The album is finished. Now comes the waiting. The interviews. The rehearsals. The promo shoots. The late-night countdown to a release date circled on every calendar in the house. For the first time, it's only his name. No band. No shared spotlight. No one else to take the fall if the world doesn't love it. The world waits for the album. At home, the waiting feels different. It's lullabies hummed under his breath while memorizing setlists. It's tiny hands grabbing at the lyric sheets scattered across the table. It's Y/N rocking one baby to sleep while the other babbles from a monitor glowing on the counter. He balances stage lights and soft nursery lamps. Press interviews and midnight feedings. The fear of headlines and the warmth of small arms wrapped around his neck. He is the angel under the spotlight. But when the lights cut out and the applause fades, he's just a man walking back into a quiet house where the only audience that matters is waiting for him. The album drops. The world presses play. And through the noise, through the praise, through the pressure- There's only one place that steadies him. Only Angel. Only You.

The world doesn't know it's ending yet. The band is still standing. The lights are still bright. The noise is still loud. But somewhere between tour rehearsals and midnight studio sessions, something begins to shift. Curls fall to the bathroom floor. Lyrics pile up on the kitchen table. A green-taped microphone sits untouched while tiny hands tug at his jeans, asking him to stay just a little longer. Y/N sees it before anyone else does. The distance in his eyes when he comes home late. The weight of becoming something new. The fear of losing the boy he used to be. While the world waits for the next album, he's writing songs in the quiet - songs about love that didn't change when everything else did. Songs about the woman who stood in the doorway when he cut his hair. Songs about the children who don't care about eras or headlines - only that Daddy comes home. He hasn't stepped out alone. Not yet. He's still standing in the space between who he was and who he's about to become. And in the silence between the noise and the light- It's her. It's them. Through the quiet, it's you.

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///

Remington and Delanie are best friends who would never let anything come between them. Harry is Delanie's estranged twin brother who just came back to town. What happens when Harry and Remington spend an unforgettable night together? Will they be able to keep their relationship a secret? Or will this be the one thing that comes between the best friends forever. Dirty Little Secret is a story of lust, heartbreak, trust and love. "Two souls don't find each other by simple accident"

"If I didn't hate you I'd tell you to stop being such a fucking tease." "If I didn't hate you maybe I'd actually want to fuck you. Shut up, Harry." "Why do you even work here? You're just some trust fund bitch who lives off daddy's money." "Like you're not? Your dad literally owns this place. You're just some washed-up prick." "Anna-" "Leave Harry. Some of us actually have a job to do." * * * Annabelle Heyford, a 22-year-old college student, picks up a job at the bar her best friend, Maeve, and her brother work at. Harry Styles, a 23-year-old college dropout, works at his father's bar. He's freshly single, coming out of a long, toxic relationship. She thinks he's a washed-up dick with no work ethic. He thinks she's a pretentious bitch who lives off her parents' money. But those thoughts don't stick around too long...

"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!