*CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT* Have you ever met someone that made falling feel like flying? ~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~ Preview: "Do you think, if you jumped from this roof - it'd feel like falling or flying?" I ask, keeping up with our theme of asking random useless questions that we've been going back and forth with for the past half hour. I stare at my feet swinging back and forth, looking down at the alleyway behind the building; pondering the question over in my head that I often wonder too much about. I glance over to Harry when he doesn't answer straight away and he's watching me with a look I can't read. "Unless you were a bird or could fly, it would just feel like falling. Because you'd know you were going to hit the ground" he decides to answer, staring at me like he's somewhat bothered that I asked him that. I look back down at the ground, and shrug my shoulders, "I think if you didn't care about hitting the ground it could feel like flying for a few seconds." ~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~ STARTED 11TH MARCH 2019 - ONGOING

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.

"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!

18+ / Very Mature "So you've been stalking me?" "Completely." I laugh at his candor and I watch as his eyes light up, "I applaud your honesty." "Why thank you." He responds with mock bashfulness. I pause for a second before I speak again, "I've noticed you too." "Yeah?" He asks with wide eyes and a pleased smile. I'm surprised by his surprise. He comes off as so confident, yet here he is, shocked that I could've been looking at him too. "Yeah." I bite my lip as the urge to touch his beautiful body increases, "But you've always been taken." "I bet none of those girls would feel as good as you." His voice comes out in a low whisper completely catching my insides on fire. "You're right, they don't." I state with no hesitance. There's no doubt in my body that I couldn't pleasure this boy better than any girl he's been with.

When seventeen year old Harry moves to a new town, he enters a photography contest where he gets more then just pictures and a story when he choses his complex neighbor as his subject. Started: OCT 2014 WARNING: explicit language, & sexual content

They never told you that the monster under your bed could have a set of beautiful forest green eyes and an angelic smile. -a story in which a girl is taken by a notorious gang member that lives beneath the world's feet. THIS IS A TRILOGY BOOK (1/3) *COMPLETED* HIGHEST RANKINGS #1 in harrystyles #1 in fanfiction #1 in one direction NOT ALLOWING TRANSLATIONS FOR THIS OR THE REST OF THE TRILOGY! MATURE READ! ALL RIGHTS RESERVED @happydays1d/// CONTAINS VULGAR LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL CONTENT. READ AT OWN RISK///

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.*

"We shouldn't have done that," I whispered shakily, under my breath. "Yes, I know," He growled deeply slamming his fist into the desk, "But you're daddy's now."

18+ / Very Mature "Please, this is like cliche-central. With a kinky twist." ††† I step under the hot stream of water, soaking my hair, and take a deep breathe. I try and clear my mind, focusing on the way the water feels hitting my body. I turn around, opening my eyes, only to shout out a curse and stumble back. Emma is directly in front of me, taking off her tank top, eyes glued to my body. I hadn't shut the curtains, thinking no one would be in here, and I didn't know if I was happy or mad I did that. I stood there speechless as her small hands grasped the bottom of her sports bra. I inhaled sharply when she pulled it up and over her head, exposing her breasts. They jiggled slightly as she tossed her clothes to the side, and I found my heart rate quickening at an alarming rate. "W-what are you doing?" I breathe out as she pulls her leggings down her body, leaving her in just a thong. "Showering." Emma tells me as if it's obvious.

If you were to mention her name in a locker room, or in a girls bathroom, you would always get the same look and smirk sent in your direction. Because she was an urban legend. Someone people told their younger siblings about when they wanted to brag about how awesome it was to be a teenager. The details and the ending would always change, but the conclusion to the story was always that; "that girl had some serious daddy issues." (Art on cover credited to http://athousandclouds.tumblr.com/)