Resolution is the story of when a chemical, strictly-physical relationship evolves into something so heart-wrenchingly real that Harry and Halle's worlds are changed forever. If you want to feel, really feel, read it. WARNING: Extremely explicit sexuality. Please only read if you are comfortable with mature content. All Rights Reserved to styleslegend, 2018 ©

Alexis chose the summer of 1996 to visit her Nonna in small, poorly known Clarkesville, Georgia. This year happens to be her favorite. Because a certain guy with ripped flannels, loose thick curls, and piercing green eyes won not only his thrilling illegal drag-races, but won the best trophy of them all. Her heart. [will contain mature content and much, much fluff]

━━ 𝗔 𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗦𝗧𝗬𝗟𝗘𝗦 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 He's old school, and I think I like it. Not my story! ©bornonhalloween faceclaim; lili reinhart

Accalia Starling can't stop the emotions she experiences whenever the tall, green eyed Harlequin lays eyes on her. She knows deep down that there's something off about him, but unfortunately, he holds her heart in his tainted hands. Started: October 3rd, 2017 Completed: October 19th, 2017 Highest Ranking: #209 in short story

Marigold Styar has been best friends with Harry Styles since before she can remember. That doesn't mean she doesn't see him as more. As they embark on the new journey of college, and sharing an apartment together in the big city will he finally give in? Will he finally come to terms with what he has with his best friend? Or will he continue to live in his fear of losing their friendship, and his fear of being heart broken by the flirtatious, life of the party Marigold? Their relationship has always been black and white in Harry's eyes because he's positive she doesn't want anything more. For Marigold... Well, it's complicated. DO NOT PRINT MY BOOKS! "Confessing your feelings is the biggest gamble ever played. You'll either get everything you wanted, or lose everything you never wanted to lose." - Rishabh Raj *Story contains mature and explicit content* TW: There is assault, and harassment in this story!

"They say insanity is trying the same thing but expecting something new" - Anson Seabra. SEQUEL TO STYLIST El kept telling him it was only meant to be for one night. She kept that mentality, or tried to. Harry didn't believe one bit of the front she put up so he fought hard. Right when he had her...he pushed her away. Through heart break and confusion that neither of them expected they found each other again, but can they make it work, or were they truly doomed from the start? EXCERPT: "When someone like me feels pain, or happiness or anything for that matter, I take it and I go with it... I use it as inspiration." He tells me. "So you wrote a song about me?" I ask, feeling my hands fumble as I try not to act as nervous as I feel while waiting for the answer. "The whole album is about you..." he tells me, and I realize he's more nervous than I am. I broke his heart... we broke each other's heart, and now all we can do is pick up the broken pieces... or try to.

Eileen Mae Montgomery, better known as El has been working for the Gucci special designs team for two years now. It's her dream job, but theres one thing she hates about it. The rude, narcissist celebrities. When she is assigned to work with Harry Styles to brainstorm and create his tour suits for his second world tour as a solo artists she was going to treat it as she would any other job assignment. That is until he asked her and some members of her team to join him on tour. El's was going to treat him the same as any other celebrity, but Harry had other ideas. She styled his clothes, but he didn't care about the clothes she put on him, he was more interested in what would come after the show, when the sequins and fun colors turned into a pile on the floor. EXCERPT: "I like you El." "Stop saying that. Stop saying you like me." He drops his hands, looking to me in confusion. "So you want me to lie?" He asks, smirking at my annoyance. "No I'd rather you keep it to yourself." I take my phone out , my annoyance rising, his smirk growing. "You've got three minutes before I leave, so talk." I tell him. "You're timing our conversations now?" He laughs a bit. "Two and a half minutes." "Okay fine. You don't show any interest in me unless we're..." His voice trails off, and I roll my eyes. "Unless we're sleeping together... yes, and your point?" COMPLETED!

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.*

It started with a proposition. Eight words; "I want to make love to your wife." They are eight words I will never forget, because with those words I found my addiction. [WARNING:The story your about to read is intended for readers 18+ due to it's sexual content. It may not be appropriate for all audiences. Please read at your own discretion] Open to read a brief synopsis