I escaped my reality by reading fanfictions. They escaped their fanfictions to become my reality.

Devil's Due: To acknowledge the positive qualities of a person who is unpleasant or disliked. Harry Styles, the brooding and intolerable tattoo parlour owner, meets River, a stubborn and somewhat oblivious girl, who just doesn't understand the reasoning behind his nefarious ways but is determined to find out. River comes to realize that Harry's hiding something much deeper than expected... only once those secrets come to the surface, it's too late to turn back. -- *18+ // Story Contains Mature and Explicit Content*

a killer instinct was coined in the early boxing world as a protective, cold mentality that surges to one's consciousness and turns one into a vicious defense practitioner. everyone has a killer instinct. for harry styles, that ruthless mentality always seemed to circle back to one singular thing - her. --- but she doesn't let me go far, keeping our faces inches apart and my lips curl up as i chew this gum in between my teeth. her fingers roughly press into my cheeks and she smiles back with a devilish, lustful glint in her eyes. "you're gonna want me in control more often after i'm done with you, baby." she whispers, taking me aback with the boldness of her statement as she simply smiles before letting go of my face with a light shove. i slowly scoff and she hums as i shake my head at her. "yeah? prove it." i taunt and she sinks her straight white teeth into her bottom lip with a smirk. --- || mature and explicit content, read at your own risk * ||

"Who's that over there?" The man looked at me like I was from outer space, or perhaps like I lived under a rock, maybe a mixture of both. "Him? They call him Full Throttle," he chuckled with a hint of nervousness in his voice. I scrunched my nose up in confusion. "Why?" The man threw his head back and laughed before answering me. "Because he doesn't hold back. He does everything at full speed... racing, girls, and-" the man cut himself off, seeking as though he was catching himself spilling a secret. "And what?" "Don't worry about it." THIS BOOK IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION! The characters in it are in NO way a representation of the people chosen to play them. It is merely a story, and they fit the physical description best for their characters. The characters I have created are completely fictional, and in no way relate to my thoughts and or feelings about the people I have chosen to play said characters! || THIS BOOK CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK || HIGHEST RANKINGS: -#1 in hs -#1 in fiction -#1 in racing -#1in dragracing -#2 in harrystyles -#4 in youngadult -#5 in onedirection -#19 in cars -#31 in gangs -#57 in fighting -#64 in harry -#111 in drama -#461 in love

This is NOT a sequel to Grey Street, only bits and pieces of their story after that day in the café. I'd highly suggest reading Grey Street first. What happens when Harry becomes the missing piece of Elle's New York story.

Elle Grey doesn't need anyone. She only needs herself, a paintbrush, and if she gets desperate enough, there are the few people she actually tolerates that she can talk to. She knows that there's more out there in the world - in fact, she spends most of her time either daydreaming or painting about it. She knows that the South Dakotan town she's grown up in is only suffocating her. That's why she finds Harry so intriguing. He's different and he brings out something in her that she wasn't sure was still there. Suddenly she's second-guessing everything she has known her entire life - maybe she does need someone.

"Harry." I glare. "Violet." He smirks. - He had those tempting green eyes patched with a smirk and she wore a glare with the sweetest heart. She was his smartass. His darling sunshine. They were both hiding secrets. They both wanted to disappear. When their paths cross one day, they do everything in their power to stay away from each other but somehow they physically couldn't. They craved each other. They needed each other on a deeper level that could be conceived. - "Come on, I'll drive you." He says while picking up his keys. "You don't have to-" "Beep, beep, trains leaving!" He grabs my hand, pulling me with him as my jaw drops. "That was childish." He smirks, "I'm your damn fucking taxi, baby." Staring back at me with a painted smirk, looking me up and down I shove his hips back. "No flirting, be cool." "I physically can't stop." - Harry tries to keep Violet away from the mafia but when she figures it out, Harry will do everything he can to protect her. A new mission sets the boys up to travel to their casinos while robbing competitors. With an enemy hot on their tail, they have to play their cards right or face the consequences. - Highest Rankings #1 in living #4 in gangs #1 in punk #12 in soft Harry #6 in daddy issues MATURE CONTENT

(complete) we sat there smoking cigarettes at 5 in the morning. © 2014 polaroidlou

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.

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.