Estelle Adler is a highly renowned actress and Hollywood starlet with a 'golden girl' reputation to maintain. Harry Styles, a popular musician, basking in the glory of his successful debut album, hardly cares for his reputation. But, when the two stars cross paths in a Los Angeles night club, one drunken kiss causes a media frenzy, with the pair stuck in the eye of the storm. With no where to turn and their reputations on the line, Harry and Estelle are forced to undertake a forged path, in the hope of saving both of their careers. The only problem being, they detest one another...

"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!

Sequel to Cliché. In which two familiar people never really want whatever relationship they have left to end. And the other younger two don't know how to start.

"Take it! Just take it!" I demanded in annoyance, springing my whole body out as I tackled Harry from behind. "For the tenth time I don't want your stupid virginity!"

in which joelle d'amore is completing her final semester of university in the grand city of los angeles, california. when she finds herself in the presence of harry styles, a piercing man with dangerous agendas, she is permeated with fear. she saw something she shouldn't have and now she's fucked. » He brushes my parted hair, tucking them behind my ears. I breathe in, surprised by the delicacy of his touch. Suddenly, I feel his thumbs trace underneath my jaw only to direct my head to tilt up. "Just because your fuck of a boyfriend couldn't appreciate you, doesn't mean nobody else would. If you think that, then you're full of shit." "I-I don't think that," I tell him and I can feel it getting harder to breathe in the elevator shaft. "Then what's the problem, angel?" He's asking, sliding his thumbs off my jaw to trail over my throat. I can feel his long fingers meet behind my neck. "Why are you comparing yourself to dolls for?" » [non-lowercase] This is a Harry Styles AU Fan Fiction with no ties to Harry Styles or the rest of the boys in One Direction. Story contains Mature and Explicit content. CONTENT WARNING: This story contains mentions and/or descriptions of abuse, alcohol, assault, domestic violence, drugs, mental illness, sex, violence, and vulgar language. » #1 in HARRYSTYLES #1 in HARRYEDWARDSTYLES #1 in HARRY #1 in FINE #1 in LINE #1 in FINELINE #1 in DARK #1 in SEATTLE #1 in 1D » started jan. 20, 2021 completed aug. 1, 2022

Harry Styles, the brooding and intolerable tattoo parlour owner, meets River, a stubborn and somewhat oblivious girl, who just doesn't understand the reasoning behind his nefarious ways but is determined to find out. River comes to realize that Harry's hiding something much deeper than expected... only once those secrets come to the surface, it's too late to turn back. -- *18+ // Story Contains Mature and Explicit Content*

***completed*** NOW PUBLISHED ON AMAZON Harry Styles. The strange one. The freak. The one who was too kind for his own good, trapped in a world where his job was to bring people pain. Sophia 'Spice' Winters. The dancer. The stripper. The one who who trapped in a world where her job was to provide men with nothing but pleasure. -- "What don't you understand?" Harry seethed, his hands gripping the roots of his hair. "I'm not the good guy here, Sophia. I'm bad, everything about me is fucking bad." Harry looked as if he was about to rip his hair out, his wild eyes shinning with madness. He looked unhinged, raw and angry. It should of frightened me. That look alone should of been enough to send me running. He didn't look like the shy man I first met. He looked...crazy. His fingers were coated in red, stained with the blood of another. He didn't seem to care though. "If I was you Sophia, I would run away. Run as far away as you possibly can, because I promise you...An evil part of me won't let you go, and I hate myself for that. I want you to run away, to a place that I can't ever find you. You'll be safe that way."

*Story Contains Mature and Explicit Content* [Completed - 01/21/21] Preview: "Tell me something, Killer." Harry murmured. "Tell me what goes on inside your head." "You don't want to see what goes on in my head," I said with a short laugh. "I do." "My thoughts would suffocate you." "Try me." I took a deep breath. "Okay, well right now I'm thinking about what would happen if I just stood up and jumped off the roof." Harry shifted beside me. "My heart would stop beating the second you were in the air." I glanced over at him. "At least give me the option to jump with you," Harry said with a chuckle. "I'm sure I could find a way to save us before we reached the bottom."

Hired Gun /ˈhʌɪə ɡʌn/ noun NORTH AMERICAN (informal) a hired bodyguard, mercenary, or assassin.

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.