✼ In Malibu, California in 1965, a surfer and world-famous aerialist undergoes a chain of comedic and not-so-comedic mishaps that force him to re-evaluate who he is. ✼ Most impressive rankings // #2 in Conflict and #62 in Comedy! ✼ Voted #1 in the 2019 VA Awards for both Alternate Universe and Fan Favorite! ✼ Please read with discretion.

Harry Edward Styles. Room 402 at Eastwood Mental Asylum. Known for turning his victims psychotic. To be handled with extreme precaution.

Maybe she shouldn't have opened her door in the middle of the night. 24/06/19 #3 in fanfiction 24/06/19 #3 in romance

"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!

Raine never liked overconfident people, and Harry never liked judgemental ones. But when everything around them isn't what it seems to be, all they need is each other to make it out alive. • • • "Keep your eyes open thunderstorm, because everyone here has their own agenda and you might be interested in some of them." 18/04/20 #1 in harrystyles 6/11/19 #156 in fanfiction

Danger surrounds every part of the world now. Humans are scared to leave their hideouts. There are a few supplies that won't last for long. Blood is scattered everywhere. Fear is coursing everyone. The infected are increasing in number. What you say, will they be killed before they destroy the human genre? Or will they rule the world of the humans with their unbelievable thirst for blood? All Rights Reserved To GirLegend99 © 2015 I don't allow translations, so any message of you asking me will be deleted or possibly ignored.

Sequel to The Infected. They thought life would change to better after the annihilation and chaos, since they had destroyed the maximum percentage of the problem. What they didn't know though, is where the heart of the infection begins. And the worst of all, how they have to put an end to it. All rights reserved to GirLegend99 2019 © No translations allowed.

Eastmount Psychiatric Hospital Project Black Widow Patient n. 384 Name: Harry Styles Date of birth: February 1st, 1883 Date of admission: March 20th, 1905 Date of death: - Additional Information: Disappeared on September 6th, 1906. 24/11/19 #15 in fanfiction

**mature** "We accept the love we think we deserve." ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower "I would do anything for you, you know that right?" I ask her. "Harry, we can't." She pushes back slightly, as I lean down to place a kiss on her neck. "Hunter." "Does Hunter touch you like I do? Does he make you feel good?" My fingers inch lower down her stomach. Her whimper was the only thing I wanted to hear. "My brother doesn't make you feel the way I do, you know it." Highest rank - #1 in harry ***DISCLAIMER: WRITTEN WHILST 14!!*** © All rights reserved to @FineMelodyxx.

"Run, Rosalie, run," his deep voice sung, almost like a sick nursery rhyme. His words swirled around me, each syllable like a needle stabbing into my skin. I knew he was trying to torment me, but all I wanted to do was get away from him. I kept running, the muscles in my legs burning furiously, but I dared stop in case I was caught. "Everything you're running from is still in your head." I scrunched my face up, trying my hardest to ignore his words as I sped away from him. But I knew he was right. Even if I out ran him, his presence was still in my mind, slowly turning me insane. I heard his bellowing laugh behind me as cold hands gripped my waist from behind, sharp fingernails piercing into my skin. "Running from your problems is a race you'll never win," he whispered, his hot breath burning my ear. "I'll always beat you." And he was right.