"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!

[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

***completed*** NOW PUBLISHED ON AMAZON Harry Styles. The strange one. The freak. The one who was too kind for his own good, trapped in a world where his job was to bring people pain. Sophia 'Spice' Winters. The dancer. The stripper. The one who who trapped in a world where her job was to provide men with nothing but pleasure. -- "What don't you understand?" Harry seethed, his hands gripping the roots of his hair. "I'm not the good guy here, Sophia. I'm bad, everything about me is fucking bad." Harry looked as if he was about to rip his hair out, his wild eyes shinning with madness. He looked unhinged, raw and angry. It should of frightened me. That look alone should of been enough to send me running. He didn't look like the shy man I first met. He looked...crazy. His fingers were coated in red, stained with the blood of another. He didn't seem to care though. "If I was you Sophia, I would run away. Run as far away as you possibly can, because I promise you...An evil part of me won't let you go, and I hate myself for that. I want you to run away, to a place that I can't ever find you. You'll be safe that way."

*Story containes MATURE & EXPLICIT CONTENT* THIS IS A SEQUEL / PART 2. Read "Stall" before this book, unless you just like spoiling things for yourself. If that's the case, you do you boo. "Something can be both delicate and violent" *** Harry lowers his eyes at me as he backs me up against the wall, the red lighting only making him look more menacing "You wanted the bad guy Abby? Wanted the villain?" My heart his running a hundred mile an hour when my breathing hitches in my throat as his hand comes up to wrap his long fingers tight around my jaw forcing me to look him in the eye. "Well now you've got him" He leans his face close to mine, his voice dropping to a low warning murmur that has my stomach hitting the floor. "...Run little mouse" *** BOOK STARTED JULY 1 2019 COMPLETED JULY 2021

✼ 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.

"I am the hero of this story. I don't need to be saved." Layla Scott is on the run. She changes her name, chops off her long locks, and takes out all the money in her savings account to move across the world. Layla is doing whatever it takes to start over and she intends to never be found. But, a pesky neighbor proves that flying under the radar is harder than she had hoped. Harry Styles is trying to stay afloat. He works constantly to pay off debts and support his family, but finds himself instantly intrigued by the recluse that moves in next door during the dead of night. He makes it his personal mission to uncover the secrets Layla is hiding and undo the damage that has been done; even if she is determined to push him away. But, they'll both learn that sometimes, you have to save yourself. WARNING: Sexual, violent, and abusive content. Also subject to cuteness overload and feels.

Taking place in the summer of 1978, the story follows 18-year-old aspiring music journalist, nicknamed Goldie, tasked with following up-and-coming UK rock band - The Orphans - while they do their first tour of the U.S. New to life on the road, Goldie befriends Orphan's front man Harry Styles, a handsome narcissist with an addictive personality. "You have to be a bastard to make it, and that's a fact." - John Lennon ➝ TRAILER: https://youtu.be/Oy8ixhAodNQ

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.

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.