits on the bed and begins to remove his shoes, signaling he's settling in for the night.

"He thinks me a lowlife offspring of a cheater and a traitor," he spits, half upset, and half amused all at once. "what else am I to feel for him?" he finishes.

"I suppose your right..." I say, finally giving him the answer he wanted, the satisfaction. But all of that was an awful long time ago, and still, I have a feeling the twisted roots of ivy have sprung too far into the bloodline now to stop that unbearable itch of anger and betrayal. And, with some sprinkles of calamity mixed in, it may never cease. Regardless of how I want it to. The truth stung like a cut to the heart, it was true enough that a bloodthirsty, bitter, petty prince is no prince at all. But, rather a disaster ridden king is to come forth out of the shadows by the time the clock strikes midnight on the beginning of a cold February day.

"Exactly." Harry agrees firmly as he stands and finishes his cigarette, smirking as he does so. I suppose in his mind the rage and animosity between them was a long burning flame that was essentially everlasting after all the events. One little change could be the key to everything or set everything afire tenfold. I could only hope it wouldn't be the latter.

Because, with the anger of an undefeated all-powerful bloodline came the opportunity for further bloodshed, and reckless, fury coated decisions that could end in warfare. And with a reckless, revenge-hungry prince, came an arrogant, thought-to-be untouchable prince that had no idea of the rage of the underdog, and how deep it could sear.

And so, with the fire of decades of unharmonious ancestry behind them, a high-staked year of prestigious snubs and rivalries was sure to divide the entire charm school. And with a bit of bad luck, the entire country of Elles.

Though, despite it all, I saw beauty in the malice, warmth in the anger. Like fire, it only came alive when it wanted to, when he wanted it to. It was a controllable part of any human emotion, but could easily be lead astray given the situation, I could only hope it would stay that way. But with the reigns of anger being able to manipulate like a horse's reigns, it was only a matter of time before someone stepped in and misguided the reigns, right over a cliff of his own destruction.

And whether it be him, or the pressure of the upcoming coronation, it was a race against time to see what would tear him apart first. What flame would burn faster along the explosive line leading to his own personal brand of dynamite.

⁕

Louis

The feel of the Ethelle charm school uniform against my skin felt almost deadly.

A feeling of ownership, of sickening belonging washed over me, like I had belonged to this country, and it made me want to tear my own skin off. It branded me, seared into my skin like an everlasting mark of shame I was forced to wear. The navy-blue suit material felt strangely warm against my skin, like an expensive pair of chains, high-end, but still chains.

Nonetheless, I fixed myself up in the mirror, looking incredulously dangerous, like an uncalibrated storm of unknown intensity. And only I knew what was raging underneath. The idea of being the only one to know this rage, to know this burning hate for a bloodline scorned me, ate up all of my insides like they were coated in kerosine, sabotaged by my own anger to be burned alive from the inside.

What a life, I remarked.

Like an honored lamb heading for slaughter, I put on all my tassels, all my gold bands and cufflinks, looking suspiciously interested yet ever bored all at once. What a mix of wonders, as well as horrors, I thought.

At this school, everyone wore separate colors on their uniforms, to identify what country they were from in the surrounding areas, as mine was a burning crimson red and a cool jaded green, a little patch of Velcro on a spot just above my heart where it would go.

Impatiently I picked it up and smoothed it on, smiling a bit, now I was a true Lorxian, and everyone would know so. Before I could run a comb through my hair and gel it up, a strange figure appeared behind me, a feminine one far in the background, what was she doing in the Styles' castle? Was she one of them?

"You must be Prince Louis." She says once she gets closer in earshot distance, her voice soft yet strong and powerful, she was dressed in a uniform like mine, with a suit jacket slightly smaller and shorter, to match her size. A crisp white button-up underneath, peeking out between her barely buttoned jacket, and a pleated navy-blue skirt that barely touched her knees. A schoolgirl, I thought to myself, then my eyes gazed up to her head, nestled in her wavy auburn hair was a crown, a royal. But, to my surprise...one from Direnia? Her crown sparkled with cream-colored pearls and flame-inspired ruby jewels.... a Direnian princess, an ally of Lorixix, this could be interesting, I smiled softly at her.

My look of confusion at her presence disappeared and turned into a soft look of acknowledgement as I nodded. "Indeed, you are correct...and you yourself are a Princess? Of Direnia, am I correct? If of course you haven't changed your colors." I remark, my sentence ending with a twinge of malice, testing the waters to see if she was truly on my side, or otherwise.

In the world of royalty there were two sides, enemy and royalty, and you had to pick one quickly, no one had time for a middle-grounder. But as much as I despised these 'rules' of royalty, playing the game could be essential, especially in Elles, a land of cruelty, hierarchy and childish games that could turn into feats of terror in an instant if you weren't careful.

"I see you are as hesitant as your bloodline is known for." She remarks and nods with a small laugh "That really is...a nasty habit, you must get rid of it if you want to survive this year." She says, her tone sweet but underlined with malice.

To my surprise, she steps forward and ties my tie for me, tucking it in a quick and expert fashion into my suit jacket as I look at her with wide eyes, what kind of game was she playing?

"Hm, I suppose it is, isn't it? No room for hesitation in a world such as this, princess." I nod as she steps away and admires her work and nods curtly.

"Dorothea," She says firmly outreaching her hand to meet mine, as she shakes it...it feels strange... her soft silk glove gracing my bare hand felt like a sin, somehow.

"But most people call me Dolly, if you are in my inner circle." She smiles in a kind manner, but with mystery hidden within glassy, brown reflective eyes.

"Louis, and most people call me...Louis." I laugh softly as my blue icy eyes gaze into hers, she's the first person to make me laugh with her kindness all day, what a lovely girl.

What a lovely girl, was what I was going to say before the single most snake-like person on god's green earth slithered up behind her and wrapped an arm around her slender waist. Not daring to look up at me before looking down at her with a soft smile and lifting their head to meet my eyes with a scowl.

Harry.

"Why, hello..." he purred, his voice oozing with the satisfaction of catching me off guard. Much like a sneaky cat bagging a delicious treat unexpectedly.

"Hi." I reply, my voice and tone, dry as a bone. I let out an exasperated sigh of boredom as I continued to stand there, waiting for him to go on his monologue of doom. My jaw ticked as we stood for several seconds, each one beating weakly like a dying heart.

"I see you've met my doll." He smiles in a loving way at her, but it looks to be fake, but who could tell with someone like him? My ears perked up at the sound of the word 'doll' rolling off of his tongue like melted caramel. Oh-ho, she was a doll alright, at least to him, at least what it looked like.

To him, we were all dolls in this grand scheme, his grand dollhouse, his chess pieces, but someone had to be the hand who abruptly closed the book on this freak show. And, with luck, that person would be me.

"Hm, yes, apparently I have." I remark, my eyes boring into his like daggers "Is she your betrothed or simply your adorée?" I ask, my eyes flicking between the two of them, trying to figure out what type of connection this was, and how it compared to the grand scheme of things.

"Betrothed, and soon to be Queen, hm?" He says, the last bit of the sentence turning to her and rubbing her shoulder in a coaxing way, trying to get her words to jump out of her throat much like a ringmaster coached a tiger to jump through a flaming hoop.

Words were dangerous in the games of royalty; your tongue is a lash between life or death. Choose carefully.

"Yes, Queen soon." She nodded, quickly throwing away the air of a scared princess in the hands of an all-powerful king who held all the strings. And more of a future Queen with an iron grip on a cruel prince's heart, fading in and out like the soft murmur of a deadly animal's slumber.

And that was exactly what this was. An ancient sleeping, terrifying animal was amongst us, and it was about to awake as soon as this school year started. The autumn days, hot and muggy began to bleed into a scarlet and burnt orange colored flurry.

Louis

During the days of reminiscence and terror dreams, nothing was worse than this.

My eyes darted around my surroundings for anything to coat my throat from the demons threatening to claw and crawl their way up. And indefinitely make me say something I would regret. Dorothea, Harry, and I were being carried to the infamous Ethelle Charm School for the first full day of classes.

And in all the chaos, it felt like I was nothing more than a ghost being lifted to whatever doom my soul was cursed to. Like an eternal rapture of torture and torment. Only, to be endured by the one who had the key to end it all.

No, I was the key.

We both were.

"Remember, everyone's watching...so eyes sharp like a cat, alright?" Harry warns as Dorothea gives an affirmative nod, already familiar, while I was as confused as a moon was with daylight.

The carriage we were being carried in stopped at a halt ever so gently as crowds of the world's finest young royals filled the seats of some sort of outdoor court. I scoffed at the sight of it, already dreading becoming one with the crowd of zombies with jewels and crowns.

As the door shielding us from the beast that was the puppet strings was pulled open, my eyes became sharp, not because of Harry's instruction, but because of my rage. We exit the carriage carefully and cautiously, like a knife dragged across skin. Careful not to break the barrier but daring enough to tease and test our limits.

As soon as the rabid beast that was the school body laid eyes on me, whispers erupted. As expected, I keep my head held high and my eyes looking presumptively interested and charmingly bored, gazing as a dull knife, but a knife still the same.

Suddenly, however, guards gilded in cream and golden suits guide the three of us towards some sort of stage with a microphone. Preform, pretty doll. I mutter under my breath with a small smirk to no one but myself.

The cuffs and gilded decorations of honor weigh heavily on my wrists and arms like prison chains. And its almost as if I can picture it, after all, that's what it feels like. So, what's the matter if it isn't really there? If I am not more than a war trophy? A martyr of the gods sweet revenge?

Then what am I to be?

⁕

Some time later, Harry makes his speech about what is to be done, what allies his country has. And the importance of this year.

"People of Elles," He begins, his slow, methodic talking and deep voice demands attention. And somehow, amplified by the speakers seems to rumble the stage just a bit to make me dig my heels into the ground.

It seems like the monster has truly awoken, this time. It rears its ugly head with every word spoken and every syllable formed into digestible words. All of it, every single word sounding like a long march of calculation and catastrophic plans.

"I am your prince, and I am to be your King." He speaks, his eyes glowing like a panther, hungry with bloodlust.

"However, students at Ethelle Charm School, this year is to be of utmost importance, I will be crowned King on the eve of June, and the summer equinox. As well as Princess Dorothea Coleman." He says, with a slight smile forming on his face, but it isn't genuine in the slightest.

With his eyes he claims her, under some sort of legitimacy, whether it be of a lover or as a so-called superior over her. Regardless, she smiles brightly at him, although smartly not reaching forward to touch him at all. Perhaps she is scared of scalding her hand on the flame of his vile nature.

"Enough of my speech," he laughs slightly, albeit darkly. "Now, your Queen." he says humbly as his mother the Queen Serpent I repeat in my head.

"Thank you, my son." She smiles, snipping her words quickly into a sort of poisonous salad, manipulating them into whatever form she desires.

"Although, this year, we welcome Prince Louis William Tomlinson, heir to the Lorixian throne, and son of his late father, King Adrien Sky Tomlinson." She smiles falsely as she speaks my dead father's name. And I would swear of it, it makes me twitch and stir, as if his soul had been disturbed. Or called to somehow within me, within my rage.

And maybe, his spirit is the true embodiment of my rage, perhaps. Nonetheless, on cue I step forward in front of the podium, looking over the daunting crowd of students. But, in the autumn haze of the midday light, it looks like a bath of swirling gems, jewels, and haunting eyes.

The next words I speak sound like a deathly promise, one to be taken to the grave. One that will die with me as well as my country if I make one wrong move. Or, one wrong sword strike, I add. The words force up my throat, like a wretch of my breakfast combined with the knot of my intestines that is surely to be formed already. Violently, without doubt, a consequence, my consequence. Courtesy of all the fear and rage that intensified with every step and every breath drawn.

"Country of Elles, Styles' dynasty, liege to the crown, I am with you. I am your ally." I say as I gulp quickly at the end of my sentence, and I curse under my breath that these are the words that I must speak. My father's killer, as cold as frost and as dead as the falling bark from the trees. His descendant, as cold as his dead body, and as false as sin, standing right in front of me. It takes everything in me not to react in some way, whether it be retching, crying, screaming, or throwing a dagger.

God, as true as it is your right, strike me down where I stand.

author's note: wow, I'm speechless at that ending, what did you guys think? Also, I'm literally so out of practice at authors notes I don't even know what to say! But ... . what do you guys is to come for the future of Elles? For Louis, or for Dorothea and Harry?

(ALSO HOLY SHIT WHY WAS THIS CHAPTER SO LONG?! i deadass started writing and i was like "imma end at 4K and then ALMOST 1K LATER?! and now its nearly at 5k goodbye lol 😭)

Overall so far, how do we like Dorothea's character? I feel like I really like her character so far, I mean ... so far at least *evil laugh from behind computer*

Regardless though, I really hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, because I REALLY love writing, like holy oml so much, comment your theories (if you'd like) of what you think will happen next + your hopes for the next part of the story!

BY THE WAY! 

⁕ = indicates scene change/time skip

and [name] at a beginning of a paragraph indicates Pov, and not scene change unless the little star is there

As always,

All the love, Louiscarrotsxoxo

#louis tomlinson #harry styles #larry stylinson #larry stylinson au #larry stylinson fanfiction #one direction #2012 larry stylinson #larry stylinson fic #royals #mystery au #enemies to lovers #arranged marriage #fake marriage #enemy countries #rivals to lovers #hatred #love #romance #fanfiction #fiction #lgbtq fiction #queer fiction #gay

[frogprincesnowglobe]

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better. I was tagged by @heliza24. Thank you, this is fun! I loved reading about you

Three ships: I'm not sure I have three ships. My main ship right now is Wilmon, Wilhelm/Simon from Young Royals, though I anticipate you guys will all know that! I also really love the pairing of Anne and Gilbert Blythe, especially in Anne with an E.

First ever ship:  The first I actually remember is Guns and Handcuffs Aka Drarry Aka Draco/Harry from Harry potter. I read so much Harry Potter fanfiction. I actually found a Harry potter fanfiction I was writing when I was 11, in lime green Gel pen

Last movie: Okay maybe my answers are going to be boring, but I genuinely can't remember the last movie I watched. My attention span has been *short* lately. The last TV show I watched was The Circle, a terrible but fun reality tv show on Netflix.

Currently reading:  Here's where I get nerdy!! Be prepared for me to waffle! Yesterday I picked up a vintage copy of a book called Things Will Take a Turn Stories Old and New by Beatrice Harraden. I assumed the book was pre- 1950 (probably the 30s.) and the book has a label/bookplate inside saying to was a awarded to a young girl for good schoolwork at a sunday school in a small town in England. There isn't a publishing date but I recognized the publisher (Blackie) as a Scottish one. The back of the book has a small sticker from the book and stationary shop it was purchased from in the small town. Not to overwhelm the paragraph, but things I've figured out so far: The original book was published 1894, and you can tell my copy isn't that old. The Church in the small town still exists, but the bookshop was sold in 1937. I even found pictures of the shop, the three at the bottom (warning for 2000s style bright purple text on dark black) This book is from the Stories Old and New Series, and I've found a ton in the series online that are from the mid to late 20s. Once I actually research the girl who won that book that will solve that mystery. Anyway, this is something I love. Researching treasures like this. And it's currently the book I'm reading, haha. I'm also reading a Cat in the Stacks mystery, I forget the title of that, but I'm working my way through them! Along with 1 trillion YR fanfics.

Actually something @heliza24 @bluedalahorse and @freakishly-bookish-ant in particular (but the rest of you too) might be really interested in is that I discovered that the Author of the Book, Beatrice Harraden was a Suffragette! Founding member of the Women's Social and Political Union (a Suffragette organization), member of the Women Writer's Suffrage League and the Women's Tax Resistance League (a group that used resisting taxes as a way to protest Women's disenfranchisement) among many other dope things related to women's rights.

Currently watching: I'm still kind of working my way through Gåsmamman. I haven't watched an episode in about month, but I am technically watching it.

Currently consuming: Water! I have a nice little bottle with me.

Currently craving: I'm craving cookie dough ice cream, I just want some gooood cookie dough ice cream. (heliza24 you should take that class, I''m with you on your craving too!)

I'm tagging (not sure who all has been tagged): @atdawnweryd @freakishly-bookish-ant @bluedalahorse @andthatisnotfake @omarera @kruemel8 @notalotgoingonatthisinstant @books-books-smolderinglooks @wasitroyal

[freedomfireflies]

Promises, Promises | 8. If This Is Love, It Breaks My Heart

Summary: Callie and Harry are both trapped in a house with a murderer.

Only problem? They each think the other person did it.

Word Count: 2.2k

*Chapter contains brief violence and mentions of violence*

It takes a moment for Harry to truly understand what the fuck just happened.

And Callie allows him to have this moment. Hand guiding his now incredibly still body to rest against the wall as he slides down.

His eyes fall to the blade, mouth parting as he sucks in a sharp, desperate breath. “Cal…”

Her painted lips pull into a mischievous, proud smile. “Oh…oh, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve waited to see this. To see that fucking face.”

His head lifts, eyes finding hers before she twists her wrist and thrusts the knife further up until he gasps, eyes rolling back.

 “What’s wrong, Killer?” she can’t help but purr, settling in a crouch as she keeps her fingers tight around the handle. “I mean, you called it.”

“I don’t…I…” He doesn’t seem to understand what she’s saying. Can’t verbalize the confusion. Can’t piece together reality.

She expected as much, and she's more than happy to explain each detail to him. “Oh, sweetie. I’ve been telling you this whole time and yet you refused to listen. Refused to hear anything but the sound of your own voice.”

Harry can feel the fatigue seep through his veins, a cold rush enveloping his senses, his mind, his body. “You…you—”

“Me.” Her head rolls to the side as she looks over his frozen expression. “Did you really think I’d buy that pitiful attempt at an excuse? Come on, Har, we both know you better than that.”

Harry has just enough strength to offer a bitter scoff, but Callie isn’t deterred.

“Promises, promises,” she whispers, fingers finding a rogue curl on his forehead as she brushes it to the side in thought. “You knew you’d never keep.”

She can see Harry’s eyes narrow as he attempts to recall the lyrics she's reciting to him, but clearly, he isn’t bright enough to put it together.

“You made me a lot of promises, Har.” Her hand drops back down to her side while the other one keeps the knife taut. “Promised you’d walk me. Promised you’d be there. Promised you never leave me like they did. And you never kept a single one. Never planned on keeping a single one.”

He swallows a groan as he attempts to straighten up, but his energy is fleeting, and Callie still isn’t quite ready to let him go yet.

Not without him knowing.

“Didn’t want to do it this way, Har,” she tells him softly. “But you left me no choice. All these years, going out of your way to hurt me. To make me feel small. To make me feel unimportant. And maybe it’s my fault for letting you…but I can’t let you anymore.”

“Don’t…shit.” Another strangled inhale as he winces. “Don’t know what you’re fucking talking about—”

“Oh, yes you do,” she hums, smiling a bit brighter. “You know the games you play, Harry. Know them well. But it’s time for your little games to declare a winner.”

His head drops back against the wall, jaw going tight as he watches her, still clearly confused.

“You don’t recognize this house, do you?” she asks him, now glancing around the small passageway as he refuses to do the same. His eyes never leave her face. “It was my grandma’s. She sold it before moving in to take care of me after my parents died. Seemed like the perfect place to invite everyone.”

“So, this…this was all you,” he grits out. More of a statement than an inquiry. Because Callie imagines he has to know now.

Her grin grows until he can see her teeth. “Surprise.”

“Everyone downstairs, that was just…to get to me?” He attempts to shift before grimacing at the blade still puncturing an organ. “Did all of this…just cause you couldn’t fucking get over me?

She sucks the air through her teeth, giving him a disappointed look. “See? That. Even now, you’re shown the true picture, and you refuse to see anything but your own face.”

He struggles to retort with another disdainful noise but can only succeed in growling his anguish at the blood staining his shirt and dripping to the floor.

“You left me that day, on the train tracks, not because you were convinced we had grown apart.” She leans a bit closer until his glossy, unfocused eyes find her. “But because you were too afraid to be associated with the sad, little girl and her dead parents. Because the life you wanted for yourself didn’t involve me or my pain or my depression. And you wanted an out.”

She watches the snarl of his lip but knows, undoubtedly, that she’s right.

And he knows it, too.

“Wanted the world to see you as something other than the pretentious excuse for a man you claimed not to be,” she continues, voice laced with malicious betrayal. “Wanted to leave the only friend you had behind so you could find the people who would make you feel like you meant something. Left me without so much as a word, or a goodbye, or even an idea on what I had done wrong.”

Years of questioning, and tears, and resentment flood Callie’s mind as she remembers.

Remembers what it was like to miss him. To wonder. To never understand what she had done. Reliving the wishing. All the times she had prayed to go back in time and change herself so he would stay.

But it had never been her fault. Never. And this wasn’t something she ever understood until Derek.

“So, what?” Harry seethes from the floor, arms limp at his side as eyes flick between hers. “Lexi isn’t dead either? This whole thing was just staged?”

A snort of indifference. “No. See…you aren’t the only one hiding behind a mask of shallow deception. Everyone that I invited to this house has hurt, or betrayed, or deceived somebody that they supposedly care for.”

“Even Lexi?” He’s asking, but his tone drips with disbelief. “Your best fucking friend?”

“Contrary to your approach, Lexi decided that having me as her friend only made her appear that much more desirable,” Callie tells him, feeling the frown settle in as she recalls the friendship and years wasted. “Knew she could get whatever she wanted if her only friend was weak and submissive.”

She watches his chest rise and fall with slower breaths, but he’s not one to concede so easily, and this brings the smirk back to her lips.

“Did you know…” She lowers her voice as she exhales a bitter laugh. “Not even two days after I told Lexi I had a crush on Derek, she went out and fucked him? Went out of her way to make sure I’d find out, then brushed it off and told me it was only to see if he was worth my time.”

Harry snorts as well, brows pulling together as he glances away. “So, this was all about Derek? Why isn’t he fucking strung up somewhere? Or is he next?”

“Not quite,” she corrects before glancing toward the door where Derek, Asher, and Mike are all waiting with watchful eyes.

Harry’s head rolls to the side as he looks as well, the affliction on his face hard to miss. Yet his hardened expression never falters for even a moment.

The masks have been discarded, the game now coming to an end, and as reality slowly begins to sink in, Harry’s body succumbs to the fight.

“Derek and I met in group.” She looks back, cadence soft as she lulls him to sleep. “Both had lost our parents. Needed somebody. Found that we had even more in common than we had anticipated.”

She can see the paleness of Harry’s skin. The sweat forming around his hairline, and she hopes, more than anything, that he finally understands. Can finally see something other than himself.

“Maybe it was unfair to have him play you,” she admits, fingers tapping against the handle in thought. “To gain your trust. To infiltrate your life. But all these years, Har, we waited for you to understand…and you never did. Never could.”

The drunken-like lethargy begins to take hold, his lids falling softly. “So…you got what you wanted, yeah? Got…got your fucking revenge. Got to see everyone you hate bleed out. You get the last laugh. Get to watch me die, exactly how you wanted.”

Callie observes him for a moment, letting his last attempt at an insult settle before she murmurs, “No, Har. No, I don’t wanna watch you die. I didn’t invite you here to kill you.”

Now, she takes hold of his hair, fingers tight in his curls as she forces his head up.

“I brought you here because it’s exactly what you deserve,” she tells him softly, yet full of certainty. “You hurt me, Har. All these years, selfishly, without a second thought. And I’ve wanted to make you pay for that day for years.”

He sucks the air through his teeth, flinching a bit at the hold she has on him.

“And the only fair way to truly pay you back for your kindness—” She seethes the word, her voice raw with bitter contempt. “Is by letting you spend the rest of your fucking life wondering where you went wrong. By praying for the chance to do it over again. By wishing you had seen the signs. Just like I had to.”

And with that, she stands, releasing her hold on his hair and the knife as the blood continues to seep through Harry’s clothes and the boards of the floor.

She moves for Derek as Harry watches tiredly, and once she’s close enough, she begins to hum. “All right, baby, you know what to do.”

Derek’s eyes fall over her face for a moment, merely staring at her, before his smile mimics hers. “You ready?”

She can’t resist the giddy way her heart pounds with hopeful anticipation as they’re finally brought to the moment they’ve waited years for. “Yeah. Do it.”

With a deep breath, Derek’s fingers slowly begin to crawl up the side of her neck until they land just below her jaw, and he squeezes. Squeezes until she’s gasping for air and her vision goes fuzzy.

Just enough to leave a visible bruise.

Then, his palm moves to her cheek, meeting it harshly as the resounding slap is heard throughout the room. 

Harry would wince if he had the strength.

But she laughs, clearly unaffected, and after a moment of careful observation, Derek nods. “Okay, baby, we’re good.”

Callie’s eyes drift to the other two as they hover near the doorframe. “Everything ready?”

“Yup,” Mike nods, glancing over his shoulder and inside the room. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“Good.” She takes a deep breath before looking back to Harry. “Listen, champ, I’d love to stay, but…well, you know.”

And Harry can do nothing but grit his teeth as she crouches down and places her delicate bow between his limp fingers. 

“I really wanted us to find our way back, Har,” she murmurs softly, reaching up to cup his face. “I wanted to be able to forgive you for being such a fucking shit friend, but…with every chance you were given, you wasted it. And now…”

He can say nothing. Too tired, too close to the brink of death to even reply. To even offer one last pretentious insult. 

But she knows, that even after all this…he’ll never understand the pain he caused.

None of the fifty-five kids ever will.

And now…it’s too late.

She stands, offering one last look of regret before turning to Derek, who throws his arm around her shoulder as the four leave the room, and Harry, behind.

The ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks arrive not too much later.

They find Callie on the front porch steps, shaking and sobbing as Derek, Mike, and Asher all attempt to console her.

They charge the house before coming to interrogate the four friends where they learn the story.

After divulging the details of how they had been invited by a mysterious stranger, Derek goes on to recall how Harry then began his sick, twisted game. Forcing the scared teenagers to face their death while trapped in the house with no way of escape.

The nurses examine each bruise along Callie’s neck and cheek before finding equally horrific marks and slashes along Derek, Mike, and Asher.

Callie holds back a sob as she describes the traumatizing details of running from Harry before just barely finding the courage to swipe a knife and stab him in order to make her escape.

And Harry, still alive but barely conscious, is taken from the house in handcuffs where he’s led to the ambulance to be treated.

Before his eventual induction into the prison system where he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering how he only saw her for what he wanted her to be: fragile and meek.

And never for who she truly was.

As Callie watches the truck drive away, she has to smile, now finally released from the affliction of all those years wasted in anguish.

All those years of hopeful longing.

All those years burdened by him.

And all those promises…

He knew he’d never keep.

THE END

Previous:

~ Promises, Promises | 7. The Truth is Out There*

Full Masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles short story #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan #harry styles fanfic #winona ryder #short story #murder mystery #90s #harry styles promises promises #harry and calliope

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

Okay, I may come across as naive and overly optimistic here (let me manifest) but I really do think lt2 will be a critical success as an indie / alt pop record. I think it’ll also give Louis some “cool points”. And trust me, if that happens, all of these people who have been treating him like shit for years (including his good-for-nothing fame-hoe of an ex boyfriend) will certainly change up their tune lmao. Maybe not by much, but watch him say his name in an interview for the first time in years 🤷‍♀️

From your mouth to God’s ears, anon.

I’m fairly confident that FitF is going to be a much better album compared to Walls, because every single song we’ve heard (Copy, Change, Lucky) has been consistently top notch. There is an ease and assurance to the songwriting and singing that I haven’t heard before, not even from 1D. It’s pretty amazing to me that Louis recorded this album before his tour, actually, because the vocals on Lucky sound like a man who knows he’s got the goods, who is in control.

The songs are also an entire cut above what’s popular on the radio. The lyrics to these songs are intimate, sweet, and honest, but also smart and cutting, humorous in a dry British way. They portray a man facing the world with eyes wide open, tenderly reminiscing yet without illusions about the present.

The songs have aside past grief and unhappiness. They allow Louis to move forward and have hope again, to have lightness in his heart again. They explore different musical genres and bring out some very cool harmonic progressions from folk, blues, and alt music. (I remember listening to Zayn and being amazed at Zayn’s vast musical influences. Louis’ next album is about to challenge my preconceptions, too.)

As for critical reception, a friend recently reminded me that this is what the Harrie Pitchfork intern reviewer said about Walls:

Pitchfork review: “When I was in high school, I owned a limited edition Harry Styles doll and read tawdry fanfiction about our favorite Frankenstein, Mr. Larry Stylinson. This was how you engaged in the fandom of One Direction, and fans knew that every One Direction member had an archetype. Harry Styles was the heartbreaker, Zayn Malik the mysterious (read: ethnic) one, Niall Horan the cute one, and Liam Payne was unlucky enough to receive the nickname “Daddy Directioner.” Tomlinson was the “sassy” one who couldn’t sing, which didn’t add up to much. Now on his own, Tomlinson is left with exactly what he is: someone who received massive success when flanked by other, more interesting people. Walls is filled with the kind of dead-eyed vocal delivery and lazy drumming, strumming, and writing that all pop stars fear.”

The review was written by Ashley Bardhan, who had written no reviews for Pitchfork prior to Walls.

Recent podcasts and fan articles talking about One Direction frequently follow this exact pattern. The speakers / interviewers/ reviewers almost always have had experience reading Larry fanfiction and are almost always Harries.

They’re all in junior positions in media now, so to expect much support for Louis’ next album will be a stretch.

I think the best way for Louis to have a consistent and longterm career is to cultivate his own solo fanbase— one that is interested in his music and not at all in One Direction. Louis needs to establish his indie brand, welcome unbiased people who don’t have any preconceptions what his music could be. And in my opinion, Louis doesn’t worry too much about what mainstream critics or Harry’s camp will say, or how they’ll react. Louis knows he’s good.

#louis tomlinson

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in October 2023. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #55 |  ko-fi | fic recs

—Louis/Harry—

🎃 your memory over me by @shimmeringevil

(E, 64k, exes) The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone

🎃 saw some things on the other side by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 61k, murder mystery) Unfortunately, Louis’ plan doesn’t take into account the fact that instead of writing murder mysteries, he will find himself in one.

🎃 Fight For Us by @fallinglikethis

(E, 11k, a/b/o) one dark night, long after all of the other omegas in the pen have fallen asleep, biology comes calling for Louis.

🎃 Rainy Days and Leaves by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

(E, 9k, uni) Louis works at a coffee shop and spells Harry's name wrong on his cups.

🎃 could start a cult by @nouies

(E, 8k, FBI agents) Harry can’t get enough of Louis’ breast milk.

🎃 Peaky Blinders Louis (series) by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 8k, historical) Three years ago, Louis ran with the Peaky Blinders. He thought he left that life behind, but his past might finally be catching up with him.

🎃 Let Me Taste Your Silhouette by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 4k, pwp) the one where Harry accidentally posts a picture to his main Instagram story instead of only to his close friends, and he just happens to be wearing a 28 Official Programme shirt. Louis happens to notice

🎃 Toil and Trouble by stretchmybones / @harryslonecurl

(E, 3k, sirens) Harry and Louis are sirens who suck the souls out of humans in order to make potions

🎃 David S Pumpkins by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(NR, 3k, supernatural elements) Louis has a Halloween party to go to, and the perfect outfit to wear. It's a little odd that people in weird clothes keep appearing and disappearing. Skeleton outfits? A three piece suit covered in pumpkins? Mysterious.

🎃 like a dream but i wasn't asleep by @alwaysxlarrie

(G, 2k, strangers to lovers) It's cold outside and Harry just wants to get into his hotel room and go to bed. It should be a simple task, but it’s made more challenging by his complicated relationship with gravity, a booking mixup, and a really hot guy.

🎃 Touch the Sky and Kiss the Sun by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 2k, soulmates) Louis Tomlinson knows without a shadow of a doubt that Harry Styles is his soulmate. Harry Styles, Louis is virtually certain, is completely unawares of this fact.

🎃 Don't Forge Me by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus

(G, 2k, established relationship) Harry knows he won’t see Louis again for a while, but when he reads the confusing note tucked amongst the melons and pineapple flowers, Harry wonders if he’ll ever see Louis again…

🎃 Trackies by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow

(E, 2k, established relationship) Louis and Harry are having another anniversary. For Harry, Louis' hints to what he would like to be gifted are very confusing. OR The one where trackies*com isn't the place where you buy tracksuits.

🎃 Run To You by @neondiamond

(G, 2k, established relationship) Harry injures himself while out on a morning run. Louis comes to his rescue.

🎃 You of course, Always you. by bunnyhusbands / @louisgayvodka

(G, 1k, friends to lovers) “Tell me what?” “That I'm in love with you”

🎃 Dearest Gemma (I fell in love) by Thingssicant / @slowlyseducedbycurls

(G, 1k, epistolary) Harry writes letters to his sister while he impatiently waits for his lover to propose

—Rare Pairs—

🎃 Bloom by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 28k, Louis/Liam) In early 1970s Oxford, Detective Sergeant Louis Tomlinson has to deal with the dual pressures of a case that hits too close to home, and the arrival of new colleague Liam Payne.

🎃 Cold Spring by @nouies

(E, 8k, Louis/Pedro Pascal) Louis is a coffee shop owner and Pedro is his newest customer.

🎃 two languages, one love by @nouies

(NR, 3k, Louis/Cillian Murphy) The three times Louis speaks to Cillian in Spanish, and the one time he finally gets a response.

🎃 Amenable by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 3k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn guides Louis through a marathon day of fucking, exploring Louis' submissive side through a series of varied constraints.

#28th appreciation #1dficvillage #trackinghappily #ficsfor4am #trackinghome #1dsource #tracksintheam #hlcreators #ficrec