"Who's that over there?" The man looked at me like I was from outer space, or perhaps like I lived under a rock, maybe a mixture of both. "Him? They call him Full Throttle," he chuckled with a hint of nervousness in his voice. I scrunched my nose up in confusion. "Why?" The man threw his head back and laughed before answering me. "Because he doesn't hold back. He does everything at full speed... racing, girls, and-" the man cut himself off, seeking as though he was catching himself spilling a secret. "And what?" "Don't worry about it." THIS BOOK IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION! The characters in it are in NO way a representation of the people chosen to play them. It is merely a story, and they fit the physical description best for their characters. The characters I have created are completely fictional, and in no way relate to my thoughts and or feelings about the people I have chosen to play said characters! || THIS BOOK CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK || HIGHEST RANKINGS: -#1 in hs -#1 in fiction -#1 in racing -#1in dragracing -#2 in harrystyles -#4 in youngadult -#5 in onedirection -#19 in cars -#31 in gangs -#57 in fighting -#64 in harry -#111 in drama -#461 in love

no·to·ri·ous/adjective: famous or well known, typically for some bad quality or deed. Harry Styles, by the very definition of the word is notorious. Not only for his good looks, charm, and unfathomable musical talent, but also for his womanizing and heartless attitude. Aspen Russo, by the very definition of the word, hates Harry Styles. Not only because he calls her "munchkin" and constantly looks down her shirt, but also because he flirted his way into her band and refuses to leave. Through drunken nights, illegal adventures, sizzling chemistry, and a few secrets bubbling at the surface Aspen may just learn that definitions were meant to be applied loosely. WARNING: Graphic sexual content. I am also not responsible for any feels or heartache (good and bad) this story ensues.

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

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.