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naughtycurls · 7 months ago

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NO ANGEL ∙ one-shot fem!harry

also available on ao3 and wattpad

DESCRIPTION: Harriet, a callow novice, is not a virgin. It's not something required of her, but it is something looked down upon. Therefore she's kept this secret bottled up and far from her own memory. For the past four years, she's been living under the grace of their Father, sheltered under the sanctified convent: Fontevraud. Much to her parents pleasure, the news of her dedicating the rest of her life to the church was a blessing.

However, old doors reopen when Father Brun invites her to a means of catharsis. The evening doesn't go as planned, to say the least.

Tags: Set in France, female Harry, 1970s, Catholicism, blasphemy, four year age difference, manipulation - so dubious consent, maybe? sorry guys i'm a virgin too, slight bondage, a little frottage, condom disuse

You're no angel either, baby.

†

Redemption, often referred to in Catholic faith is the forgiveness of our sins. In a simpler context, it is the liberation from a life of sin to a new life in Jesus.

Unfortunately, Harriet had fallen guilty of sin. For a long time, she was a good girl. She was the handbook daughter any father could ask for, she was meekly obedient, she had no objection to her father's rules. At the time, she didn't fully understand who Jesus was, or why she and her family prayed to him so often. She was just a girl who wanted to do everything to please her hostile father. However, almost every child has a moment of weakness, a period where they're plagued by the desire for rebellion.

It started when she was thirteen. She had done enough after searching for 'Girls kissing' on the family computer, but she had done even worse after coming across pornography.

It was not her that night, she often told herself. It was the devil's afflict. And perhaps it was, but that didn't stop her from being curious, if not more, three years later. She had been in high school for two years, made a few friends and experienced her fair share of drama. It happened during one of her many nights of rebellion, when she had snuck out of the house, even stole a bottle of her father's finest wine, just to go to a party with her "friend" Valerie.

It's safe to say that Valerie ditched her only five minutes into the party, leaving her alone in the kitchen with a miserable cup of wine. She thought about walking back home, though it would take her at least an hour, but then she reconsidered when she remembered that it was dark and that she was in an unfamiliar neighborhood. She spent a good ten minutes staring at the red wine until she saw a familiar face.

He was a family friend, his mother and her father were great acquaintances, and she had good encounters with him the few times she accompanied her father to retreats, or to Guinevere's house. He holding a foam cup, eyeballing her from across the room with the same piercing blues. He had grown significantly since the last time she saw him, with tattoos decorating his biceps, the muscle marked beneath the tight sleeves of his shirt. He looked older, more mature with the stubble darkening his jaw.

She could not fathom the fact that Louis, the boy who used to be just about her height, had grown significantly. And more specifically, had become a man. Louis started to approach her, and she thought the little sip of wine she took caused her to hallucinate--- but he was in front of her within seconds, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

The dialogue was short, as there was so little to say between them. Louis simply mentioned how she had grown as well, to which she agreed. Then she had made the mistake squeezing her cup too hard, her wine jumping out the rim and splashing onto her ruffled shirt. The entire encounter was so cliche, but she only wanted to remember it this way. She had no change of clothes, yet she still found her upstairs with him. There was no concrete plan, but they were in an empty room together, no lights, no ceiling fan – just the two of them breathing – and her shirt soaking on her skin.

That night, sin had swallowed her up and spat her back out, leaving a foul aftertaste. She remembers waking up the next morning with her panties still wrapped around her ankles, a sock on her left foot and the other nowhere to be found, and an empty bed. She thinks that following morning was Jesus' harsh slap on the wrist, though it felt like her heart had been stomped on.

Valerie didn't stay for her --- of course she didn't. Valerie left her first and didn't even bother looking for her. She had to dress herself back up, and forget the sock altogether because she had no idea where it went, and walk herself back home. Her feet were throbbing by the time she entered the neighborhood. She pushed the front door open, her father was waiting right at the bottom of the stairs for her, but she couldn't hold it in her anymore to not cry. She broke down right at the entrance, and her father pulled her in his arms and forgave her right there.

It wasn't what drove her to embrace the Holy Spirit, even if, admittedly, that week was terrible. She chose God because God chose her, because she wouldn't have been here if God didn't see her in his plan. And all along, he planned for her to be a Bride of Christ.

Fontevraud was a village of incredible architecture, the masonry buildings characterized by pointed arches and "gothic" lores. Inside of the homes, it was the antithetical to blasphemy. Religious tapestries, scriptures, and icons decorated the walls; parading the word of God.

Fontevraud, a house of peace. The place Harriet had the privilege of calling her home.

Life there was quite simple, especially when she was only completing her year of being a novitiate. She would start her day at 5:00 a.m. and pray for an hour and thirty minutes, and another thirty minutes studying her scriptures. She'd have breakfast in the dining hall with her colleagues, and then study again. Sometimes she'd have special duties to do, if Father Brun gives her any. The latter is unlikely, so she's often times studying or volunteering for something. She has her midday prayer around 11, lunch at 12, and then her own personal time --- which she frequently spends crocheting or talking to her parents. She then goes back to studying, does her evening prayer, has dinner, and every evening, they will all go out to read scriptures to villagers. Then they all go down for bed at 8.

If she were given such a schedule when she was thirteen, she would have hated it without even trying it. After living in the convent for six months, she wouldn't have it any other way. She believes God gave her the strength to easily acclimate to the lifestyle.

It's 8 a.m. and she has a full stomach after eating the regular cheese danish, with a special addition because Brother Benoît brought macarons from Le Petit Bistro. She had to ignore Reverend Mother's reprimanding gaze as she ate both foods, knowing they were meant to only eat their pastry and assortment of fruits. But Benoît offered the macarons, and God says that mercy is endless.

Harriet wipes the corners of her lips off and folds the cloth neatly after, never forgetting to mind her manners. The hall is full of women enjoying their breakfast and having conversation amongst another. Harriet would be talking Benoît's ear off if it weren't for all the food she had just eaten. She holds in a burp and washes it down with a gulp of water, furnishing her thirst.

"Did you enjoy it, Sister?" Benoît questions.

Harriet looks up, finally noticing that the man had been watching her. She offers a small smile and nods in acknowledgment. "I did. Thank you for bringing it to the church. I'm sure all the girls enjoyed something flavorful for once."

Benoît chuckles. "Are you insulting Mother's cooking?"

Harriet giggles, lowering her voice. "You do know Mother doesn't actually work in the kitchen."

Benoît's eyes widen, confirming her question. "Then what does she do?"

Harriet shrugs a shoulder, interrupted by her friend, Evangeline. Evangeline was one of the first girls Harriet ever spoke to, and the nicest out of all of them --- maybe even Harriet herself. Evangeline twists in her seat to face Harriet and furrows her eyebrows. "She's in charge of us, Harriet. Have you forgotten that already?"

Harriet waves her off. "I was only joking."

"You better hope Mother doesn't hear you."

"Hear what?"

Harriet bites her lip to hold in the boisterous laugh that threatened to spill past her lips. Across from her, Benoît wasn't much better. He looked hilarious, like a deer caught in headlights, brows shot nearly to his hairline. She takes a deep inhale and turns around to face Reverend Mother, plastering on a smile. "Good morning, Mother."

Mother raises her chin, her unusually wrinkled face pulling a grimace. "Sister Harriet and Evangeline, God bless you." She gazes at Benoît and purses her lips. "May God bless you."

Benoît smiles shortly, the tension between the two rising tremendously. Thankfully, Reverend Mother is the one to break it, redirecting her attention back to Harriet. "Father Brun would like to see you in his office."

Harriet raises an eyebrow at the revelation. She shares a look with her friends, stilled with shock. She thinks the last time she has spoken to Father Brun was when she enrolled for the convent. Father Brun was there, as much as he wasn't. He was like a whistle in the wind, heard but not seen. He preached for the church frequently, but his visits were limited. Reverend Mother says he's a busy man, making his request to see her even more unusual.

"For what?"

"Don't question the Lord, Harriet." Mother says harshly.

Harriet blinks, still processing the news. Mother barely lets Harriet breathe before she orders her to meet Father Brun. She slowly stands from the table and glances back at her friends. Benoît winks at her and Evangeline smiles softly. Their encouragement helps her gravel the strength to walk to Father Brun's. Of course, with Mother trailing right behind her.

Father Brun's office is anticipated. He has a large crucifix pinned to the wall behind his desk, the room sparsely decorated, with a simple wooden desk and a small bookshelf filled with religious texts. He's seated at his desk when Reverend Mother gently knocks on the door. Father lifts his eyes from the open Bible before him to meet hers. He is an aging man, dark hair beginning to thin at the top of his head and a gut.

Harriet stands with her hands clasped in front of her, teeth gnawing into her bottom lip as she waits for instructions.

Father flits his gaze to Reverend Mother, a silent conversation discussed amongst them before Mother leaves the room --- leaving a frightened Harriet behind.

"Sister Harriet," Father greets calmly. "Please, have a seat."

Harriet nods, lowering herself into the chair across from him. She keeps a considered distance away from the desk, afraid she'd lean too close and intimidate herself even more.

Father Brun doesn't smile, but his kindness is in his eyes, a soft flare opposite to his masculine features. "Thank you for coming. I understand you might be wondering why I've asked to see you."

Harriet bites her lip harder and shakes her head in response.

"First, I want to commend you on your dedication and service to the convent. Your devotion has not gone unnoticed." He says.

Harriet has a moment of pride before Father Brun continues. "You are very close to finishing your duty as a novitiate. I've witness your gift to see the world through a spiritual lens, a gift treasured by our community. I would like to inform you that I have been convened for a cleansing at a farmhouse in Brittany. It is my honor to invite you as an accomplice in this sacred mission."

Harriet's eyes widen slightly. An invitation to accompany Father Brun on a mission was unexpected and certainly out of the ordinary for a novice. She wasn't even a nun yet, Father could vouch for anyone, anyone more experienced. Harriet didn't understand.

"A family in Brittany has been struggling with what they believe to be a demonic presence. They have requested the church's intervention. Your faith is invaluable to experience." Father Brun says, reminding her that she was still in his office, and she still hadn't given a response.

Harriet swallows, finally finding the words to speak. "I will do it, Father. Thank you for inviting me to this journey."

Father Brun smiles, a rare and genuine expression. "Very well. We leave tomorrow at dawn. Prepare yourself spiritually and mentally. And of course, get a good nights rest."

Harriet smiles and rises from her chair. "Thank you, Father."

That night, Harriet finds herself in the chapel. She kneels before the altar, holding her hands together in prayer. "Lord, grant me the strength to face this trial. Give me the tenacity to help Father in the most sufficient way, though I am not experienced. I promise to give you my grace, my faith, and my unwavering devotion. Protect me, Lord, from any evil I may encounter." She feels resolved once she reaches the end of her prayer. Releasing a soft sigh, she completes it with a final whisper. "Amen."

The next morning, Harriet awoke before dawn. Unable to fall back asleep, she began packing a small bag. Their stay in Brittany was undetermined, but Father Brun suggested she pack essentials in case. She includes her Bible and rosary, and dressed in her plain novice habit. This would be her first time wearing her habit in public, resulting in the most surreal feeling ever.

Adjusting her veil on her head, she ensures not a single strand of hair has escaped her covering. Their wasn't seen as something crucial, but she has to make a good impression on Father Brun. Plus, she's not coming along with him to impress anybody.

Father Brun and Reverend Mother are waiting at the entrance of the convent. It's a windy morning, the crispy breeze whipping against her sleeves. Father greets her with a nod, his brief case and Bible in hand. Reverend Mother is there to bid them goodbye. She smiles for once, a subtle encouragement for the young novice. "God be with you, Harriet," she says. "Remember, you are never alone. The Lord walks with you always."

"Thank you, Mother. I will remember." Harriet responds.

The journey to Brittany was long and quiet, filled with the rhythmic clatter of the train and the occasional prayer she and Father Brun stop to do. She feels the stares of passengers, but she knows better to feel embarrassed. There's nothing ashaming about praising the Lord. When they're not praying, she silently recites scriptures to calm her nerves. As they approach their destination, the city gradually shift to the countryside, the fields stretching out like a patchwork quilt.

By the time they arrived at the farmhouse, the sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the fields. The house itself was old and weathered, a small cottage plotted on the field of gorgeous farmland.

An elderly couple greets them at the door. Guinevere, an older woman with greying hair pulled back into a tight bun, shows a tentative smile. "Father," she nods respectively. However, when she looks at Harriet, she holds her gaze a little longer. "Harr... Harriet."

Harriet stares at the woman with large eyes, holding her Bible tighter. "Mrs. Tomlinson." She says, barely above a whisper.

Father quirks an eyebrow as he looks between the two women, Guinevere with a wide smile stretched across her face. "Oh, Harriet ! Comme tu as grandi. Tu es vraiment une femme maintenant."

Harriet blinks blankly, peering over at Father Brun. Ironically, she isn't good at French, despite it being the national language. If we were pointing fingers, it was all her father's fault. He taught her and her sister English before their mother language because as a Reverend, they travelled a lot. Guinevere was a very old fashioned woman, she could speak English well, but she chose to speak French --- even when Harriet had no idea what she was saying.

Father Brun clears his throat, taking Guinevere's attention. "Oui, Harriet est novice au couvent. Elle est très bonne."

[Yes, Harriet is a novice at the convent. She's very good.]

Guinevere nods, smiling warmly. "Très bien, très bien." She repeats.

Pierre offers his hand to Father Brun. "Thank you for coming."

"It is my duty. And may I introduce you to Sister Harriet." Father Brun mentions, gesturing towards the woman.

Pierre nods, smiling briefly at her. "Yes, we've met."

"Ah, family friends?"

Pierre confirms with a nod and Father Brun hums. "Tell us what has been happening."

Guinevere shakes her head, as if reminded why they were here in the first place. She opens the door further, allowing them in. "Entrez."

Once they're seated at the dining table, Guinevere recounts their troubles, descriptions of disturbing noises she and her husband hear at late night. "C'est très inquiétant, mon Père. Nous ne pouvons pas dormir la nuit à cause des coups incessants. Et parfois, nous entendons des murmures d'horribles blasphèmes. Le diable est parmi nous." She says insistently.

[It's very disturbing, Father. We can't sleep at night because of the constant banging. And sometimes, we hear whispers of horrible profanities. The Devil is amongst us]

Pierre rubs his wife's shoulder, noticing that she was becoming worked up. "Our grandson is convinced that it isn't anything serious. But he doesn't understand, the energy in the house is doesn't feel right."

"Vile." Guinevere adds.

Harry frowns at the mention of their grandson. They only had one grandchild, and that man drove her to breaking the law of chastity. She hopes he isn't living with him, he should be too old. He should be about twenty-eight, with a wife and a baby. She's sure Guinevere must be perturbing him about the subject.

But if Louis is in this house, she could only expect the worst.

"Is your grandson here?" Father asks, and Harry clenches her fists, awaiting for the answer.

Guinevere shakes her head. "Oh, no. He's working at the local merchandise."

Harriet releases a breath of relief, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. Father nods his head in acknowledgement. "I would appreciate speaking to him when he returns. For now, Harriet and I will conduct a thorough blessing of the house. But first, I would like to see the areas where you feel the presence most strongly."

Pierre clears his throat. "The activity is strongest in the attic and the basement. We hear the banging from above and below us, and the whispers seem to come from the walls."

Father Brun nods, rising from his seat. "Then let us begin. Harriet, would you accompany me to the attic?"

Harriet stands, clutching her Bible tightly. "Of course, Father."

The narrow staircase follows into the dark attic. It's nothing like she expected. There's a few cobwebs, but expected dust has been cleared out, it almost looks lived in. There's a mattress on the floor, leftover bottles scattered on the floor and a stain on the sheets. Harry holds her rosary to her chest as she inspects the white splatter. "Father, what is this?"

Father Brun turns around before approaching the girl, following her gaze. He tightens his jaw and raises his chin. "I'm not sure, but we will bless this room." He sprinkles holy water around the room and keenly on the sheets, reciting a prayer.

Harriet steadily follows suit. "Lord, cleanse this space of any evil presence. Fill it with your divine light and protect those who dwell here."

After the attic, they descend to the basement. She's even more impressed by the area. There's a blue punching bag hanging from the wall, a large TV and a bean bag. It's as if someone stays here, and she began to consider the possibility that the couple were simply hearing the disturbances of their guest.

However, Father Brun seemed to not see it that way. He continued like earlier, sprinkling holy water. "By the power of Christ, we command any unholy spirit to leave this place. Be gone in the name of Jesus."

Harriet shares a look with Father before he declares the blessing complete. When they return to the first floor, Guinevere states that she'll show them to their rooms. They're two separate guest rooms, each with a simple bed and a crucifix hanging on the wall. Guinevere allows them time to settle into their rooms while she finishes the final dish for dinner.

When Harriet heads downstairs, the table is set with a simple meal. Roasted chicken, potatoes, and fresh vegetables from the farm. Guinevere gestures for her to take a seat and she does. She notices an empty space at the table, but before she could ask, the front door opens, and in walked a familiar face. Louis is more rugged than she remembers, a few additional tattoos visible on his forearms. He was wearing a loose grey tank, assuming he had just came back from the merchandise.

Guinevere smiles at her beloved grandson. "You're just in time. Come sit, we have some guests."

Louis gazes around the room until his eyes instantly find Harriet. He lingers on her for a moment before taking a seat, right across from her.

"Father Brun." Louis nods. He glances at Harriet, still dressed in her novice habit, a different image from the one she was four years ago. "Harriet, it's been a long time."

Harriet forces a calm smile. "It has."

They bow their heads for prayer led by Father Brun before eating. Harriet tries to focus on her food and the conversation surrounding them, but it was difficult with Louis so close.

Guinevere stands to collect the dishes after, but Harriet suggests she rest. She takes the plates for herself and enters the kitchen to wash them. She feels a presence behind her and sighs, knowing who it was.

"So, do you wear that all the time?"

Harriet thins her lips, shaking her head in denial.

"Hm. Is it comfortable?" Louis approaches behind her until he's nearly pressed against her back. Harriet swallows, squeezing the cloth in her hand so hard that soap expels from it. She would not fall for sin again, she has been successful and acquiescent to her vows. She wouldn't let the man that made her sin in the first place, ruin it for her.

Louis tilts his head so he can see her and she looks away, scrubbing a dish. "Are you upset about that night? I didn't mean to leave you."

Harriet clears her throat loudly. "I am not. And even if I was, I'd have to forgive you."

"But you don't truly forgive me, do you?"

Harriet bites the inside of her cheek and Louis hums. "I figured that much. But listen, if you want, I can make it up for it."

Harriet narrows her eyes. "Who are you to suggest such a thing? I am a novitiate, I will be a nun soon. And I will not, under any circumstances, fall for such deviance. My path is set, and it doesn't include you."

Louis stares at her for a moment before nodding slowly. "Alright. I respect that."

Harriet returns to washing the dishes and Louis finally leaves her alone. That night, she changes into a long night gown, covering the skin necessary. She kneels before her bed, rosary in hand, and prays to God for the resilience in the case that she needs any. She could feel the insurgence surrounding the room, and though God tells us to not be afraid, she was. She was supposed to have faith in herself, but she could feel that confidence wavering in this evil-spirited home.

"And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." She finishes, slowly reopening her eyes. She sighs softly and leaves her rosary on the bed to blow out her candle. Just as she's about to blow out the candle, she hears a faint creak outside her door. She freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. "Lord, give me strength." She whispers, gripping her rosary tightly.

A soft knock on the door startles her. She hesitates, then steps toward it. When she opens the door, Louis is standing there.

She grips the door handle tightly, glowering at the man before her. "You should not be here."

Louis observes her so closely, it feels as though he's undressing her with his eyes. Though she's wearing a gown, as modest as can be, she feels naked under the older man's gaze. "I forgot how beautiful your curls are." He comments.

Harriet shakes her head as he steps inside, closing the door behind him. "Louis, you have to go. I can not— you can't—"

"I couldn't sleep, Harry. All I can think about is you." Louis says, and her breath hitches at the old nickname. She wraps her arms around herself protectively as he moves closer, and she takes a step back, her back pressing against the wall.

Harriet knows she should push him away, but instead, she finds herself initiating their kiss, meeting his lips. It almost feels the same as the first time, only, she's completely sober. Louis holds her jaw gently as their lips move in sync, the soft, wet sounds of their kisses filling the quiet room.

She squeezes his shoulders while consciously pressing closer, her body betraying her. Their lips begin to move at a fervent pace and Louis slides his hands down her hips, feeling her up. Harriet feels herself dampen in her panties and that's when she pulls away, eyes large with despair.

"You need to go."

"Harr—"

"Go!"

Louis stares at her, bewildered by the sudden outburst, but he doesn't push it. He leaves the room and Harry slides down the wall, tugging on her hair in anguish. Her body is meant to be the Lord's temple. But no matter how many times she repeats the phrase, it makes her words sound even more false.

"Lord, please give me the strength to resist temptation. Guide me back to you."

†

Sleep came slowly that night. She loses so much of it that her eyes hurt when she's woken up by the loud alarm she placed on the dresser. She instantly regrets bringing the alarm, groaning in frustration as her eyes adjust to the sunlight with a horrific burn.

Harriet blindly stumbles out of bed, and she tries to dress herself as quickly as possible. She dresses herself in her habit and rings her rosary around her neck, knowing she'll need it today. Father Brun is sat in the kitchen when she makes her way down the stairs. He's watching Guinevere as she maneuvers through the kitchen, cooking breakfast.

She smiles softly at the woman, seating herself beside Father Brun. She notices Louis is missing, but supposes it's a good thing. Consciously, she snakes her hand up and grips her rosary.

"How did you sleep?" Father questions.

Harriet bites her lip. "Not so well." She admits.

Father nods his head, as if uncertain of his next response. "Well, we will pray once again and find the source of this evil. I presume we will be back home by tomorrow."

Harriet nods her head in acknowledgement and smiles when Guinevere slides a plate of tartine towards her.

†

The evil is still not found. Harriet feels the presence of it, but Father Brun says they need more time. They continue to bless the house and pray fervently, but nothing helps confront the spirit.

One evening, after another failed attempt at finding the source, Harriet finds herself alone in the basement. She felt a pull toward the cellar that couldn't be explained, she simply entered the room, clutching the end of her rosary as she made her way down the rickety stairs.

The room is in an agitated state. There are spills from soda cans and fumes from an inexplicable source.

Gnawing her bottom lip, Harriet advances through the room, observing every detail. There were posters of blasphemy on the wall, grotesque images that mocked her faith. She was so distracted by the sacrilege that she doesn't realize she was being watched.

"What are you doing down here, Harriet?"

Harriet gasps, quickly turning around to see Louis appeared at the doorway, a blunt smoldering between his fingers.

Louis stares at her wordlessly, his presence unsettling. The novitiate swallows tightly, frozen in her spot as Louis approaches her, the smell of marijuana becoming suffocating. He stands in front of her, dark eyes skipping over her face in an expression only he was capable of making.

"I.... I was just...."

"You're always so tense," Louis murmurs, and he gently strokes her cheek. "Let me help relax you."

His eyes are slightly red around the edges, hooded and languid. Harriet's pulse quickens, feeling similar guilt ferment inside her. Louis' touch is soft and insistent, a touch that belongs to an accessory to the devil. And though she wants to pull away, her feet remain rooted to her spot.

"Louis.." she begins, but the words die on her lips as he leans in closer, the warmth of his breath mingling with the smoke.

She watches as he brings the spliff to his thin lips, inhaling the smoke. His lips drown out her protests as he holds her jaw, coaxing her mouth open.

Her grip on her rosary tightens, the beads digging into her palms. He blows the smoke in her mouth, the tendrils of smoke weaving their way into her lungs. She coughs lightly, her eyes glossing over, and Louis' hands are still touching her, rubbing her hip and stroking her jaw - a touch wilted in the hands of sin.

Unwontedly, she can't pull away or break the distance between her and Louis. He molds their lips together and she responds, though inexpert. Louis' tongue slips past her lips, exploring her mouth with a sinful hunger that matches his wronging.

Harry digs her fingers into the front of his shirt and claws her nails down his abdomen. She feels the similar flutter in her privates as the last time and she pulls away as if she'd been shocked. "Louis, we can't-"

Louis' hand touches the exposed part of her neck, promptly shutting her up. His hand is a gentle but firm restraint, that silences her. He bites along her jaw, emitting a breathy gasp. "It's okay, Harriet. A little touching won't hurt you. It only matters if I go in you."

Harriet bites her lip as he continues to suck on her skin, and though she knows it's wrong, she can't find the strength to pull away. Her knees feel weak as he trails his hand down the dip of her spine until he finds her bottom, squeezing the flesh in his hands. "Do you want to know what it feels like to give in?"

She parts her lips in surprise, the words unable to fall as he presses his fingers through her habit, applying pressure to her intimacy. Harriet squeezes her thighs together, slipping further and further into sin.

When Louis pulls his body away, figuring that he won't get an answer, she unbuttons her habit. She responds by letting her habit fall to the ground, leaving her in her beige bra and panties. Louis stares at her in surprise, his gaze roving over her modestly exposed body.

Her skin seems to be paler than before, likely from hiding behind her habit all day. She looks beautiful, pure and innocent, and he tells her that much. Harry's cheeks flush in embarrassment and she wraps her arms around herself, only involuting her breasts.

Louis smiles and leans closer, lightly touching the coif that covered her hair. "And will you take this off?"

Harry bites her lip shyly, struggling to find the voice to speak. "I... I don't know." She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's just us here, Harriet," Louis coaxes. "No need to hide anymore."

Harriet hesitates for a moment, torn between the teachings of her faith and the overwhelming desire for Louis.

Ultimately, she surrenders.

With trembling fingers, Harriet reaches up to unpin her coif, allowing her hair to cascade down in a dark wave around her shoulders.

Louis smiles victoriously, closing in on the girls space. His chest presses against her own, producing a soft gasp from the smaller girl. Caressing the back of her head, he pecks kisses down the length of her neck, softly nipping at the skin.

Harriet continues to make quiet noises, reveling in the older man's delicate touches. "A-Are you touch me?" She asks.

Louis pauses the kisses on her neck and slowly pulls away. Harriet peers up at him, anxiously biting her lip.

Fighting back a smirk, he responds. "Is that what you want?"

Harriet avoids his gaze, tucking a curl behind her ear. "I-If that's what you want."

Louis chuckles, finding that she won't admit it herself. He reaches up to softly stroke the mark he'd sucked on her neck, the corners of his lips lifting. "Get on your knees."

Harriet stares at him with round eyes that only largen in size when she realizes he was serious. She reluctantly kneels, peering up at the older man for the next instructions.

Louis smiles, taking another hit from his spliff before speaking. "Stay there. I'll be back."

Harriet watches him until he's out of her peripheral vision. She looks down at the ground, hands balled atop of her joined knees. The basement is eerily silent now, the only sound being her own breathing, which grows heavier with each passing second.

After a few minutes, Louis returns, carrying a small box. He sets it down beside her, kneeling to her level. "Look at me." He commands softly.

Harriet lifts her gaze, meeting his dark eyes. He opens the box, revealing a set of delicate silk scarves. "Do you trust me?" He asks.

She nods, unable to form words.

"Good." He says, taking a scarf and gently tying it around her eyes, blindfolding her.

Harriet can't see a thing behind the blindfold—she can only feel and hear. There's a sharp, low zip and a few shuffling, then the only sound in the room is her soft panting. She digs her nails into her thighs while she waits for what's next.

Louis tangles his fingers in her hair and she swallows, her head slightly pulled back. Something nudges her lips and she retracts, only to be pushed forward. "Just open your mouth." Louis tells her.

She obliges and he pushes something into her mouth, something warm and salty that weighs heavily on her tongue. The unfamiliarity the object in her mouth make her cheeks flush with confusion and embarrassment. She hesitates but then follows Louis's instruction, her mouth widening the further it enters her mouth until it prods at the back of her throat.

She sputters, but Louis just squeezes her hair tighter, groaning under his breath. "Just breathe through your nose."

Harriet huffs slightly and tries to understand, concentrating on her breathing. She messes up a few times because of the object filling her mouth, but the noises Louis makes above her distracts her. She doesn't know what's making him make all those noises, but he's moaning and groaning the more he pushes her head down the object.

It doesn't register to her until she feels his skin against her mouth, the thrusting of his hips into her face, what exactly is happening.

Louis' grip tightens as he maintains a steady rhythm, his breathing ragged and heavy. Harriet sporadically chokes around his cock, but otherwise keeps herself pliant, maintaining her composure. His cock glides wetly down her throat, audibly resonating through the basement at every thrust.

Harriet closes her lips around him, her jaw beginning to ache as she tries to keep up with the relentless intrusion.

Louis' breathing grows more labored, his groans louder with each thrust. His movements become more urgent and her eyes water. "Almost there." He warns.

Harriet runs her tongue along his shaft, her mouth feeling cramped, and that seemed to be enough for his release. She feels a warm, salty fluid fill her mouth, and she instinctively tries to pull away, but he holds her in place.

"Swallow."

Harriet hesitates, but Louis leaves her little choice. She swallows and Louis releases his grip on her hair. She pulls back and gasps for air, copious amounts of spit falling from her mouth. The sight just makes Louis stiffen again and he swiftly removes the blindfold, needing to see Harriet's angelic face again.

The second it's removed, she blinks up at him, her cheeks flushed and eyes watery - and Louis knows he can't hold himself back any longer. He helps her rise to her feet before he's pouncing on her again, kissing her lips while feeling the edges of her bra. She reluctantly raises her hands to hold onto the collar of his shirt, his own arm snaking around her slender waist.

His other hand grazes down her thigh, wrapping it around his own hip, thrusting his hips forward until his cock slides between the fabric of her panties and over her wetness. The friction elicits a gasp from Harriet, her body easily responding to him.

Louis teases her with kisses down her chest, sucking bruises into the knobs of her collarbones before pulling her bra down, exposing her breasts to the cool air. His mouth descends on them with fervor, sucking and biting her sensitive nipples.

Harriet's head lolls back, her breathing ragged as he continues to rut against her. He removes the arm around her waist and travels back up to her neck, exerting a gentle but firm pressure that makes her knees weak.

Louis returns to the hold on her waist and manages to push her panties aside, enough to trap his dick beneath the fabric. He grinds against her with deliberate pressure, his cock sliding wetly between the fabric of her panties and her slick heat. Harriet's legs quiver, struggling to hold her upright as Louis presses harder, rubbing against her most sensitive spot.

Louis' mouth continues its assault on her breasts, biting her nipples until they're swollen and tender. "You're so beautiful, Harry. Couldn't keep my eyes off you, even with that habit on."

Harriet's only response is a soft moan, moving her hips with him.

Just when she thinks she can't take any more, Louis lifts her effortlessly, carrying her the short distance to the bed. He lays her down gently, admiring her flushed, panting form. He licks his lips before grabbing the elastic of her panties, tugging them down her legs. Harriet catches them quickly, widening her eyes. "Wait, you can't touch me down there."

Louis rubs her thighs, swiftly finding an alternative. "Can I just rub myself on your pussy? Just a little."

Harriet blinks at him with glossy eyes, stroking her stomach nervously. "Only a little. You can't go inside."

Louis agrees and pulls her panties down again, tossing them to the side. He parts her legs, revealing her wet pussy, full, sticky lips soiled in lubricant. He trails his gaze down to her opening, tight and unscathed, likely untouched since that night. It takes a lot of willpower to not at least trace the pink skin surrounding her opening.

Louis squeezes his cock before nestles himself in her folds, smearing it in her wetness. He hisses, hips moving at a perfervid pace. He holds Harriet's legs apart to rut against her easily, the tip of his dick nudging her clit. She mewls quietly, her hands gripping the sheets lightly, but when Louis grabs the back of her knees and lifts her thighs, the head of his cock slips past her entrance.

Harry gasps, feeling the fat head of his cock enter her. "Louis!"

Louis hushes her, dragging his lips inches away from hers. The girl shivers, warm emerald eyes staring timidly at him. "I'll go in just a little, okay? It'll be fine."

Harriet shudders, his warm breath fanning her face. "Okay." She agrees, though the suction of her pussy pulsating around him takes him further.

Louis smiles and pushes her thighs against her chest, putting more of his length inside. The intrusion stings, but it feels equally good. Louis starts a pleasant, slow drag back and forth with the little bit in her, stroking her swollen clit with his thumb, easing himself further inside.

The more he strokes her, the more wetter she gets until he thrusts completely inside, her warmth wrapping around him like a velvet glove. Balls deep inside her, Louis can't help the venereal growl he makes, her pussy squeezing him in a vise grip. He continues to massage her sensitive nub, slowly moving inside her to help her adjust.

Harriet inhales sharply at each thrust, the tip of his penis touching her spot with careful precision. Her moans grow louder, her hips rising to meet his with each thrust, the sensation of him filling her completely, coupled with the pressure on her clit, sending her to oblivion.

Louis gradually intensifies his thrusts, balls slapping against her ass as he traps her beneath him, pressing her body into the mattress. Harriet cries out, her hands traveling from her breasts to the headboard knocking into the wall, like she was torn on what to grab.

And Louis revels in watching Harriet writhe beneath him, moaning so loud that it echoes through the basement— and as much as he loves hearing her moan, he doesn't need his grandparents thinking that there's actively an evil spirit in the room.

He covers her mouth with his palm and throws her leg over his shoulder before fucking her harder, punching out muffled grunts. She rolls her eyes with pleasure, teetering on the brink of her release every time he pounds into her.

She realizes she's close when she leaks around Louis profusely, eliciting wet slaps of skin and a meager puddle beneath her. She admits it under her breath and Louis groans, his orgasm surfacing as well just by looking at her wrecked state. Her curls stick to her sweaty cheeks, plastered to her pinkened skin. Her eyes keep rolling and unfocusing, glossy with desire.

Louis uncovers her mouth to replace it with his own, slipping his tongue past her lips, reducing his thrusts to leisure grinds, her body trembling beneath him as the pleasure continues to build. She can feel the tight coil of her orgasm winding tighter with each slow, deliberate movement.

Suddenly, they hear footsteps on the stairs. Harriet's heart skips a beat, and Louis quickly covers her mouth again, stilling his movements. He listens intently, recognizing the sound of Guinevere's voice calling down to him.

"Louis? Est-ce que ça va en bas? J'ai entendu beaucoup de bruit."

[Louis? Are you okay down there? I heard a lot of noise]

Harriet's eyes widen in panic, her breathing quickening against his hand. Louis keeps his gaze locked on hers, trying to silently reassure her as he continues to grind into her slowly, feeling her walls clench around him.

"Oui, je vais bien, grand-mère. Je fais juste un peu de travail. S'il te plaît, ne descends pas, c'est le bazar ici."

[Yeah, I'm fine, Grandma. Just doing some work. Please don't come down—it's a mess here.]

Harriet moans softly at the sound of his hoarse voice, unconsciously spreading her legs wider, making him shift deeper. Louis quirks a smile and holds her legs apart, going back to slow, hard thrusts.

"Où est Harriet?" Guinevere asks, her voice closer now, just at the top of the stairs.

[Where's Harriet?]

"Elle est dans les jardins." Louis replies quickly, hoping to divert her attention. "Je monte dans un instant."

[She's in the gardens. I'll be up in a bit.]

Harriet croons, and the second Guinevere's footsteps repeat, along with the door closing, he picks up the pace, hips slamming into hers. Harriet's panic slowly melts back to pleasure, and she pinches her nipples between her fingers, pursuing relief. She gets louder, despite his hand over her mouth.

The strength of his thrusts jolts her body up the bed, his cock stretching her in the most delicious way, reaching deep inside her, brushing against that spot that makes her see stars.

Louis watches her face contort with pleasure, her brows knitting together as she squeezes her nipples. Her body alone is enough material to come to, her swollen pussy clamping down on him. She spurts lubricant around him, making every thrust wet and smooth.

"Tu es tellement serrée," Louis groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Je ne vais pas tenir longtemps."

[You're so tight. I won't last long.]

Harriet hums a moan, reaching down her abdomen to furiously rub herself, spreading her legs impossibly wider. "I'm so close." She gasps desperately against his palm, pulsing uncontrollably.

Harriet cries out when she comes, her body convulsing around him, legs trembling in the air. Her walls clench and pulse, milking him, and it's all Louis needs to find his own release. He groans, hands finding her neck again to lightly squeeze, his hips jerking as he spills inside her, filling her with his warmth.

Spent and breathless, Harriet spreads her fingers in a 'V' around Louis's cock, her pussy burning with desire. She mindlessly traces the length of his cock, feeling him twitch slightly in response.

"That wasn't so bad, yeah?" Louis questions, tenderly brushing a strand from her face.

Harriet stares at him silently, and he pulls out, letting the rest of his come land on her stomach. She bites her lip and hesitantly touches the sticky substance on her skin, feeling the stickiness between her fingers.

Louis leans down to kiss her softly, gently caressing her thighs. "You did so well."

Harriet closes her eyes, the regret sinking in, but his affectionate touch grounds her in the present, rather than allowing her mind to wander.

She feels his stubble rub along her skin before he murmurs. "I won't leave you this time."

Letting out a dreamy sigh, she allows Louis to touch her however he pleases, inwardly enjoying his kisses. The devil might have coerced her into a chamber of sins, but she wouldn't mind accepting it if it meant she'd be locked in there with Louis.

#larrystylinson #louistomlinson #fanfic #harrystyles #cis female harry styles #fic rec #larry #ltops #hbottom #hpussy

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naughtycurls · 7 months ago

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naughtycurls · 7 months ago

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Venice Bitch • one shot fem!harry

Description: Harry is a venice fairy, a beautiful stick-in-the-mud. However, her sycophant behavior earns her a prank by her sisters that gets her temporarily suspended from school. Instead of sitting bored in her cabin, she misbehaves for once, and leaves outside of their forest.

She has heard of the rumors before, she knows plenty of fairies have snuck out and messed around with a certain vampire. She doesn’t expect to run into said infamous vampire on her evening out.

Tags: Vampire Louis, Fairy Harry, female harry, rough-ish sex, degradation

Oh, God, miss you on my lips

It’s me your little Venice bitch

you can also read the fic here and here

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

The nymph sits casually perched on top of a large tree branch, her slender legs dangling in the air, delicate-looking toes pointed downwards. Her soft curls lie graciously down her shoulders, adding an elegant touch to her doll features. She’s an ethereal beauty. If she were an angel, she’d be the purest. As a fairy, she was already a beacon of untainted grace.

Fairies were the untouchable creatures of the forest. Their presence are a whisper in the wind, always felt but rarely seen. Their magic was woven into the very fabric of the woods, defining the balance between reality and myth. Fairies’ only job was to preserve the harmony of the forest, behaving as beings cohesive to nature.

Harry was committed to fulfilling her duty, so much that it occasionally irritated her peers --- but she couldn’t help it, even if she really wanted to. She was raised to uphold the traditions and responsibilities of a fairy, just like her mother and Madam Loreena taught her.

Apparently, being diligent and obedient isn’t to her peers’ taste. She was only spectating the trolls’ dome, like she was assigned to do, when she was mysteriously called to the dean’s office. It was extremely unusual, because she was never called to see Loreena unless her mom was calling, and her mom always informed her beforehand.

Loreena wasn’t calling Harry for a special task or anything positive, she was suspending Harry. Harry was shocked to hear it, she still feels that dull ache in her stomach when she remembers the words. She’s never even gotten a C on her work, being suspended was the worst thing to happen to her. It was not only a suspension from school, but their haven in the forest, too. Loreena gave her shelter in a cabin that’s commonly used for suspended students, and left her to her own sources.

Harry wondered for a while why she was so suddenly suspended, but then she saw the repentant expression on one of her classmates face, and assumed they must’ve lied to the dean. So, Harry was suspended and now living to her own devices in a remote forest. There was nothing enchanted about this part of the forest, only long, flowing rivers and a few flowers --- which wasn’t anything bad. However, she couldn’t use her magic here, and that’s what upset her.

Most evenings, she spends her time like she is right now, staring at the moving clouds. She sighs and slips off the branch, floating down until her feet gently touch the ground. Her dainty figure allowed her to have a smooth landing, as the other fairies did. As a collective species, they shared the same physique. Tall, thin bodies, and weight as light as a feather. A common myth about fairies were that they were invisible to the eye, which wasn’t true. They were just so swift and quiet that they were impossible to notice if they didn’t want to be recognized.

The grass peeks through the space between her toes, tickling her skin. She smiles slightly as she walks before her bare feet touch the stones surrounded by wandering water. She crouches down, knees digging into the cool, rough surfaces of the rocks. Dipping her fingers into the clear water, she watches the ripples spread outwards.

She was so distracted by the water and her reflection that she doesn’t notice someone watching her.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here?”

The chilling voice sends a wave of multiple pleasures up her spine. With trepidation, she slowly turns her head to see who the question belonged to. Her eyes land on a strikingly handsome being, and though his voice held emotion, his expression had no signs of it. His features were sharp and angular, cheekbones sculpted as if by the hands of a master artist.

She glances at the water and notices that his reflection was unseen. She understands the detail rather quickly --- the man is a vampire.

She has never ran into a vampire before, despite many years working with other beings of the forest. Vampires, though, are rare to find. They prefer sheltering in uncharted caves and secluded areas. But now she had a vampire in front of her, staring at her so expressionlessly that she almost thinks he’s dead, though he technically already is.

“I shouldn’t be here.” She mutters and turns her body from him, returning to her previous position over the rocks. It allowed for the vampire to see beneath her dress, to where she had nothing under.

The vampire licks his lips, blue eyes glued to her round, milky bum. He painfully tears his gaze away and kneels down beside the fairy. “Why are you, then?”

Harry swallows, eyes trained on a random tree. She refused to look at the vampire, she could tell just by his tone that he was the notorious vampire the fairies always talked about. Meaning he was insidious and cunning, and she was willing to ignore him by any means of protecting her peace.

“I was tricked.” She plays with a tuft of grass, twirling it between her fingers.

The vampire raises his eyebrows, the corners of his lips lifting into an enticing smile. “You’re naive.”

Harry whips her head around to look at him and narrows her eyes. “I am not naive. I’ll have you know that I am one of the best students in my village.”

He only looks more amused, which frustrates the fairy. “I am, and I bet you, you’re nothing to this forest.” She continues on, brows turned into a cute furrow.

“Actually, I’ve got quite the reputation.” He says. Harry glares at him, his gaze is so strong that she has to look away again. And it only cloys her more that he’s so indifferent, while he can easily work her up. “I don’t care about your reputation.”

“But it has something to do with you.” The vampire whispers, reaching out to twirl one of her silky ringlets around his finger.

Harry’s cheeks flush and she balls her hands into a fist. This man was trying to tempt her, and she wasn’t going to fall for it. Fairies weren’t angels, their purpose wasn’t to stay virtuous, that’s other creatures’ duty. Not to mention the fact that they had to get their hands dirty a few times in their line of work. However, Harry chose to stay the way that she was. She had a few experiences with her dorm mates, but she doesn’t plan on going all the way. Especially with a vampire like him.

“I know what it is, and I don’t want to speak to you.” The fairy stubbornly says.

The man isn’t wounded by her words, he even seems amused. Harry hardens her eyes at this notion, seeing that the vampire wasn’t taking her seriously. “I thought fairies were supposed to be benevolent.” He interjects.

Harry shakes her head. “You’re mistaking us with angels.”

“I could easily mistake you for one. You’re beautiful.” The vampire praises.

“I don’t want to speak to you.” She repeats.

“What’s your name? I’m Louis.” He introduces, flashing a smile that reveals his fangs. Harry glances at the nuisance, noticing more about him than the first time. His lips were velvet, thin and shaped in a way that allowed him to speak over his fangs. His teeth were white and impeccably straight, gleaming like polished ivory. The way he looks at her reminds her of a predator, and she doesn’t plan on being prey today, or ever.

She rises to her feet and pads away, a blatant sign of ignorance. She hears the birds chip and trickling water, but thankfully, no sign of the vampire.

She chooses to go to the river on the other side of the forest, intending to cleanse herself. Both from the dirt and after interacting with that dirty vampire. Her dress was flimsy, a delicate fabric worn mostly to cover herself up then for fashion. She had a ribbon tied into a bow at the yoke of her dress, keeping it closed together. On her ankle, she had a golden band wrapped around her talus.

She starts to undo the front of her dress, slipping it down her shoulders.

“Do all fairies have such beautiful bodies?”

Harry spins around, Louis standing a few feet away. “It’s inappropriate to watch someone without their permission.” She retaliates and glares at him harshly, starting to fasten her dress again.

“It’s also inappropriate to undress yourself in such an open space.” Louis says, encroaching on the nymph’s space. There was nothing untruthful about his conversation a few moments ago, Harry is really beautiful. Her green eyes stared round at him, like the orbs of a doe in the spring. If she wasn’t a fairy, he’s certain she’d be a doe in another universe.

“It’s my forest,” says the fairy, and Louis chuckles.

“Your forest? Is it your forest if I’ve touched your friends on these very grounds?”

Harry, ever so stubborn, nods her head. “As long as they get their job done.”

“Oh, they’re getting the job done. Just on my cock.”

“I don’t want to speak to you, so you can run along.” The fairy requests, waving her hand dismissively. Her obstinance intrigues Louis more, he doesn’t think he has ever desired someone like he does now.

“You know, I’ve felt and played with a lot of creatures, especially in your race,” Harry narrows her eyes at the mention of her species. Hearing him speak about her sisters in such a deceitful way was condemning. “But I would really love to taste you.”

“Well, you won’t have me.” Harry declares, raising her nose stubbornly. The movement makes her pearl drop earrings bounce, drawing Louis’ attention. It seemed every aspect of the fairy was delicate, from her milky skin to ears. Louis just couldn’t catch a break from this gorgeous being.

Louis dips his head to the side as he looks at the girl, urging her to see him as well. “Come on, don’t be like that. I can make you feel pleasure in ways you couldn’t imagine.”

“My sisters are just lonely and desperate. You prey on the weak.” Harry bitterly says.

“I prey on the vulnerable.” Louis corrects.

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “Then what’re you coming after me for?”

A growing smirk etches the corner of Louis’ lips. “You’re not as strong as you make yourself. I can smell your apprehension.”

Harry glares at him, but the color dusting her cheekbones says otherwise. The reaction only ebbs the vampire’s vainglorious ego. “At least just give me a taste, doll. I could smell you from the other side of the forest.”

“My smell isn’t an invitation.”

“No, but it is luring.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Find a siren to mess with. I can assure you that nothing will happen with me today.”

Louis smiles and leans forward, invading the fairy’s personal space. “Have you ever been curious?”

“Everyone has been curious.” Harry mutters with disinterest.

Louis chuckles, remaining close to the nymph, much to her dismay. “Have you been curious of humans?” Harry shifts her gaze to the vampire, and a menacing smile spreads across his face. “I’m given the approval of going to Earth. I drink humans’ blood, and they’re the best blood I’ve ever tasted --- but not the best thing.”

For once, Harry listens attentively, her interest plain to sight. “The best thing I’ve tasted are fairies. And I want to taste you, so badly right now.”

“Keep wanting. You won’t have me.”

“Do you seriously expect to stay in this forest for as long as you’re suspended, with nothing to entertain you?”

Harry shrugs simply. “I don’t need entertainment.” She declares, starting her walk back to the grassy lands.

Louis trails behind her. “At least let me keep you company.”

“I don’t need anything from you. Take your poisonous fucking fangs and shove them right up your behind.” She says haughtily.

Louis finds himself amused by the fairy’s irritation. He’s never chased so far for someone, but he could certainly allow Harry to be a first. With the way she smells and his endless curiosity of what she may taste like --- he couldn’t let her get away.

She was acting disdainful, but in truth, she was empathetic in nature. He knows all it would take is a mere trip and she would come running to ensure he was okay, even if she didn’t like him. And that’s exactly what Louis did, pretending to trip over a branch standing out. “Ow, damn it!” He exclaims, squeezing his throbbing ankle.

Harry turns around slowly, taking a hesitant step closer towards him. “Are you okay?

“Yeah, I just tripped.”

He sits on the ground, rocking on his bum “painfully” and Harry bites her lip thoughtfully. She crouches down beside him and reaches a delicate hand out to inspect his ankle. She was so close that her sweet scent was impossible to ignore, not that he ever considered ignoring something as sweet as her.

She smelt like all things natural; like the nectar swallowed by bees, a plain of peonies, and early morning dew.

The fairy was genuinely checking for injury, and little did she know, vampires couldn’t even get hurt. It was amusing to see how naive she was, despite her efforts in making herself broad. Realistically, it was against her nature to be unkind.

“I don’t see any bruising, but you should be more careful next time.” She says after a moment, raising her head. Louis stares right into her, an intensity that sends her skin crawling.

Harry sits up quickly and for the first time out of their entire encounter, she’s shy. Louis bites back a smirk and sits up as well. “I could teach you all about the things I’ve done.” He proposes, linking his finger around the ribbon tying her dress together. Her breath hitches and she blinks at him with a startled expression that he inwardly revels in.

“Let me kiss you.”

Harry swallows, her demeanor slipping. She peers at him and for a moment, he almost thinks he has her --- but then her expression hardens and he knows he’s back at square one. “You won’t get me as easily as the others.”

“So that you means you would let me kiss you?”

Harry scowls. “No.”

“So that means I have to treat you like you’re easy.” The fairy furrows her eyebrows then, unsure of what he means. He doesn’t offer much of an explanation easier, he reaches out and tugs the strings of her ribbon loose, making her gown fall open and expose the outline of her breasts. Harry catches it quick enough that it doesn’t show anything else. Her eyes widen. “Why would you do that?”

“To see you better.” Louis responds ‘obliviously.’

The fairy, sat on her calves, reaches out to flick the vampire’s nose, only to get her finger sucked into his mouth. She gasps and pulls away as if she had touched fire, gawking in disbelief.

“I could do that and much better.” Louis says, sliding his hand from her thigh to under her dress. He doesn’t reach her pussy, though it’s bare and he can smell it from here, which arouses him more, but he’s close. He caresses her inner thigh in a circular motion, knowing that it was giving her some sort of inner turmoil.

Harry shudders, and he doesn’t think she noticed that she spread her legs wider. Louis smirks inwardly, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. He doesn’t want to work her up too much to where she refuses him altogether.

“Let me kiss you.” Louis requests again, gently kissing the corner of her mouth. Harry’s lips were already parted and so inviting, if Louis didn’t want to taste her so badly, he definitely would’ve convinced her to give him a blowjob.

Harry’s pride is too fragile to answer, but she grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls him closer. Their lips touch gently with a delicacy adjacent to her. Her kiss is hesitant at first, she does as good as any other inexperienced person would. However, she seems to catch on quickly. She’s clumsy at first, trying to fall into a rhythm, but when she does, it’s perfect. Their lips fit like they were made for each other, her lips like warm pillows.

Her lips part in a soft sigh when his thumb touches dangerously close to her folds. Louis slips his tongue into her mouth and her fingers tighten their grip on the back of his neck. She kisses him for a moment more before pulling away. “I won’t be like the other fairies you’ve touched.”

Louis smiles. “So you’ll let me?”

Harry puffs out her cheeks, thin brows drawing together. “Don’t get too excited.”

“I won’t. But I am excited to taste you.” Louis drawls, pushing her dress off her shoulders. One simple action revealed her entirely, displaying her ostentatious beauty. Her boobs sat perfectly, a precise shape that he could fit in his hands, not too big or small. All fairies had the same physique, but she appeared to be crafted into her own tour de force.

She captivated him in a way he never knew was possible. The enrapture intensified when he looked at the area between her legs, her chubby pussy marked and wet. Louis doesn’t waste a second, touching the hood of her clit with his index finger. Harry bites her lip, and he continues to provide gentle, tentative caresses.

For now, at least. Inside, he was holding a lot of self control to not shove his finger inside her. He rolls her clit around, applying some pressure on her pleasure point. The sensation is foreign to the fairy, she feels her wings flutter slightly, and her own stomach does a flip.

Louis opens her legs wider and lays his face down between her legs. Her legs twitch as he pulls her pussy lips to the sides to expose more of her. Her clit stands proudly above her urethra, looking appetizing as ever. Louis doesn’t waste a second before diving forward, wrapping his lips around the delicate dot.

Harry inhales sharply, breath getting caught in her throat as Louis hollows his cheeks, creating a powerful suction. It was a pleasure she never felt before, and admittedly, better than the pleasure she felt when doing her work. This was a pleasure incomparable, anything else was inadmissible.

She leans back on her hands, squeezing the grass between her fingers, abdomen clenching as he focused on her clit. But then he kissed lower and lower, until he reached her tight hole. It was narrow, and obviously never touched before, which made him desire her more. But what he wanted most was to taste her, he just knew it would be good.

He darts his tongue out, testing the pearly liquid that escaped her. And his assumption was so right. Harry tasted like a mix of things, for one, nectar. He holds her open and sucks on her quivering hole, swallowing every drop her pussy offered.

Fresh cherries, maple sap. Louis savors the sugary fluid, closing his eyes in tranquility as he sips on her hole. He pulls away, face slick with her fluid, and Harry feels herself get wetter. “Lean back, it’ll feel better.” Louis encourages, pushing on her torso.

Harry easily complies, and her legs fall freer in the position. Louis licks between the petals of her cunt, collecting and spreading her slick before sucking her clit again.

Harry moans. It’s soft and quiet, but audible, and it encourages Louis further. Harry closes her eyes, lost in the satisfaction coursing through her body. Louis pulls away and dips the tip of his finger in the arousal seeping out of her soaked hole, the single digit splitting her open. Her hole swallows the rest of his finger and he slowly moves it, flicking the digit inside her before he returns his mouth back to her clit.

Her lower abdomen tightens and she feels the tip of Louis’ nose press against her pubic bone. She thought back to the way she disapproved of her sisters going out to mess with this cocky vampire --- but now she understood very well what they felt.

She could do this everyday. She would never admit that aloud, though.

Louis pushed his finger in harder, touching a part of her that made her squeal in her surprise. He stroked her for a moment longer before pulling his finger out, leaving her empty. She frowns in confusion, and Louis loves the desperate flush her cheeks have taken. Her eyes were dark with lust, pupils blown, nearly taking up her irises. Louis licks his lips, reveling in the numb feeling. “I knew you’d taste sweet.” He mumbles before capturing her lips in a hungry kiss, immediately licking inside her mouth.

Harry’s mouth falls open instinctively and she whines, tugging on the delicate hairs at the nape of his neck. He marvels in the pain, and Harry savors the taste of herself on the vampire’s tongue. She had thought Louis was exaggerating, but she truly was sweet, and that aroused her more.

Louis breaks away and starts undoing the front of his jeans. She watches him tug his pants down his legs and consciously slides her hand down her stomach, touching her core. She collects her fluid on two fingers, rubbing the sticky fluid together. She brings her hand up to view, curiously studying the creamy sap.

“You should try it.” Louis says knowingly.

Harry blinks at him, and then at the substance before languidly sucking on her fingers. She runs her tongue along her skin and hums. She did taste sweet, she never knew she had such a sugary essence inside her. Louis watches the fairy suck her fingers naively and it makes him grow stiffer in his trousers. He quickly pulls his clothes off until he’s in nothing, the tepid air hugging his skin.

He would’ve loved to see her cum, but he wanted to feel and see her cum on his dick, instead. And with the way she seemed to be inexperienced, he knew she’d have the best orgasm ever --- and that wasn’t just his ego talking.

Louis holds his length in a firm grip, thumbing the wet slit of his cock as he prepared to enter the nymph. Lying on a blanket of peonies and grass, she looked ethereal, beyond any beauty compared. He guides himself to her hole and rubs the head of his penis on her wet entrance, stimulating it as much as possible until he could milk enough lubricant where the slide would be effortless.

Harry peers up at him with curiosity as the vampire leans over her body, hands between his legs. She feels him nudging against her entrance, but he doesn’t enter her, and it’s beginning to drive her crazy. She groans vociferously and shifts, lifting her bum off the ground to encourage him. Louis understands what she wants, but he wasn’t going to comply so quickly. He does, however, push in a little bit, until she catches around his tip.

Harry sighs and starts to calm down, but her heartbeat accelerates when he grabs her wrists, pinning them to the ground. “Be patient, and then I’ll give you everything you want.”

Harry softly huffs and turns her head, the grass tickling her skin. She tries to wait, but she isn’t one to be patient. She bends her knees and the motion makes him slide in deeper. Louis moans for the first time, and it’s beautiful and hot, his breath whispering in her ear, down her neck.

Louis looks down at where they connect, admiring the way her pink skin stretched around his cock, attempting to adjust to his girth. Louis felt immense attraction to the fairy, to her innocent beauty and sexuality. She was vulgar, as much as she was demure.

Louis pushes further into her, watching as she expanded around him, her pussy taking in as much as it could. Harry hissed, but she didn’t express too much pain. Her wetness allowed for him to ease in a little gentler, preventing her from any serious pain. He fills her up until he’s pressed to the pelvis, and she, filled to the hilt.

Harry exhales shakily, squeezing the poor grass as she adjusts to him. She could feel the swell inside her, and when he started to move his hips, she couldn’t hold in her moans any longer. Louis didn’t think Harry would be so vocal, being as though she seemed timid before, but she was loud. Not in an obnoxious way, in a way that encouraged him to fuck into her harder.

Their skin and groans reverberate throughout the forest, a beauteous symphony of their passion. Harry tells him how fast and slow she wants it, demands for him to thrust this way, or hold and grab her this hard, and he lets her believe that she has that control. Even during sex, she was cocky.

Louis withdraws from inside her so suddenly, she almost doesn’t realize, until her throbbing hole clenches around nothing. She frowns and looks at him in confusion, but he doesn’t offer a response. He wordlessly flips her over, which was effortless, due to how light she is, and pulls her hips up until her ass was raised. Her lips part in surprise and she plants her hands on the grass, turning her head slightly, but Louis grabs her by the back of her neck and pushes her down, leaving only her behind up.

His grip is so strong that she can’t move at all. She waits, pushed onto the ground with only her behind exposed until he pushes into her again. In the position, he slides in easier and deeper, touching her in a place she never knew existed. In so deep, she didn’t even know he could get that far. She mewls, prolonged and aching as he enters her. He keeps her pressed into the grass, even when he’s fully inside, reaching the depths of her cunt.

She leaks out more in the position as well, profusely creamy in and around. Harry croons, completely immobile due to his grip. Louis holds her down and starts to move again, slow at first. Every time he withdrew, the removal made a wet noise, squelching whenever he entered again. He continues the motion slowly, gradually building a quick, balanced rhythm. Harry’s body rocks with the power of his thrusts, as much as her lower half would allow her, as she was still pressed to the ground.

Louis strongly drives into her, chasing after that addicting nectar that had him yearning for more. There was a spot that he kept hitting, stimulating and pushing choked ‘yes’ s and ‘uh’s out of the fairy. Noises that she didn’t know she was capable of making, he made her swear, when she never cursed in her life. Louis releases his hold from her neck and wraps her hair around his hand, tugging on it sharply. The pull sends a tingling sensation down her spine, along with the throb in her scalp.

Her curls were starting to become looser due to the sweat she was producing, and she doesn’t think she’s ever sweated this much in her life. Louis was making her feel things she never experienced before, it was refreshing, and consuming at the same time. Louis releases her hair and lets her fall back onto her shoulders, now attracted to the dip of her spine, the way her ass perked up from how she arched. He rests his hand on her lower back, right where her arch was and thrusts harder, sliding deeper.

Harry cries out when one of his thrusts makes her choke up, her muscles tensing. It felt like a fire growing in her stomach, all of her senses running wild as something bubbled inside her. She didn’t know what it was, but Louis did, and he couldn’t wait for it to happen. He leans forward until he was pressed against her back, hands rested at each side of her head. “Are you gonna let me fuck you like this whenever I see you?” He whispers, kissing the side of her ear.

Harry whimpers, burying her face in the grass. “Yes.”

“Gonna let me fuck you hard, mark you up?” He questions, quickening his pace.

Harry’s eyes roll behind her lids, her bundle of nerves being punched repeatedly. It felt like getting a beating, but in a great way.

"Yes.” She screams, mouth falling agape until she couldn’t make a sound anymore. Louis snaps his hips against her ass, their skin slapping carnally, echoing through the forest. Her breasts rubbed against the dirt, stimulating her nipples in a strange way, and the pleasure was overwhelming.

“I saw you sitting up on that tree branch, with your doll face and milky thighs. Do you have any idea how sinful you look?” Louis says, and as he teases her, he keeps up with a constant pace, fucking her raw and rough.

Harry moans, shaking her head persistently. “No.” She whines.

“I wish you could you look like taking my cock. Bet you’d like it even more if it was in your mouth, huh?”

She gasps at the vulgarity, curling her fingers in the tufts of grass so harshly that she tears it out of the ground. She'll feel bad about it later, but right now she could feel that she was so wet that it was leaking down Louis' balls. "I-It feels so weird." She admits, her pussy clenching sporadically.

"Mhm, that's because I'm making you feel good. I'm gonna make you feel better than any magic could ever make you feel." Louis mutters and his thrusts begin to slow, a deliberate pace, but a hard slam of his hips that jolts her body.

Harry starts to grow desperate, her little toes curling from the sensitivity of her pussy. "And can I tell you something, love?" Louis adds, grinding against her body.

She nods her head in despair, unable to get enough of the vampire's inducing voice. "You're the best fairy I've ever had," He admits. "Best smelling," he pushes into her harshly. Harry moans, a clipped "uh." "Best tasting," he repeats the same force, pushing out another moan. Her blood starts to thrum, and she could feel the hairs on her body rising, something indescribable building up.

"Best pussy."

Like a dam bursting out of a burrow, her orgasm hits her harshly, and it feels so good that she doesn't even notice the creatures lingering in the shadows, watching her be defiled so publicly. It feels so good that her wings unfurl from her back, shimmering and fluttering erratically with every quiver of her body.

Louis never made a fairy reveal their wings while fucking them, it momentarily stuns him when he sees it. His initial reaction was shock, but it slowly wears off when he sees the pixies out of the corner of his eye, trying to 'discretely' watch the two's public affair. His cock throbs from inside her pussy and he groans, pulling out of her.

He couldn't flip her while her wings were still fluttering, he'd risk hurting her wings, and he didn't want to do that. They were so beautiful, translucent with a hint of color that glistened in the dimming evening.

"Calm down for me, love. Just for a second." Louis whispers, kissing the back of her neck. Harry groans into the grass, more thick beads of fluid leaking out of her. The sight makes Louis' cock twitch and he strokes her thigh, trying to make her relax.

It takes her a second, but her wings eventually lower and he flips her onto her back. She looks utterly spent, her entire face flushed, grass sticking to her wet cheeks and the corner of her mouth where she had drooled. And her eyes, still a lustful gaze --- but her irises had taken on a hue of gold. Her lashes were moist, a darker shade of black, now that it was wet. She was a sight for sore eyes, and Louis had contained himself long enough.

He takes ahold of the back of her thighs and wraps her legs around his waist, keeping a hand on her spine to keep her lower half off the ground. The angle is a little uncomfortable, but all that discomfort dissipates when he enters her again, instantly striking deep into her core.

Harry's cherry lips fall open in a silent moan and she stares at the man as he fills her up. This time, she doesn't break eye contact, and it makes the moment more intimate. He enters her fully and immediately falls into a hurried rhythm, chasing after his climax.

He doesn't fail to meet her spot every thrust, urging more fluid out of her until she starts dripping onto the grass.

The grass was lucky to have such natural nectar like her.

Louis uses her body like a rag doll, holding her hips harshly, pulling her to meet his thrusts, and her pussy throbs, achingly sore.

Harry never liked pain, but the soreness she felt right now was unrecognizably good. She looks at Louis through half-lidded eyes, wet lips formed in the perfect 'o' and Louis couldn't ignore her lips anymore.

He leans down and kisses her feverishly, fucking her roughly. Their teeth clash from how vehemently they kissed and he pulls away, needing to hear her speak again. "Will this pussy be mines forever?"

Harry nods quickly, her body tensing up.

"Say it."

"It's yours." She cries, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Say you're mine."

"I'm yours."

"What was that?"

"I'm yours, Louis! I'm yours, I'm-" Louis grunts, his hips starting to take the erratic pace, only a vampire could be capable of, and it pleases her as much as it hurts.

They come to their release at the same time, she lets out a long, guttural moan, and Louis pushes as far as he could go, releasing inside her. Her back curves again, and Louis keeps a firm hold on her, staying pressed inside her while he comes.

Harry breathes shallowly as she comes down from her high, her vision slowly returning until she can see the vampire clearly again. He grins, satisfied by the orgasms he'd given, and this time, she smiles back. Dimples sink into her cheeks, and Louis doesn't think she could get any prettier than that.

"My name is Harry." She eventually says, answering the question from what felt like ages could.

Louis chuckles and leans forward, kissing her delicately, like the doll she is. "My little venice bitch."

#cis female harry styles #larrystylinson #louistomlinson #fanfic #harrystyles #fic rec #larry #ltops #cis girl harry #hpussy #larry smut

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naughtycurls · 7 months ago

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I 💘 ⚽️

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naughtycurls · 7 months ago

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when you don't have to think about it, love me at the ungodly hour (14299 words) by wreckingstyles Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: One Direction (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik, Minor Harry Styles/Original Male Character Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Female Harry Styles, Male Louis Tomlinson, Cis Female Harry Styles, Side Ziall, Alternate Universe - High School, Reckless teens, Loss of Virginity, Virgin Harry Styles, Fuck Boy Louis Tomlinson, Skater Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan & Harry Styles Friendship, Female Niall Horan, American AU, Private School, Friends to Lovers, Unrequited Crush, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Dork Harry Styles Series: Part 1 of ungodly hour series Summary:

Harry's the epitome of every father's dream. She's acquiescent, docile, and intelligent. At school, she was pretty, a seemingly popular student, and a walking ray of sunshine. She's also committed herself to being abstinent, with very little interest in any of her classmates.

That all changes when she meets Jaxton Carty. She's sure she's in love with Jaxton-- even willing to give him her virginity. However, Jaxton goes by a strict policy that he "doesn't do virgins," much less, date them. A little bummed, but still set on dating Jaxton, Harry soughs out for her best friend.

—Cue for the school's "fuck boy," Louis Tomlinson.

OR the one where Harry loses her virginity in the boy's bathroom stall.

#larrystylinson #louistomlinson #fanfic #harrystyles #cis female harry styles #fic rec #larry

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naughtycurls · 11 months ago

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Aurora Borealis Violet (9846 words) by wreckingstyles Chapters: 3/? Fandom: One Direction (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson Additional Tags: 1950s, Marilyn Monroe - Freeform, vintage, Old Hollywood - Freeform, JFK - Freeform, Priscilla Presley - Freeform, Female Harry Styles, Male Louis Tomlinson Summary:

Set in the late 1950s, Harry Styles, professionally known as Lana Del Ray, has risen to fame as an actress, model, and phenomenal singer. In the spotlight since she was a child, she was bound to make something of herself in Hollywood.

At twenty-six, she should have everything she's ever wanted. Money, fame, a husband- but one party changes her life forever.

#harrystyles #larrystylinson #louistomlinson #ltops #fanfic #cis female harry styles #female #jfk

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naughtycurls · 1 year ago

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I'm electrified, I'll be up all night

I'm electrified, I'll be up all night (21383 words) by wreckingstyles Chapters: 4/6 Fandom: One Direction (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Camila Cabello, Liam Payne Additional Tags: harry styles is lana del rey, Trans Harry Styles, References to Arctic Monkeys, louis is basically alex turner, country Harry styles, Kentucky, New York City, Long Island, Fluff and Smut, Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Daddy Kink, coquette, Feminization, a lot of smoking, Deepthroating, Poetry, Singer-Songwriter Harry Styles, Rock Star Louis Tomlinson, Inspired by Real Events, Song: Born to Die (Lana Del Rey), Unreleased Lana Del Rey, Inspired by Lana Del Rey Songs Summary:

Harry's a transgender woman, singing in bars to hopefully get enough money for bottom surgery. She doesn't recognize her talent.

Louis' an upcoming rockstar, astounded by her singing. He knows she's talented, but she doesn't believe it. So, Louis puts up with the quest to help her get a career and bottom surgery. Falling in love just happens to be a bonus.

#transgender #hbottom #ltops #larry #fic rec #coquette #arctic monkeys #alex turner #lana del rey #harry styles #louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #fluff

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naughtycurls · 1 year ago

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you taught me how to love (i taught you how to stop) devilinmybrain rated e, 50k

“I was always better at hand to hand than you,” Harry growls, even as he leans his weight into the blade. It’s small, sharp, has a handle of gold roses.

“I don’t know about that.” Louis moves his arm forward, makes the presence of the barrel of the gun fit snugly to Harry’s hip. “I think we just play differently.”

“You going to shoot me?” Harry asks, those wild eyes tracking over Louis’ face. “Do it.”

“I think I’ve put enough scars on you,” Louis answers, means it about the stretch marks still lining the sides of Harry’s stomach, but it lands a little too raw. There are other scars on Harry’s body that Louis blames himself for, scars inside too.

written for the @momrryficfest

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naughtycurls · 1 year ago

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My Magnolia Baby ࿓ cisgirl!harry

a fantasy-historical WIP, a tale told of pirate ships, peculiar creatures, dragons, and firsts.

Harry Styles - Princess of Nymador and daughter of Lord Desmond is of peculiar personality. She wears her hair up into assertive buns, fluff dresses and puffed sleeves. She reads books even though her father swears that men like their women uneducated, and most of all, she knows her worth. Which is why she argues to do what she wants and experience the journey of a lifetime, while trying to pursue her first relationship.

˚⊹♡

Anne poured warm water into a porcelain cup, humming a Nordic tune. She grabbed the cup carefully and placed it on the long dining table. After, she leisurely chopped the pork into straight articulated lines.

"Gemma, come set this table!" She ordered. Lady Gemma walked into the dining room wearily, huffing. "Why don't you call your other daughter, Harry."

"She is probably off in the gardens. I'll have the maids search for her." Anne waved off as she lifted the board with roasted pig on it.

Gemma placed the table cloth on the wood. "Why is she in there, anyways?"

"I'm making pig. You know she doesn't like pork." Anne answered monotonously. "Roberta!"

Their servant, Roberta, came running into the room, kneeling. "Yes, your majesty?"

"Go get Harry. Tell her dinner is prepared and her little vegetables better be cooked."

Roberta nodded submissively and went on to grab the princess. Who was away in the garden, still tearing apart lettuce, washing it in boiling water. "Lady Harry." Roberta greeted.

Harry looked up from the many greens she had cooked, smiling kindly. "Good evening, Roberta."

"Your majesty requests for you. Dinner is served."

The Princess nods in acknowledgment as she dries off the leaves, placing them into a big bowl. "What have you made?"

"Salad."

"You know your mother said to stop eating straight lettuce."

"She did. But 'twas the only thing I could make in such little time. Now, would you mind taking these to the table?" She asked, handing the bowl of fresh greens to the woman.

The noble family sat surrounded by the table with the supper the women of the family made. They joined hands as they prepared for prayer. "Heavenly Father," Desmond began. "We thank you for the food that has blessed this very table tonight, and the days that come. In Jesus name we pray, Amen."

"Amen."

Harry stabbed her fork into her salad, taking a bite. "Eat a little of the pig." Anne instructed.

She frowned. "But mama, you know I don't eat pork."

"Harry." Anne warned.

The princess sighed, cutting the tiniest portion of meat off. "Mother, Father, I need to tell you something."

"Have you found a husband?" Desmond asked hopefully. Harry rolled her eyes. "Of course not." The King sighed in disappointment, settling his eyes back to his food. "There is a sword fight tomorrow. I'd like to see it."

Anne twisted her face in disgust. "I know you try to be different, Harry, for whatever rebellious reason but I will not allow you to see such foolishness."

Desmond put his hand up. "Hold on.. she might have a good reason."

"I'm going to need at least some knowledge on the subject. Sword fighting is all men care about really, is it not?"

"You mustn't be serious." Anne said. She sighed when her daughter didn't budge, not even a sneer of retaliation. "Fine. But you will have to bring your brother along."

A scoff fell out of Harry's lips. "I would rather stick a pick through my own heart than take him with me."

"You will not be going to that sword fight if you do not bring him. A house of fighting is no place for a princess, your brother will be there to protect you."

Harry huffed. "Fine."

⚜

"Huzzah!" People cheered before continuing to dance to music. The bar smelt heavily of beer, Harry walked through the many bodies of people, all distracted by the music.

She searched through the crowd, trying to spot her brother somewhere but it was almost incompetent. "Hello, I'm looking for Joffrey." She tried to tell a bearded man, but he grabbed her elbow and started dancing.

Harry somehow managed to escape and got stuck in the middle of the room. "DOES ANYBODY KNOW WHERE JOFFREY IS?!" She shouted.

Everyone stopped dancing, including the people playing instruments and turned to the corner of the room. "Harry!" Joffrey exclaimed. A young woman beside him raised an eyebrow, seemingly confused. "Who is this?"

"Sister, how I've been dreaming of seeing you again." Joffrey said.

"Oh, sod off." Harry countered, her face turned in disgust as he hugged her. "You mustn't be so sour, it's been ages! How have you been?"

"The house has done fairly well without you being there, thank you very much." She replied curtly. Joffrey frowned at the information, but he ignored it in response. "What brings you here today? Got any fruits for me?"

Harry held the cloth of her cloak. "No. I want to see a sword fight."

Joffrey raised an eyebrow. "A sword fight?"

"Yes."

"And mother and father are allowing this?"

"Yes. They'll have no choice. They said I can go if you accompany me there." Joffrey blew a raspberry. "And if you don't I will not hesitate to saw your balls off."

Joffrey snorted at his sister's words but shut up almost immediately when he was threatened with a dagger to his neck. "O-Okay."

The residents watched in confusion as Joffrey made way through the crowd.

⚜

The swords fight hadn't begun yet. Harry followed after her brother into the doubled doors of the broken down home. "Put your hood up." Joffrey told her. She furrowed her eyebrows. "Why?"

"They must'nt know who you are. Put it up."

Harry glared at her brother for unpolitely telling her what to do, but pulled the cloth over her head, hiding her curls. "Now, do not talk to anyone unless they are me."

"You're so dictorional. I'm never going out with you again." She complained.

Joffrey led her to the center stage where everyone else was surrounded by, cheering excitingly. "Watch it." He sneered when someone nearly jabbed Harry. Eventually, a tall man came through the curtains, his boots clanking against the wood. "PEOPLE OF NYMADOR!!" He shouted.

Everyone yelled, raising their glasses of beer if they had one. "Oh, can you hand me one of those?" Joffrey asked the woman beside him.

"Get your own you festering cankerblossom."

Harry gasped dramatically, hiding her smile behind her palm. Joffrey glowered at her for laughing, rolling his eyes. "It is I, William The Great! The greatest swordsman in all of Nymador, no one is to succeed a battle with me!"

"Is that so?" Harry questioned. Joffrey angrily told her to hush, but she wasn't about to listen to some hairy looking man that had crust of beef stew in his beard. "Are you daring to challenge I?"

"I am." Someone said. Harry glanced at another man, dressed in simple attire, unlike the dramatic armor William was wearing. William tilted his chin. "You? You're nothing but a peasant."

"Fancy coming from someone with no home." The man retaliated. William clenched his jaw, his boots hitting the stage heavily. "Who ever falls against this very tree trunk loses the battle and will be feeding the children for three weeks."

"Very well." He said.

The arbiter hit the drums with his hands, throatily singing. "Louis Tomlinson and William Harrington!"

"I said do not speak of my surname you bitch!"

His eyes widened. "I apologize."

William rolled his eyes and grabbed his sword from it's holder, grinning widely at the sharp sound it made. "Are you still yearning for this fight?"

"Of course I am. You are nothing but of weakness." Louis spoke, posing his sword. William hardened his glare as the drums grew increasingly louder until the arbiter shouted for them to start and he swung the first hit. Louis easily blocked it with his sword, making a loud clang sound through the house.

Harry watched with wide eyes in anticipation, biting her lower lip distractingly. "Who are you rooting for?" She asked the prince curiously. "Obviously not William. He's a proper knobhead."

She nodded in agreement. "People like that get themselves killed. Imbeciles."

Louis pierced William's cheek with a small gash, causing the people around them to gasp. "Whoever draws blood first!" Someone within the crowd shouted. Everyone around them nodded in agreement, chanting the suggestion. The arbiter seemed to agree also, as he beat the drums harder. "First blood!"

Louis grinned and raised a challenging eyebrow at William, which made Harry feel the smallest flutter in her stomach. How could a sword duel possibly make her nervous? She guessed it was a good thing, her mother always said a swordsman was the best husband to wed. They could protect your family and also be good in other things.

William charged at him suddenly, seemingly angered at his chance of loosing. Louis easily blocked his hit, but nearly lost his footing as he dodged it. The burly man swung rapidly, his sword flying left and right, and somehow Louis managed to dodge it each time.

Louis grunted when he was pierced in his side but gained the strength to fight again — striking a hit at William's shoulder. When William tried to block himself with his sword Louis striked at his stomach, causing William to fall back. The crowd gasped, gripping the bars of the gate.

It was right on the tree trunk.

Louis arched an eyebrow at the bigger man, a glint of mischief in his silver eyes. "Do you yield?"

"Never." William bit out. He smiled before plunging the sword through his chest. Harry flinched at the awful sound as Louis twisted weapon.

Everyone grew into a fit of laughter, seeming to take glee in the victory. The arbiter appeared solemn as he stepped onto the stage, raising Louis' arm, finalizing the win. Louis smiled bashfully in front of the crowd and the duel was finished.

Joffrey glanced at his little sister. "Well? Is that what you expected."

"A little," Harry muttered. "I didn't expect for anyone to die."

"Oh, he's not dead. It's for show, entertainment."

The princess nodded in understanding and they moved away from the stage. "I'm going to go get some drinks. You stay here." Joffrey instructed. Harry rolled her eyes as the older man walked away, toward the bar. She obviously wasn't going to stay there so she wandered off inside the house, pushing through people.

She heard shouting and furrowed her eyebrows, peeking through the corner. A small dark haired boy was hovering above William's body, dipping a cloth inside a pot of water. He dragged it gently across the wound on the older man's abdomen, a hiss passing through his lips.

"I'm sorry, sir." The boy muttered.

William sneered. "Who the hell did that Louis kid think he was pushing me on the trunk."

"B-But he didn't push you, sir. You said you did not want to yie-"

William slapped him harshly. "What did I tell you about talking back, Brennon." Brennon's bottom lip trembled slightly, but he sipped his nose, blinking a few times. "To not do it. I'm sorry, sir."

"Enough with the stuttering. Now clean my wound."

Harry furrowed her eyebrows as she watched Brennon finish before he grabbed a needle and thread. "Don't." The older man mumbled.

"But it will not heal properly. You'll grow a nasty scar and you could risk infection."

William snorted. "Does it look like I care? Just tape it."

"What're you doing?" Joffrey asked. Harry jumped in surprise, backing against the brick wall. "Nothing."

Her brother sighed and grabbed her by the elbow. "I told you about watching other people's conversations. And you were supposed to stay at the bar, we're going home."

⚜

The doors to the King and Queen's throne opened, the sounds of a soldiers metal boots hitting the ground. Desmond stared at the knight authoritatively as he kneeled before him. "Your majesty," he began. "The soldiers and I searched for the egg. It's in another kingdom, Donvador."

Lord Desmond grunted underneath his breath, his fingers drumming against the arm rest. "Did you look into the meadows?"

"Everywhere, your majesty. It's not there."

"Then we shall proceed into Donvador."

Anne looked at Desmond quickly. "Have you gone mad?" She whisper shouted. "You can get yourselves killed going into a different kingdom."

"Anne, this matter is nothing but your business. Send troops to Donvador at once, and extra protection for the home,"

The knight nodded submissively and stood to his feet. "You are dismissed."

Harry was in her knitting class with her sister and a few other girls that were high-class. They were lessons for advanced people, who were taught to become young women, cooking and clothing was a big necessity to learn in the class.

Joann, their teacher, always watched them closely to make sure they were well behaved women, just like they were being taught. If their posture wasn't straight they were hit against the back with a whip, that always left long gashes across their skin. Harry knew after experiencing a punishment when she was twelve, she never slouched ever again.

Today they were supposed to be knitting together a blanket. With a specific design, the symbol for Nymador. If they were to ever get a husband he would be gifted with the blanket, it was always an act of kindness. "That looks very beautiful." Joann complimented Gemma's way of knitting.

Harry pulled the thread through the green fabric, sighing under her breath. She had been working for the longest time now, her fingers felt numb. Delaris sneered quietly, leaning to her. "The nun favors your sister."

Harry tilted her head, frowning. "I don't reckon so. I think she just wants to get on her good side, Gemma's meant to own the crown."

"I think you'll be the first." Delaris said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why so?"

"You're most likely to get a husband first. You're beautiful, and you have all the things a prince could ever dream of."

Harry blushed and looked down at her blanket. "You're going to distract me." She whispered. Delaris laughed, knowing that the girl had only said that because she was becoming embarrassed. Joann approached the girls, slapping her stick onto the floor. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing, Sister Joann." Delaris answered — but she was nothing but polite. "If you have a joke you should tell all of us. There are no secrets in this room."

"I said nothing." The blonde repeated. The doors to the hall opened, interrupting the conversation. "The Lord requests for the princesses presence," Their servant said. "And he also cancels all lessons for today."

The women in the room sighed disappointingly and Harry stood up, holding her blanket closely. Her eyebrows drawn in confusion. Kit cocked his head toward the door. "Come on."

Inside the throne room, Desmond and Anne sat, their mother holding a tall glass of wine. Harry licked her lips anxiously as she stepped up onto the ramp, walking toward her throne. It was never good news if the Queen was drinking, and she was clearly doing it at the moment. If their classes were cancelled and interrupted in the middle of session, it couldn't be good.

"Your blanket, princess." Kit said. Harry looked down at the yarn and smiled sheepishly, handing it to him. "I'll keep it safe for you." He promised. She mumbled a thank you and sat down, pulling the sleeves of her dress down.

"We were searching for the dragon egg," Their soldier said. "But instead we found this." Another man in armor dropped a body, causing a thump throughout the room. He turned the person over with his foot and a gasp nearly escaped Harry's mouth when she saw the face of the man.

It was Louis. He looked fine, but his clothes were torn and you could see subtle cuts through the holes, she was sure it didn't look so nice underneath. "We should burn his body." Anne suggested.

Harry's eyes widened. "No!"

"Then what do you suggest? There are diseases going around."

"I know him," She replied. "From the sword fight. He isn't diseased, in fact, I saw him. With another princess, I think he's of a different kingdom."

Gemma watched her sister, but she didn't seem convinced. Anne looked at her husband and the King hummed. "He does not belong here."

"I could just help assist his wounds. He can't go back home like that." Harry declared.

Desmond drew in a breath, pondering. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to help him, since Harry knows him," Anne stared at him as if he'd gone mad. "Roberta, draw him a bath, Harry will do the rest."

Harry smiled gratefully and stood from her throne, lifting the bottom of her dress.

⚜

Water trickled as she dragged a wash cloth across Louis' chest, frowning when she saw the wide gash near his collarbone. She touched it ever so gently — not wanting to harm him even in his sleep. There was dried blood around the corners, meaning it must've been there for a while. "Roberta, how did they find him?" She asked.

Roberta looked up from where she was warming towels for the 'prince' once he was done being bathed. "A horse came riding into the village right near the castle. They said he fell off the horse into the meadows."

Harry frowned and continued washing the man before he jolted awake suddenly, startling her. Roberta grabbed a broom from by the door, threatening him with it. Louis blinked rapidly, his chest rising quickly as he looked around the room before landing on Harry.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Roberta, please go." The princess ordered, dipping the bloodied cloth into the bath water.

"But your majesty, the Queen—"

"I said go." Roberta closed her mouth quickly and left the room. Louis stared at her puzzled, looking down at the red water. "How did I get here?"

"You were riding on a horse before?"

"No," Louis snorted. "I don't do horses."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's how they found you."

"Right... well I know I was nowhere near a horse," He quipped. "Or maybe I was.."

The princess scowled. "Now's not the time to make a joke. The King is going to question you, and my mother surely. You've fallen into our land and I told them that you're a prince."

"Now, why would you do that? You know I'm nothing of prince material."

Harry sighed. "You think? I was trying to help you so you wouldn't be beheaded."

Louis splashed the water. "I suppose that's better."

The princess rolled her eyes and squeezed the remaining of water out of the washcloth. "What happened?"

The older man sighed and leaned back on the bathtub, shutting his eyes as he relaxed. "I fucked some girl and her husband caught us. I'm not so good at fist fights so you can guess what happened."

Harry frowned. "Why'd you do it?"

"She's been one of my whores for a while now. She actually never even told me that she was married, but it's not my problem anyways. I just fuck who I like." Harry blinked as she listened to his explanation. She never heard such absurd obscenities come out of someone's mouth, being that she lives in a palace.

"Oh.. well your bath is finished. I can stitch you up if you'd like."

Louis nodded and she grabbed his towel that had been warmed, wrapping it around his body. "I haven't had such luxuries since... ever."

She giggled and lead him to the guest bedroom, ignoring the bemused looks servants gave her. She got him inside the room and requested he lay down while she prepared the tools.

When Harry approached him with a needle he scooted back on the bed. "Woah, what're you doing with that?"

"I need to stitch you up. You'll get an infection if I don't." Harry explained. She wiggled the the thread in her hands and pushed Louis down on the mattress, straddling him. "It'll only hurt for a moment."

"That's a lie, isn't it?"

Harry cracked a smile. "Possibly. I just want you to feel better, stitching can be agonizing but you'll be all better afterwards."

The swordsman hummed in acknowledgment, but didn't seem too convinced as Harry got the string prepared. It was terrible. The pulling of skin as the thread went through and needle stabbed him.

When she finally finished she pressed a bandaid onto the wound, mumbling an apology when he flinched. "I'll go get you some medicine." She announced.

"You don't have to do that." Louis complained.

"I insist," Harry pulled the handle to the door. "You'll feel awful in the morrow. Now, lay down while I prepare the herbs."

Louis grunted and fell back onto the pillow, pulling the thick blanket over himself.

#cisgirl harry styles #larrystylinson #fanfic #harrystyles #louistomlinson

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