I looked up at him, unsure of what just happened. I saw the blood glistening off of his gold H ring as he pushed my hair out of my face, scanning my eyes, making sure I was okay. "You should go back inside and find your friends. Go home and lock your doors." He said as he turned to walk away. "Wait!" I said weakly. He reached the end of the ally and turned around. "I don't even know your name." He paused, his eyes locking on mine before simply saying, "I'm Harry." then turning back around and disappearing into the night. WARNING: This book contains mature and adult themes, like violence, drug use, sexual assault, and other possibly triggering topics. Read at your own risk. - My twitter is @chlox1d, make sure you follow to stay updated! Happy reading :)

"Why can't you sleep?" I ask a simple question. Silence, it only lasts a minute or two but feels like ages. "Because everytime I close my eyes I see you leaving my bed in the middle of the night, I hear you breathing through the telephone, your silence when I tell you that I love you. I see you falling down that fucking cliff." He says and my heart clenches inside my chest, I close my eyes and keep my head down, swallowing harshly. ... Damaged and terrified to hurt again, it's only when happiness finds a way into her life that everything falls appart again. She never meant to love him this much, or to hurt him even more when she's forced to leave everything behind her, including him. But too many things were in the way of the life she wanted with him. And when you're persuaded of doing the right thing for the people you love, you find yourself turning into your own enemy. She almost lost everything, and so did he. They were meant to be from the very beginning, but nothing good truly lasts forever, does it? This is Ephemeral. - - Started in April 2020 Finished in January 2022 No translations

Harry's chicken is in her garden again. For the third time this week. "Styles!" she shout over the fence. "Your demon bird is attacking my sunflowers again!" He appears, slow and unbothered, leaning against the fencepost like he's got all the time in the world. "She's not attacking. She's exploring." "She's murdering." He grins. "Guess she's got taste." She crosses her arms. "I'll make stew." "Touch her," he says, "and I'll plow your garden flat." "Threats from a man who can't even keep a chicken home?" He looks at her, amused. "Wouldn't call her the only one sneaking over lately." And just like that, she's the one blushing redder than her poor, dying sunflowers.