"I have been watching you for a while now, my love" he whispered darkly in my ear. "Why are you doing this to me" I squeaked, earning a low chuckle from him. "Because" he said, moving his hands from the wall above my head and down my body, resting very low on my waist. "I can". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Highest Rank: 1st in Fanfiction WARNING: Contains sexual content and mature language, read at own risk!! Copyright All Rights Reserved © fxckingpayno

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]

"Sierra, you go with Harry Styles." I raised up my head at the words, giving my teacher an incredulous glance. "Do I really have to?" Was the only thing I managed to say. The teacher gave me an annoyed look. "Did you not understand? You go with Harry Styles." I turned my head to look at him. At the mention of his name he glanced up, and if his green eyes hadn't frozen me in place already, the unimpressed look he gave me would've done it right away. [BOOK ONE] [BOOK TWO - AQUARELLE] Started: Feb 2018 Completed: April 2019 18/01/19 #1 in fanfiction 28/09/18 #1 in harrystyles 06/10/18 #1 in harry • THE FICTION AWARDS WINNER 2019 - BEST FANFICTION •

✼ 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.

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."

"You do realize a journal is an extremely personal thing right?" His voice was raspy, low and threatening, making me take a step back in panic as he continued, "so my only question is why the fuck are you standing with mine?" - first book - - instagram acc: @thejournalofficial - - for extra material: arietem.wix.com/arietemx - All Rights Reserved 2013 © arietem

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.

"I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons." - Christopher Poindexter

Harry Edward Styles. Room 402 at Eastwood Mental Asylum. Known for turning his victims psychotic. To be handled with extreme precaution.