a collection of thoughts, the pieces of my mind, printed on virtual paper. imagined by me, written by me, just for you.

The story of a ten hour flight in which Frances finds herself trapped next to the famous and obnoxious rock star Harry Styles. All rights reserved © Highest rank: #50 in FanFiction #17 in Short Story.

The story of Harry and Frances continue, this time beginning a new journey that would determine the rest of their story together. (The third book of The Flight series)

The story of a road trip where Frances and Harry reconnect after eight months of the flight they shared together. (Sequel of The Flight series) Highest rank: #22 in FanFiction

"They say insanity is trying the same thing but expecting something new" - Anson Seabra. SEQUEL TO STYLIST El kept telling him it was only meant to be for one night. She kept that mentality, or tried to. Harry didn't believe one bit of the front she put up so he fought hard. Right when he had her...he pushed her away. Through heart break and confusion that neither of them expected they found each other again, but can they make it work, or were they truly doomed from the start? EXCERPT: "When someone like me feels pain, or happiness or anything for that matter, I take it and I go with it... I use it as inspiration." He tells me. "So you wrote a song about me?" I ask, feeling my hands fumble as I try not to act as nervous as I feel while waiting for the answer. "The whole album is about you..." he tells me, and I realize he's more nervous than I am. I broke his heart... we broke each other's heart, and now all we can do is pick up the broken pieces... or try to.

18+ / Very Mature "Please, this is like cliche-central. With a kinky twist." ††† I step under the hot stream of water, soaking my hair, and take a deep breathe. I try and clear my mind, focusing on the way the water feels hitting my body. I turn around, opening my eyes, only to shout out a curse and stumble back. Emma is directly in front of me, taking off her tank top, eyes glued to my body. I hadn't shut the curtains, thinking no one would be in here, and I didn't know if I was happy or mad I did that. I stood there speechless as her small hands grasped the bottom of her sports bra. I inhaled sharply when she pulled it up and over her head, exposing her breasts. They jiggled slightly as she tossed her clothes to the side, and I found my heart rate quickening at an alarming rate. "W-what are you doing?" I breathe out as she pulls her leggings down her body, leaving her in just a thong. "Showering." Emma tells me as if it's obvious.

Don't you call her baby. We're not talking lately. Don't you call her what you used to call me... A story in which a girl who writes songs falls in love with the boy who sings them. "Color...What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams." - Paul Gauguin. DO NOT PRINT MY BOOKS! *TW: story contains mature topics such as mental abuse, PTSD, minor drug usage, and minor sexual content.*