What ever you do, don't call him James. "It's Jimmy, bitch." Story start date : TBA

*THIS STORY IS ON HOLD UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE! i'm currently writing other stuff while editing this story!!* *18+ Story Contains Mature Content* "Just as a snake sheds its skin, we must shed our pasts over and over again" - Preview: "Callen seriously where were you?" I scoff and roll my eyes, "You really think you're in the place to ask fucking questions right now?" I snap my head towards him and he sits there calm still, probably expecting my outburst. "You were gone for hours, why wouldn't I ask?" he asks again, keeping his voice low. I glance around the place and it looks like he's already made himself something to eat. "Like you actually care why I was gone" I say sarcastically while holding the cigarette in between my lips, reaching down to unzip my boots and take them off. "You know what I fucking hate Harry?" It's silent for a second until I look back at him, and he nervously replies with a 'what'. I take my jacket off and reach down to the holster in my pants, taking out one of the knives that he gave to me. I set it on the counter and look at him, "I hate when people lie to me. Do you want to know why I hate people lying to me?" It's kind of a rhetorical question, but if he can't see how mad I am then that's his problem. - ONGOING: DECEMBER 2020 - HIGHEST RANKINGS #2 in analysis #27 in harry #1 in analyzing #1 in hs #1 in behaviour #4 writing

[18+] A co-written novel. "You will shelter me, my love, and I will shelter you." Harry keeps to himself. He has his job, his apartment, his therapy appointments and all the entertainment he needs third wheeling his best friend Niall and his girlfriend, Carson. When the duo invite Harry on a weekend camping trip, he meets Dallas, Carson's best friend and roommate. Come to find out, there's only one tent for the two of them. They fall into each other's orbit, leaving behind all they know for the chance to have something they've never had before. Harry and Dallas soon learn that they don't need the walls of a tent for shelter, they only need each other. TRIGGER WARNINGS AND DISCLOSURE: This novel is maturely rated and will contain extreme sexual content, strong language, and other mature themes such as abuse and abandonment. MATURE 18+

[COMPLETED] where she sat and ate her strawberries, while he smoked his cigarettes. -harry styles au -set in summer of 1998 -mentions rape, sexual assault, abuse, fighting, and suicide

Louis is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival, moody dance prodigy, Harry, joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late? [COMPLETED]

This is the Sequel to Dark. This is not mine it belongs to han-rawr on tumblr.

This is by H28 on onedirectionfanfiction.com it's wonderful and I hope you like it as much as me. Recommended for 17+

✼ In Malibu, California in 1965, a surfer and world-famous aerialist undergoes a chain of comedic and not-so-comedic mishaps that force him to re-evaluate who he is. ✼ Most impressive rankings // #2 in Conflict and #62 in Comedy! ✼ Voted #1 in the 2019 VA Awards for both Alternate Universe and Fan Favorite! ✼ Please read with discretion.

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'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.