Although she wouldn't like to admit it, Isabel Allen can be selfish, argumentative, and more than a little insecure. When she and the moody, tattooed and positively infuriating Harry Styles are forced to work together at a bowling alley three days a week, Isabel thinks she's living in her own personal hell. But time changes more than just the seasons, and one year is a long time to work out not only each other, but yourself, too. A story about messy hair, heavy drinking, marathons, film trivia and being okay. (This story isn't mine, all credit to oxegenstyles!)

Purple was never kind to the ones in reality. ~ "Get out of here." The familiar boy told the redheaded girl, her heartrate rising with each erratic breath. "He never lets you leave." Purple struggled greatly with mixing blues and reds, ensuring their dye joined as one. Never were they allowed to function on their own. Never were they allowed as individual colors, nor were lighter shades of violet. There was either dark purple, or there was six o'clock. Trembling under the Blue lights, the Red peered over the boy's shoulder at the grandiose poster plastered on the wall. If she couldn't leave Wonderland, then she would watch it burn.

SEQUEL TO DUPLICITY. Complicity- to be involved with others in illegal activity or wrongdoing. After sacrificing herself for Harry's freedom, Aven Brooks is no longer the innocent photographer with big dreams and a bigger heart. Now under the notorious control of Malikai, she becomes brainwashed into being the perfect asset for his organized crime. Harry, a fugitive, spends his days trying to find his angel and reap her out the path he once walked. When that stroke of luck comes his way, he smacks into the harsh reality to what she's actually become. Needless to say, she's no longer an angel. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO @HAPPYDAYS1D ALLOWING NO TRANSLATIONS. CONTAINS MATURE LANGUAGE, SEXUAL CONTENT, DRUG USE, VIOLENCE, AND MENTAL HEALTH. READ AT OWN RISK!

He lives on West 76th Street. T.W: graphic scenes, violent scenes, sexual scenes. DO NOT PRINT MY WORK.

"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He exhales a chuckle of cynical amusement, his footsteps getting every step clearer to my eardrums until I eventually sense body heat burning my back. "And why is that?" He whispers over my shoulder, hands inviting themselves to grip the railing in front of me so I become a prisoner between his inked arms. I swallow. "Because you'll be the one to kill me first." // Aven Brooks is hired to take pictures for the world-renown punk rock band known today as Duplicity; hoping the experience gets her into her most elite-dreamed university. However, when her lenses accidentally capture more than just cheeky sound checks and performances, she comes to a horrifying discovery that Duplicity is anything but a band. Appalled and frightened, she's trapped. *HIGHEST RANKINGS* #1 IN HARRYSTYLES #1 IN ONEDIRECTION ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO @happydays1d NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS! CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE / DRUG ABUSE / SEXUAL CONTENT / DESCRIPTIVE VIOLENCE / MENTAL HEALTH READ AT OWN RISK!

*Story Contains Mature and Explicit Content* [COMPLETED] "Strangers in the dark can change your life in the light." "As I reach the front door I can't help the same question swimming around in my mind, what could possibly be on all of those tapes?" ----- Preview: "You wanna try and be my medicine Abby?" he asks with a deep testing tone, keeping his voice quiet. "I can try" I breathe out as I gulp when his grip tightens "Try me" His hand slides up my throat, his long fingers wrapping tight around my jaw "That's what you really want?" I nod, as I sigh out a shallow yes, and I see every muscle in his body tense, as he wets his lips; hoarsely murmuring his next sentence like its his last try at making me change my mind. "I'm dangerous Abby, this is your last chance, tried to warn you" My stomach twists and knots, as I use every ounce of bravery I have. "Prove it then" ----- Book Started : DEC 2018 - COMPLETED MAY 2019

*Story containes MATURE & EXPLICIT CONTENT* THIS IS A SEQUEL / PART 2. Read "Stall" before this book, unless you just like spoiling things for yourself. If that's the case, you do you boo. "Something can be both delicate and violent" *** Harry lowers his eyes at me as he backs me up against the wall, the red lighting only making him look more menacing "You wanted the bad guy Abby? Wanted the villain?" My heart his running a hundred mile an hour when my breathing hitches in my throat as his hand comes up to wrap his long fingers tight around my jaw forcing me to look him in the eye. "Well now you've got him" He leans his face close to mine, his voice dropping to a low warning murmur that has my stomach hitting the floor. "...Run little mouse" *** BOOK STARTED JULY 1 2019 COMPLETED JULY 2021

Roots from the trees go deep within the soil of the earth. Roots within us grow deep within our soul, linking us to our family, our hopes, our dreams.. Our roots lead us to our start.. they lead us to our heart. Sterling King is a girl with deep roots, and long branches that lead to nothing. Harry Styles is a boy with bright leaves, and ever growing colors. EXCERPT: "Hi." "Um... hi." "What's your name?" "Sterling...." "Well... Aren't you going to ask me what mine is?" "No...Why would I do that?" "Because I'm a stranger peaking over the fence... I thought you'd be curious." "Well I'm a stranger sitting in a tree house... I stopped being curious a long time ago. Curiosity brings nothing but trouble." "Well I'm Harry... and I'm curious about you Sterling..." "Well... stop." -------------------------- DO NOT PRINT MY WORK!!! "Roots are not in landscape or a country, or a people, they are inside you." - Isabel Allende • TW: mentions of death, and rape/sexual assault. PTSD.

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.*

She never asked for any of this to happen. She just fell in love, fell out of it, and fell in deep. When her only solace in the world is the boy who's always been beside her, boundaries are tested and loyalties are bent to break. Her safety net begins to tangle and she must decide whether she should cut herself loose.