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.*

BOOK 2 of the Let's Hurt Tonight series.

"Hey, Sierra" he said, wetting his cherry lips with his tongue while staring at me, a somewhat amused look in his green irises. And in that moment, I realised that I was screwed. [BOOK TWO - read Artwork first] 2/11/19 #86 in fanfiction

[sequel to medicine] ☤☤☤ "i'm doing all this... this becoming. i'm becoming a mother, i'm becoming a doctor, i'm becoming a girlfriend and maybe a wife. but that doesn't mean that i know who i am any more or any less." ☤☤☤ [completed; december 13, 2020]

Raine never liked overconfident people, and Harry never liked judgemental ones. But when everything around them isn't what it seems to be, all they need is each other to make it out alive. • • • "Keep your eyes open thunderstorm, because everyone here has their own agenda and you might be interested in some of them." 18/04/20 #1 in harrystyles 6/11/19 #156 in fanfiction

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!

"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.

I think she said I'm having your baby.... and it's none of your business. BOOK THREE TO STYLIST!!! IF YOU HAVE NOT READY STYLIST I SUGGEST YOU GO BACK AND READDDDD!

no·to·ri·ous/adjective: famous or well known, typically for some bad quality or deed. Harry Styles, by the very definition of the word is notorious. Not only for his good looks, charm, and unfathomable musical talent, but also for his womanizing and heartless attitude. Aspen Russo, by the very definition of the word, hates Harry Styles. Not only because he calls her "munchkin" and constantly looks down her shirt, but also because he flirted his way into her band and refuses to leave. Through drunken nights, illegal adventures, sizzling chemistry, and a few secrets bubbling at the surface Aspen may just learn that definitions were meant to be applied loosely. WARNING: Graphic sexual content. I am also not responsible for any feels or heartache (good and bad) this story ensues.

An invitation. A stroll around an old theatre, reminiscing on love, loss and tragedy. The final curtain. The final bow.