Sexual content do not read if you don't like Harry Styles or sex or imagining yourself having sex with Harry Styles

[COMPLETED] where she sat and ate her strawberries, while he smoked his cigarettes. -harry styles au -set in summer of 1998 -mentions rape, sexual assault, abuse, fighting, and suicide

*THIS STORY IS ON HOLD UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE! i'm currently writing other stuff while editing this story!!* *18+ Story Contains Mature Content* "Just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our pasts over and over again" - Preview: "Callen seriously where were you?" I scoff and roll my eyes, "You really think you're in the place to ask fucking questions right now?" I snap my head towards him and he sits there calm still, probably expecting my outburst. "You were gone for hours, why wouldn't I ask?" he asks again, keeping his voice low. I glance around the place and it looks like he's already made himself something to eat. "Like you actually care why I was gone" I say sarcastically while holding the cigarette in between my lips, reaching down to unzip my boots and take them off. "You know what I fucking hate Harry?" It's silent for a second until I look back at him, and he nervously replies with a 'what'. I take my jacket off and reach down to the holster in my pants, taking out one of the knives that he gave to me. I set it on the counter and look at him, "I hate when people lie to me. Do you want to know why I hate people lying to me?" It's kind of a rhetorical question, but if he can't see how mad I am then that's his problem. - ONGOING: DECEMBER 2020 - HIGHEST RANKINGS #2 in analysis #27 in harry #1 in analyzing #1 in hs #1 in behaviour #4 writing

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.*

"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He exhales a chuckle of cynical amusement, his footsteps getting every step clearer to my eardrums until I eventually sense body heat burning my back. "And why is that?" He whispers over my shoulder, hands inviting themselves to grip the railing in front of me so I become a prisoner between his inked arms. I swallow. "Because you'll be the one to kill me first." // Aven Brooks is hired to take pictures for the world-renown punk rock band known today as Duplicity; hoping the experience gets her into her most elite-dreamed university. However, when her lenses accidentally capture more than just cheeky sound checks and performances, she comes to a horrifying discovery that Duplicity is anything but a band. Appalled and frightened, she's trapped. *HIGHEST RANKINGS* #1 IN HARRYSTYLES #1 IN ONEDIRECTION ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO @happydays1d NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS! CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE / DRUG ABUSE / SEXUAL CONTENT / DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE / MENTAL HEALTH READ AT OWN RISK!

Working for a world-leading mafia, Harry knows how to kill, how to hunt his victims, and how to avoid any company of any kind. He's used to a lonely, quiet, and harsh environment. He is the best at what he does. And everything he does becomes problematic when he's assigned to protect the boss's daughter from world-known killers. Catalina tries to understand him, eventually failing because instead she falls for a man so willing to resist her. [Contains Mature Content]

We're all mad here, it's Wonderland. ~ Harry latches onto my passionate on-beat arms as he keeps me from moving forward. "Are you fuckin' mad?" He grits through his teeth. "I'm in Wonderland, Pretty Boy," I throw my free arm in the air, motioning to the surrounding world. "Of course, I've gone a little mad." He flips me around as the level of infuriation rises throughout his clenched jaw, trying to remain composed. "Don't try and be something you're not, Presley." I rip away from his hold, furrowing my brows from the curt statement, the honest revelation that should've just stayed within his mind. "We'll never be the heroes, and you know that," he says, colder than the Arctic's towering waves. "We'll never win." We'll never find Purple. Purple, the color of the Star-Crossed Lovers.

*CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT* Have you ever met someone that made falling feel like flying? ~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~ Preview: "Do you think, if you jumped from this roof - it'd feel like falling or flying?" I ask, keeping up with our theme of asking random useless questions that we've been going back and forth with for the past half hour. I stare at my feet swinging back and forth, looking down at the alleyway behind the building; pondering the question over in my head that I often wonder too much about. I glance over to Harry when he doesn't answer straight away and he's watching me with a look I can't read. "Unless you were a bird or could fly, it would just feel like falling. Because you'd know you were going to hit the ground" he decides to answer, staring at me like he's somewhat bothered that I asked him that. I look back down at the ground, and shrug my shoulders, "I think if you didn't care about hitting the ground it could feel like flying for a few seconds." ~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~ STARTED 11TH MARCH 2019 - ONGOING

By: ZerriesGap "A girl once told me to be careful when trying to fix a broken person because you may cut yourself on their sharp edges." {k.w.} Note: All credit goes to ZerriesGap. I am just simply republishing it. When she took this story down, I noticed a lot of people were wanting to read it again and I still had it in my library so I decided to republish it. Thanks! Hope you enjoy her amazing work.