You ask if we can still be friends I explain how a honeybee does not dream of kissing the mouth of a flower and then settle for its leaves

"I never thought I believed in soulmates, but how could I not when I have proof right in front of me?" - - - Norah is a college student just trying to get by. Harry is one of the biggest pop stars on Earth and his fame is only rising. A course of events leads to a relationship that's only asking for disaster. - - **TW: Story contains mature content like minor scenes of sexual content, minor scenes of violence, and themes involving anxiety and depression **As I said, there is only a minor amount of smut, but this story will take you through a rollercoaster of emotions!

Preston Richards is a sarcastic little shit who likes to blog about Harry Styles. But she never imagined he would see any of it. - No translating or reposting please. ©whadduphazza

Aurora was named after the sky. London is her home, always has been, but to be honest she's a bit bored. Harry doesn't know what's next. He's back in London though. That feels like the first step.

COMPLETED Janie is dreading the future, but the real world is calling her. After accepting that a career as a songwriter just won't work out, she gears up to teach music to second graders in her small town. Then, she meets Harry. Harry is trying to forget the past, but his label is calling and awaiting a new album. He doesn't want to talk about it and especially doesn't want to write about it. Then, he meets Janie.

"So, what possessed you to spend your evening at this shitty party?" I asked, releasing the taste of my cigarette with my words. His gaze decidedly landed on my lips that were wrapped around my burning cigarette as he finally spoke. "I guess I'm a bit of a masochist." He shrugged and a sharp laugh escaped my throat at his words. "What's your excuse?" "Oh, I'm the one throwing this shitty party, so I guess I'm a bit of a sadist," I replied with a shrug of my own and his laugh was just as sharp as mine had been. All humor left his voice, however, when he said, "Yeah? Fuck, that's hot." //After a fateful meeting at a house party, Stevie never thought she would see Harry Styles again. However, a year later when a mutual friend tells her Harry's band is looking for a new bassist, she jumps at the opportunity. Much to Stevie's disappointment, Harry doesn't seem to remember her, or the night they shared, and he certainly has a darker side when he isn't trying to get into her pants.// Mature content warning// This story contains adult themes and explicit sexual content.

Being the biggest fangirl in her home state, Valerie Anderson writes fan-fiction constantly. She just completed a Harry Styles one, when the totally unexpected happened; she meets him. On her journey with Harry Styles and the rest of One Direction, Valerie notices extreme similarities between her fiction book and her real life fantasy. The only problem? The ending isn't one she's hoping for.

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!

(COMPLETED) Angelina knew the Amalfi Coast like the back of her hand. After all, she visited it twice a year. Harry Styles was sent there to film a music video. Meeting in a pottery class wasn't expected, nor was the future they both built together.

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.*