Her Effect [COMPLETE]
Sequel to The Styles Effect (Must read The Styles Effect first if you haven't before reading this one)
Sequel to The Styles Effect (Must read The Styles Effect first if you haven't before reading this one)
I escaped my reality by reading fanfictions. They escaped their fanfictions to become my reality.
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.
"Why is your boöb hairy and hard?" Harry asked, confusion lacing his melodic, fangirl-inducing voice as he lied beside me in the dark. "Because that's not my boöb. It's a coconut." +++ When famous singer, songwriter and actor Harry Styles' private plane crashes and only him and the filipino beauty, Monica Laire, are...
Stolen pudding cups, flirty police officers, a bag full of weed and a trip to Vegas make for one hell of a bet. [In the process of being edited, some major changes will be made. Please note that I am not British and some things might not be right in regards to language and terms. As I edit I will try to fix them but p...
She claimed that she could see his true colors. But the only color he ever knew were the red of his assignments. -Cover made by @Tonii
{COMPLETE} "Have you ever been touched like this before Harry?" She whispers and he whimpers against her touch. "N-no." He stutters, fighting the urge to give into temptation. He was just an innocent, sweet, virgin church boy. She was determined to change that. The only thing preventing that from happening was a mis...
"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!"
Harry has a bad reputation that precedes him, Y/N just wants to get good grades and stay out of trouble. Somehow they end up sharing a flat. #1 in tumblr (from March 1, 2021)
What happens at camp stays at camp. // est. July 26th, 2014 - #1 in fanfiction [cover by lex]
"My name is Harry, nice to meet you mamacita," he looked me up and down before grabbing my hand and shaking it. My arm flopped like a flimsy noodle as he shook my hand quickly and firmly. "The name is Maria. Not mami, not mamacita, not 'yo'," I deadpanned, referring to the names he had called me earlier. I cautiously...