{FIRST BOOK IN 'THE GIRL IN THE HOODIE' SERIES} {2014-2018} A girl moved to California two years ago. No one knows what she looks like. All they know is that she wears a hoodie. *~*~*~* "HOLY SHIT, NOAH! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU LET THE TROLLEY GO?! COME BACK! OH MY FUCKING LIFE, FIZZY DRINKS UP AHEAD--" BANG FIZZ POP "...am I dead?" I'm suddenly grabbed by the back of my hoodie and pulled up from the ground and out of the mess of the opened bottles of fizzy which had exploded when the trolley and I crashed into them. My hands instantly go to my hood and I sigh in relief to find that it hadn't fallen off through all of that. I turn my head and look the the employee who's holding me, his face completely red and the vein in his neck throbbing. "Wassup, dude?" I smile sheepishly. *~* {HIGHEST RANKINGS: #1 in Funny #1 in Sad And #1 in Cancer apparently }

[COMPLETED] *STORY CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT* !! Disclaimer: Harry Styles is used as a face and name claim, these characters DO NOT represent who he is as a person, this is purely fiction and not tied to Harry Styles in ANY WAY. !! It's 1973, Marijuana has just been legalised, festivals are booming and rock and roll has become bigger than ever. Oregon is the hot spot for many festivals - psychedelic mushroom festivals, music festivals, rave drug festivals. It's what all young adults dream of in a world where they feel alone. But what happens when those festivals turn into nightmares? What happens when a body unexpectedly shows up? And what happens when the main suspect is the lead singer of the band that headlines every single festival? Are they tied to the murder, or are they being framed? What happens when more bodies start showing up? Join Mary Jane - a twenty four year old cannabis and rave lover, and the mystery of what's going on behind the scenes of these festivals she loves oh so much. It's a journey filled with sex, drugs and rock and roll. What could go wrong? Or what happens if it's all just pretend? "The Summer Of 1973" Harry Styles 1970s AU **CURRENTLY NOT ACCEPTING ANY PRINTING OR TRANSLATING OF MY WORK**

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.*

***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."

"such a pretty face, on a pretty neck" a story about a boy in a band and a girl with a little bit of time on her hands *CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT*

⟡ The year is 1989 when Harry moves into the house across the street from Josephine, who lets her intrigue and fascination grow about the handsome, yet mysterious man every day--that is, until her days left to live are compromised. ⟡ ⟡ THIS IS A DARK, TWISTED STORY ⟡ ⟡ Hateful and hurtful comments will be deleted if seen. Happy reading! ⟡

*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

𝑆ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑠. 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑. 𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑟𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑐 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑚, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒. In which Harry falls for her cherry heels and golden aura, encasing him in a liquified supernova of love. This is a work of fiction. Mature content. 18+ Started: December 2020 Completed: October 2021 I DO NOT CONDONE TRANSLATIONS OR PDF PRINTING OF MY WORK.

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.

"You make me sick." I spit out as I dare not to look at him, his chest pressed against my back while I lean against the balcony railing. "Oh.. I make you sick, do I?" He breaths down my neck, making a chill run down my spine. "Yeah. Yeah you do." I mutter. "Please, doll. We're all a little twisted." •Sophie Grayson. A girl who can't help panicking at the slightest inconvenience. A girl who's life revolves around routines, organisation and everything simple. A girl who's passion lays with records and songs. It was always so ironic how her extreme love for music is what got her taken from the world renowned rock band, Midnight's Kiss. How will her purity last with such darkness?• ☹︎A Dark Harry Novel WARNING - CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT. INTENSE VIOLENCE. READ AT OWN RISK.