*Mature and Explicit Content* "If it feels so right, how can it be wrong?" ---------- I watch as Harrys breathing shallows, his eyes glazing over as his brows furrow "You really want that?" I nod without missing a beat, assuring him "I really do, is that okay with you?" "Fuck Joey, how wouldn't it be okay with me? There's no way I could possibly say no to that, I just can't believe that's what you want" he strains out, the worry in his face being washed over with a drunk look in his eyes. I hold my breath, pulling myself up to look down at him, trailing my eyes down his bare torso and back to his face as I feel excitement I've never felt before jolt through me "Well I do, so show me Harry, show me what feels good for you" ---------- Book Started : DEC 2018 - ONGOING

The tragic love story of a sad girl and a dead boy who must work together to find his killer, amid heartbreak, mystery, and learning that perhaps death is not the end. [COMPLETED]

|CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT| "When I first saw you The end was soon To Bethlehem it slouched And then it must've caught a good look at you" -NFWMB Evil; profoundly immoral and wicked. There are things in this world that are bad and then there are things that are truly evil. Sinister. Instances where something is so immoral that someone pure and clean has no mind to comprehend that someone can commit such an act. But there are some who can. Those who have that evilness inside them, that blackness in their hearts. They bring about destruction, devastation, wherever they go. The only thing left behind when they leave is chaos. What they had was a love no one could understand. So rooted in their twisted minds that only they could appreciate it. Every step they took together left the world in pieces around them. Two dark hearts made for the other, and only each other. Evil. Sinister. Destruction. Devastation. Desolation.

"Jesus, you still don't get it, do you?" He sneered, practically scoffing at the helpless girl in front of him. "I'm in control. That means what I say, goes. And I'm telling you, baby, you're not fucking leaving." His words were cold and they never failed to make that unnerving chill rattle through her body. She didn't think someone could be so cruel yet emotionless, could do the things he did without an ounce of guilt. And yet maybe he did - feel guilt, that is. But maybe he forced himself to ignore it, maybe he told himself, convinced himself that what he did, needed done. And making sure Layla never left his grasp was just that. - Dark!Harry

✼ 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.

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.*

I escaped my reality by reading fanfictions. They escaped their fanfictions to become my reality.

"So what do we do?" "We can work something out. There's just one problem... We can't let your brother find out." ❁ Available now to order! Link in bio!

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!