"Can I be your first?"

Harry is a drunkard. Zayn is the man who reminds him of what it's like to be sober. Harry Styles' adult life has always revolved around a bottle in his hand whenever there's something in his life he can't deal with. It always starts out the same. Just a sip, then maybe a glassful and before he knows it, there's three or four empty bottles lying around the house somewhere and the liquor cabinet is empty. Harry is single, sure. But not alone. And his two year old son, Liam, has to deal with the effects of Harry when he suddenly decides any night is drinking night. The neighbors... well they think he'll never learn. And upon first glance, it all seems like the truth. That is, until one day, Harry stumbles to the park around the corner and falls on Zayn Malik, who just so happens to be in the right place at the right time. Warning: ⊙Language ⊙Sexual References ⊙Eventual Sexual Scenes ⊙THIS IS NOT MPREG 3k+ comments (Third Wattpad Story)

[COMPLETED]. In a blink of an eye, Harry the stripper has become future Mr. Malik. [Love, Hate, Family Business, A lot of Stupid Humour (A LOT), some Sad stuff, some Happy stuff, some Good Luck and a lot of Bad Luck... in other words, just like Life?] ● This story is quite intense. ●● Mention of Rape. ● Mature content.

"Why-Why are you naked?" "I've been told that you enjoy painting naked men. Did I misunderstand?" "An aggressive sex addict and a shy, yet incredibly kinky artist falling in love with each other? I agree, that does sound a bit strange." "You're like my therapy, babe." *1st place in The Bromance Awards 2016 Zarry category *3rd place in the Holiday Bromance Awards Zarry category ©2015 Prisonerwithavision

Secrets can and will destroy anything. The question is, can they survive the damage? @OfficiallyZarry ©All Rights Reserved Cover By: HunterMay18

He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with the enemy. Zayn jawad malik is one of the most puissant and the youngest under-the-counter alive on the earth. Harry styles is the one who’s chosen to arrest this drug lord.

Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see. That’s what his father always tells him with that smile of his, the one that says, I’ll tell you that much, but the rest will cost you. Harry never knew what he meant, but he gets it now that he’s sitting in the dim bar of another hotel he won’t sleep in, the ice melting in his £18 gin and tonic. He doesn’t even like gin and tonic, but it’s all part of the game. And it is a game. It has to be, because if it isn’t that means he doesn’t enjoy it and he does.