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.*

My thoughts you can't decode.. Sequel : Escape Route.

Lennon's dad, Axel is out of the grave and walking the Earth, willing and able to destroy anything that comes between him and his prize, even his own blood. But Axel of all people should know; defeat doesn't run through the family veins. So, who has the nerve to pull the trigger? Never underestimate a girl who used to make bread for a living, Harry Styles learnt that. However, Axel isn't the only one who wants a hint of drama, Lennon is at the number one spot of another hit list. One nineteen year old girl can only take so much, and sometimes it's too much for even the person you love to save you...

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes. WARNING: all rights go to velvetoscar on ao3 Cover made by: whatkooloser

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.

I hate her, I hate her, I fucking hate her. If she died right now, I wouldn't care. My main concern would be how I would get my money for this stunt. I have not an ounce of a feeling for this girl in front of me, yet I can't move under her angry gaze. I wouldn't dare. "Fuck you." I whisper out a pitiful insult to get the last word. "Fuck you." She replies just as quietly, taking a deep inhale as she holds our eye contact. She grinds her jaw as she stays looking at me, eyes scanning over my face with a huff. I hold my same scowl, still not backing away from her. I'm stuck in my place, my face not even an inch away from hers. I don't know how it happened, who started it, or what, but before I know it, her lips are on mine and I'm shoving her body backwards into the shelf. - Aubrey Hart and Harry Styles, costars in the movie "Forbidden Connection", hate each other. On screen, they're happily in love and yearning for each other's touch. Outside of that, though, it's constant yelling and fighting between the two of them. There's never a second of peace. Harry goes too far with what he says and Aubrey claps back in an instant. They don't clash very well whatsoever. When they're offered a big paycheck for a PR relationship, will the forced closeness become a little too real? Will they start to grow an understanding for each other? It's like they all say... there's a fine line between love and hate. **MATURE CONTENT** HIGHEST RANKINGS #1 in enemiestolovers #1 in harrystyles #1 in louistomlinson #1 in zaynmalik #1 in liampayne STARTED JANUARY 2021 - COMPLETED JULY 2021