she inspires, she adores, she walks away. Bored out of his mind, Harry decides to attend New York Fashion Week, hoping to uncover a muse for his next hit single... Recent graduate Quinn is finally finding work in her field, filming for amateur musicians, weddings, and even fashion shows. Unbeknownst to her, her unique personality and compulsion to speak her mind has caught someone else's attention... https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2frcDoni0WxRzAG0qXTyQv?si=xwDyZuEfSEGXZ5fUvZbFlw CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT! All Rights Reserved @uptownpapaya Do not translate my stories!

"tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe." well, this is it. the sun and the moon. complete opposites. one formed from the collapse of its own being. one formed from a collison of two planets that weren't meant to be. live by the sun, love by the moon. tw: mature content, anxiety attacks, depression, (mentions of) suicide, self harm, ed.

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.

"I was hiding in doubt till you brought me out of my chrysalis...and I came out new...all because of you." Josephine McArthur is well and truly lost. After completely uprooting and changing her life she is left unsure of pretty much anything. An unexpected friendship tilts her already unsettled life on its axis, and she's just holding on for the ride. Jo is living all of our dreams when her idol becomes her best friend. Sleepovers, parties, Sunday breakfasts, and a world tour? Jo can't stay wrapped in her comfort zone for long. "Caterpillars are born with everything that they need to become butterflies...bit-by-bit they unlock information from the caterpillars cells...the butterfly's new self forms inside of the chrysalis." . . . . this story contains mature themes including sex, drugs, assault, depression, death, talk of suicide, anxiety and adult language.

Eileen Mae Montgomery, better known as El has been working for the Gucci special designs team for two years now. It's her dream job, but theres one thing she hates about it. The rude, narcissist celebrities. When she is assigned to work with Harry Styles to brainstorm and create his tour suits for his second world tour as a solo artists she was going to treat it as she would any other job assignment. That is until he asked her and some members of her team to join him on tour. El's was going to treat him the same as any other celebrity, but Harry had other ideas. She styled his clothes, but he didn't care about the clothes she put on him, he was more interested in what would come after the show, when the sequins and fun colors turned into a pile on the floor. EXCERPT: "I like you El." "Stop saying that. Stop saying you like me." He drops his hands, looking to me in confusion. "So you want me to lie?" He asks, smirking at my annoyance. "No I'd rather you keep it to yourself." I take my phone out , my annoyance rising, his smirk growing. "You've got three minutes before I leave, so talk." I tell him. "You're timing our conversations now?" He laughs a bit. "Two and a half minutes." "Okay fine. You don't show any interest in me unless we're..." His voice trails off, and I roll my eyes. "Unless we're sleeping together... yes, and your point?" COMPLETED!

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.*