Harry appears to be a nice boy. He comes from a good, wealthy family. He's been with his childhood sweetheart forever. He owns a flower shop. Arabella appears to be a bad girl. She throws loud and obnoxious parties. She screams the lyrics to angry songs at three in the morning. She owns a sex shop. When her sex shop moves in next-door to his flower shop, Harry is shocked to realize his new neighbor is a ghost from his past. Their unexpected feelings about their one-time encounter leave them both confused and drawn together, despite claiming to absolutely hate one another. To the naked eye, they seem to be locked in a hate-filled feud... but things are not always as they seem.

*[EDITING]* When Harry was twenty two, if a dangerously overconfident, time-hopping doppelgänger had pulled up in a freaky, rubber balaclava ('listen, mate' - hand on the shoulder and everything, like the reenactment of a cliché, time-honored rite of passage), and told him that in the very near future, his Friday nights would be indefinitely spent wearing a Greek moniker in the form of a fetishized allusion, that he'd be garbed by a latex mask to protect the sacred, fragile veil of secrecy- Well. He'd probably get a head start for padded walls and a straight jacket. Consider he was doing himself a favor with that one. But if he were told the same thing at twenty three, he'd probably choose to overlook the minor detail of reality imploding and sit back in his armchair, swirling his whiskey with excitement. Twenty three was an eventful year. He'd started casually enjoying whiskey after a long workday (honestly, a palate milestone in and of itself) and became enlightened on the fine art of tactically-applied suffering (and with it, gained a whole new appreciation for high-quality restraints). Because sometimes, a well-placed bruise and bliss just happened to go hand-in-hand. - OR the one in which there's a sex club, Greek stage names, an exploration of boundaries, an open house, a pair of dress shoes, and two evident sides to the same coin.

Harry didn't plan for it to become a recurring motif. It was never intended, from his perspective, to anchor him, and it certainly wasn't there to define him. At the time, he'd thought it was a one-time thing, like waxing his chest, or trying hot yoga, or letting someone gaslight him into believing that olives don't just taste like someone preserved despair in brine. At best, he'd figured it would be a strange, mildly entertaining story to pull out after drinks with a select, close-knit group of attendees. It'd fall in line somewhere between the one about the dentist with the singular nipple piercing and the time he'd mistakenly crashed a wake because the GPS rerouted him through a church parking lot. And then she called him Sir. One minute he was perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed he'd snagged off of facebook marketplace (suspiciously low price tag- maybe haunted), wondering if tilting her too far would result in blunt force trauma via nightstand, and the next, she was twisting her chin to look at him over her shoulder, voice low and syrupy-sweet, eyes half-lidded as she was saying it- Sir- with this kind of reverence that made him feel like someone with gravity. Purpose. Like he was something more than a financially unstable, sleep-deprived undergrad sporting a semi; like something cracked open in her ribs every time she used it, and he was the only one who could crawl inside. Retrospectively, that was the beginning of the end. - OR The one in which there's an interesting blog focused on a niche genre of soft-core pornography, two next-door neighbors in an apartment complex with paper-thin walls, a simple case of misinterpretation, a man that runs from intimacy like there's an award waiting at the invisible finish line, and a pet bunny called Snuggles. - (reader-insert/ Y/N - early access patreon fic)

Harry Styles, a secret service agent working for British intelligence is tasked with finding the killer after a series of brutal but calculated murders across Europe. His mind is sharp, he's smart, arrogant and works with a precision that leaves no room for error. Harry never misses a step, until the night he unknowingly hooks up with the assassin he's been ordered to catch. Winter is a master manipulator, a ruthless assassin with a chilling elegance and icy eyes that seem to pierce through the soul. She kills with precision, vanishes without a trace, and never lets anyone close. What begins as a mission becomes a deadly obsession. Because in this game, they're both hunter and prey. In a world of secrets, betrayal, and bloodshed, Harry finds himself completely captivated by the danger he seeks to eliminate. The cat and mouse game begins, blurring the lines between duty and desire. // "Because we're still doing this the easy way." Harry muttered, his hand flexed on the back of my neck. I gasped when he used my throat to pull me towards him. He spun me around, shoving me back forcefully so my back hit the wall. "I don't want to have to do it the hard way." His chest was against mine to keep me further restrained, my wrists were pinned against the wall above my head. "I don't wanna have to be the bad guy." "What are you going to do?" I asked him, swallowing, feeling his palm wrapped tightly around my throat, but not enough that I was choking, just enough that I could feel the pressure. "Are you trying to choke me, Harry?" I cocked my head to the side, grinning through my blood stained lips. "C'mon... you know I like it."

[Completed] [MATURE CONTENT / 18+] In which an escort agrees to be the third in a marriage that's hanging by a thread. You know our love would be tragic So you don't pay it, don't pay it no mind. We live with no lies, you're my favourite kind of night.

⟡ The year is 1989 when Harry moves into the house across the street from Josephine, who lets her intrigue and fascination grow about the handsome, yet mysterious man every day--that is, until her days left to live are compromised. ⟡ ⟡ THIS IS A DARK, TWISTED STORY ⟡ ⟡ Hateful and hurtful comments will be deleted if seen. Happy reading! ⟡

✧ Being the younger of the three, Beatrix sometimes enjoyed life, but she also sometimes didn't. It depended on the day, what was happening during it, who it was going to be spent with. Nine times out of ten it was only spent with one other family, seeing as her dad was the president of the Filthy Freaks MC. She both loved and hated that. Growing up with them was one thing. Sure, they had all built great memories as children, being surrounded by so many people, but everything was amazing when you were a kid, so that didn't really count anymore. Though things changed as Beatrix grew up. It wasn't easy being the daughter of a feared man. Beatrix had dreams of her own that she wanted to fulfil. Somewhere along the way she could have sworn most people had overlooked the moment she'd grown up. But things felt different as her mid twenties loomed closer, they felt different for her at least. Still though, it seemed she could never quite shake the bubble she had been placed in. But so what, right? She was going out into the world, chasing after what she wanted. What her family didn't know simply wouldn't hurt them. But if one more person looked at her in fear of being the daughter of one hell of a scary man, she thought she might truly go insane. She was tired of being known as Little Bea, for god's sake, she was just Bea. Or B. Or Trix, but only Harry called her that. Even though he wouldn't go near her, not even with a ten foot pole between them. Plus, much to her dismay, he didn't look at her like that. Not her. Not in that way. In all of its truth, she was totally, horrifyingly, off limits. *this story contains mature and explicit themes*

What started out as a bachelorette party ended in a life-changing dance. Not all those who wander into 𝙍𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙗𝙤𝙬 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙚 are lost... Come one. Come all. 𝙍𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙗𝙤𝙬 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙚 Nightclub, New York. A place to feel good. 𓆤 HS FIC. grumpy!h x sunshine!mc + enemies to lovers + dark!club!strip!h are rolled into one! DISCLAIMER: MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT, DRUG AND ALCOHOL USE, VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. READ AT YOUR DISCRETION. THANK YOU. 𓆤

1988. Self discovery wasn't something that came easy to Mabel, in fact, she'd refused to deal with the matter since decisions seemed to always be made for her. She wasn't sure how she'd ever get by, living in the small suburban town within Los Angeles. Although one thing she did know, her sister was coming back to town for the summer. What she didn't know, was why the mysterious drummer boy would smoke marlboro cigarettes and only speak to her when he felt like it. It was quite frankly irritating having to meet his gaze everywhere she looked, but then again, it would only be for the summer. *this story contains mature and explicit themes*

Ashton has known " the boys" since her junior year of high school. Her brothers friends were constantly getting her into trouble, Harry especially. She hated him more than anyone but as much as she wanted to go her own way, his hands pull pulled her back to him time and time again. Things have changed since then. She's older now. She's got her own life and chased her own dreams, but a life has a funny way of dragging us back to what we've known... and we can't escape no matter how hard we pull away. This story is not sunshine and rainbows. It is harsh and dark and will be very at times. It is also funny and sexy and smutty, so read at your own risk. . . . . This fic is for 18+ it contains MATURE AND EXPLICIT content including : spanking, choking, threesomes, drugs, death, oral sex, and many other fun activities so PLEASE DONT READ IF YOURE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THINGS OF THAT NATURE. It will also touch on addiction, loss, grief, and other heavy topics.